WELCOME HOME

I have been terrible at keeping this blog updated, and I have several posts to complete, but I definitely wanted to share Rick's homecoming.

The video is below, and in case you can't tell who the players are, I am the blubbering walrus of a gal that is lurching towards Rick. Rick is the svelte, handsome hero in a desert flight suit.

I can't even describe the relief I felt that day being able to get my arms around him, and know that he was safe.

http://youtu.be/MLUVgesEMfY

Transitioning....Nights to Days

As most of you probably know, I've been flying Nights for the last couple months over here in Afghanistan. Today, Monday July 18, 2011, I am switching over to days. So how does one go from nights to day, or any shift change for that matter? Well, simply put, it's a drug induced transition. Now you may thinking "oh my goodness, my son or Rick is on drugs?" (Mom). Don't worry, I'm not "on drugs" but I also won't lie, making a huge transition with only 24 hours to do it is not an easy task and a little assistance comes in handy.


So how exactly did it go down? Well, I flew last night which would of been Saturday night, 16 July. We took off about 1AM local Afghanistan time. Naturally, my last flight at night also had to be the first time the weather was not good. Flying at night in semi-bad weather is never fun, but the mission always goes on regardless of weather (to a certain extent). So my wingman and I took off. The visibility was about 1 mile which is NOT very far. When the visibility is that bad, we are required to fly under instrument flight rules; something that my flight 2 nights ago was also my first time doing since I got here in March. As I got airborne, my Heads Up Display (HUD) "shifted" about 5 inches to the right; this is not good and a problem exists. However, 5 seconds later, it goes back to the normal position. Since the airplane I was flying was made the same year I was born, I just said, "ah whatever, it's old and she's just working out the kinks" and I pressed on into the dust filled night. As we climbed up through 10,000 feet, the visibility got a bit better, but now a new problem was revealed; no kidding storm clouds.......and I was sure the tanker was going to drag us right into them as they seem prone to be attracted to clouds. Sure enough, they did. As my wingman and I struggled to stay on the boom (the probe that extends from the refueling aircraft) through turbulence, low visibility, and the fact it's pitch-black, the radios started going crazy with immediate request for "Hawg" flight to roll up to an area where some friendly forces were taking heavy fire. Once I finally completed my refueling, I told #2 I was leaving him and we'd rejoin in the area where we were needed.


Pushing my A-10 to the limit speed wise, I quickly gathered as much information as I could about where we were going, who we were supporting, what other aircraft were already overhead (remember, it's dark and other aircraft do fly here), what frequencies they were on, and what's the tactical situation. Meanwhile, the visibility is still bad, the lightning flashes are blinding and oh by the way, the radios (we have 3 of them) are going to hell....meaning it's like trying to listen to 3 different phone calls while a power drill, vacuum cleaner, and Harley Davidson motorcycle are all running right next to you. After repeating myself numerous times and saying "say again for Hawg 71", I nearly ejected just to escape the annoying and painful sounds coming directly into my ears through my helmet.


After deciding not to eject and do my job, I finally checked in with the ground forces and got an update on the situation. Luckily, the enemy fire had stopped and nobody on the ground was injured...something that unfortunately is not always the case. Finally, my wingman catches up and rejoins with me. After hanging out over the friendlies for a time, we get re-rolled to support another friendly unit who's returning back to their base. The bad thing for us is that this unit was going to drive straight through the capital of Kabul. Doing a convoy escort is tough; doing a convoy escort over a major (relatively) metropolitan area is even more difficult. Not to mention, once again our radios were SEVERELY degraded due to, well, they just were. Anyhow, #2 and I power our way through that and then we are cleared to make the nearly 300 mile trek back to Kandahar. Not to mention, we had another air refueling in there. Again, it was very painful and this time, amplified by the F16's and F15's all trying to get gas as well. Putting 6 fighter jets and a big refueling tanker all within a mile of eachother at 3AM might seem crazy to you. If not, then you've not been there because I think it's ludicrous, but being the good troop I am, I just do it and move on.


Anyhow, we returned to Kandahar and since it was my last night flight, of course the weather was bad. Calling up all the navigational instruments I haven't used since Moody, I was pleasantly surprised I remembered how to work them all. After flying the approach down to minimums (the lowest I can fly before I have to abort the approach), the elation that came over me that I hadn't crashed and there in front of me stood the beautiful strobe lights and runway was awesome. More importantly as my wheels touched the asphalt, I was relieved that I no longer would have to wear these heavy night vision goggles hanging in front of my face and from now on, those dang dangerous air refuelings would be done during the sunlight where I could actually see the 150 thousand pounds of pure jet fuel I was "bumping" into everytime I fly.


After coming back into the Squadron, it was time for my "fini-breakfast". The greatest thing about the night shift was the fact that after a "day's" work, we would go as a group to stuff our faces with 1,500 calories of omelet and fried hash browns, then go back to the Mod to let the calories just lay in our stomachs while we slept for the next 8 hours. However, since this was my last night flight, I was planning on trying to stay up and start adjusting my clock to the new schedule. I had been going to sleep about 0600Z; now I'm trying to adjust to going to sleep about 1500Z (9 hours later). My plan was to try and just power through my tiredness. About 7Z, one hour later than normal, my plan failed miserably. So, I woke up about 1500Z and couldn't go back to sleep. I tried reading, watching a movie, listening to music; nothing worked. After my futile attempt to get more sleep, I just accepted that I was going to get up and suck it up for the next 20 hours or so.


So here I am. I've drank 4 coffee's, 2 energy drinks, and ate a nice breakfast of jerky and girl scout cookies. I'm doing fine so far and I honestly think by the time I go home in a few hours, my body will be all adjusted. If not, it'll just be good preparation for once the little man comes around this fall!

Having a Son......Far From Home.

It was a Monday morning, the 23 of May of this year, that I got to find out the wonderful news about the sex of Rachel and I's upcoming baby. I was sitting Top 3 (or Operations Supervisor...depends on who you ask) for our Fighter Squadrons daily activity. Being a Top 3 is kind of nice in that I get to sit at a desk and do some "administrative" related things and also catch up on some emails and simply hang out in the Squadron talking to the numerous people who come and go. This night was extra special however. It was special because I knew that after my shift was over, I was going straight to the Morale tent in order to use Skype video to call Rachel and find out the sex.

