Back to Basics

By Captain David Blair, US Air Force

Originally posted at Air University's The Wright Stuff.

(Hat tip to Colonel Bob Potter for sending this along to SWJ)

"... That I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same." That was how it went. There was not an exception for 'achieving childhood dreams,' nor an exclusion for 'as long as leadership has a coherent plan,' nor a caveat for 'as long as you're still doing what you signed up for.' After serving for the better part of a decade, perhaps I began to take my original oath somewhat for granted; perhaps I lost some of my focus on the reasons that first guided me to military service. I was comfortable, happy and proud serving as an AC-130 pilot, deploying several times a year to keep good guys safe and to take the fight to the enemy. That experience was one of the greatest privileges of my life, but it took a "needs-of-the-Air-Force" move to bring me back to the basics of duty, honor and service. I do not believe that I was alone in that mindset, nor do I believe that my story is unique. It is for exactly that reason that I believe my story may be worth the retelling.

Two years ago, in the middle of my third deployment in the right seat of an AC-130, I felt the world was more or less in order. I loved the Gunship, its mission and the community, I enjoyed the self-satisfaction that I was contributing to the fight; truly, I was living out a childhood dream of flying CAS (close air support) missions in combat as a Special Operations aviator. Like so many of my comrades, I believed in what I was doing and consequently poured my passions into learning the aircraft and the mission. I believed those efforts were finally resulting in a deep understanding of the weapon system. On the home front, I had just finished re-modeling my house, a three-year and $10K project. The West Florida housing market had already crashed, but no matter, because I was very much under the impression that I was going to be in Gunships and at Hurlburt Field for quite some time. I confidently assumed things were stable and secure... perhaps I had forgotten that the one constant in the fog and friction of warfare is that there are no constants.

I found out I was transferring to the Predator mission right before a step brief for a combat mission, in the form of a post-it note. There was no preferences worksheet, no input, and, being downrange, no ability to make a case one way or another. I think the conversation went something along the lines of, 'we had to give them a name, and it was you. Sorry.' Honestly, I was not exactly delighted about this turn of events. Being moved right before I could upgrade to Aircraft Commander effectively closed off the option of coming back, at least for the foreseeable future; being moved from a collapsed housing market into a BRAC-inflated speculators' market brought a new flavor to what had previously seemed prudent financial arrangements. Any plans I had made to that point were pretty much OBE (overcome by events). There are, however, two sides to that coin: not to be melodramatic, but when you find yourself on Sun Tzu's "death ground," in a position where you either press the attack or give up, things suddenly become much simpler. Moreover, sometimes when you fight through the 'death ground,' you find some blessings that you never expected on the other side.

So it was strange how, in the wreckage of plans, you find valuable things long forgotten rising to the surface like flotsam. I don't think that I had seriously considered my reasons for joining the military for quite some time. True, I wanted to be a pilot. And I wanted to be part of a tactical culture. And I certainly didn't mind living in Florida. Ultimately, though, none of those were a calling, for a calling must be about something higher than yourself. Being a warrior is a calling. Flying airplanes is a job. I love flying with all of my heart, and I am thankful that I can fly, fight and win our nation's wars as an Air Force pilot. Nonetheless, the warrior spirit must trump our pride in our platforms; warriors serve where they are needed, not necessarily where they would prefer.

With that in mind, I decided I would become the best Predator pilot I could possibly be. I decided I would join the community of UAS crewmembers with my head held high, and together we would take that airplane and use it to bring American kids home and send terrorists away for good. I decided I would spend my time and effort making Al-Qaeda hate me, rather than concerning myself with whether or not the arbiters of pilot culture liked me. Between being cool and winning this war, I'll choose winning this war.

That was the attitude I took into day one, and one that has served me well since. I take great pride in my fellow Pred professionals and our combat missions that deny the terrorists safe haven night after night. I am even prouder to stand with my new teammates to watch over brave Americans on the ground. I still miss the feeling of being airborne, the sound of the howitzer firing, the adrenaline of actually being physically present for a fire mission. But I have come to see the Pred mission as an equally important compliment to the AC-130 mission—our continuing joint endeavor to ensure that one more American hero makes it home safely and that one more Al-Qaeda murderer does not. I am proud to serve toward that end alongside my manned aircraft brethren.

I won't sugar coat it, though: the Pred life is tough. Our choices in bases aren't exactly great, our career path isn't exactly well defined, our hours are long and our extrinsic rewards are virtually non-existent. We have a long way to go as a service before we achieve sustainability for the Predator community. All of that said, none of it changes the ground truths of duty, honor or country. I imagine that many a sailor in the opening bouts of World War Two lamented the strategic choices that left the battleships of the Pacific Fleet at the bottom of Pearl Harbor and left them facing an enemy who had made wiser choices concerning the future of warfare. The indelible legacy of those choices could not be undone, but the lack of planning for December 7th meant that we had to fight all the harder on December 8th and every day after. The Predator community, too, lives in the legacy of choices that cannot be undone. We are paying for those choices. But someone has to, and if that is the only road to victory, then so be it.

I wonder if my story isn't in some way a microcosm of the Air Force's journey of the last few years. We had a largely fixed way of viewing the world, our mission and ourselves. We were, in effect, comfortable with our role. But war does not abide comfort. I do not presume to interject myself into discussions about strategic risk, the number of air supremacy fighters, and the like. But I do know that war changed around us. Some hold that by focusing on the present war, we are becoming ill-equipped for future wars. I would point out that the strategic geniuses on both sides of the quite-conventional American Civil War were forged in the fires of the counterinsurgency actions of the American West. Remember that Red Flag itself was borne out of our experiences in Viet Nam, an unconventional war if there ever was one. I believe that by engaging fully in this war, we forge ourselves for both present and future wars, for combat itself is the truest seedbed for future combat leaders. We cannot expect war to meet us on our terms. War has found us... will we ride out to meet it, or will we opt out?

I can only speak for myself and my own situation, but insofar as I am able, and as long as I am bound to my oath, energetically will I meet the enemies of my country. If I can best meet them via satellite, then all the better... so long as I can provide our strikers the intel they need to meet those enemies in person. This is my war. I will do all I can to win it. If that happens to be inside a cargo container parked on a concrete slab in the middle of New Mexico, then so be it. I am proud to serve.

Captain David Blair is an MQ-1 Predator Aircraft Commander. Prior to his current assignment, Captain Blair served as an AC-130 Pilot, flying more than 100 combat missions in Iraq and Afghanistan. He flew his first combat Predator mission in May 2009. He graduated from the US Air Force Academy with a Bachelor's of Science degree in 2002. In 2004, he graduated from Harvard's Kennedy School of Government with a Master's degree in Public Policy. He has written extensively on military strategy and public diplomacy. The views expressed here are solely those of the author and may not reflect the views and policies of the US Air Force or the Department of Defense.