(Apologies for the grammar in the title.)
It's Memorial Day, a day set aside for us to reflect. During my time in the military, this was one of the days when things on base would get quiet. One could take the time, use the silence and consider the sacrifices made by service members in days gone by. For me, one guy who periodically comes to mind is a fighter pilot I never actually met.
Back during DESERT STORM, I was a young staff guy working mission plans for my KC-135 unit "somewhere in Southwest Asia". In late February, as my tour was winding down, I got a unique request. On the tanker we were using for our return home, we were to transport personal effects of a captain who had perished a few days before. He was also a flyer, in one of our sister units. I have no idea if our paths had crossed in the chow hall, the weather shop or base ops. Had we refueled his jet during a previous sortie? Maybe.
Right after his tragic death, the base chaplain set up a memorial service for the airman. I got a copy of the printed brochure that was a part of the memorial. I studied the guy's face, but didn't recognize him. I also noted he and my first wife were born on the same date, the same year. The brochure mentioned his wife and kids at home, folks who loved him & would miss him terribly.
A few days after the memorial, we were packing up to re-deploy. One of my fellow returnees and I went to the flyer's "hooch" (a trailer-styled billet we lived in at our location) to gather his effects. As we entered his room, the cliche came to life. Everything in his room seemed to be exactly how he left it. I couldn't help but wonder if the thought crossed his mind that last day: "is this the last time I go off to fly? Is this the day my number's up?" Most flyers wonder about that once in a while. One could do his/her best, but things could still get out of control. One could still die while flying. Aviators learn to put those thoughts in a "small box" while actually doing the job.
We gathered his "alert bag" of military gear, some personal effects, and a group of board games, playing cards, etc. I started to get a glimpse of what this man did in his spare time, the types of things any of us enjoyed to pass the time when we weren't at work. After his death, I started to "know" just a little bit about him. He deployed like we all did, with the mindset of "I'm off to do a job, defeat the enemy, and come home to my family". None of us ever expect to die while deployed. Sure, we know it's possible, but we compartmentalize it away. "I'll deal with it when it happens, and it probably won't happen."
We finished our task, and left the hooch. We got to our jet, put the flyer's stuff in a bin (on the top of the load, for easier access), and flew "the great circle route" northwest to the continental United States. We had enough jet fuel to get to the United Kingdom, re-fueled, then continued on to the deceased member's home base.
Once we got to his home base, we stopped long enough to drop off his gear with a local chaplain. There was no fanfare, no gathering of loved ones. Just a solemn acknowledgment of an individual who had made that "ultimate sacrifice". His sacrifice was what each of us vowed when we entered military service. What I talked about, this man actually did.
His story was complete, his career and his very life were over. But, his effort wouldn't be forgotten. His squadron mates would never forget. Neither would I.
I don't need a day set aside to pay my respects to this man. My hope is that others who normally scurry about taking care of responsibilities would take a moment to pause. In that pause, maybe they will think of men and women like this flyer, who put his life in danger to defend our homeland.
He has my eternal respect.
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