November 15, 2003

They left Kuwait earlier that year and headed North for the liberation of Iraq. On their way there they set up many refueling points for their fellow soldiers.       

Meanwhile, they slept in cramped living conditions. Sleeping in tents or even the back of their choppers. Phone calls and letters from home were a luxury. It felt so nice to get them. Being able to talk to their families back home took them away from everything that was going on there, even if it was just for one second.

They learned to live with one another and became close. They became brother’s. They ate together, fought side by side and even lightened the mood now and then by pulling a prank here and there.      

One soldier recalls his time flying the brigade commander around. His job was to take him to different outlying checkpoints, businesses and key points of interest. He remembers visiting the local people and dining with their leaders and politicians.

During this time, the crew was lucky enough to have the attacks on aircrafts at a minimum. From time to time the soldiers would go thru information blackouts. This happened whenever a soldier or soldiers were lost. It was a prevention tool mostly. They didn’t want the information to leak prematurely to the states.

In one of the blackouts, word got back that some of their fellow soldiers would not be returning. Later they would find out that six men in total had died.

Six.

Six fathers. Six son’s. Six husbands. Six soldiers. Six brothers.

Dead.

They held a ceremony for them. Here grown men, veterans of war, cried. Cried for their brother’s who they would no longer see. No longer hear their voices. No longer able to share a laugh in these tough times. Gone that quickly.

Since that night, the crew has lost two more men. All of them know that some of them probably won’t make it back and that they will not truly be safe until they are back in the comfort of their own home back in the states. Until they are finally away from the battlefield.

One soldier says: There is not a single day that goes by that I don’t consider what I am about to do. There are an infinite amount of variables that come in to play when conducting a mission. Even the most mundane missions can lead to tragedy. Even the most skilled and prepared soldier cannot defeat the inevitable. He is not superman. I am not superman.           

I chose this profession and couldn’t imagine doing anything else. I don’t wear my combat patch as a mark of pride or service. I don’t wear it to show that I am a veteran. I don’t wear it so people will come and thank me for serving our country. I only wear it as a memorial to all of my brother’s that have given the ultimate sacrifice, not just my fellow aviators. “Helicopters don’t fly, they beat the air into submission.”