Although NOT given at USNA, this USAFA speech is well worth reading.
"...Over the years I've been asked to talk about Desert Storm and not long ago I was asked to give a presentation on my personal lessons learned from my experiences in combat... Well, to put this list together I sat down-I spent about an hour and a half making this list and I kept thinking and thinking and thinking... what can I put on there? Great lessons I learned I wanted to pass onto future generations and when I finished I had about 15 items, just items about 'that' long, and I realized that none of them were lessons learned. Not one of them. Every one of them was a person, or an event, or just a feeling I had. But I have never forgotten, and never will. That's what I want to talk to you about today. It's important before I start for you to remember that combat, any kind of combat, is different for everybody.
You know aerial combat happens at about a 1000 miles an hour of closure. It's hot fire, cold steel, its instant death, big destruction, it happens like this and it's over. Ground combat's not that way as you can imagine. Those of you who've heard infantry soldiers talk about it know it's kinda endless time, and soaking fear, and big noises and darkness. It's a different game. You need different training to do it, and different types of people to handle it well and to provide leadership in that environment. So it's different. But it doesn't matter how many people you have standing beside you in the trench, or how many people you have flying beside you in the formation - combat, especially your first combat, is an intensely personal experience. During the course of this Commandant's Leadership Series over this year you're going to hear different people give different opinions and different perspectives.
Today I'll tell you the things I remember.
First slide please, Fred. You don't have to see this picture very well...it's an F-16 parked on a ramp with a helmet on the canopy rail. One week before Desert Storm the air campaign actually started we were flying missions called 'taco bell.' Because we'd go fly up north up in northern Saudi Arabia and practice dropping simulated bombs at night on targets in the desert to see how well the army had camouflaged themselves against our radar and to see if we could find them so we could all get qualified in that for those of us who didn't do it full-time. Then we'd all line up and how many airplanes we had, 6 or 8 or 10 F-15's we'd do it at higher altitudes, the air to ground guys would do it at lower altitudes. Everyone would push it up to 500 knots at the same time and we'd all run straight for the border. (Laughter) And we'd take a lift through the signal intelligence gathering platforms and how the Iraqi radars and air defense systems reacted to this. And folks, we'd collect data on this and that's how we helped put together the air campaign plan for the first night of the war.
On this particular night when we were done with our run for the border we hit a poststrike tanker heading back to the base I was staying at which was about an hour and ten minutes south in the United Arab Emirates almost 400 miles away. We got gassed up by the tanker and climbed up to flight level 420 about 42,000 feet plugged into mid-afterburner cause we had a fulltank of gas and we could burn it up, put the auto-pilot on and lean back in that 30 degree tilt back seat and just kinda stared at nature. It was a gorgeous night. The moon was big and full and directly overhead and I remember thinking I can't believe how bright the desert moon is. Out around the horizon, something I had never seen before and still haven't seen to this day, was a halo. A beautiful, huge white halo that went all the way around the moon, completely unbroken. I talked to my wingman later and he said he did the same thing I did. We just stared at that thing all the way home, going ...I can't believe how beautiful this is... It's one of those moments you have flying airplanes. And you don't forget. I'll never forget the halo.
I also won't forget that when I landed that night major J D Collins, my assistant operations officer, met me at the bottom of the ladder and said, "Boss, we lost an airplane." You can't see the name on the canopy rail but it's Michael Chinberg. Captain Mike Chinberg had joined us only 2 weeks before that in the desert because he'd stayed back in Utah to get married. He and his wife April had been married 2 weeks when he told her that he had to go to the war and join the boys and he headed over to join us. He'd just finished his 3 ride local checkout and he was on his 2nd night ride. We think that somehow Mike got a light on the ground confused with his flight lead's rotating beacon and he tried to rejoin on as he headed for the tanker. Chins hit the ground going 675 miles an hour 60° nose low inverted and full afterburner...he died relaxed. This (photo) was at his memorial service 2 days later. I don't think dying relaxed, (go back one Fred please...) I don't think dying relaxed was good news to his wife, April, when I called her and told her - after we had confirmed he was in that smoking hole. Or to his mom and dad, when I called them and told them. I won't forget those phone calls. And I won't forget sitting there looking at this airplane with the helmet with Chin's name on the visor cover, his name on the canopy, and his spare g-suit hanging under the wing with his crew chief saluting the jet while bagpipes(the bagpipe tape of Amazing Grace) played in the background. Every fighter pilot on base had these big stupid sunglasses on so nobody would know that they were bawling their eyes out. And I won't forget staring at this airplane thinking, how many more of these are we going to have when the war starts?
