Above
my desk is a piece of art, commissioned when we lived in England. It depicts an airplane -- landing gear up, ramp and door closed, captured in flight. In the background is another, different
aircraft, in a slight right bank, as if it is about to break formation.
The
first aircraft, the one in the foreground, is a Lockheed MC-130E, Combat Talon,
painted in its Vietnam era black and dark green camouflage. The other is a Douglas A-1E Skyraider, also
in the color scheme of Vietnam. Both are
on this picture to remind me of the history of the 1st Special
Operations Squadron and my time in that unit.
Back
when I was in the 1st SOS we were one of only five remaining
squadrons in the Air Force with a direct link to the heritage of the massive force
that had existed only a few years prior.
There were, at one point, hundreds of aircraft and thousands of men who
lived to do those things the regular Air Force couldn’t. They flew aircraft left over from World War
II, from bases most people didn’t know about.
Whether they were gunships, or transports, helicopters or fighters, they
shared common traits: commitment, audacity, and courage. Many came home, but many did not. At one time the Tomb of the Unknowns, at
Arlington National Cemetery, honored the remains of a pilot from the 8th
SOS, until DNA testing was able to reunite him with his family.
Since
that time long ago, Air Force Special Operations has grown and expanded far
beyond what any of us would have imagined possible back in 1980. It is a natural byproduct of war. When there is a conflict there are those who must place themselves in harms way and special operations draws those who seek to be the first called.
I
guess we’ve really been at war since I came into this fraternity. I think of my journey and the changes the world has brought, and I miss the rush of air past the window as we flew down a canyon with our wing tips just feet from the walls on either side and the ground rushed past us in a dark and formless blur.