"Every good aviator's story must begin with these words 'there I was' This story is no different. There I was in the middle of what was shaping up to be an arduous night of operations in Iraq. Significant responsibility had been placed on my shoulders the minute I took over the tactical command and the control role as the Senior Radar Element in the area. My primary was to provide safe deconflication of aircrage, both manne and unmanned, throughout the entire country. This is a feat of engineerying and requires four radars and multiple radio stations thoughout the area of operations in order to be successful. In addition to aircraft deconfliction is the responsibility to provide safe and effecient airspace management, which includes the allocation of some of the most in-demand airspaces in the world.
I am an air battle manager with the burden of making sure that everything-up to the release of a weapon, the deconfliction of that weapon flying through the air, and the effect of that weapon when it strikes its target-is efficiently coordinated and communicated to the persons given the authority to allow for these amazing events to occur. I am not a pilot; however, I am responsible for the safety of all pilots flying in the airspace I have been delegated authority to manage. I consider myself to be the wingman of every aircraft within the sound of my voice. In Iraq, multiple frequencies are used to communicate with aircraft, ground parties, operations centers, and forward operating locations. This night was shaping up to be one I would never forget. As I was assigning aircraft to work with ground parties around Baghdad, one of my radio receivers picked up a faint voice. Thinking nothing of it, I continued trying to keep up with the feverish pace of operations as they were unfolding that night. Suddenly, we lost power to our system and many of our radios, our lifelines to these fighters, were down. Frantically we reset the system and began loading radio frequencies into our radios to reestablish contact with the aircraft under our control. After tuning the VHF radios I faintly heard the words, 'Help, anyone, help.'
I was currently listening to three Ultra High Frequency (UHF) radios, two Very High Frequency (VHF) radios, two satellite communications (SATCOM) radios and three internal net radios and had a hard time determing which radio frequency the sound was coming from. Somthing inside me told me to look at my communications panel at the VHF radios. Suddenly I saw the 'active' light illuminate as a voice said again, 'Help, anyone, we are under attack and my gunny us unjured!' You could hear the gunfire in the background and the urgency in the voice of the soldier. I responded on the radio with my call sign and the radio crackled to silence. I began doing what I had been trained to do and immediately coordinated with the Combined Air Operations Center 2,000 miles away to reprioritze nearby fighters to suppoer the 'troops in contact' or TIC (pronounced 'tick') as we called it. After getting approval I worked with the Air Support Operations Center to pull the fighters back onto my frequency to initiate the support operations. Once the fighters checked in and I received their 'playtime' information (the amount of time they could support the operation before having to get gas), I realized fuel would be an issue for the jets. Simultaneously I coordinated the airborne refueling aircraft into deconflicted airspace over the operation and the fight commenced the total time for these actions was less than two minutes and weapons were being released from two F-16 Fighting Falcon aircraft supporting the contingent of marines pinned fown by enemy gun, rocket, and mortar fire. Once the F-16s called the situation under control and the area secure, I coordinated with the forward operations centers for the immediate launch of the recovery helicopters.
Once the helicopters were overhead and the situation seemed completely under control, I looked at my radios and neither of my VHF radios were operational according to my system's monitoring functions. I was confused; I knew I had heard something. I dismissed this as a glitch and went on to complete my shift. Once off of the console, I relayed my story to my superiors and they responded that they had heard the UHF traffic and were pleased with my coordination efforts to affect the recovery of these injured warriors. I told them about the VHF radio glitch, and maintenance reported to me that all the VHF radios were down and were expected to be operation again in a couple of hours. I had a comforting sensation engulf my body and I felt that things were made right.
The next day I went to volunteer in the makeshift hospital at my deployed location. I came across a young man whose chart reported his status as 'injured in combat.' He was awake and we began to talk. I don't remember his name but I will never forget his story he relayed to me about how the Lord had answered his prayers the night before. He told me of his marine unit being pinned down by the enemy and how his immediate superior had been hit by a mortar, causing severe injuries to his midsection. He relayed how their vehicle had been damaged and the radio did not appear to ve functioning. He converyed how he had pleaded on the radio for help and heard nothing but a garbled response, then static. He said a prayer, thinking it would be his last, and suddenly there were jets overhead and the sweet sounds of explosions in the distance. He said there was an eerie silence when it was over, and the last thing he remembers was the helicopter landing to transport him and his superior.
The same feeling I had the night before had returned to my body in force. This brave young marine asked me what I was doing in Iraq, so I explained to him my job and told him my radio call sign. He broke into tears and said that was the name he thought he had heard on the radio that night. He introduced me to the man he simply called his 'gunny,' quite possible the bravest man I have ever met. I never told him the efforts that went into executing their recovery. The Spirit was strong, and I was humbly happy to have been a special instrument in the Lord's hands that fateful ending"
This first time I read this story I cried, what are the chances that these men would meet each other? What divine force could have possibly made this chance meeting possible? The answer: Our Heavenly Father. It was very touching. I reread this section on Saturday and although I didn't weep, I still felt very emotional over it. I hope that my memory doesn't forget this touching story. Theres also some other stories I wish to never forget.