Next slide Fred. The night before the war started the squadron commanders got told by the wing commander that we were kicking it off tomorrow morning. So we gather our squadrons together at about 5 o'clock in the afternoon and we give most of them the first briefing they've seen, the first real mission that we were going to fly which we'd preplanned and only a small group had seen it. Then I did what I thought was a real 'commander-ly' thing ...I told 'em all to go back to their rooms and before I gave them the tail number of the morning, they had to hand a letter to me to their family. In that letter the game plan was to shed all of the emotional baggage you'd take with you into combat. (I didn't tell my wife this, I didn't hug my daughter, I didn't do this, I didn't call my parents.) Because the phones were shut off at this point, and I told them they didn't fly until I got that letter. Which shut 'em all up for the first time since I'd known them. They headed out the door and I'm feeling pretty proud of myself and patting myself on the back and my ops officer Lt Col Adams came up to me and said, "What a great idea." I nodded knowingly and he said, "By the way you can give me a letter before I give you your tail number in the morning."
Now if you haven't had the pleasure of sitting down and thinking about your family, ...if you haven't tried to tell your children that you're sorry you won't be there to see their next ballet recital or watch them play little league baseball, or high school football, or graduate from college, or meet their future spouse, or get to know your grandkids, or if you hadn't had the pleasure of telling your parents how important they were to you, and trying to do it on a piece of paper at midnight, 9000 miles away from them, or try to tell your spouse how the sun rises and sets in her eyes, then you haven't lived. I'd recommend it. I won't forget writing that letter.
Next slide Fred. Next morning we got up at about 1:30 in the morning because we had a 2:15 briefing. This is the base we were staying at, it's called Al-Minhad. It's in the United Arab Emirates, it's about 2 miles long and about a mile wide, the whole thing. You could see the main runway, a parallel taxiway and on that side of the picture there's a road that ran the whole length of the base. In the upper left corner is where the tents were for the officers and the hootches and then about halfway down the field is where the tent city was. That next morning at 1:30 we got up, all my guys met in the chow hall, we had breakfast, we jumped in cars to drive down for our mass briefing which was down here at the lower left-hand corner of this slide. As we drove down that parallel road, two things happened. The first was the folks from Col Tom Rackley's 421st fighter squadron lit their afterburners as part of the first launch of the Gulf War. The night fighters in the 421st. And at 20 second intervals as we traveled down that road, they lifted of going this way one at a time. They accelerated about 400 miles an hour and pulled the nose up and went straight up to avoid SAMs at the end of the runway, pulled that afterburner, and disappeared. I suddenly realized that was the first time I'd ever seen airplanes take off with no lights on. Cause obviously we were darked out for combat. It was pretty sobering. We're halfway down this road and one of the guys in the car with me says, "Boss, look at this" and he points out the right side of the car.
Next slide, Fred. This is the tent city that was off the side of that road... And on the right side of that road, as we came to tent city, I looked over and thousands of people, the population of this tent city who weren't working that night, had come out of their tents when that first afterburner lit and they were standing along this road. They were in uniforms, they had just gotten off work, they were wearing jeans, they were wearing cutoffs, they were wearing underwear, pajamas, everything. Not one of them is talking. They're just watching these airplanes take off, because they knew what was going on. The other thing that I noticed immediately was that all of them were somehow in contact with the person next to them. Every single one of them. They were holding hands or holding their arm or had their arm around shoulders or on the back or they were just leaning on each other. These are people that don't even know each other, but they're all Americans, they're all warriors, and they're all part of the cause. And as we rode down that road, I will never, ever forget their faces coming into those headlights and fading out. It's burned in here.
