Trip Sheet: Fill & Download for Free

We had a trip sheet that had to be turned in at the end of each shift. The starting and ending mileage had to be recorded. Additionally, the officer had to inspect the exterior of the vehicle for any damage. The final part of the form documented they checked all lights were working, and all assigned equipment was in the trunk.As a patrol sergeant, I didn't need to review these much—I was on the street with my officers. When I became the patrol division commander, the trip sheets became more critical. On an average midnight shift, I would expect at least fifty miles on the cruiser. If a sheet had less than twenty miles, I'd look at the reports to see if that explained why the miles were down. If that didn't explain it, I'd look at the last ten shifts to see if maybe the officer just had a bad night. If it were a pattern, I'd meet with the officer's sergeant and ask them to explain the lack of patrol miles. The worst answer I ever got from a sergeant was, "I don't know, but I'll look into it." That statement told volumes about why there was a lack of productivity. It was time to check the sergeant's trip sheets to see if he was out supervising his officers or sitting at the station.Officers do dumb things, like sleep on duty, when they know their sergeant is not going to check on them. We had one sergeant that followed all the rules to the extreme. One of our rules said patrol vehicles had to stay within the city's borders unless they advised dispatch over the radio. As a result, this sergeant would never cross the line and drive ten feet out of town. One of his lazy officers knew this and would disappear on the midnight shift. What he did was go a half-mile out of town, find a quiet place to park, and get a few hours of sleep.He was finally caught one night when the sergeant was off on vacation, and a more aggressive sergeant filled in. We’ll let you guess who that sergeant was. Once the cat was out of the bag, the officer had a sleep study and claimed a disability. The stunt saved him from punishment, but to accommodate his disability of falling asleep, he was transferred to a day time walking-beat, which he hated. The mileage alone that an officer put on the cruiser doesn't prove anything but sometimes warrants a closer look by a patrol commander.We later installed GPS and tracking devices on all patrol cars. The sergeant's vehicle had a laptop computer screen with a map of the city. The sergeant could watch all of the patrol cars moving around on the map in real-time. This made checking mileage obsolete, as a computer printout showed on a map every street the officer traveled on a shift. It also recorded the times and speed. These were great investigative tools I would later use during my years in internal affairs.Author of the 2020 book “One Cop’s Life” available on amazon

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Yes, I have, because it was my job to do so.When I was an Air Force pilot flying at Andrews Air Force Base, the normal process was to be scheduled for a flight a day in advance. I was given a “trip sheet” that showed the departure time, the destination, the passengers—whom we called “DVs,” for Distinguished Visitor—and a contact person.The contact person was often the aide of a Senator or Congressional Rep or a general, so I’d call to see if they had specific requests. They would let me know what the DV wanted in terms of food and drink. So, in a way I was fulfilling a demand by calling the Andrews catering shop and ordering the food and drink to be placed on the jet.OFF WE GO, INTO THE WILD BLUE YONDER!!!However, about once or twice a year, the “demand” as you’re calling it, would be a bit more “interesting.”On those flights I would get nothing more than the departure time and number of passengers. No names. No contact. And the destination would be listed as WBY, which was a play on the line in The Air Force song—Off we go, into the Wild Blue Yonder. In other words, I had no idea of where we were going and no one to ask.On a WBY flight, I would file a flight plan to whatever base I felt like, then go out to the jet, which would be parked in a hangar, which means I preflighted it indoors—out of sight—and then strapped in and waited.A few minutes before departure the hangar doors would part enough to allow a large black vehicle to enter. A few people got out of it and moved into the back of my jet. There was no greeting and I never turned around to look at them. After all, this was Andrews and I likely wasn’t cleared to know who was back there!Once they were onboard, the hangar doors were opened fully, the jet was towed out, we started up, taxied out, and took off—headed for my filed destination, for which one thing was sure: That’s not where we were going to land.After we cleared the Washington area airspace, someone in the back would come to the cockpit and hand me a folded slip of paper. I’d open it and read the real destination. Then I’d call center and refile in the air.Once I landed, at some small civilian airport or auxiliary field on a large military complex—out in the middle of the country somewhere—the people left without saying a word. The airport was usually abandoned or at least no one was in sight. And there we were in the WBY with a jet we needed to return to Andrews. We’d fire up the engines, fly to the nearest Air Force base, refuel and then go home.So, I guess you could say that on a WBY flight, I fulfilled a request that the passengers demanded. But it was my job.