The life and times of a domestic engineer: Leaving on a jet-plane... that looks much like an HC-130

Today, I got to ride on a C-130. Dh’s squadron hosts a spouse/family day every year and they take the spouses for a ride on the plane during the day. Big deal- you say. People ride and work on C-130’s every day. And that’s true. But how many civilians get a chance to say that they rode in a C-130, with their feet close to the edge of an open ramp in the back of the plane, while flying 1,500+ feet in the air? Approximately 30. At least today. I’m sure others went last year that weren’t there today. But still, the point is, is that it was really, really cool!

This is me (well, my feet, anyways), inches away from the edge of the ramp while we were flying. We were, of course, strapped to a cable line on the plane, but I just couldn't bring myself to go far enough out to put my feet over the edge and into open air. These brave souls did, though.

As incredibly awesome as it was to be looking over Tucson with nothing between me and the land, it was also a pretty nerve wracking experience for me. The reason I couldn't bring myself to go more than a few edges away from the edge is that I started having these visions of myself being sucked away by a freakishly strong gust of wind and dangling from the plane in my harness. I wondered what the protocol is for handling civilians dangling from the back of the plane 1,500+ ft. above the ground. And then, at some point, the plane started to BANK! The plane tipped right (my left) WHILE I WAS SITTING ON THE OPEN RAMP. These are the thoughts I had which kept me from freaking out right there in front of God and everyone:

1- We would not be doing this if it weren't safe. They do this every year, so they must know what they're doing. Wouldn't look good to have spouses hanging from harnesses out of the back of the plane, you know- it would bring on lots of legal trouble, I imagine.
Plus, there's the paperwork. And who wants to do that?

2- To my left was the thingie that moved the ramp open and closed (I don't know the technical term). There wasn't a lot of space between it and the plane. If I were to get sucked out in a freakishly strong gust of wind as the plane is banking, I could grab on to that on my way down and hold on until the loadmasters and pilot establish a protocol for rescuing dangling civilians.

3- If they couldn't think fast enough, and my hands slipped, and the cable hooked up to my harness snapped in a cruel act of fate, and I were to plummet 1,500 feet to the ground, I was within the vacinity of two PJ (pararescue) squadrons. Surely, they would know how to find me. It's what they get paid to do. You know, search and rescue people.

In addition, should I find myself miraculously in one piece after the fall, and I had to survive until the pj's found me, I would at least know which cactus to not cut down in the desert, so as to avoid incurring a hefty fine from the great state of Arizona.

4- I CANNOT flip out and forever be known as "that guy's wife who went hysterical on the HC-130 that one time". I WOULD NOT be that person!

Plus, I had to come back next year with my Nikon (I brought Dh's point and shoot. Which was obviously sufficient, but I wanted my D70). And I didn't imagine they'd let me back next year, If I flipped out this time.

So I concentrated on taking long, deep breaths while assuring myself that, since no one else seemed to be worried about falling out of the plane and into the desert, I should not be, either. And rather than appreciating the view of the biodome to my left (still banking), I focused on the side of the vista that wasn't visible to me at an angle until the plane leveled out again. I didn't stay on the ramp much longer, but I did manage to catch this beautiful sight. I appreciate it more now. You know, on the ground.:

So I safely returned to my seat, unstrapped the harness and buckled into the oh-so-cozy seating (HA!!!). Once the other passengers were un-harnessed and strapped in for the ride home, one of the loadmasters climbed onto the ramp himself. He seemed so peaceful, I wondered what he was thinking. And then I thought, I need to get this. So I did:

It's one of my favorites.

I also like this one:

another seemingly reflective moment over the Tucson desert.

These are my favorites, I think- if I may get a little philosophical or whatever- because I can imagine these guys hovering over the desert- except this time, in Iraq. Or Afghanistan, trying to visualize the missing soldier they were sent out to recover. I imagine the PJ's getting ready to chute out, ready to storm the dunes and do whatever was necessary to bring him or her home. I imagine the grateful families that would eventually be saved from a tragic situation, because these guys will have brought their son/daughter/mother/father/brother/sister/lover/friend home. This day, listening to the PJ's talk about their missions (the sanitized versions, of course) and then being in the plane where business gets done- at least, out of this base- humbles me.

They are called Guardian Angels.

And looking at these photos, I get it.

Because they are there, ready to search and rescue to bring home a fellow soldier without a moments hesitation. Even if it means that it will cost them their own lives.

I know Veteran's Day isn't for another week or two. And I usually try not to get political and overly sentimental, but can I just take this minute to say this?

Whether or not we, as a people, agree with the decisions that led us to Iraq, or in any war now or in the future, we should NEVER forget the faces and the names behind the forces that fight the insurgents, take over air fields, train foreign soldiers... They are men and women. They are people. And they bleed.
But they bleed, with honor and dignity, so that we, the people, don't have to. So that we can be free from the tyranny and oppression they were sent in to overturn, and free from the fear that another plane will get hijacked, and another building destroyed, and our government over run by zealots determined to establish a repressive and violent regime on our land.