Rachel was in Arizona visiting the family out there. They had been having a wonderful week and I'm sure like myself, they were anxious to find out what little Mango was going to be. Rachel and Toni (her Mother) had found a place that does ultrasounds on the weekends; perfect because it allowed Rachel's family to be a part of a very special event in pregnancy that I was unable to be at and it let Rachel and I coordinate a time that I could be present via the Internet to see what Mango was going to be. I had worked with the schedulers to ensure that I was available on Sunday afternoon Arizona time (about 3AM here in Afghanistan). That night, as I sat there "running" our small piece of the Afghanistan War, it was tough to stay focused on the job at hand when I had such an exciting event coming up in the near future. Nearly ever person in our Squadron commented on how jubilant I was and how "slap-happy" I was all evening. The first 6 hours of my shift went by quickly; the last two hours it was like time had slowed down to quarter speed and the hours dragged on. Finally, at 0230AM my replacement (Capt Mike "Papa" Roche) FINALLY rolled in to replace me. Well, Papa, God Bless him, likes to take his sweet old time upon arriving. He'll meander around the Squadron, saying hi, grabbing coffee, a bagel, and whatever other care package item he can get his hand on. After explaining to Papa that "dude, seriously...you need to sit down now and take over", he got the drift that I was in a hurry to get out of here. After pretty much blowing off all pertinent info about the 74 FS's current activities in the War, I sprinted out of the Squadron. I nearly face-planted running my 225lbs (year, that's right....225) frame down the stairs as quickly as possible. Due to my superior and lighting quick skills, I was able to catch myself just in time and more importantly, save my lap top from certain destruction. As Rachel knows, if I would of broken yet another lap top, I would of killed every Taliban in this country and the War would be over.....maybe that would of been a good thing? Anyhow, after regrouping, and of course making sure nobody saw my near catastrophe, I ran down to the Morale tent.

Barging into the Morale tent, I was pleasantly surprised that it was empty. This was a good thing. I seem to have a problem with electronics when everyone else's seems to work fine. This was yet again the case. After 10 minutes of saying things I hope my child never hears me say, I was finally up and running on Skype. I dialed Rachel's skype number and it rang. After what seemed like eternity, there was my precious love, saying hello to me on the other end. My 2 minutes of good fortune quickly turned bad as I immediately noticed my skype screen was "freezing"....meaning yet again, the electronic God's were laughing at me and making the stuff just not work like it's supposed. So I more or less tell Rachel to dispense with the hello's and let's get down to it and open up this envelope....my time is a running out on this Internet connection.

So I sat there, nearly 10,000 miles away from my Love and awaited her to open the envelope. Just like our initial pregnancy test, Rachel gave me the honor of finding out first, something I truly cherish. As the screen got fuzzy and jumped around with it's 10second delay, Rachel held up a picture right to the camera. Now I have 20/15 vision, but me being able to tell what this little creation was just wasn't going to happen. I felt awful and dejected, but kept squinting and straining to see what our little Mango was going to be. Rachel asked me what it was and I simply said "I can't tell" or something like that. So Rachel then turns it around and right when I didn't think I could stand the wait any longer, she says, "it's a boy". The feeling that came over me was unlike anything I've ever experienced. My eyes welled up and my pride soared; not only had I "done my part" and gotten Rachel pregnant, but this little angel was going to be a boy! As many pilots say, I had "snuck one by the goalie" since most fighter pilots have girls and we were having a boy. Nearly simultaneously as this emotional and happy event is taking place, the electronic God's crush my moment and totally freeze Rachel's image right as tears and radiant beams from her beautiful face are streaming out of my computer 10 thousand miles away. I slammed down my screen and ran back towards our fighter squadron to immediately get in touch with Rachel via a land-line. As luck would have it, Rachel did not answer on the my first attempt and my feeling of being a worthless husband and now father skyrocketed as not only was I not there for this event, but now I wasn't even able to effectively speak with my wife. I immediately redialed the number and this time, there was my best-friends voice on the other end and both our voices quivered in happiness and heartfelt emotion at the "little man" we were now going to bring into the world.

After the conversation with Rachel, I knew it was time to pass the word to family. After all that was accomplished, I went back up to the Squadron. Walking into the Squadron, it took less than 3 seconds for people to notice something magical had taken place. My smile was ear to ear and I just couldn't stop smiling. I told everyone and then I told them again and again. Hands were shaken, congrats were passed, names were already being offered. I basked in the joy of being an expectant father of a Son. I truly thought we were going to have a girl and I was SO happy with that. I can only hope that God will bless Rachel and I again with another child and I honestly hope it's a girl. However, with so many contributing factors such as my profession, more girls in the family than boys, and the old school thought of having my oldest offspring be the "man of the house" when I'm gone, I was beyond excited our firstborn was going to be a boy and the Mitchell name will carry on.

After all the initial congrats, it was time to celebrate the best I could. I grabbed my pipe and a near-beer and headed out to "The Winchester", a little smoke area we have here. Don't worry, I'm not a smoker, but on special occasions, I will light up a cigar or pipe and bask in the moment and reflect. Several of the guys wanted to be around; people tend to feed off other people's emotion and my emotion was all good on this morning.

So here we are. That was nearly two months ago and I'm just now writing about it. The events over here have been many since then, some of them not good for me. However, know that there is not a day that goes by where I don't think about my Rachel and our Son. My heart beams with joy and I can't wait to welcome OUR SON into the world!

May 2011: Osama Bin Laden's Death

Another month down during this deployment. I must say, it was a big month. First off and most importantly, Rachel and I found out we are going to be having a Son. The feeling is indescribable, but my attempt at it will follow in another blog. Additionally, Rachel got to go see her family, I went from Mid-shift over here to Night shift, my mustache got another 4mm's longer, and I lost more weight still. However, the obvious Nationwide, Worldwide for that matter, news for May was Osama Bin Laden's death.
Some may be wondering about what was happening over here during the no kidding, kick down the door and storm the compound timeframe. Certain things were in place, but 99% of our operation was "ops normal". In fact, I was busy just hanging around the squadron when the word dropped. We (several other pilots and I) sat with a weird sense of satisfaction at the reports we were getting. Unfortunately for us, we couldn't see the President's initial speech, but we got to read a transcript soon after. The cigars and near-beer came out pretty quickly and the several war-stories we all had since 2001 all resurfaced for some laughs and moments of reflection.
Seeing the Internet news of the reaction back in the States was somewhat peculiar to me however. To begin, I am happy justice has been served. As President Bush stated, "Dead or Alive", I must admit, I was 51% towards Dead as opposed to Alive. The hoopla and years of debate that would of raged about him would of been a nightmare. Now, it's simply done and life goes on. But the behaviour of thousands and thousands of Americans was somewhat interesting to me. The emotions ranged from extreme happiness to quiet and tear-filled reflective moments. I was somewhere between those two points. The US is a free country and people are entitled to show and express their opinions. However, as many pundits have written about, where is the moral compass in showing parties, chants of "USA, USA", and college kids hanging drunkenly from trees and street signs? The anger many Americans have when they see a foreign country burning the flag is the feeling that I think we were creating and showing to the world. To top it all off, most of, hell, probably nearly all of these people that were jubilant and ecstatic have no real connection to the events that day nor have they served in a capacity to have any effect whatsoever on the war front. Less than 1% of America's population serves in the military today. A bit arrogant I admit, but those of us who have actually been here, where the metal meets the meat, didn't feel the need to swing from a stop light and tell the world we're number 1 and wave a flag around. Again, I'm not saying that people don't have that right; they do and I 100% support that right. I'm just saying it's funny to me that people did that and the people who actually do the dirty work didn't feel the need.
On the flip side of this though is the happiness and renewed confidence the American people should have in their military and counter-terrorism units. People should be proud that nearly 10 years after it happened, when the headline news spoke of nothing but "why are we still there; we're never going to catch him" that the professionals are quietly, patiently, and with heartfelt determination, still tracking down those who do/did us harm. I know from personal conversations with some reading this that you thought he'd never be found and you wondered why your tax dollars were still supporting the effort. It was important because justice needs to always be done. Human nature is to see good-guys win; bad-guys lose. However, justice is often an unfair thing and it seems at times like it's never done or realized. But in this case, the American people got to see the realization of something that many thought was nothing more but a pipe-dream. They got to see some of the qualities that once made us all proud to be Americans. Steadfast dedication to a cause in the face of opposition. A cause that in my opinion, a price tag can't be put on. I think most would agree...or at least in Rachel, Peanut, and our future's son's home we believe, that when someone attacks you in own backyard, retribution will be realized in one way or another. People who doubted the resolve of the Nation now must admit that our Country made a promise and it came through on it. I obviously feel it was worth the cost. Many others I'm sure do not. But that's the great thing about our Country; we can all feel and say what we want and have open dialogue about it. Freedom is a wonderful thing.

