The Famous US Airways East Pilot Speech
Somewhere in the Eastern United States
May 5th, 2007
Men, this stuff that some sources sling around about US Airways East Pilots wanting out of this war, not wanting to fight, is a crock of bullsh*t. US Airways East Pilots love to fight, traditionally. All real US Airways East Pilots love the sting and clash of battle. You are here today for three reasons.
First, because you are here to defend your homes and your loved ones.
Second, you are here for your own self-respect, because you would not want to be anywhere else.
Third, you are here because you are real men and all real men like to fight.
When you, here, everyone of you, were kids, you all admired the champion marble player, the fastest runner, the toughest boxer, the big league ball players, and the All-American football players. US Airways East Pilots love a winner. US Airways East Pilots will not tolerate a loser. US Airways East Pilots despise cowards. US Airways East Pilots play to win all of the time. I wouldn't give a hoot in hell for a man who lost and laughed. That's why US Airways East Pilots have never lost nor will ever lose a war; for the very idea of losing is hateful to an US Airways East Pilot.
You are not all going to die. Only two percent of you right here today would die in a major battle. Death must not be feared. Death, in time, comes to all men. Yes, every man is scared in his first battle. If he says he's not, he's a liar. Some men are cowards but they fight the same as the brave men or they get the hell slammed out of them watching men fight who are just as scared as they are. The real hero is the man who fights even though he is scared. Some men get over their fright in a minute under fire. For some, it takes an hour. For some, it takes days. But a real man will never let his fear of death overpower his honor, his sense of duty to his airline and his country, and his innate manhood. Battle is the most magnificent competition in which a human being can indulge. It brings out all that is best and it removes all that is base. US Airways East Pilots pride themselves on being He Men and they ARE He Men. Remember that the enemy is just as frightened as you are, and probably more so. They are not supermen.
All through your Airline careers, you men have bitched about what you call "chicken sh*t training". That, like everything else in this Airline, has a definite purpose. That purpose is alertness. Alertness must be bred into every pilot. I don't give a fu*k for a man who's not always on his toes.
You men are veterans or you wouldn't be here. You are ready for what's to come. A man must be alert at all times if he expects to stay alive.
If you're not alert, sometime, an ALPA National union rep son-of-an-assh*le-bit*h is going to sneak up behind you and beat you to death with a sockful of sh*t!
There are thousand’s of neatly marked Braniff, Eastern and Pan Am graves somewhere in the Airline Industry, all because one UNION man went to sleep on the job. But they are ALPA National union rep graves, because we caught the bastard asleep before they did. An Airline is a team. It lives, sleeps, eats, and fights as a team.
This individual heroic stuff is pure horseshit. The bilious bastards who write that kind of stuff for Air Line Pilot Magazine don't know any more about real fighting under fire than they know about fu*king!
We have the finest food, the finest equipment, the best spirit, and the best men in the world.
Why, by God, I actually pity those poor sons-of-bitches we're going up against. By God, I do.
My men don't surrender!
I don't want to hear of any pilot under my command being captured unless he has been hit. Even if you are hit, you can still fight back. That's not just bullshit either. The kind of man that I want in my command is just like the Pilot at Eastern, who, with a Luger against his chest, jerked off his hat, swept the gun aside with one hand, and busted the hell out of the Union SCABS with his hat. Then he jumped on the gun and went out and kicked the sh*t out of another Union SCAB before they knew what the hell was coming off. And, all of that time, this man had a bullet through a lung. There was a real man!
All of the real heroes are not storybook combat fighters, either. Every single man in this Airline plays a vital role. Don't ever let up. Don't ever think that your job is unimportant. Every man has a job to do and he must do it. Every man is a vital link in the great chain. What if every pilot suddenly decided that he didn't like the thunder of those thunderstorms overhead, turned yellow, and jumped headlong into a ditch? The cowardly bastard could say, "Hell, they won't miss me, just one man in thousands". But, what if every man thought that way? Where in the hell would we be now? What would our country, our Airline, our loved ones, our homes, even the world, be like?
No, Goddamnit, US Airways East Pilots don't think like that!
Every man does his job. Every man serves the whole. Every department, every unit of this Airline, is important in the vast scheme of this war. The maintenance men are needed to supply the tools and parts of the airline to keep us flying. The Ticket Agent is needed to bring up the passengers because where we are going there isn't a hell of a lot of marketing to support us. Every last Flight Attendant has a job to do, even the one who heats our coffee to keep us from getting the 'Flight Crew Sh*ts'.
