Now it's my turn

Third place winner

2002 Mobility Forum Writing Contest

Lt Col Phil Wilson quickly turned off the alarm and checked the time on the bedside alarm clock. Even though he'd been doing this for over 20 years he'd never gotten used to these "Ohdark-thirty" alerts. He quietly got out of bed trying very hard not to wake his wife or children. Getting up several minutes before scheduled alerts had been a habit since he first started flying. The early start gave him time to relax a bit before getting ready for these long TDYs. He grabbed the phone downstairs and called the squadron before alert so the ringing phone wouldn't wake up his family. Besides, he didn't like surprises so he made his standard call to confirm the show time and ensure everything was going as planned for this two-week mission.

This would be his first mission flying support in OPERATION ENDURING FREEDOM. He'd been involved in every conflict since the invasion of Panama, but this would be different. The biggest change was he was no longer doing this active duty. Getting out had been a long and difficult decision. His family had supported him through five moves over 14 years with little grumbling. They had lived in two countries and five states. His oldest was now a teenager and in high school. He was starting to find his niche in the world and develop what he hoped were long lasting friendships; at least for a teenager. Flying opportunities for Phil were becoming increasingly scarce and desk time more plentiful. The final decision to get out had taken over a year of family discussion and weighing the availability of outside work. The active duty Air Force had been good to him, but the needs of the family came first; so he separated.

Fortune had smiled on him since then. He got the dreamflying job he'd always wanted. Flying a Boeing 767 point A to point B wasn't quite as exciting as low-level or midair refueling, but it certainly was a lot less stressful. He also was able to join the local reserve unit and was soon on his way to C-17 school. The new C-17 was an airlift pilot's dream come true. It was a big airplane, but very responsive with fly-by-wire controls and plenty of thrust. Everything was computer driven so the reliability was outstanding. If the crew showed up at the plane it almost always took off on time. The "Moose", as C- 17 crews were fond of calling the plane, carried a huge load over enormous distances into tiny, out-of-the-way airfields, and then stopped on a dime. Its selfdefense systems were the best in the business. Finally, it was much more comfortable than the old "Star Lizard" he'd flown for the past 13 years. The plane even had a refrigerator and a freezer, and sleeping in the bunk wasn't like falling asleep in the Sahara Desert. The C- 17 was incredible at lowlevel and air refueling to boot so in his mind he had the best of both worlds.

The other big change was that for the first time in his Air Force career he felt he was doing something to defend his country and way of life. Flying in Panama, Desert Shield, and Bosnia had been exciting and challenging but that was helping defend someone else. All those other situations, while potentially dangerous, never seemed a real threat to his family and friends. This new situation was much closer to home. He remembered very well where he was and what he was doing on September 11, 2001. As he watched the terrorist attack unfold on that terrible day his feelings of rage and sorrow were almost overwhelming. It was difficult to understand how someone could hate another's way of life so much they would be willing to murder thousands of innocent people and commit suicide to do it.

As a civilian airline pilot he flew the type of plane that was hijacked and knew aircrew employed by the affected airlines. He also had former Air Force colleagues who worked in the Pentagon. It had been an agonizing few days before he found none of his friends had been killed or hurt, but he still felt keenly the sorrow for others whose lives were directly affected by the loss of a loved one. Things for them would never be the same. Perhaps what made him the angriest were some reporters in the media calling the terrorists brave for taking their own lives for their cause. Destroying the lives of thousands of innocent people and then not being around to face the devastation, Phil thought, made them the worst of cowards.

It was wonderful to see, however, how the country and his neighborhood came together after the attack. Flags were flying everywhere. There was a newfound respect for those who serve the country. He hadn't seen such overt displays of patriotism since the Persian Gulf War. Sure, there were the protestors, there always have been and always will be, that was one of the benefits of living in a free society. His mother-in-law had shocked him by saying there had even been anti-war protestors during WWII as well. His family and friends were constantly asking him how he would be involved or if he even would be involved. He wasn't sure exactly how to answer that question, he just knew he wanted to be part of it. He may not be the person to fire the gun, shoot the missile, or drop the bomb. but he was going to do all he could to support those who did.

His father and father-in-law were both veterans of WWII, Korea, and Viet Nam. Both had been pilots. His father-in-law had been an airlift pilot in WW II and Korea; his father had been a Navy carrier pilot in Viet Nam. He had always been fascinated listening to their exploits, but now what they did in these previous wars took on a completely new meaning. His father-in-law had been involved in the Burma-China Theater flying over the infamous "Hump". The stories he told were enough to curl your hair and gave a completely new meaning to the word sacrifice. While the standard strat airlift pilot joke described a rough TDY if there was no remote for the hotel room TV, his father-in-law described an existence about being lucky if they even had a decent room, much less something to do in the way of entertainment. He described literally being able to find your way across that part of Burma by the trail of aluminum from crashed aircraft. There was no such thing as an organized Search and Rescue force to come after you if you were so unlucky as to go down in the jungle. Some of the locals may help you out or just as likely turn you in to the enemy for a reward.

