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.