Well, boys, I reckon this is it. Nuclear (pronounced 'nookular') combat, toe-to-toe with the Rooskies...
(To the tune of "When Johnny Comes Marching Home," he then delivered a memorable patriotic speech over the intercom to his B-52 crew - a parody of the totally-loyal American sent on a glory mission):
Now look, boys. I ain't much of a hand at makin' speeches. But I got a pretty fair idea that somethin' doggone important is goin' on back there. And I got a fair idea of the kind of personal emotions that some of you fellas may be thinkin'. Heck, I reckon you wouldn't even be human beins if you didn't have some pretty strong personal feelings about nuclear combat.
I want you to remember one thing: the folks back home is a-countin' on ya, and by golly, we ain't about to let 'em down. Tell ya somethin' else. If this thing turns out to be half as important as I figure it just might be, I'd say that you're all in line for some important promotions an' personal citations when this thing's over with. That goes for every last one of ya, regardless of your race, color, or your creed. Now, let's get this thing on the hump. We got some flyin' to do.