Four and a half months after my return from deployment I find myself still, by and large, content to quietly enjoy freedom. I haven't really fought for freedom in the way of those who have seen combat; my deployment experience involved loneliness and hardship but no conflict. Nevertheless, I continue to deeply enjoy the quiet moments in my apartment with my friends and family accessible, the feel of driving my own car, and the ability to disappear occasionally. This summer has been good for it.
The squadron's flights on a daily basis are relatively simple. They are training flights. Occasionally, when we have new or inexperienced aircrew, we conduct the simplest of flights, where we practice basic military aviation skills like dropping bombs or employing air-to-air weapons. But those are stepping-stones, really, to more advanced flights wherein basic employment how-do-I-get-this-thing-to-do-what-I-want (i.e. launch a missile or drop a bomb) is taken for granted, and the challenge lies in executing tactics. Because while it's all well and good to be able to deliver ordnance on your enemy, the real trick is doing so when your enemy is aware and possibly trying to kill you, which they tend to do when you're attacking them. But even these "more advanced" flights are stepping-stones, despite requiring detailed tactical knowledge and skilled flying in addition to basic employment abilities. Because the real war that we could conduct, and the one we wish to train to, involves detailed coordination of disparate elements. Within the Marine Corps alone there are other aviation elements to protect and to work with, and the entire aviation element has to protect and provide for the ground unit. After all, the whole business of dominating your enemy starts with an Infantry Marine whose boots are on the deck and who controls the actions of others by holding a monopoly on violence. That Marine is, by Marine Corps doctrine, the entire reason for the aviation element in the first place.
So, having diluted the purpose of my squadron's business to its most basic raison d'etre, we return to the necessary inadequacy of monthly squadron training. It's necessary that we are good at the basic skills of our profession, but certainly not sufficient to conduct a real battle. It's likewise necessary for that infantryman to be skilled at employing his rifle, but he must also be able to integrate and employ with machine-guns, mortars, artillery, mechanized units, and so on all the way up the ladder of a combined arms conflict. And because it is expensive and time-consuming to gather the scattered elements of a division, or an air wing, together, there are few opportunities if any to practice in peacetime that kind of integration. So it was with excitement (and a little grumbling) that we departed from our comfortable Southern California work schedule last week to plan and host a Large Force Exercise (LFE).
In a way, it was a welcome relief from the mundane. Once in a rhythm of flying, well, the flights are still fun and offer lots of opportunity for improvement, but they don't take quite as much personal investment as before. Which leaves more time to be guilty about not doing ground-side, administrative work. And my beloved Corps being a military institution, there is always more paperwork and bureaucratic tasks to complete. So those of us involved in the planning turned to our computers and tactics manuals to plan an exercise that could accommodate Air Force and Navy units, integrated with operational combat systems, responding to a fully detailed scenario. It is tiring and enjoyable, those 12-hour days. There are few breaks for food or rest between all the coordination meetings and the plan or product revisions, but being a member of the team and working hard to produce together a cogent and workable plan is an inspiring experience and very much worth the suffering. It brought me back to the long happy tactical days of Red Flag Alaska and Aces North in Australia, when the squadron banded together into a tough group of professionals, leading complicated missions and doing their best to ensure the success of missions in which they only had a part. This is the best kind of flying: tactical knowledge is assumed, the missions are dynamic and require flexibility, we carry and deliver real ordnance, and there is a real-time proctor of the fight to send "killed" aircraft home when they die. It's as close to combat as it gets, simply put, and a chance to show our mettle. And we relish that.
It is part of our internal squadron workup to go to Red Flag Nellis later this month, which is in turn part of our work-up to deploy back to Japan for the spring, summer, and early fall of 2010. I am excited for it. Though I have recently found some new things for which to stay home, there is no denying that WestPac is a valuable and exciting experience. It has a purpose I agree with also; for to guarantee that freedom and democracy have a chance to flourish in the world outside our borders we must show Free Democracies that we will support, assist, and even protect them from entities who want them to fail. St. Thomas Aquinas paraphrased Aristotle by saying that excess of anything is always bad, except excess of devotion to the Lord. So also extreme ideology is bad, except the extreme ideal that man, left alone to do so, will accomplish much more through his own freedom than otherwise. Clearly, "extreme" is a provocative word, and a limited one, for there are some limits: freedom that provides opportunity is generally peaceful and free from threat and oppression from within and without, and it requires a culture which encourages success. But those elements, I believe, grow organically out of freedom as a whole. That is what we've accomplished practically in the United States (despite certain attempts to nationalize certain services), and we've been successful with it. Doing our bit to help others along by demonstrating our commitment is the right and decent thing to do. That is, in essence, what each WestPac is about, and I am proud of my part in it.
It is easy to sit on a summer afternoon in San Diego under lucid skies and pleasant burnished disc of the sun and reflect on these things. It is pleasant to remember the feelings of WestPac: the urgency to exercise disciplined, professional flight operations while dealing with foreign-language controllers and foreign airspace; the unparalleled freedom of having nothing more complicated to do in your free time but hang out with your comrades; the easy studying with no beaches or non-squadron loved ones to distract you; and the wonder at seeing places like Korea and Australia. But though such nice reflections diminish the memories of loneliness, the burden of short tempers, and the frustration of unsolvable problems, such memories remain distant and let me know that the next WestPac will not all be fantastic flying and parties. There is considerable difficulty in living long months away from loved ones, and the ideals which support your purpose out there, supporting free nations with the best you have to offer, feel quite cold and sterile.
And so it is. I am beginning to get that itch again to go after greatness--first at Red Flag, then during WestPac. To suffer for my beliefs and earn them. Not, obviously, as those who have seen combat. But I cherish their sacrifice and hope my own investment will be worthy of them. I will also enjoy this nation that we jointly serve, but to different degrees: the freedom, in this case, of enjoying a long summer evening, with metaphysical thoughts in my head and the desire to put them on paper.
(Or in this case, a computer screen)