Next slide Fred. Later that morning after our initial briefing for the first mission of the war, we went to the life support trailer where all the flying gear was for my squadron. All 24 airplanes were flying, so 24 of my guys were going and I was lucky enough to be the mission commander for this first one. Now anybody who's been in a fighter or any kind of flying squadron knows that in life support, as you're getting ready to go, this is a pretty raucous place. You're giving people grief, you're arguing at who's better at whatever... something's going on all the time... it's fun. This morning, there wasn't a sound, not a whisper. That's Col Andy Perona right there on the right. USAFA Class of 73. Guy next to him's Major J D Collins USAFA Class of 75. I got dressed listening to nothing but the whisper of zippers as people pulled on flight gear. I walked out of the trailer down to the bottom of the steps, left the door open so the light from the inside shined out just in a little pool outside these steps outside the trailer because the rest of the base was blacked out and we were under the camouflaged netting and you couldn't see anything outside this trailer. As my guys came down the steps, I took each one of their hands and just nodded at them. Nobody said anything. I watched as one by one they turned and disappeared into the black. As each one left I wondered if he'd be coming back that afternoon, cause we didn't know. And then when the last one had gone, Master Sergeant Ray Uris, who ran my life support shop and had been standing in the doorway watching this, walked to the bottom of the steps, shook my hand, and watched me disappear. I'll never forget watching their backs disappear in the dark.
Next slide, Fred. In the background is an airplane that was flown by my squadron weapons officer. His first name is Scott and I won't give you his last...he's USAFA Class of 78. About the 2nd week of the war we flew a mission against the nuclear power plant south of Baghdad. I believe Col Rackley may have been the mission commander for this, I don't remember. Col Rackley, by the way, is also USAFA...Class of 71, I think. Scott was a leader for 12 airplanes on this mission, and this mission was scary, easily the scariest thing we saw in the war, cause the Iraqis defended the area south of Baghdad and they REALLY defended the nuclear power plant. From about 25 miles to the target till we got to the power plant, I bet I saw 100 SAMs in the air. And I remember screaming and cussing to myself all the way to the target until it came time to roll in and drop the bombs at which point your training takes over and you kinda go quiet. Until you drop your bombs, and then you start screaming and cussing again. (Laughter)
This was scary. Scott's wingman got hit as we came off target...an SA3 blew up, we don't know how close, right underneath his airplane and blew off his fuel tanks, put about a 113 holes in the airplane...73 of them through the engine bay and engine compartment, which isn't good in a single engine F-16. For the next 2½ hours Scott escorted him as they tried to find an emergency base to land at because the weather had rolled in and they went to 5 different places and they couldn't get him on the ground. Scott worked emergency tanker diverts, he was having tankers come to them to get gas...he was phenomenal. He saved this guys life. So he landed about 3 hours after the rest of us did. I heard he was on the ground. I was in a debrief, I came out and I walked out to see how things had gone with his wingman, and it was dark by this time. I walked out toward that life support trailer and as I came around the corner under this darkened out camouflage netting I ran into something, and then realized that it was Scott. Scott was standing, leaning against a bunch of sandbags, just holding on to them, and shaking like a leaf. He couldn't walk, he couldn't talk, he couldn't move anything. All he could do was stand there and shake. The guy had nothing left. All his adrenaline was gone. He gave everything he had that he could do that day. And as I'm trying to figure out what the heck do I do with Scott, the door to the life support trailer opens and a young life support technician named Shawn, who was a farmkeep from Minnesota -- 19 years old - walks out, looks at what's going on, walks down, and says, "Boss, I know you got stuff to do, I'll take care of it." And I said, "Well let me help you get him inside." And he says, "Boss, you got stuff to do, I'll take care of it." So I left. I saw Shawn helping Scott up the steps in the life support trailer as I went around the corner. About 5 hours later, about 2 in the morning, I left the mission planning cell and went to see how Scott was doing back in his tent. When I got up to the tent, I kinda came around the corner... and this is January in the desert, folks, it's cold outside ...and there's Shawn sitting in the sand in front of the tent shaking like a leaf cause he's still wearing bdu pants and the t-shirt he had on life support. He's got a pistol in his hand. This was in the first week of the war...we were worried about the terrorist threats, you know, guys coming and helping out the Iraqi cause. Shawn had taken that to heart. I said, "Shawn, what are you doing here?" He said, "Sir, I was afraid the major would wake up, he'd finally gotten to sleep, and if he wakes up I wanna make sure I let him know everything's okay." You'll meet lots of Shawn's in the Air Force. I'll never forget this one.
