WEEK     JOB: AIR FORCE RECRUIT

LOCATION: TRENTON, ONTARIO

IMMEDIATELY AFTER I arrived on base, I got fitted in combat gear: combat shirt, pants, boots, jacket, and hat. Then I met with the big boss on base, eight-wing commander Colonel Hood.

For many coming out of college, joining the military is not typically seen as a preferred career option. For Colonel Hood, it’s the only job he’s had since finishing school. “As a student I took a summer job with the reserves. I enjoyed the challenge—it was mentally and physically challenging—and from that summer job I came back and applied to get into the regular force. And a year later I was in basic officer training.”

After twenty-two years, Colonel Hood still maintained, “There hasn’t been a day that I haven’t been happy to come to work.”

Many who join the military have had a parent, relative, or family friend in the forces and so grew up accustomed to the military lifestyle. I’d heard that the military would put you through college in return for a commitment to serve for a number of years, but I’d never thought of it as being a sustainable career. Colonel Hood understood that many young people have a false impression of what the military is all about, and correcting that impression was one of his motivations for allowing me to be a guest on the base. I had no prior exposure to the military life, and he was curious to hear my perception of the military before my week began and how it had changed by the end of the week.

The first thing that struck me was the military lingo. Packed with acronyms and short form, it’s like a dialect. When Colonel Hood and Captain Meszaros discussed some ideas for my time on the base, it seemed as if they wanted to communicate something discreetly using top-secret military code. Then Colonel Hood turned to me and asked, “Does all that sound good to you, Sean?”

I smiled, having tuned out the conversation several minutes earlier. “Yeah, sounds great,” I said. “I’m up for anything.”

I thought that I was accustomed to the use of acronyms and short form after the previous week with TSAE in Austin, but the military took it to another level. I’d love to see an all-out “talkoff” between Association of Associations president Beth and wing commander Colonel Hood.

Captain Meszaros handed me a detailed schedule for the week (broken down by the hour) and briefed me on base etiquette. “All buttons and zippers on the uniform must be done up at all times, and a headdress must be worn when outside—unless you are on the flight line. Also, commissioned officers must always salute those officers who by virtue of rank are superior to them.”

I surveyed my combat gear, did up my buttons and zippers, and made sure that everything was in order. Then the captain added, “I should also mention that although a memo has been sent out regarding your visit that explicitly states to overlook the dreadlocks, expect some comments.”

I laughed. I was curious about how my hair would be received in the military. It’s not every day, rather, any day, that you see a guy with long blond dreadlocks fully suited in military combat gear.

Twenty minutes later I was sitting in the front seat of a CH-146 Griffon helicopter. The engine started up and the entire frame of the helicopter rumbled. The propellers sliced through the air, creating a deafening, yet somehow muted sound, which made it impossible to communicate without the radio in our helmets. I plugged in the cord attached to my helmet, strapped in the various seat belts, then looked at the pilot to my right. He smiled. “You ready to go flying, Sean?”

“Roger that!” I said, then flashed a Maverick-style thumbs-up.

The helicopter lifted off the ground. The pilot applied pressure to the stick, we tilted forward, and the tarmac quickly sped away.

Ten minutes later, we hovered six feet off the ground in an open field. “Okay, Sean, take the stick. Try and keep us steady in this exact spot.”

I took the controls. Within moments the helicopter started to sway side to side, up and down, as I overcompensated one way and then the next several feet at a time. The pilot took over and stabilized the helicopter. I didn’t realize how difficult it would be to keep the helicopter in one stable position. It’s an important skill to master, as many times the pilot will have to remain hovering as search and rescue (SAR) technicians rappel to the victim below. What makes it more difficult is that the terrain and weather conditions don’t always cooperate in a rescue-type situation.

Next it was time to execute a training rescue. I hopped into the back next to a couple of SAR techs suited up in orange jacket and pants with various gear in hand. We hovered fifty feet above the ground while the techs rappelled out, followed by a stretcher. The helicopter then lowered and I was able to get onto the ground to get an amazing view from underneath. I knew that helicopters generate a lot of wind, but I was still surprised when I had to drop to my knees in order not to be blown over.

