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!