Next slide please. This is a Catholic priest ... Father John Pearson. Father John was our squadron chaplain. The first day of Desert Storm, as we headed out to the airplanes, (after we walked out into the black I told you about) I got to my jet and standing right in front of the nose of the jet is Father John. At first I thought he was a crew chief so I got close enough to see who he was. Now Father John was popular with us because he was the first guy to buy you a whiskey, he was the first guy to light up a cigar; he was the first guy to start the party, the last guy to leave (laughter). He would've been the first one, along with Father Pat I suspect, of wading into hell with his bvd's to pull you out if he had to. We knew Father John real well...he fit in great with the fighter squadron. As I got to the airplane, Father John just said, "Hey, I thought you might like a blessing before you go." I immediately hated myself because I consider myself fairly comfortable in my religion, and I'd never thought of that. Too many other wrong priorities on my mind at the time. So I knelt down on the cement right there in front of the jet and Father John gave me a blessing. I went over to the preflight of the airplane and as I'm getting ready to climb up the ladder I notice all these guys running, coming out of the darkness, who had seen this. All my other pilots are running over to the airplane to get Father John to bless them (laughter). So he did. When everybody came back safe from the first sortie we kinda decided that's it, Father John has to bless everybody. (A lot of laughter). Can't change that. It didn't matter if you were Jewish or Baptist or Islamic, it just didn't matter. Father John gave the blessing for the 4th fighter squadron. The amazing thing was it didn't matter whether you flew at 2 in the afternoon or 2 in the morning, we flew around the clock. Later on, talking to Tom Rackley who was commanding the 421st, I found out that Father John did the same for his guys. I don't know how he did it. But he did, and every time I landed from a combat sortie ... every single time ... my canopy would open, I'd shake the hands of Sgt. Manny Via, my crew chief, who was the first guy I shook hands with everyday, then I'd climb down the ladder and at the bottom of the ladder was Father John to bless me and welcome me home.
Next slide please. When I came back from Desert Storm I ended up alone, different story, but I ended up a single ship returning to Hill AFB, and I pulled up into the parking spot 'here'. (These are the folks who were waiting out front) Now my squadron had been home for 3 days before I got there and down at the far end you'll recognize Father John again. That's my wife, Betty, and a couple of my kids, and a couple of their friends who were with them. I'd written Betty and told her about Father John and his blessings and you want to know how cool she is? When this airplane stopped, and the canopy came up, Manny Via climbed the ladder and shook my hand, and I walked down to the bottom of the ladder and Betty told Father John, "You first." Father John walked over and blessed me and welcomed me home. And then Betty and I did some serious groping (crazy screams and laughter). (Next slide Fred, no leave it there.) A year and a half later, a year and a half later...Father John Pearson dropped dead of a massive heart attack. Great story, huh? Too much whiskey, too many cigars, too many parties, I guess... A week after he died, 16 of the 28 pilots who flew in my squadron in Desert Storm were at his funeral at Stockton, California. They came from Korea, they came from Europe, they came from Australia, they came from all over the United States. They all came to tell his family about Father John, and to bless him, and ask God to walk him home. I'll never forget Father John Pearson.