Boy or Girl? Find out here...

Doctor appointments

**WARNING - Do not read this if any discussion about mysterious lady parts makes you feel faint**

Despite preparing for a deployment in a week, Rick was able to go to our first doctor appointment. My expectation was we would go in, get a sonogram of a little blob, get some questions answered, and then go to lunch. There was a little more to it. In the waiting room, I stared at the women in various stages of pregnancy. A few looked extremely uncomfortable, and hardly as excited as I was. I flipped through the pregnancy magazines and was amazed at all the gadgets advertised. I didn't know that most of these things existed, and started to feel overwhelmed with what I didn't know. We were called in. After a few pleasantries, we were informed that I would need to put on a paper gown, and the doctor would be in to do the exam. EXAM?! I thought, once pregnant, you were off the hook for THAT kind of exam. EWWW! As I got into the thin and worthless gown, I tried to prepare Rick for what was about to happen. I pointed out the instruments on the counter, and watched his eyes widen. The doctor came in and I assumed the flattering position. I tried to act cool, and 'relax' as she got started. She struck up a conversation with Rick, and they just chitty-chatted through the entire dang process. Rick did excellent and rubbed my cheeks, asking if I was okay when my entire body tensed up and I tried to keep from kicking the doctor right in her chatty face. Once done, she said I did great (whatever that means) and everything looks good. She leaves the room as I get dressed and look for my dignity. The doctor came back in and answered some questions, then let us go to the ultrasound room.

YAY!!! I knew it would just be a blob, but it would be so wonderful to actually have proof that there was a little life in there. We walked into the room, and I hopped up on the table. I gave Rick the camera, and started to roll up my shirt. The technician, who seemed irritated by my excitement, gave me a paper towel, and said I would need to go into the restroom, and take off everything from the waist down. What is the deal?! Why wasn't there a warning when I made the appointment. Something like, "We will see you at 1:00, and prepare to have your pants off the whole dang time."

I go into the room, and did as instructed. There is NO WAY to get this towel to fit around me. I crept out of the restroom, and tried to heave myself on to the table without flashing my entire backside. Once settled, the tech came over, and removed a gas pump from her console. She noticed the HORRIFIED look on my face, and said, "You know this is an internal sonogram, right"

"No, Ma'am, I didn't know such a thing existed" I squeaked.

I looked over at Rick, hoping he could come up with some alternative, but he was staring at the gas pump.

She proceeded. I thought the exam was embarrassing, but this really took the cake. I was asked to relax, and if I wasn't thinking of what a violation this was, I would have rolled my eyes. I couldn't even look at Rick.

Then, the image popped up on the screen, she pointed out a teeny tiny flicker that was the heart beating, and everything else dissolved. It was an amazing moment, and I am so so thankful Rick and I were together for it. I did still get lunch afterwards, and even got to wear my pants. We had the pictures of the little blob on the table and just marveled at the tiny life we now had proof of.

Baby news!

Well, my feet had hardly touched the ground since our wedding celebration when we found out we were going to have a baby. It was something we had intensely hoped for, but with Rick's TDY schedule, (He was gone just about every 29 days) and the deployment being moved up from fall to early spring, we knew the odds were stacked against us. In fact, we had only one shot at it before he deployed. Evidently, that's all it takes.

We took our first pregnancy test on a Sunday. We had decided we would wait

another week until we took a test if we had some kind of indication that I could be pregnant. I couldn't stand it. I had such a

hopeful feeling that despite having dinner plans with another couple in about an hour, I took a test. I left the test in the bathroom, and tried to look normal. I stood in the kitchen, watching the clock on the microwave. I ignored that pesky voice of reason in my head that reminded me that we weren't going to put too much pressure on ourselves, and if it didn't happen before the deployment, we would be just fine. Rick came in from the garage, and asked me why I had the weird look on my face. I just blurted out that I had peed on a stick. He asked why I would do that. UGH! I explained to him that meant I had taken a pregnancy test. He stood there waiting for my next statement. I explained I couldn't possibly go look at it, and he would have to do it. I couldn't help the swelling feeling of excitement, and I grabbed the camera. Then, thinking of the devastation of recording a negative pregnancy test, I left it on the counter, and followed him into the bathroom. He bent down and picked up the test. I peered in from the other room babbling, "I got the test that made it easy to tell, and it should have words on it, and if he could just tell me what words are on there, then we would know, but it is pretty early to be testing, so maybe it wasn't a good idea."

He said, "There aren't any words."

My heart dropped, and I immediately began to hate my own guts for getting our hopes up. He then said, "But there are two lines, and that means positive" "Oh my God, it's positive."

I leapt into the bathroom, and looked at the test through blurring eyes. There was an idiot-proof box that illustrated what the two test results could be, and sure enough two bright lines were there - PREGNANT!

I threw all caution to the wind, dispelled any thoughts of taking another test, or this possibly being a false positive, and hugged Rick. Lots of crying. Crying until my nose bled. Not exactly the kodak moment I hoped for, but I was too excited to care. I wanted to tell the world! I wanted to write it on my forehead and run through the streets. This time, I listened to that voice of reason, and we called our family. More crying as I squeaked out the news. We had to cut our conversations short, and fire up the grill. Our friends, Mike and Andrea, were due at the house any minute. Nothing has been the same since....

What exactly is my Job?