Each man must not think only of himself, but also of his buddy fighting beside him. We don't want yellow cowards in this Airline. They should be killed off like rats. If not, they will go home after this war and breed more cowards. The brave men will breed more brave men. Kill off the Goddamned cowards and we will have a nation of brave men. One of the bravest men that I ever saw was a fellow on top of an aircraft tail pre-flighting in the midst of a furious thunderstorm in Philadelphia. I stopped and asked what the hell he was doing up there at a time like that. He answered, "Preflighting the tail, Sir". I asked, "Isn't that a little unhealthy right about now?" He answered, "Yes Sir, but the Goddamned tail has to be pre-flighted". I asked, "Don't those lightning strikes hitting the airfield bother you?" And he answered, "No, Sir, but you sure as hell do!" Now, there was a real man. A real pilot. There was a man who devoted all he had to his duty, no matter how seemingly insignificant his duty might appear at the time, no matter how great the odds.
And you should have seen those aircraft on the runways to the Washington and Phoenix. Those Pilots were magnificent! All day and all night they rolled over those son-of-a-bitching runways and airways, never stopping, never faltering from their course, with lightning bursting all around them all of the time. We got through on good old US Airways East Pilots guts. Many of those men flew their maximum consecutive duty hours. These men weren't management men, but they were pilots with a job to do. They did it, and in one hell of a way they did it. They were part of a team. Without team effort, without them, the fight would have been lost. All of the links in the chain pulled together and the chain became unbreakable.
Don't forget, you men don't know that I'm here. No mention of that fact is to be made in any letters. The world is not supposed to know what the hell happened to me. I'm not supposed to be commanding this Airline. I'm not even supposed to be here in Charlotte.
Let the first bastards to find out be the Goddamned ALPA National Union Representatives. Some day I want to see them raise up on their piss-soaked hind legs and howl, 'Jesus Christ, it's the Goddamned US Airways Airline again and that son-of-a-fu*king-b|tch Behncke!
We want to get the hell over there. The quicker we clean up this Goddamned mess, the quicker we can take a little jaunt against the purple pissing America West Pilots and clean out their nest, too. Before the Goddamned Southwest Pilots get all of the credit.
Sure, we want to go home. We want this war over with. The quickest way to get it over with is to go get the bastards who started it. The quicker they are whipped, the quicker we can go home. The shortest way home is through Washington and Phoenix. And when we get to Washington, I am personally going to shoot that paper hanging son-of-a-b|tch Prater. Just like I'd shoot a snake!
When a man is lying in a sh*t hole office, if he just stays there all day, an ALPA National Union representative will get to him eventually. The hell with that idea. The hell with taking it. My men don't sit in offices. I don't want them to. Offices only slow up an offensive. Keep moving. And don't give the enemy time to sit in one either. We'll win this war, but we'll win it only by fighting and by showing the ALPA National Union reps that we've got more guts than they have; or ever will have. We're not going to just shoot the sons-of-bitches, we're going to rip out their living Goddamned guts and use them to grease the landing gear of our planes! We're going to murder those lousy ALPA National Union cocksuckers by the bushel-####-basket. War is a bloody, killing business. You've got to spill their blood, or they will spill yours. Rip them up the belly. Shoot them in the guts. When lighting strikes are hitting all around you and you wipe the grease off your face and realize that instead of grease it's the blood and guts of what once was your best friend and co-pilot beside you, you'll know what to do!
I don't want to get any messages saying, "I am holding my position." We are not holding a Goddamned thing. Let the ALPA National Union Reps do that. We are advancing constantly and we are not interested in holding onto anything, except the enemy's balls. We are going to twist his balls and kick the living sh*t out of him all of the time. Our basic plan of operation is to advance and to keep on advancing regardless of whether we have to go over, under, or through the enemy. We are going to go through him like crap through a goose; like sh*t through a tin horn!
From time to time there will be some complaints that we are pushing our people too hard. I don't give a good Goddamn about such complaints. I believe in the old and sound rule that an ounce of sweat will save a gallon of blood. The harder WE push, the more ALPA National Union reps we will kill. The more ALPA National Union reps we kill, the fewer of our men will be killed. Pushing means fewer casualties. I want you all to remember that.
There is one great thing that you men will all be able to say after this war is over and you are home once again. You may be thankful that twenty years from now when you are sitting by the fireplace with your grandson on your knee and he asks you what you did in the great ALPA AIRLINE PILOT DISENFRANCHISEMENT WAR OF 2007, you WON'T have to cough, shift him to the other knee and say, "Well, your Granddaddy shoveled sh*t in Washington." No, Sir, you can look him straight in the eye and say, "Son, your Granddaddy flew with the Great US Airways, Inc. and a Son-of-a-Goddamned-B|tch named
Davie Behncke!