Next slide, Fred. This is a place called Allamaya barracks in northwestern Iraq. These are ammunition storage bunkers. They're not real significant, except there's a guy I want to tell you about who had something to do with the holes in them. His name's Ed, USAFA Class of 86. Ed left for the desert with his wife Jill, pregnant with their first child. This is a story repeated throughout Desert Storm and all the services and throughout history in the military. Obviously, he couldn't go home for the birth. About 2 in the morning one night, I got woken up in my hooch by my exec who said, "Yeah, call up the command post" which was about ten minutes away. So I get dressed and go sprinting to the command post and it's my wife. She says, "Mark, I'm at the hospital in Ogden, Utah and Jill Rank is in labor and she's having problems. Is there any way we can get Ed on the phone with her." So we went and rousted Ed, brought him down to the command center and my wife had worked out some arrangement with the hospital, so when Ed walked in, sat down, and I handed him the phone, he's talking to Jill who's in the middle of a really bad labor. As he held the phone with one hand and talked to his wife, I sat in front of him in a chair and I held his other hand. For about 2½ hours, which is something neither of us has ever admitted publicly before (laughter). I could see the happiness in his eyes every time he said she talked back to him and said anything. I could see the worry and the pain in his eyes every time another contraction started and he heard her flinch or gasp or scream. I felt him squeeze my hands every time he could tell she was really in pain. And, I saw him smile when he heard his son Nate cry for the first time, from 9000 miles away.
Next slide Fred. And there he is, Ed, when he came home and met his 6 month old son Nate, I'll never forget Nate. 12 hours after Ed hung up that phone, he was the cell leader for a 12 ship of F-16s that hit those bunkers at Allamaya barracks. It was the best battle damage assessment we had in our squadron during the war. They hit every target and a lot of them, as you saw on that photo, dang near dead center. Ed went from caring, concerned, loving, father and husband, to cold-blooded, calculated killing-machine in 12 hours. Only in combat folks. I'll never forget watching the transformation.
Next slide Fred. One of the most important things about combat is sound. Anybody who's been there will tell you that things you hear are the things you remember the longest. Now I want to tell you about two things I heard that I'll never forget. The first one was during one of our missions up north in the Baghdad area, a pilot and an F-16 from another unit who was part of the strike package we were in was hit by a surface to air missile. Over the strike common frequency, because one of his radios, electrosystems was damaged he could only talk on the radio with the strike frequency...and he couldn't change off that frequency for some reason. We listened to him and his flight lead talk about his airplane falling apart as he tried to make it to the border so rescue could get to him. He'd come on every now and then and talk about the oil pressure was dropping, and vibrations were increasing, and his flight lead would encourage him to stick with him, we can get there, we can get there. This went on for about 14 to 15 minutes, until finally he said, "oil pressure just went to zero." Then, "my engine quit." Then, "that's all I got. I'm outta here." Now we couldn't see him. I'm not exactly sure where they were. But there wasn't another sound on that radio for another 14 or 15 minutes. Then there was a kind of pregnant pause, and then the last call we heard was "Tell my wife I love her." I'll never forget those 14 minutes. The other thing I heard was when the ground war actually started and an F-16 pilot by the name of Billy Andrews, some of you may have heard or seen or met, cause he won the Air Force Cross for his actions that day, was shot down in the middle of the retreating Republican Guard, and I mean right in the middle of them. A call went out from AWACS, "Is there anybody around who had the ordinance and the fuel who could get to where he was located in case we needed him for SARCAP." A lot of people responded but the first one that I really paid attention to was the voice of an army Chinook helicopter pilot, who came on the radio and said, "Look, I've got this much gas, here's my location, I can be here in that many minutes, give me his coordinates ... I can pick him up." Now everybody knew where the Republican Guard was and everybody knew he was right in the middle of them. &nbs; You gotta remember a Chinook is about the size of a double decker London bus with props on it. I don't know how you feel about women in the military, but I guarantee you I would follow her into combat. And I'll never forget her voice.