Some people have inquired as to what exactly it is that I do. People often ask my family and friends about my daily life as an A-10 pilot and what that entails. Hopefully, this blog will provide you with some clarity.
First off, I am an Officer in the US Air Force. Self explanatory? Maybe not as you might wonder what does that mean exactly? As an Officer, you're primary responsibility is to manage, communicate, motivate, inspire and most importantly, LEAD the enlisted force of the military. How this is done varies greatly from individual to individual and obviously, some are more effective than others at leading. Perhaps the most important function of Officers' though is responsibility and accountability. Ultimately, the buck stops at Officers no matter what the enlisted personnel do (obviously within reason). In College back at SIUC during my Senior year, I was the Cadet Wing CC, meaning I was "in charge" of the Cadet Wing which consisted of about 125 cadets (Cadets are what people are called who are training to become Officers). One day I got called by the Colonel to report into his office wearing my full dress blues uniform (our formal uniform...usually worn when in trouble or for something very formal). I reported in and he left me standing at attention in front of his desk. A freshman Cadet had gotten in trouble for underage drinking. I hardly even knew the Cadet nor what they did in their spare time. However, the lesson being taught was that even though I was nowhere near the Cadet when the incident happened, it was my responsibility in that the proper drinking awareness programs had not been briefed, hence my failure to adequately train the Cadets. The Colonel was an effective leader in that he taught me at the age of 21 that I'm always responsible for the people underneath my command. A lesson I still abide by today and the fundamental aspect of being an Officer.
So that's the general premise of being an Officer. As for daily task, they range greatly from the training environment to the combat environment. At Moody, I spend just as much, if not more time doing my administrative duties. My administrative duty is the Squadron Chief of Stan Eval which means I'm responsible for ensuring the adherence to Air Force publications and regulations. With this title, my pilot qualification changed to an Evaluator Pilot, typically the highest qualification you'll get in the jet. My job is to fly what we call checkrides with pilots to ensure their capability in the jet is up to the Air Force standard of Combat Mission Readiness. Generally, this is not the most pleasant job as I have to hold my friends to a standard and if they don't perform well, I'm the one who has to give them downgrades (think a B or C grade....sometimes an F) on their overall performance. It can make for some uncomfortable situations. However, the vast majority of Air Force pilots are sharp and their skills are the best in the world at the type of flying we do. Along with this administrative job comes lot's and lot's of Microsoft Excel, PowerPoint, and other electronic tracking programs. Computer work for short which as a Pilot, stinks! Aside from the admin side, my "other" job is an A-10 pilot. My official Air Force Specialty Code is 11F3B, meaning I'm a fighter pilot by trade. Think of me being an Officer in the Air Force as my profession; my job title is an A-10 fighter pilot. The Air Force pays me to be an Officer first, then the best A-10 pilot I can be. Along with that, comes all the administrative duties listed above.
On the combat side of the my job, it's very simple: my job is to protect United States and Coalition troops and other friendly forces on the ground from opposing enemy forces. How does this happen? It happens via multiple ways. Primarily, enemy forces know the A-10 when they see it. It's been called the "Silent Death", "Crusader Plane", and "The Gray Bomber" (we ARE NOT A BOMBER!!!!) amongst others. What that means is that when enemy forces see us, they usually will disengage with friendly forces and run away. They do this simply because of our presence overhead which equates to us saving lives on the ground since they are no longer being shot at. Other times, enemy forces are more persistent and our presence alone doesn't "break contact" as we call it. It's during these times when we have to employ the A-10 as it was designed; shooting bullets, rockets or missiles, and dropping bombs in close proximity to friendly forces.
So a typical day over here in Afghanistan equates to waking up, catching a bus to work, preflighting our gear we fly with (oxygen masks, communications gear, weapons, night vision goggles, laser pointers, binoculars, other stuff which all equates to about 125lbs of gear I wear and carry), then getting an intelligence brief on the latest enemy action and expected threats for the days mission, then briefing up the mission with our wingmen, going to the jets, and flying the mission. Sometimes you employ weapons; other times you don't; it all depends on the situation on the ground. After you return to Kandahar, you have to debrief with intelligence on what you saw and what happened so they can track enemy tactics, techniques, and procedures.

In the simplest form, when people ask you what's he fly or what's a mission like or does he fly on the weekends, answer this way. I fly A-10 Warthog's for the Air Force (no other branch has A-10's so don't believe the guy at Sam's who says he saw it on an aircraft carrier in Vietnam). It's an aircraft designed specifically for ground support. If they ask further ("well, does he carry cargo or how does he help the ground guys"...aka they want to know if I kill bad guys but they don't want to say that), you just tell them he can and does at times employ (drop, shoot, whatever you want to call it) lethal weapons as a last resort in order to save good guys. An A-10 flies 24 hours a day, 7 days a week here (obviously I personally don't fly that much as that's impossible), so yes, we fly on the weekends; the enemy doesn't stop trying to kill soldiers just because it's Sunday morning. However you handle the questions people ask you, always remind them that I am here as a volunteer and I happily serve the United States. I'm proud to be able to make a direct impact on our Nation's defense policies. Politics are a none factor in my choosing to serve. If someone turns it political with you, you just tell them it's not about the politics; it's simply about being here with those who choose to serve something greater than themselves.

Kandahar: What it's Like Here.

Hello All! It's been a few weeks so I figured I'd send an update out. Remember, I said no promises on the frequency of this; but I do intend to update it a little bit more often than I have so far. Kandahar Air Base is where I currently live. Certainly not home, but it's the closest thing to it right now. A little bit on the history of Kandahar Air Base. In a bit of irony, it was built by the U.S. in the late 50's into the early 60's. Not officially, but probably, it was built as a strategic location in case of war with the USSR. At the same time as Kandahar Airport's construction, the Soviets were building Kabul Airport approximately 180 miles up to the North. Just another Cold War "who's got the bigger gun" show. With jet engines becoming the norm for Air Force planes though, the Kandahar Airport saw very little US action or movement. In the 1980's, the airport was used extensively by the USSR for combat operations in and around the South-Southwest region of Afghanistan. After the Soviet withdrawal in 1989, the airport was doomed into tribal conflict with the numerous factions of Islamic militant groups all vying for power. The airport saw little use during this period (1990's), consisting mostly of humanitarian flights and the occasional Afghanistan commercial flight. In October of 2001, in another bit of irony, the United States bombed Kandahar airport pretty heavily to enable the Marines in December of that year to take the airport with relative ease. Since December 2001, the airport, now known to many as Kandahar Air Field, has been in the hands of US and Coalition forces. Today, this place is primarily ran by Canadian forces, even though I believe we outnumber their personnel at this location. So why Kandahar when we already have Bagram Air Base up North? Bagram was the 1st US ran base in 2001. Much like Kandahar, it was the scene for intense fighting between the Mujaheddin and Taliban forces just prior to US military , Coalition, an US Civilian Special Forces (think Jason Borne type dudes) arrival in the fall of that year. Bagram is bigger, closer to the volatile Northeast of Afghanistan, and simply much larger of a logistical footprint. In 2006, I flew my A-10 almost exclusively up in the Northeast portion of Afghanistan. If you look at a map, you'll see that the Northeast portion of Afghanistan has these things called mountains.....and really, really big ones! As some of you know, the A-10 does not have much extra power. What this equates to is a situation where you have big mountains and a jet that if it loses a motor, it can't get over said mountains which you can gather is not cool. So with that, finally the war planners decided to move the A-10's down south where heavy fighting was beginning to take place at this location known as Kandahar City. Kandahar City is about 12 miles from my exact location right now. Kandahar City was the last metropolitan stronghold of the Taliban; considered by many as their haven if you will. Still, a heavy Taliban influenced region today. Another reason why we operated up North in 2006 was because there was this other conflict on-going.......Iraqi Freedom. Remember in 2006, Afghanistan didn't get a peep of news; the media and general populace focus was on that war front in Iraq. With that, A-10's were the only Air Force fighter/attack platform operating here in 2006 meaning we were responsible for the entire country. That comment on a lack of power up above also means we are not that fast either, so the troops on the ground in the South-Southwest (aka Kandahar and west) were not getting the air support as quickly as one would probably want. So, with a new runway up at Bagram, F15E's, F16's, and F18's now flying over here, A-10's were moved down to Kandahar to fight the radicals in the much flatter and dessert environment of the South-Southwest while the fighters with bigger motor's, etc, fight up along the Northeastern border. Probably more detail than desired, but there you go.

