San Antonio Express-News (Sunday)
Military says farewell, yet the bonds endure
When a random number lit up my phone Oct. 18, I almost didn’t answer because my vehicle’s warranty is fine.
But I picked up and listened to the call from the Department of Veterans Affairs. I didn’t realize until after the woman began speaking that the scripted call formally ended my 25-year relationship with the military.
Yes, we’d had our ups-anddowns, and the breakup had been a long time coming. There are no hard feelings or bitterness. You could say we just grew apart.
In some ways, we still care for each other. At least, I still have feelings for the Air Force. I’m not sure how it feels about me. The institution itself is emotionless, cold and detached. I don’t blame it.
Nonetheless, it’s a part of the family. Besides being an ex-career, it casts a shadow like a tough-love parent who always demanded more, or an older sibling most of us could never impress.
Sure, we could have stayed together. The Air Force would have kept me, but it was time to go. It was me, not the military. Maybe I outgrew our relationship.
We’re still cordial. We have so many memories together and mutual friends. All in all, the Air Force took care of my family and me, and it still does to a certain extent. The service provided for us, shaped our lives and threw hardship our way from time to time.
We officially quit each other when I retired, but we’ve stayed in touch through the VA, which is like a neutral friend. Then there’s the service’s retiree outreach program. And we still visit military bases for appointments and errands.
Kimberley, from the VA’s Solid Start program, opened with a “thank you for your service” and a check of my mental well-being and personal safety.
Her voice was friendly and warm as she spoke about various medical, insurance and education benefits. She reminded me to continue to “be there” for myself and other service members, to use the VA benefits we’ve earned and reach out if I ever need help.
While thoughtful and an important message, the call felt more like business than family or an old service buddy calling.
I’m thankful for the VA calls. They’re more than I’ve heard from most of my old Air Force colleagues or bosses, but that’s on me, too. It’s good to have some space.
After we hung up, Kimberley sent an email.
“Congratulations!” it said.
“This was your final call with VA Solid Start. VA is honored to have this time with you during your first year of civilian life. VA is still here for you.”
As a fresh vet, I’m still new to the whole citizen scene. It’s been a long time and much has changed since 1996, when I was last in the game of civilian life.
The military was a touch overbearing — it had to be — and I’m still figuring out who I am outside of the machine. My current job and I are still in the honeymoon phase. Everything is fresh, new and exciting. The new gig values me, and I’m finding my voice after years of deference to a vast hierarchy.
Now, I’m free to speak out, take a position, debate politics, grow a beard and long hair (I wish!) and wear what I please.
The Air Force has moved on, too. The Space Force is the service’s shiny new friend that draws much attention from ogling politicians and pundits. And the entire military has shifted its gaze from the small wars in Iraq and Afghanistan to focus on heavy hitters such as China.
I’m thankful to the many veteran veterans who’ve helped me throughout the transition. It’s been long enough now that I’m sharing advice and contacts with friends who are going through their own service breakups.
Our vet generation is lucky to have the countless helping resources and organizations that haven’t always been available. Of course, it can always be better.
Despite all that, Kimberley’s call carried a finality that hit me with a twinge of melancholy.
It didn’t last long because two
days later I was on the road to Colorado to celebrate my 20th Air Force Academy reunion — albeit one year late. As the class of 2000, we were supposed to reunite last year. COVID canceled that, so we joined the class of
2001 this year. Call it a 20-plusone reunion.
It’s strange how time, life, spouses, partners, kids, and two decades of wins and losses bend the light and filter those memories from 25 years ago.
Two grand, united we stand
The U.S. wasn’t in perpetual war on June 27, 1996, when 1,239 young adults from around the globe started academy basic training at the campus north of Colorado Springs. The warm Rocky Mountain breezes from that bright summer day seem so far away now.
We found common ground in those first few days adjusting to Colorado’s high altitude and the yelling cadre as we learned to wear uniforms, salute, march and conform to a new way of life. In crisp new camouflage uniforms and short haircuts, we began thinking outside of ourselves during hours of physical training, rote memorization, shining boots, starching shirts, folding T-shirts and socks into precise shapes, and staring at the eagles on our plates in Mitchell Hall.
From there, we navigated a strange four-year college experience. Beside full-time classes with a STEM-heavy core curriculum,
military responsibilities and athletics, the academy experience also included flying gliders, boxing, jumping from airplanes and 10-meter-high dives, visiting bases and evading a fake enemy in the woods during survival school.
We also learned to bend the rules without getting caught. Some of us were more successful than others. Along the way, we made lifelong friendships and internalized the importance of integrity, service and excellence.
Among us, 942 made it to graduation on May 31, 2000.
Most earned Air Force commissions. Six joined the Army, Navy or Marine Corps. Our 10 foreign classmates returned to serve in their home countries. Some classmates started grad school. Most went to training for Air Force jobs as pilots, or in space and missiles, intelligence, contracting, acquisitions, special operations, maintenance, security forces, communications, finance, personnel and so on.
In the two decades since throwing our hats into the bright blue sky at Falcon Stadium, we’ve accomplished much. Some left after the required 10 years for pilots and five years for everyone else. Others stayed longer. Many still serve on active duty or in the Guard or Reserve.
We have all sorts of pilots. They’ve flown fighters, bombers, helicopters, cargo, refuelers, trainers, remotely piloted aircraft, reconnaissance, special ops and more. On the civilian side, our classmates fly for airlines, military contractors, cargo companies and corporate executives.
There’s always a good chance that an Air Force Academy grad is at the controls of your next flight.
We have doctors, surgeons, dentists, lawyers, teachers, engineers, corporate honchos, sales people, contractors, a judge, an Olympian-turned-U.S. Senate candidate, college football coaches and everything between — even an oddball newspaper writer.
We’ve broken barriers with the Air Force’s first female F-22 pilot and the academy’s first male U.S. congressional representative.
One classmate, and her husband, started Holbrook Farms Retreat for survivors of those lost in military service.
The so-called Global War on Terror — especially Afghanistan and Iraq — dominated our era in the service. Many have deployed many times. Some couldn’t make the reunion because they were serving overseas.
Our classmates have both killed and saved thousands of people around the world. Many earned medals for valor.
And not of all our brothers and sisters are still with us. We’ve lost friends to airplane crashes, car accidents, training mishaps, illness, manslaughter and suicide.
Reunited
Explosions of gold Aspen leaves lit up the Front Range of the Rockies as we returned to our alma matter. We all have complicated relationships with the academy, but it felt right to go back and reconnect with the people and places that set our course in life.
It was my first academy reunion, and I was surprised at how easy it all felt. No stilted or awkward conversations. No egos or big brags. Just a lot of laughs.
Like any family, there are differing politics. Some of the ’70sera grads peppered academy leadership with questions about the curriculum and the number of civilian faculty members. One woman at a football game tailgate party said, “I’m so sick of moderates.”
But what really stuck out was reconnecting with people I hadn’t seen in decades. There are too many to name.
From what I could tell, we were genuinely interested in how our classmates are doing in life. We told funny old stories and talked more about families and happiness than the Air Force or deployments.
What I saw was a group of normal people, old friends who had shed their brittle military shells. They are different, grownup versions of those Gen Xers rushing off the bus 25 years ago to stand on the spray-painted footprints pointed toward the future.
And even though life has taken us in different directions, we’ll always agree on one thing: Sink Navy, Beat Army!