Last two things I'm going to mention: This is the highway of death. You guys have seen it, pictures before. Next slide please Fred. This road leads north out of Basra, it's a retreat route of the Republican Guard and they got cut off, right about where the black smoke went over the Euphrates River valley and everywhere from there south it looked like this. Not a new picture...I'll tell you what's significant about it. I killed people here. Me. This combat is an intensely personal thing, folks. I think I mentioned that. I've killed people before during this war, but this time I saw 'em. I saw the vehicles moving before the bombs hit. I saw people getting out and running and then I aimed at 'em with CBU, and dropped hundreds of bomblets on their head to make sure they wouldn't get away. War is a horrible, horrible, horrible thing. There is nothing good about it. But it is sometimes necessary. So somebody better be good at it. I am. Trapper Carpenter is. Corkie Vonkessel is. I guarantee General Oelstrom is. He didn't get to be a 3 star general and do the things he's done by not being good at this business. You better be.
Next slide. One more slide please Fred. I won't forget this next slide. Before I got back to the US, as I was flying in Tom Rackley's squadron on the way to east coast of the United States, we checked in on the first US air traffic control site that we had talked to the entire route and Col Rackley checked in with something along the lines of ah, it was Boston control: "This is widow flight, 24 F-16s coming home." The air traffic controller responded "Welcome home, widow." Then at regular intervals for the next 5 or 10 minutes, every airliner on that frequency checked in and said something. "Welcome back." "Good job." "Great to have you home." "God bless you." Whatever. About 10 minutes after that I got my first glimpse of the US coastline ... it was the coast of Massachusetts. I sat in my cockpit and I sang America the Beautiful to myself...I'll never forget how bad it sounded, (Laughter)or how proud I was when it was over. Take a look at this flag, folks...those white stripes indicate the integrity that you represent here at the Air Fforce Academy and that you better carry with you into our Air Force. Those stars are the courage of all the people who have gone before you and that belong to you now. That red if for Mike Chinberg and for the millions more like him who died serving their country. In the not too distant future, one of you is going to be standing up here talking about your experiences in combat to the Classes of 2015, or 16, or 17. And you're going to be talking about USAFA Class of 2000 (balls!), 2001 (fired up!), 2002, and 2003. This is who you are. This is what you face in the United States Air Force. If you're not ready for it, let me know and I'll help you find another career field. You are damn good. You need to get better. All these people I just talked about are counting on it. Slide off Fred. Okay. That's who I remember from Desert Storm. No technical marvels, no big precision weapons. Just people, and feelings, and sounds. And I promise you that's what you're going to remember, and your chance is coming sooner than you might like. I guarantee you.
Okay, questions about this or anything else? Who's got a question? About anything? I'll ask you if you don't ask me... oh there's somebody stretching, he's got a question in the back (laughter). Now you're stuck now bud, stand up and ask me something. (Laughter) [cadet] "Sir, are you wearing anything underneath that flight suit?" (Raucous laughter and cheering) Yeah, let me say it over and over again, any question's fair, and there are no secrets (zips down his flight suit and you still see nothing). Yeah, but you wouldn't be impressed even if I wasn't. (Laughter).
What else, who's got a question? Anything at all? Okay, let me ask you a favor then. Col Carpenter and I, General Wagie, Col Binn, would love the opportunity to anytime come talk to your squadrons. You got a meeting, you got time, you just want to ask questions about anything, or you want to hear about anything that's going on that you don't understand, let us know and we'll come visit with you. Need about one day's notice and we'll be there. Okay? The Dean might need more cause he's busier than I am. But let us know there are no bad questions, you deserve and answer, and there are no secrets around here. Those are the rules. There's one other one. Don't BS me and I won't BS you. Fair? Okay, you guys are dismissed, have a great afternoon."
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