So what's it like here? It dusty; really dusty. Sad thing is, it's only going to get MUCH MUCH worse I've been told. We are anticipating days this summer when the visibility will be less than a quarter mile simply due to dust. Dust storms are normal here as well. Aside from that, the base looks like a place that has had years of violence executed in and around it. Several old buildings sit vacant and several piles of just junk. I'm talking beams, bricks, metal foundations, and other random building stuff just sits in piles here. The civilian airport is operational though and much of the original architecture still stands. In a reminder of how far we are from home, the other day I taxied by an Iranian Airlines commercial plane. This is something you won't see in the United States probably in your lifetime. The Afghan's don't fly many planes from here but there are the occasional commercial flights. As for the military side of this place, the number of aircraft is simply amazing. The air traffic controllers here are some of the best in the world, brought here with lucrative contracts due to the demands this place puts on them. For instance, when I landed here the first time, I was #14 for the runway....and I had 5 more A-10's behind me. What that means is that there were 13 airplanes lined up before me to land on the SINGLE-RUNWAY that we have here. With one runway, a pilot's "pucker factor" as we call it, sometimes gets pretty high because if you come back with not much gas or the weather get's bad and some other airplane has "crumped" (disabled the runway....see my post on Lajes), you can be in a world of hurt. Just a couple weeks ago we had A-10's orbiting the field at 20,000 feet cycling on and off a tanker for gas due the weather visibility going below the minimums for a pilot to land. Good thing we had tankers with the gas available. So what would have happened if we wouldn't of had that tanker I can see Tim wondering? Well, that's why we get flight pay every month and sometimes, you just gotta do what you gotta do in order to land the jet even if it involves something outside the normal regulations and rules.

What about normal life stuff; not all this flying junk? I live in a 8x7 room, made out of plywood and comforter's. Yes, I'm talking about that nice Bed Bath and Beyond comforter you all probably have on your beds.....only ours are NOT from Bed Bath and Beyond. My "room" is actually a sub-room in a larger room. Each larger room has 5 or 6 "sub-rooms" which are the rooms made of wood and comforter's. All the larger rooms together make up the "Mod". The "Mods" as we call them are like really long double-wide trailers. Our Mod is divided into 6 rooms, each room housing between 4-6 pilots each. My room has 5 pilots in it, but unfortunately for me, I'm on the side of the room that has 3 pilots so my 8x7 is slightly smaller than the pilots on the other side of my room. The Mod has a bathroom in it at the end of the hall. You have no idea how great this is! In 2006 at Bagram, a person had to get up out of bed in the middle of the night (or day if you flew at night) put on the appropriate clothes, grab your gun of course, and walk about 100 yards just to go to the Camp's latrine. Now, I can simply put on my flip-flops and trudge my big ole butt down the hallway at 3AM to use the restroom. It's glorious! The Squadron (a term used to identify both our unit and physical building we operate out of) is on the other side of the airfield. If you google map this place, you will NOT see it; the imagery has not been updated recently enough. It's about a 20 minute ride one way to work everyday. I didn't like it at first, but honestly, I don't mind it now. You always hear about humans needing some time to decompress; the bus ride simply offers you sometime to reflect on that days activities and think about home which is great. Perhaps more importantly, our bus, which was built in 1974 I believe, has an old school VHS player on it. This makes Rachel very, very happy in that there is solid proof now that VCR's are in fact still in use around the world. We have lots of movies that have been given to us to watch while we traverse the junkyard around this place. Just the other night, it was great to see Ghostbuster's on VHS. It would be quite a sight for you to see all these US military pilots starring in total silence at the Stay Puff Marshmallow Man. It was one of those moments when I appreciated where I have come from. It reminded me of Mom and Dad watching that movie with me. Made me think that if someone in the 1980's had told me I'd be watching this same movie in 2011 on a crappy Afghani made bus in the middle of the night that they were crazy. Yet, here I was and for that brief moment, it just reminded me how happy I am to serve. Certainly missing home, but being there with those fellow servants, in that exact moment of having the Stay Puff Marshmallow man on TV just made my day. The Squadron itself is a nice building....relatively speaking. It has AC and all the amenities you'd want. We've built a place for us to hang out there; it's called the Bing. Why is it that? History and I'll leave it at that. It's got a projection TV in there and hundreds of DVD's and XBox games. The gamers in the squadron really enjoy it. I have to admit, my Rockband skills have went up twofold. Outside the Squadron, the previous Squadron built a little area called The Winchester. It's a place for smoker's to smoke and others to simply converse in the outside Afghanistan environment. A nice place to just read a book or simply take in the sights of the unique environment around you. Aside from the Mod's and the Squadron, some other things on this base are the Boardwalk, Chapel, Post Office, and of course the Chow Hall. The Boardwalk is a place where service members can spend money. It's got a bunch of little shops that sell trinkets and rugs and illegally pirated DVD's, "normal" overseas stuff like that. It also has a Green Bean Coffee and a TGI Friday's amongst some other places. I have not went to any of those places though; I don't see the need to spend money when I can eat for free at a Chow Hall. Besides, someone said a burger and fries at the TGI Friday's will run you over 20 bucks. Standard capitalism, charge what people are willing to pay and lot's of these soldiers view 20 bucks as nothing when they are operating in a war zone and getting tax free every month. To each their own though. The Chapel is pretty nice; again relatively speaking. I've went to church 3 times since I've been here. It's tough with my schedule right now and I've been dragging pretty bad. However, it's like any church in America only the congregation consists of people in military combat uniforms with guns everywhere. Ok, so not like any church in America, but that's how it is here. The service is like any military service; very generalized, yet very motivating and uplifting to those so far from home. The Post Office is an utter zoo. I avoid it like the plague! I think every time I've went there, there has been a line at least 50 feet long. But, I guess people are mailing stuff left and right so they have to go right? Good thing though is that there are the standard blue mailboxes throughout the base for you to put letters in. This makes it nice. A word on mail for all of you: IF MAILING A LETTER SIZE ENVELOPE (CARD, HAND-WRITING NOTE, ETC) YOU CAN MAIL IT FREE HERE!!!! JUST WRITE "FREE MAIL" WHERE YOU'D NORMALLY PUT THE STAMP. Obviously, I'd double check with your post-master first, but to my understanding (and actually seeing letter's mailed from the States with no postage on it) you can mail stuff free. This does NOT include packages though. Lastly, the Chow Hall. The food is good. Period dot. Like I've said before about Al Udied, the food is pretty tasty considering. Tonight, I had some shrimp, salad, a hot dog, and veggies. All the free water, milk, juice's, soda, coffee you'd ever want as well. Heck, even the desserts are good.

