Opinion of an airmen

In September, 1983, I was working on a mountain top Tech Control facility in West Germany. The Air Force was upgrading a major communications network and I was a cog, one airmen out of thousands, working to complete that mission. I had a job, I wasn't the best, wasn't the worst. I was a competent airmen doing my bit to defend the west from the communist hordes.

Tech Control facilities were never quiet, there was always the hum of electronics, the whirl of fans. The Tech Controllers were performing their standard maintenance. Occasional they plugged in a speaker and played aloud conversations between unknown voices. I do not believe it was a practice endorsed by the chain of command, but it provided insight to the network performance, and it took the edge away from midnight boredom.

On that September, we heard a conversation that chilled us to the bone. We all stopped working, climbed down from our ladders, stepped away from our work-space and crowded around the speaker. A Korean airliner had disappeared from the sky. The two unknown voices spoke of rumors that it was not an accident, it might be the Russians. The Cold War might become a real war.

My Air Force career lasted five years, nine months and 27 days. That 1983 conversation had me think, for the first time in my Air Force career, that my cushy mountain top job, and gasthaus beer drinking days were numbered. I was one out of many, but one that had signed up to do what I was told, what was needed, so my mom, brother, sister, and others could enjoy their days in peace.

I enlisted because, as a young adult, I had no immediate career prospects and no desire to attend college. I did not enlist to fight Communists. The Air Force offered room, board, education, a way forward. I accepted that offer, and in return swore to do as ordered. As it turned out, that evening conversation did not change my days. I was never ordered into a battlefield. I never had to face the prospect of fighting. I never felt my life was in danger. I spent the rest of my Air Force career improving communication networks for the ones that might be in the battlefield, and traveling Europe, drinking beer, and having a great time.

The military is a war machine. We pay taxes, we dedicate land, and we expose our flesh and blood to possible violence in the hope that we will not have to fight. We do it to protect our lifestyle, our freedoms, our land. And that flesh and blood? They are men and women that aren't much different than I was. Men and women that needed a job, needed a direction. Men and women that said "yes, I will do as you ask."

So, whenever I hear a politician state their desire to send in the military, I curse. When I read a Facebook conversation to send in the military, I cringe. When I read people wanting war before diplomacy, I get angry. Many of these same people, politicians and Facebook acquaintances have not served in the military, they do not have children in uniform. They bluster, safe in the knowledge their life is not at risk.

I accept that, from time to time, our nation will call on our men and women to die. I just don't want them to die because someone decided killing was better than first exhausting other options.