Somewhere in the Eastern United States
May 5th, 2007
Men, this stuff that some sources sling around about US Airways East Pilots wanting out of this war, not wanting to fight, is a crock of bullsh*t. US Airways East Pilots love to fight, traditionally. All real US Airways East Pilots love the sting and clash of battle. You are here today for three reasons.
First, because you are here to defend your homes and your loved ones.
Second, you are here for your own self-respect, because you would not want to be anywhere else.
Third, you are here because you are real men and all real men like to fight.
When you, here, everyone of you, were kids, you all admired the champion marble player, the fastest runner, the toughest boxer, the big league ball players, and the All-American football players. US Airways East Pilots love a winner. US Airways East Pilots will not tolerate a loser. US Airways East Pilots despise cowards. US Airways East Pilots play to win all of the time. I wouldn't give a hoot in hell for a man who lost and laughed. That's why US Airways East Pilots have never lost nor will ever lose a war; for the very idea of losing is hateful to an US Airways East Pilot.
You are not all going to die. Only two percent of you right here today would die in a major battle. Death must not be feared. Death, in time, comes to all men. Yes, every man is scared in his first battle. If he says he's not, he's a liar. Some men are cowards but they fight the same as the brave men or they get the hell slammed out of them watching men fight who are just as scared as they are. The real hero is the man who fights even though he is scared. Some men get over their fright in a minute under fire. For some, it takes an hour. For some, it takes days. But a real man will never let his fear of death overpower his honor, his sense of duty to his airline and his country, and his innate manhood. Battle is the most magnificent competition in which a human being can indulge. It brings out all that is best and it removes all that is base. US Airways East Pilots pride themselves on being He Men and they ARE He Men. Remember that the enemy is just as frightened as you are, and probably more so. They are not supermen.
All through your Airline careers, you men have bitched about what you call "chicken sh*t training". That, like everything else in this Airline, has a definite purpose. That purpose is alertness. Alertness must be bred into every pilot. I don't give a fu*k for a man who's not always on his toes.
You men are veterans or you wouldn't be here. You are ready for what's to come. A man must be alert at all times if he expects to stay alive.
If you're not alert, sometime, an ALPA National union rep son-of-an-assh*le-bit*h is going to sneak up behind you and beat you to death with a sockful of sh*t!
There are thousand’s of neatly marked Braniff, Eastern and Pan Am graves somewhere in the Airline Industry, all because one UNION man went to sleep on the job. But they are ALPA National union rep graves, because we caught the bastard asleep before they did. An Airline is a team. It lives, sleeps, eats, and fights as a team.
This individual heroic stuff is pure horseshit. The bilious bastards who write that kind of stuff for Air Line Pilot Magazine don't know any more about real fighting under fire than they know about fu*king!
We have the finest food, the finest equipment, the best spirit, and the best men in the world.
Why, by God, I actually pity those poor sons-of-bitches we're going up against. By God, I do.
My men don't surrender!
I don't want to hear of any pilot under my command being captured unless he has been hit. Even if you are hit, you can still fight back. That's not just bullshit either. The kind of man that I want in my command is just like the Pilot at Eastern, who, with a Luger against his chest, jerked off his hat, swept the gun aside with one hand, and busted the hell out of the Union SCABS with his hat. Then he jumped on the gun and went out and kicked the sh*t out of another Union SCAB before they knew what the hell was coming off. And, all of that time, this man had a bullet through a lung. There was a real man!
All of the real heroes are not storybook combat fighters, either. Every single man in this Airline plays a vital role. Don't ever let up. Don't ever think that your job is unimportant. Every man has a job to do and he must do it. Every man is a vital link in the great chain. What if every pilot suddenly decided that he didn't like the thunder of those thunderstorms overhead, turned yellow, and jumped headlong into a ditch? The cowardly bastard could say, "Hell, they won't miss me, just one man in thousands". But, what if every man thought that way? Where in the hell would we be now? What would our country, our Airline, our loved ones, our homes, even the world, be like?
No, Goddamnit, US Airways East Pilots don't think like that!
Every man does his job. Every man serves the whole. Every department, every unit of this Airline, is important in the vast scheme of this war. The maintenance men are needed to supply the tools and parts of the airline to keep us flying. The Ticket Agent is needed to bring up the passengers because where we are going there isn't a hell of a lot of marketing to support us. Every last Flight Attendant has a job to do, even the one who heats our coffee to keep us from getting the 'Flight Crew Sh*ts'.