Overall, life here is not too bad. It's got it's plus's and minuses, but I really can't complain. There are teenager's out in tiny little FOB's (Forward Operating Bases) getting shot at everyday and I'm here on this mega-base. Like I've said before, it can always be worse. All you can do is simply accept where you are in life and press on! Sorry for the REALLY LONG POST, but I figured it would be nice to get this info out to everyone. Till next time, Rick

Al Udied...and finally into Afghanistan

Al Udied Air Base. It's a Lovely place.....for a Camel! It's hot, it's sandy, it's not the ideal place in the world one might say. I have to say though, people have lived there for thousands of years so evidently, they see something there that I do not. Anyhow, we landed in Al Udied, Qatar after a rather uneventful flight over. The highlight of this flight was that we flew over the Mediterranean Sea, right along the coast of Libya, which you may have heard about recently in the news, over the country of Egypt and Saudi Arabia and finally into Qatar. The landscape was nothing too exotic; sand, sand, and more sand. The Nile River in Egypt was about the only green area we saw during the 8 hour flight. Landing in Qatar was quit an experience itself. The visibility over here in the Middle East is typically much less than what we are used to in the United States. When we landed, the visibility was a little under 2 miles and the winds were howling at around 35mph. Like previously at Lajes, a more exciting landing than normal but whatever; it's part of the deal over here. After getting out of the jet, the heat and dust hit me like a wall. Blowing sand and dust is not cool. It's everywhere. Hair, shoes, socks, pockets, ears, finger nails, you name it, it's in there. Once getting all our bags unpacked, we were greeted by 2 A-10 pilots that were there working at Al Udied as the Air Liaison Officers for the 75EFS that was working at Kandahar at the time. The LNO as it's called in Pilot speak, is a conduit of information between the war planner's up at the Combined Air Operations Center (CAOC) there at Al Udied Air Base, Qatar, and the fighter squadrons based in the hostile countries executing the mission. I served as an LNO for 3 weeks during my previous deployment in 2006. It's kind of a nice break because at Al Udied, you can drink 3 beers a day, plus they have a pool and several other nice amenities that we do not have downrange in Afghanistan or Iraq. Back to this trip, so we got our stuff out of the jets and headed towards customs to immigrate into Qatar. The process was relatively simple and painless which was a surprise to us. The majority of people who come in there do not fly themselves into the country so they usually harass pilots for not having the "normal" documentation, etc. But, we had a senior enlisted guy to help us out which made life easier. After going through customs, it was time to grab some grub and head to the tent to get some sleep...but our last beer for 7 months also had to have a place on the priority list. The chow hall at Al Udied was amazing. Please know that your tax dollars are being spent on some top notch food! After dinner, it was time to hit the sack in our tent. Surprisingly, it was pretty comfortable even though I was sleeping in the same area as 12 other dudes. The next day, I had a down day as my cell of 6 A-10's had to wait an additional day to be able to move into theatre, so we spent it just walking around the the base and checking it out. After an early night, it was up again at 230AM to make our takeoff time to bring the jets into Afghanistan. Waking up early and trudging over to the community bathroom, I was quickly jolted by the sight of a grown man trying to shave his own back. I know gross, but imagine my thought being freshly removed from the luxuries of America and walking in a community bathroom in the Middle East at 230AM and seeing this. I actually laughed to myself and realized that this is my life for the next 7 months. Get used to it. After a quick bite to eat, it was back through customs and then out to the jets. This time, unlike previous legs of the trip over, we had to arm with our 9mm handguns and carry all our classified info and gear since we'd be going into bad guy land. It was a good feeling to be approaching the end of the journey over. After taking off and after 10 minutes of trying to understand what the air traffic controller was saying to us, we got our initial vector towards Afghanistan. We flew directly over the UAE (United Arab Emirates) and got to see the Palm Island, World Islands, and worlds tallest building. The UAE is a desert much like the rest of the countries over here, but it is actually developed. Right down there in the middle of the desert is this HUGE metropolis of buildings and development. Once I get home in the fall, I'll have to share some pictures with you to give you a better perspective. After only 1 air to air refueling, it was time to go into Pakistan, then up into Afghanistan. We armed up the countermeasures system on our jets just in case some little bad guy wanted to take a pop shot at us. Flying north into Afghanistan our tactical air display started to have all sorts of traffic on it. It was the many UAV's and other air assets patrolling the skies over Afghanistan. As we approached Kandahar, the 6 A-10's we were replacing we're climbing out to start their own journey, only there's would take them home to South Georgia. We saw them on our displays. The flight lead of those 6 A-10's sent me a message (yes we can send text messages in our jet...no, not to your cell phone though). His message was plan and clear; "See ya in the fall men. Happy Hunting and Godspeed"