When his father-in-law completed flight training and went overseas he'd only been married a few short years. He had a two-year old son and his wife was expecting their second child. Little did he know the oldest wouldn't even know him when he saw him again and the new "baby" would be almost two years old. He told the story of arriving at the airfield on his first day. It was a totally overwhelming experience. There was hardly a soul in sight and those hanging around looked like they'd been to hell and back.

The temperature was stifling; it had to have been over 100 degrees in the shade with the humidity oppressive. Within a few minutes of stepping off the plane he was sweating like he'd just run 20 miles. Flies were everywhere and he thought he'd go nuts trying to get away from them. The shape the aircraft were in reflected the condition of the airfield environs and the attitude of the people working on them. He had a hard time blaming the maintenance troops, though, for the condition of the aircraft. The Hump was at the end of the supply line and got the last pick of pretty much everything. All items had to be flown in so the availability of personnel, spare parts, and anything for that matter that made life a little more livable, was pretty slim. It was very difficult to keep morale up when you felt like you were a participant in the part of the war no one at home seemed to care about.

Most people on the home front knew nothing of this little contingent of the Army Air Corp. They never made the weekly movie news reels. Their importance to the overall war effort couldn't be overestimated though because they were the sole supply link to that part of the war that was keeping hundreds of thousands of enemy troops from other fronts. This was the time before General Tunner, the "Godfather of Airlift", had arrived and the whole situation was pretty grim. His father-in-law said General Tunner shook things up a bit and the situation improved tremendously.

Phil remembered complaining about all the TDYs he did during DESERT STORM and DESERT SHIELD. One TDY even lasted a whole month. Heck, airlift aircrews weren't happy unless they were complaining anyway. He did have an air conditioned tent with a wooden floor and a bed with clean sheets even if he did have to share it with the rest of the crew. There was decent food to eat and plenty of it 24 hours a day, a movie tent, a video game tent, and a work out tent. Towards the end there was even a BX shopping mall complete with a pizza and ice cream parlor. After listening to his father-inlaw talk about their living conditions he now realized why he didn't shed too many tears about his living conditions when he described them after returning home.

They also talked about the pride they felt being involved in a cause greater than themselves. This cause overshadowed everything they did and made whatever sacrifice required worthwhile. They were defending their country and way of life against an enemy that constituted a direct threat to everything his father-in-law's generation believed in. This new enemy was the same yet very different. They wore no uniforms, showed no inclination to follow the rules of war in accordance with the Geneva Convention. To them everything was a target and there were no front lines. It made no difference if you were male or female, military or civilian, young or old, all were targets. They had stated as much and had proven it very publicly by their actions. Anything or anyone for that matter that did not agree with or approve of them or what they did needed to be destroyed.

All these thoughts, and more Phil mulled over as he got his crew together and they went out to the plane. They stopped off at the appropriate places to get everything they needed for this type of mission. He made sure everyone had weapons, chemical survival gear, survival vests and all the other bags of equipment they would need to go to war. As the back of the bus filled up with more and more gear each person would need to survive and function in a potentially hostile environment the reality of the situation began to sink in. This was no exercise; he was really going to war.

The crew arrived at the aircraft they were flying and went through the long and involved process getting everything ready for a home station departure. Most everyone associated with airlift knew leaving home station usually involved the biggest hassles so Phil was extra careful to keep the sequence of events flowing as smoothly as he could. The support he was getting on missions like this had been great. Even the home station ground crews seemed to realize the seriousness of this mission and were anxious to do their part. The folks he was flying with were all very experienced and among all of them were probably over 40,000 hours of flight in every part of the world. They, too, realized the importance of what they were about to participate in.

As expected, the preflight went smoothly. Engine start and taxi out went without a hitch as well and Phil taxied the big airlifter out for takeoff. Clearance for takeoff was requested and received in due order and Phil ran the throttles up watching the engines respond. He released the brakes and started the takeoff roll like he'd done thousands of times before. The plane lifted off slowly and began the long flight to Germany. After Phil made his last call to home station tower he thought briefly of all those who had gone on before him doing this exact same thing. The one thought uppermost in mind was, "Now it's my turn".

by Maj (Lt Col Sel) Bill Nelson

Copyright Superintendent of Documents, Military Airlift Command Sep/Oct 2002
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