Each man must not think only of himself, but also of his buddy fighting beside him. We don't want yellow cowards in this Airline. They should be killed off like rats. If not, they will go home after this war and breed more cowards. The brave men will breed more brave men. Kill off the Goddamned cowards and we will have a nation of brave men. One of the bravest men that I ever saw was a fellow on top of an aircraft tail pre-flighting in the midst of a furious thunderstorm in Philadelphia. I stopped and asked what the hell he was doing up there at a time like that. He answered, "Preflighting the tail, Sir". I asked, "Isn't that a little unhealthy right about now?" He answered, "Yes Sir, but the Goddamned tail has to be pre-flighted". I asked, "Don't those lightning strikes hitting the airfield bother you?" And he answered, "No, Sir, but you sure as hell do!" Now, there was a real man. A real pilot. There was a man who devoted all he had to his duty, no matter how seemingly insignificant his duty might appear at the time, no matter how great the odds.
And you should have seen those aircraft on the runways to the Washington and Phoenix. Those Pilots were magnificent! All day and all night they rolled over those son-of-a-bitching runways and airways, never stopping, never faltering from their course, with lightning bursting all around them all of the time. We got through on good old US Airways East Pilots guts. Many of those men flew their maximum consecutive duty hours. These men weren't management men, but they were pilots with a job to do. They did it, and in one hell of a way they did it. They were part of a team. Without team effort, without them, the fight would have been lost. All of the links in the chain pulled together and the chain became unbreakable.
Don't forget, you men don't know that I'm here. No mention of that fact is to be made in any letters. The world is not supposed to know what the hell happened to me. I'm not supposed to be commanding this Airline. I'm not even supposed to be here in Charlotte.
Let the first bastards to find out be the Goddamned ALPA National Union Representatives. Some day I want to see them raise up on their piss-soaked hind legs and howl, 'Jesus Christ, it's the Goddamned US Airways Airline again and that son-of-a-fu*king-b|tch Behncke!
We want to get the hell over there. The quicker we clean up this Goddamned mess, the quicker we can take a little jaunt against the purple pissing America West Pilots and clean out their nest, too. Before the Goddamned Southwest Pilots get all of the credit.
Sure, we want to go home. We want this war over with. The quickest way to get it over with is to go get the bastards who started it. The quicker they are whipped, the quicker we can go home. The shortest way home is through Washington and Phoenix. And when we get to Washington, I am personally going to shoot that paper hanging son-of-a-b|tch Prater. Just like I'd shoot a snake!
When a man is lying in a sh*t hole office, if he just stays there all day, an ALPA National Union representative will get to him eventually. The hell with that idea. The hell with taking it. My men don't sit in offices. I don't want them to. Offices only slow up an offensive. Keep moving. And don't give the enemy time to sit in one either. We'll win this war, but we'll win it only by fighting and by showing the ALPA National Union reps that we've got more guts than they have; or ever will have. We're not going to just shoot the sons-of-bitches, we're going to rip out their living Goddamned guts and use them to grease the landing gear of our planes! We're going to murder those lousy ALPA National Union cocksuckers by the bushel-####-basket. War is a bloody, killing business. You've got to spill their blood, or they will spill yours. Rip them up the belly. Shoot them in the guts. When lighting strikes are hitting all around you and you wipe the grease off your face and realize that instead of grease it's the blood and guts of what once was your best friend and co-pilot beside you, you'll know what to do!
I don't want to get any messages saying, "I am holding my position." We are not holding a Goddamned thing. Let the ALPA National Union Reps do that. We are advancing constantly and we are not interested in holding onto anything, except the enemy's balls. We are going to twist his balls and kick the living sh*t out of him all of the time. Our basic plan of operation is to advance and to keep on advancing regardless of whether we have to go over, under, or through the enemy. We are going to go through him like crap through a goose; like sh*t through a tin horn!
From time to time there will be some complaints that we are pushing our people too hard. I don't give a good Goddamn about such complaints. I believe in the old and sound rule that an ounce of sweat will save a gallon of blood. The harder WE push, the more ALPA National Union reps we will kill. The more ALPA National Union reps we kill, the fewer of our men will be killed. Pushing means fewer casualties. I want you all to remember that.
There is one great thing that you men will all be able to say after this war is over and you are home once again. You may be thankful that twenty years from now when you are sitting by the fireplace with your grandson on your knee and he asks you what you did in the great ALPA AIRLINE PILOT DISENFRANCHISEMENT WAR OF 2007, you WON'T have to cough, shift him to the other knee and say, "Well, your Granddaddy shoveled sh*t in Washington." No, Sir, you can look him straight in the eye and say, "Son, your Granddaddy flew with the Great US Airways, Inc. and a Son-of-a-Goddamned-B|tch named
Davie Behncke!
No humor, Heh!! Too bad... 
Laughter IS the best medicine!!!!