"This may never start Tearing out my heart I'd be your memory Lost your sense of fear Feelings disappear can I be your memory?"-Memory by Sugarcult
I am an air battle manager with the burden of making sure that everything-up to the release of a weapon, the deconfliction of that weapon flying through the air, and the effect of that weapon when it strikes its target-is efficiently coordinated and communicated to the persons given the authority to allow for these amazing events to occur. I am not a pilot; however, I am responsible for the safety of all pilots flying in the airspace I have been delegated authority to manage. I consider myself to be the wingman of every aircraft within the sound of my voice. In Iraq, multiple frequencies are used to communicate with aircraft, ground parties, operations centers, and forward operating locations. This night was shaping up to be one I would never forget. As I was assigning aircraft to work with ground parties around Baghdad, one of my radio receivers picked up a faint voice. Thinking nothing of it, I continued trying to keep up with the feverish pace of operations as they were unfolding that night. Suddenly, we lost power to our system and many of our radios, our lifelines to these fighters, were down. Frantically we reset the system and began loading radio frequencies into our radios to reestablish contact with the aircraft under our control. After tuning the VHF radios I faintly heard the words, 'Help, anyone, help.'
I was currently listening to three Ultra High Frequency (UHF) radios, two Very High Frequency (VHF) radios, two satellite communications (SATCOM) radios and three internal net radios and had a hard time determing which radio frequency the sound was coming from. Somthing inside me told me to look at my communications panel at the VHF radios. Suddenly I saw the 'active' light illuminate as a voice said again, 'Help, anyone, we are under attack and my gunny us unjured!' You could hear the gunfire in the background and the urgency in the voice of the soldier. I responded on the radio with my call sign and the radio crackled to silence. I began doing what I had been trained to do and immediately coordinated with the Combined Air Operations Center 2,000 miles away to reprioritze nearby fighters to suppoer the 'troops in contact' or TIC (pronounced 'tick') as we called it. After getting approval I worked with the Air Support Operations Center to pull the fighters back onto my frequency to initiate the support operations. Once the fighters checked in and I received their 'playtime' information (the amount of time they could support the operation before having to get gas), I realized fuel would be an issue for the jets. Simultaneously I coordinated the airborne refueling aircraft into deconflicted airspace over the operation and the fight commenced the total time for these actions was less than two minutes and weapons were being released from two F-16 Fighting Falcon aircraft supporting the contingent of marines pinned fown by enemy gun, rocket, and mortar fire. Once the F-16s called the situation under control and the area secure, I coordinated with the forward operations centers for the immediate launch of the recovery helicopters.
Once the helicopters were overhead and the situation seemed completely under control, I looked at my radios and neither of my VHF radios were operational according to my system's monitoring functions. I was confused; I knew I had heard something. I dismissed this as a glitch and went on to complete my shift. Once off of the console, I relayed my story to my superiors and they responded that they had heard the UHF traffic and were pleased with my coordination efforts to affect the recovery of these injured warriors. I told them about the VHF radio glitch, and maintenance reported to me that all the VHF radios were down and were expected to be operation again in a couple of hours. I had a comforting sensation engulf my body and I felt that things were made right.
The next day I went to volunteer in the makeshift hospital at my deployed location. I came across a young man whose chart reported his status as 'injured in combat.' He was awake and we began to talk. I don't remember his name but I will never forget his story he relayed to me about how the Lord had answered his prayers the night before. He told me of his marine unit being pinned down by the enemy and how his immediate superior had been hit by a mortar, causing severe injuries to his midsection. He relayed how their vehicle had been damaged and the radio did not appear to ve functioning. He converyed how he had pleaded on the radio for help and heard nothing but a garbled response, then static. He said a prayer, thinking it would be his last, and suddenly there were jets overhead and the sweet sounds of explosions in the distance. He said there was an eerie silence when it was over, and the last thing he remembers was the helicopter landing to transport him and his superior.
The same feeling I had the night before had returned to my body in force. This brave young marine asked me what I was doing in Iraq, so I explained to him my job and told him my radio call sign. He broke into tears and said that was the name he thought he had heard on the radio that night. He introduced me to the man he simply called his 'gunny,' quite possible the bravest man I have ever met. I never told him the efforts that went into executing their recovery. The Spirit was strong, and I was humbly happy to have been a special instrument in the Lord's hands that fateful ending"
This first time I read this story I cried, what are the chances that these men would meet each other? What divine force could have possibly made this chance meeting possible? The answer: Our Heavenly Father. It was very touching. I reread this section on Saturday and although I didn't weep, I still felt very emotional over it. I hope that my memory doesn't forget this touching story. Theres also some other stories I wish to never forget.
"This may never start Tearing out my heart I'd be your memory Lost your sense of fear Feelings disappear can I be your memory?"-Memory by Sugarcult
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