Sigonella and Al Udied

Wine, pizza, brushetta , cheese, beer, whiskey, blood, and vomit. Gross huh? I know it is, but that sums up our Friday night we spent at Sigonella Naval Air Station. Wine: We were in Sicily (Italy technically, but Sicilians don't like main land Italians and Italians view Sicilians as a lower class....we have an Italian pilot in the 74 FS so I know). Anyhow, we were in Italy and what do you do in Italy, you have some Italian wine. What else? Pizza of course, appetizers, and tiramisu. So, we landed there at Sigonella and it was a Zoo. Airplanes everywhere (you know Libya is not very far from Sicily.......you connect the dots). I literally parked with less than 5 feet of wing spacing between my A-10 and the one next to me. Not comfortable, but whatever. The Squadron Commander was there to take our pictures. I've not scene it, but evidently Rachel has a shot of me right after I landed there. As I'm taking my helmet off, I notice my left earplug goes flying down by my leg. Whatever I think; I'll grab it once I get out. So as I get out, I notice I can't find my earplug. Not good. Most people just fly with the yellow foamy earplugs. No big deal; just grab another one. Technically, when I pilot "FOD's" (Foreign Object Debris), the jet isn't supposed to fly until the object is found. I'm here to tell you, when you have to get your airplanes to the war zone, the last thing you're going to do is ground your own airplane due to a damn foamy ear plug! Too bad mine wasn't foamy; mine was a custom made earplug to help me keep my hearing. This equaled a quick "well shit" from me. The crappy part of all this is that even though I dropped it, it's not really my responsibility to get it. That's where the crew chief comes in. I feel like it's my job to find it, but he won't let me. Seriously. Making it even worse was the fact that the guy who was upside down in an A-10 cockpit with his feet dangling in the air was my neighbor in Valdosta. Holy shit. For the next 3 hours, Aaron had to bend his body at weird angles, struggle with screw drivers and other tools, and work in a cramped space in now darkness to find my earplug and keep this jet going downrange. He found it......and he told me he drinks Miller Light! Rachel, please take Aaron a 24 pack of Miller Light once he gets home. So, the earplug was found by the crew chief, but while he was busy picking up after my buffoonery, I was at a little Italian place with 12 fighter pilots eating and drinking the above items. Many of said pilots had taken a "Go Pill" in order to stay awake since we were trying to adjust our sleeping patterns as well. With the above items and Go Pills, a drunken and bit obnoxious night usually follows. It did. Compounding the issue is the mental knowledge that you're about to spend 7 months or so with no alcohol whatsoever. Another thing that "pushes" pilots towards partying. By the end of the night, I was cleaning up a guys bloody nose (he got it from miscalculating the distance from his hand to his face with his glass of Guinness...no kidding, there was a perfect nose indentation in the glass from where it broke through) and another guy was vomiting the brushetta out he had ordered 2 hours earlier. I personally choose to indulge, but not nearly to this level. I'm getting to old in life, plus I have a kid on the way so I can't be doing that stuff anymore! So, the next day, we walked around Sigonella. We had 2 down days here due to tanker planning, so we went bowling and watched a movie on the seconds day. We had to get up at 0245 (you notice lots of weird hours here) in order to make our flight to Al Udied Air Base, Qatar the next morning. Ciao!

Getting out of Lajes Field

Well I'm here! It was a long trip, but relatively good with not too many problems. The biggest hurdle getting over here was getting out of Lajes. More on that in a bit, but here's some info on Lajes. Lajes is an old WWII base out in the middle of the Atlantic. It was used as a stopover point for airplanes going to support the war effort in Europe. Since 9/11, this base has seen a lot of activity again as so many airplanes for so many years now have been transiting the Atlantic Ocean. The island itself is not all that large. We did venture out both nights here to have some sea food and believe it or not, beef. One of the island specialties is beef. No kidding. It was really good I'll add. The base, which is where we spent the majority of our time, was pretty nice. Like most overseas Base's, they are nice. They have to be since, especially in this case, you're all alone out in the middle of nowhere with nowhere to go. We planned on a down day here, then we were going to takeoff for Sigonella on 10 March. So we got up about 430AM Portugal time in order to make our flight over to Sigonella Naval Air Station on the island of Sicily. We went to the jets after eating some breakfast and everything was going ok. The first cell of 6 taxied out no problem. We were scheduled 30 minutes apart since the tanker plan only allow for 6 airplanes at a time. As we are waiting though, I get the always horrible radio call, "1, 5, I've got a hydraulic leak. I'm shutting down now". Shit......now what. You see you can't leave a single airplane by itself as it's against Air Force regulation to fly a single fighter plane across the Ocean. A minimum of 2-ships is required. Who was I going to screw over. Well, the 3rd cell had 6 airplanes just sitting over on the ramp waiting for me to "take one" for my 6 ship. They were not scheduled to depart until the following day so this was great! I was imagining the poor pilot who showed up the next morning only to discover that his plane was gone and he was sticking around on an isolated island in the Ocean! So, #5 hurries up and goes over to another A-10 and starts to get it up and running. While he's doing this, a civilian 737 lands on the runway. My crew chief goes "Sir, look at all that water coming up over that plane!" I look up and sure enough, this plane is engulfed in water. I've landed in heavy rain and I know water comes up over jets, but this was abnormal. But, whatever, we're getting ready to taxi out to move on. However, about 4 minutes later, I notice a bunch of firetrucks, base police cars, and other random, official vehicles rushing out towards this 737. About this time, #5 is up and on the radio and he's ready to go in his new aircraft. I call for taxi, "Lajes Ground, Trend 21 flight of 6 Alpha-10's, ready to taxi with Xray". "Trend 21, hold position"....in a Portuguese accent is the reply I get. 1 hour and 25 minutes later, I finally shut down. I'm not happy, but I also can't help but laugh at what has happened. For once, it was not maintenance (although it almost was), weather, tanker fallout, or pilot not able to fly. We were aborted for a civilian airliner landing on the closed side of the runway (see my below post on landing at Lajes). He damaged the jet badly evidently. 9 airplanes were diverted and Lajes was closed for 8 hours that day. What did we do? We went to Subway on base, walked around, went to the gym, and made many phone calls to people with much more rank than I on what to do now. Remember, we still had a broken airplane to deal with. Getting parts, personnel, etc to an island is not easy nor fast. In the end, we were able to launch 11 airplanes out the next morning. I led a cell of 6; another Captain led a cell of 5. That airplane, tail number 600, is still sitting at Lajes Air Base, Portugal. Eventually, that ole bird will make it's way home!

PS: This site has many details on our movement to Afghanistan. Any pictures you see with aircraft 228 is me. http://www.warthognews.blogspot.com/

8 March....the Journey Begins

My physical trip to Afghanistan began at 0240 local time on the early morning hours of 8 March, 2011. Actually, it started earlier than that with packing the jet, getting ready, etc, but the tires of my A-10 aircraft left the surface of Moody AFB's runway at the above early hour. A little background on my last days prior to leaving.

The weekend prior to Tuesday morning was spent with Rachel and Peanut. What did we do you might ask? Well, we did a variety of things. We ate, slept, watched a couple movies (all 3 of us), did some house work, packed, sold a wagon on Craigslist, talked to the neighbors, and washed the cars. It was a great weekend spent with 2 of the things in the world I love most; Rachel and Peanut. As you may imagine, there were some moments of sadness with the inevitable departure, but we made the most of the time we had and simply enjoyed being around eachother.

Sunday, we went to our Church in Valdosta, Park Avenue Methodist Church. It's a charming church that makes Rachel and I always feel welcome. After Church, we had lunch at Red Lobster with our close friends, Don and Jean Wosky. They are two wonderful American's who care for Rachel, Peanut, and I deeply. We are blessed to have them in our life. After some time with them, it was Pizza time Sunday night! Even though Rachel and I have a fundamental difference of opinion on who has the best pizza in Valdosta, she recanted and let me order from Sister's Pizza that night. It was glorious....except I over ate.

