04 July 2007
Bagdad, Iraq
Part 2..."Big Birds in the Night Sky over Iraq"
Later that afternoon, when chow was finished, I ended up at the flighline where the chinooks work out of.
This night, I would be embedd on a mission that would take us to Balad and back. It had always been my dream to be in the same locale as my son the warrior, during a deployment in the war zone. This night would be the highlight of a long-standing dream come true. And, at the same time, I would remenice of all the years of preparation that had taken place leading up to this particular night.
Late in the night, I was outfitted with the proper gear and placed in one of the aircraft on a two bird mission. I would be in one aircraft, and my son would pilot the other one. A fine arrangement and it was even better to watch from the sky, my son flying in the night sky in one helicopter, illuminated by a nearly full moon, and on the other helicopter, an excellent view of a trip to a place I had worked in for over two years.
As I heard the voice of radio communications from bird to bird, it became apparent to me I was listening to and watching my son "do his job" while I had a front row seat. All the things I had been planning and working and dreaming about since the day this boy was born, became a reality on this night.
"44, this is 45...we are on the go..." came the voice I knew as I listened and smiled while tears of joy streamed down my face. It had happend, finally. The road to this point had so many bumps and bruises, so many wounds, so many obstacles to overcome. But, on this night, it came to pass. The goal had been reached. It was the Mt. Everest assent for me. From here on out, it would be an easy decent.
We landed in Balad as I viewed all the familiar places I once had walked and worked for endless days, months even years. It all looked so much bigger and more organized. But for me, it was sight that was welcomed. I had come back to a place that I had said I would return to, and in the exact fashion I said it would transpire. Another priceless experience on this journey.
Upon lift off from Balad, we headed back to Taji and in a short 20-minutes, we were back on the ground. It had been determined that I would exit at the end of this leg, and return to my quarters. Upon landing at Taji, the load of passengers were exited and a voice came over the radio that was familiar. "Be sure and get grandpa Spiri off here, there's a gator waiting to pick him up..."
I gave the two pilots a thumbs up and a pat on the back as me and the ear to ear grin on my face walked the length of the chinook and exited the aircraft.
Upon my arrival at the helipad, Jimmy's friend, Derrick, whom I had not seen yet, was there to greet me and bring me back to where I needed to go.
Derrick and I gave each other a big bear hug, and we chatted for awhile and talked of each others recent experiences. Derrick, as all the others, is also another son of America, a pilot, that I am happy to invite to my now extended family.
I was taken by Derrick to my quarters, we said good bye and took a photo of one another with me holding the camera at arms length. We both smiled and he knew that I had accomplished what I had told him I would do, prior to his deployment when we visited Ft. Hood.
I had been accepted in my own son's unit. I was done now with this part of the journey.
In the next 36-hours, I would see Jimmy again three more times. He would come by my quarters at 0700, after his long work night, and see how I was. We would hook up again that evening for chow with him and his comrades, and sit down to a meal at the chow hall in the war zone. Those meals were a perfect atmosphere for father and son, and comrades in arms, to dine together as they do their work, and I proceed on this journey.
The following morning, Jimmy would come to pick me up after he had worked all night and we walked over and had a cup of coffee together. We talked, and again some comrades showed up. We finished our coffee and he took me to the helipad where the showtime was around 0830. My flight was on track, however we were watching the weather as a dust storm was threatening a cancellation. My son, the ever professional pilot, took it upon himself to call tower and check on the status of visability just to keep a heads up on the conditions.
We took a couple of pictures, together, as a waiting soldier did the honors of snapping the photos. As we sat still for the snapshots, I watched the waiting passengers observe the father and son photo-op. They all had smiles on their faces and I knew what each was thinking.
Although this journey had fulfilled all that possibly could be done, both my son and I knew there was only one thing missing. We did not speak too much of it, but we did, at one point the night before. It is a painful thought, but a precious one. Jimmy would leave in the next few moments after some hugs and handshakes. The father misses the son, and the son misses the father. But all the sons are brothers of the father. And the father now has many sons. The father and the son, are ONE. This is the reality of The Spirit, and it is my experience. I can only say, AMEN.
Jim Spiri
Baghdad, Iraq
jimspiri@yahoo.com
Comments (1)
I really liked this story. It reminded me alot about some of the storys that my dad told me about his time in the military. My dad when he was in the army used to jump out of chinooks. And he used to tell me that the ropes were only a hundred feet long and if the rope wasnt tuching the ground u just had to jump. But any way this story means alot to me cause it reminded me of my dad. thanks for what u do
dalton bowden
11th grade oktaha ok
Posted by Dalton Bowden | August 17, 2007 2:34 PM
Posted on August 17, 2007 14:34