We headed back to the base and I took the stick once again. It wasn’t until I began the descent to the tarmac that I realized how fast we were going. As the ground got closer and closer I felt as though I was coming in too fast and wouldn’t be able to control the helicopter. Luckily they don’t allow people to land a helicopter when it’s their first time in one. The pilot took over and brought us in safely.

When we arrived back at the base, I was escorted directly across the tarmac to the C-130 Hercules, a four-engine turboprop military-transport aircraft that’s close to a hundred feet long and forty feet high. As I walked up the extended rear ramp into the cargo-storage area, I was handed a different helmet and harness. With several SAR techs on board, we buckled up, the back ramp closed, and minutes later we accelerated down the runway. Once we hit our cruising altitude, I got harnessed in and helped open the side doors as well as the back ramp in preparation for the training exercise. We were making three drops to deliver supplies to troops on the ground. The drop would need to be timed perfectly, taking into consideration the speed of the aircraft and the wind, in order to hit the designated zone.

That morning we’d tried to find the largest helmet possible to fit over my hair. It’s important that the helmet fit snug, first, to prevent it from popping off, and second, because when attached to the radio, it serves as the means of communication over the noise of the engines. After removing some of the interior padding, we finally found one that would work, but my hair had to be spread flat and set in a particular position. With all the confusion and noise on the ground switching from the helicopter into the transport aircraft, I hadn’t been able to replicate that same position. The helmet sat too far forward, placing the earphones on the top of my jawline. I could barely hear the communication from the other guys on board—a crucial detail if I was to throw the items at the exact right moment to hit our mark below—but I didn’t make a fuss over it. There was no way I wanted to blow my chance at chucking stuff out the back of an aircraft cruising at two thousand feet.

I made my way to the edge of the open ramp and kneeled down as the plane circled around to approach the dedicated drop zone. Only my harness attached to a cord in the cargo area prevented me from plummeting toward the houses, paved streets, and cars that appeared as mere specks below. Through the muffled communication, and yelling over the noise from the wind and engines, I pieced together my orders from the SAR tech next to me. With his two fingers, he pointed to his eyes and then at the SAR tech who peered out the side window. It was his responsibility to time the drop and wind so that the item would land in the correct location. After a countdown, he’d say “Now,” and drop his arm. The SAR tech next to me demonstrated the motion with both arms above his head, then followed through. “HARD!” he yelled over the wind. “STRAIGHT. DOWN.”

I nodded accordingly. Then he added, “DON’T. HIT. THIS.” He pointed to the ramp we were kneeling on.

I caught a faint “Ten!” through the radio. The countdown had begun. The SAR tech next to me tapped my shoulder and once again pointed toward his two eyes, then at the SAR tech whose focus was out the side window to gauge the drop. I turned to face him and raised the object above my head with both arms. I could only make out a couple of numbers and so concentrated on his arm, while the other crew members fixed their attention on me. The object hoisted above my head became heavy as I anxiously waited to let it fly. His arm lifted up. He paused a moment, then quickly dropped his arm. “NOW!”

I threw it as hard as I could straight down, barely missing the edge of the ramp in front of me. The safety cord pulled snugly on my harness as my forward momentum urged me to continue with the object out the back of the aircraft. It was now in the distance, and I saw its small parachute catch the wind. It was safely on its way. I turned to face the crew behind me. All smiles and a few thumbs-up. Whether it was a job well done or a mere courtesy, I wasn’t sure, but either way I was pumped.

Back on the ground, I gazed out across the tarmac with a big smile, the Griffon helicopter I’d flown earlier to my left, and to my right the Hercules whose ramp I’d dangled my feet over as it cruised at two thousand feet. Could this day get any better?

“Sean, ready to dispose of expired C-4s at EOD?” asked the captain.

“Pardon?”

He laughed, then translated, “You wanna blow some stuff up?”

“Yes, Captain. Yes I do.”

Before long it was time to report back to the wing commander about my experience on base. We sat down in his office, surrounded by replica aircrafts and military pictures. The window offered a view overlooking the base.