On Monday, I had to be at work for our "Official" departure briefing. An AOS guy (don't know what AOS stands for) came and gave us our flight plan, diplomatic clearances, weather, and airborne tanking plan to get us over to Lajes Air Base, Azore Islands, Portugal. It was a pretty quick brief, but very informative. After that, Lt Col Clark, 74 FS Commander, gave his mission commander brief as he was leading the 18 jets out of Moody. After covering the expected tasks, flight duties, etc, we had a final briefing from our Wing and Group leadership. Our Operations Group Commander, Col Ellwod Hinman IV, gave a very motivational quote to us. Picture is posted below of plaque with the quote on it. After all this formal stuff, it was time to "pack the jets" for the trip. We all grabbed our stuff (quite a bit for over 6 months of being gone) and used ATV's and van's to take it out to the jets. When traveling in a single-seat airplane, we still have to have a place to put our stuff. We carry these cannister's called travel pods. These travel pods have a door that allows us to "stuff" things in them. Pretty genious if you ask me. So I stuffed my pod and headed home!

At home on Monday, I let the bug guy in our home to give his quarterly spray for bugs. This was vital since I will not be around to kill all the pests that Rachel will be encountering during my absence. Sorry babe. After that, I washed my truck, did a few other small tasks, then played with Peanut a final time. At this point, it was 3PM in the afternoon, and I had a showtime of Midnight back at work for my scheduled 0230 departure.

At this point, I had been up for over 40 hours and was beat, but to just make sure I could get some sleep in the middle of the afternoon, I took an Ambien to ensure I was out cold so I could be coherent for our early show and takeoff. Well, it worked! Next thing I know, Rachel was waking me up saying it's 1030 at night! I took a final shower in our wonderful bathroom, played with Peanut a bit more, then ate my final meal before the deployment.......Rachel's Tater-Tot Casserole! I basked in the gloriousness of this casserole and didn't want the moment to end. It was with about 5 minutes to go that I finally lost it all; Rachel was there to hold me and we had a very private and precious moment.

I drove us together out to the Base. We had small-talk and discussed a few items, but most of the car ride to me was simply a husband and wife, facing a tough obstacle, with pride and honor of it's cause, but with heartfelt longing for the time when we'd be together again. Arriving at the Squadron, we had our final embrace, a quick joke, and then I walked off; she drove off. It was a lonely walk for the 100 yards from the parking lot into the Fighter Squadron. However, I now knew that every second that was passing was a second closer to when we'd be together again. As I entered the Squadron, my personal desires had to be compartmentalized; something that we fighter pilots have grown so accustomed to doing. As I looked into the eye of the 5 men I would be leading off to a small island in the middle of the Atlantic, I had a moment of Pride of what we were doing, where we were going, and why we were doing it. So as I led 6 A-10's to the runway on that moonless and dark night, I was proud to be doing it. As we took off at 0240 local, it was black and there was poor weather off Norfolk, Virginia's coast. We pressed on into the black abyss, hoping our jets would perform as expected. They did. We found our refueling tanker at the expected point, were able to get gas, and everyting was going smoothly. 6 Air to Air refuelings later, 3 "piddle-packs".....the bag that holds our Pee, and 9 hours and 47 minutes later, I touched down on a runway that had half of it closed with over 30 knots of direct crosswind pushing me into the closed half. After such a long and demanding flight, it was not what we wanted, but what we got. You know what, you just deal with it and press on and we did it. So that's where I'll stop for now. I should be sleeping right now, but can't. I've taken 2 Ambien, but they are not working. I have to get up in 5 hours to do it all over again only this time from Sigonella Naval Air Station in Sicily to our next stop. I'll write about the Lajes to Sigonella leg at a later time. One last thing, since I'm logging into this from Italy, my spell check is done in Italian so every word is spelled wrong according to the spell check. Don't make fun of me too bad please!

Rick

Rick's OEF Deployment 2011 with the 74FS WFFT's

This blog will be for all our family and friends to have a view into the world that will keep me occupied for the next several months. Many posts will be funny (to me anyway), some will be rant sessions where I vent my anger's, other's will be serious in nature, other's may be downright sad or contain some amazing things that American's are doing "over here"; all will be personal. With that, all I ask is for those of you who will be reading these post to honor my request that these post remain located only on this website (no cut and paste into an email), no sharing with people outside your immediate family, and lastly to honor that these will be my personal feelings; not a representation of me being an Officer in the US Air Force. I won't lie and say I'll post on here daily, but I will make an effort to keep all of you in the loop as much as I'm allowed. With that, let the posts begin!

Rick

Princess and the Peanut

Life with a puppy has really changed the Mitchell household. There are a variety of squeaky toys scattered around the house, a bell on the door, and less room in the bed.

It's crazy how much influence a four pound puppy has. Our conversations revolve around her, and what she accomplished, or what I found her chewing on. She follows me around the house, interested in everything I do. She lays between my feet when I get ready in the morning, dances around the kitchen when I'm cooking, and gets sassy if I ignore her for too long. The biggest change is in the man that didn't believe in 'inside dogs', He now is making up crazy reasons for why she should sleep in the humans' bed. Some have been; "It's the weekend", "She is sad", "She had a bad dream". Here is how last night went:

I put her in her luxurious kennel, and say good night

After an hour, Peanut makes a pitiful whine, and Rick can't stand the thought of her being sad.

Rick quietly opens her kennel and lifts her into the bed

Rick forces her to cuddle

Peanut burrows into the bed

Rick falls asleep, and begins to snore

I lovingly shove him over on his side

Peanut wakes up, thinks it's time to play, and jumps up. She wags her little rump, and pounces on my stomach.

Via 'dog whisperer techniques' I get her to calm back down (tssh, Peanut)

Peanut stretches out, and I scoot to the edge of the bed

I fall asleep

Peanut wakes me up, aggressively eating my hair.

Peanut get tshed, again, and settles back down over the comforter

Rick thrashes around, pulling the comforter tighter, and flings Peanut in to the air

Peanut yowls, lands, and pounces on Rick with her tail wagging

Rick resumes snoring

I drag Peanut over to my side of the bed and try to coax her back to sleep

She spun around a few times, and finally laid down, right under my chin.

I had just fallen back asleep, and Rick's alarm went off. He got up, and finding Peanut so cute sleeping under my chin, scooped her up and hugged her. He looked refreshed, and ready to take on the day. I wanted to take out his kneecaps. He plopped Peanut back on the bed, and headed to the shower. Peanut sat at the end of the bed and whined.

I flipped on the TV, and watched 'Snapped'.

Luckily, both Rick and Peanut are too cute to let a little exhaustion ruin the day.