“So, how was your week, Sean? Was it what you expected?” Colonel Hood asked.

“It really opened my eyes,” I said. “When I thought of the military, I always thought of fighter pilots, weapons, infantry, that sort of stuff. But after working in the different squadrons, I realize there are so many jobs on the base.”

Whatever someone may be interested in, whether it’s policing, photography, engineering, teaching, there seemed to be a suitable position in one of the squadrons. In my conversations throughout the base, I spoke with many who had been with the military for over ten years and in that time had held almost that many careers. I doubt there are many other organizations in the world in which this would be possible.

Colonel Hood is a prime example. “I’ve been in the miltary for twenty-two years. I’m an air navigator by trade, but I’ve had fourteen different jobs over that time. There’s never been a dull moment at what I’ve done here. I’ve been able to travel around the world. If you’re looking to get the most out of life, really bite off a challenge, the military offers a great opportunity for that.”

I’d become accustomed to uncertainty over the past year, but I always knew that I could go home if things didn’t work out, if I got into a situation I couldn’t deal with, or if I simply wanted to call it quits. In the military, things will inevitably become difficult. It will challenge character, build a strong sense of self and independence. Trying times and uncertainty are in the job description. On any given day, you could show up to work and be told that you’re being shipped off to another base in a foreign country for an indeterminate amount of time. I couldn’t imagine having to go home and tell my family and friends goodbye, uncertain when I’d see them next. It had been hard enough over the past year, popping in and out of lives and trying to maintain meaningful relationships. When military leave their families, their spouses and children will inevitably adapt to life without them being around and will get comfortable in a new routine. It must be difficult to come home after a long stint away and try to reintegrate into “normal” life knowing you could easily be shipped off again in the near future.

When I asked Colonel Hood about this, he said, “We’re all aware of what we’re getting ourselves into when we sign up.”

Later that Friday afternoon, I handed in my combat gear and returned to Private Lavallee’s house, where I’d stayed during the week. I sat at the kitchen table and opened up my laptop. Once it loaded, there was Danna sitting on my desktop wallpaper staring back at me (my favorite picture from Trois-Pistoles).

She’d been so patient this whole year; I’d just been unfair. I was the one on the road. It was my choice not to be with her, yet I expected her to clear her schedule and be waiting with open arms whenever it was convenient for me. As I stared at her picture, all I wanted to do was hear her voice. To tell her about the incredible week I just had. To tell her how much I missed her.

I needed to see her. I called Danna, convinced her to let me visit, and, the next day, left to spend the weekend in Banff.

When I arrived at Danna’s apartment, we were excited to see each other, yet our greeting carried an awkward undertone.

“How was the flight?” she asked rather politely.

“Good, good. Can’t complain.”

Pause.

“So, can I get you a drink?” she asked.

“Uh, yeah, sure … Thanks!”

It was as if we’d just met but shared an inexplicable sense of familiarity.

After some casual conversation, I asked, “Can we go for a walk?”

“Yeah, good idea. Let’s do that.”

We followed a forested trail next to the river that runs through town. It wasn’t long before we were holding hands, cracking jokes, and once again comfortable in each other’s company. It was as if we both needed to make sure that in fact the other was the same person we’d remembered during all this time apart.

As we strolled along the trail, I finally had a moment to tell Danna what had been on my mind for the past few days.

“I want to apologize,” I said. “I’ve been really selfish this year, coming in and out of people’s lives, expecting past relationships to stay the same. Almost like everything would be put on pause until I returned.”

“This whole thing hasn’t been easy for me,” she said. “But it’s not like I’m pining away, awaiting the day you finally return to rescue me.” She laughed. “I understand that you couldn’t always be around. I’ve tried my best to keep up. And I’ll be at the finish line too.” She smiled. “What’s another week, right?”

I had been nervous about seeing Danna. But every time we were together, I was reminded how strong my feelings were. I didn’t know everything about her, and it’d likely take some time to get used to being in the same city for more than a week. But I knew enough. She made me happy. I loved her. And for now, that was all that mattered.

We said goodbye the next evening, and I continued home for Week 52.