Lance Uppercutt Wants To Fight The War

WarBlog 7
5 March 2007

Growing up is tough. When you're a teenager you think you know everything and try to convince everyone who believes otherwise. In reality, you know a lot less than you think. You start to figure that part out in your twenties, but you look around and realize that it's the same for everyone else. Grown-ups are no longer infallible deities who get to make the rules, they're actually people. You can see that all the traits you attributed to other people as teenagers still hold true as adults. Adults can be unintelligent, assiduous, duplicitous, humorous, slovenly, sharp, dull or any other variation or combination possible. I guess this realization is why we start calling adults by their first names. The first time a drinking buddy becomes a doctor or a lawyer or a teacher you start to lose respect for the establishment as a whole. It's like the first time you notice that you're older than a Playboy centerfold, just less creepy. You start to see people in positions of respect and admiration more for their foibles rather than their great talents. I guess after enough of this people in their thirties think they could do a better job and start to run for office. Who knows, we'll see. One day I'm sure I'll start to think I really do know what's best and I'll start to vote, too. One day. Until then I'm more concentrated on getting my own shit so together that I'll have ten pounds of it in a three pound sack.

Part of the problem of growing up, for me, though is that I've had the opportunity to meet some extraordinary people who will go on to do some great things. Some of these people I can even count among my friends. They are the hard-workers, free-thinkers, and just pure geniuses of our time. They may have incredible insight into an academic endeavor, or just the ability to explain it to an average Joe like me. These are the people who will get rich or lead the country or both. So why is this a problem? The problem is that having met a few such people (and I stress few), I know that I'm not one. I don't have the drive to succeed where others have failed, the eloquence to move the masses, or even the intelligence to make breakthroughs in any field. Jack of all, but Ace of none. I do know, however, that some other people make it to the top. Through hard work, innovation, or fortuitous connections some people just find the knack to succeed. I wouldn't mind being one of those lucky SOBs that makes that jump. I just think that the Air Force isn't really giving me a leg up on the situation. I'm killing time spinning my wheels while I could be out achieving more. I'm not too enticed by the possibilities of those I'm serving with, either. Most of them are good people, but I don't think we're going to come home and become the next Greatest Generation. The call we answered was too abstract a form of evil to ever beat completely. The problem that we have to solve will be mental, the Generation of the Disenchanted maybe. Some of us will have the opportunity to go forward and make the best out of things; it's just that I'm just ready now, and I don't want this war to set the schedule for me. Don't mistake my delusions of grandeur: I don't want to change the world, just be very comfortably wealthy within it. And maybe have a hot wife. No one ever said I wasn't shallow.

I have had a few chances to meet some leaders, both in the military and civilian world, and for the most part I have to concede that each person got there through more hard work and competence than I am capable of. However I'm always interested to see whether or not a lazy goof off like me can slip through the cracks. Like someone just woke up one day and said, "How the fuck did I become a US Senator?" Here's me crossing my fingers.

On the morning Saddam was hanged I was on the ground in Iraq. Our engines ran in reverse idle over the sands of Fallujah while we waited for a Distinguished Visitor to arrive for a free ride to Germany. I hate waiting. We talked about who it might be and why they were holding us up. After about an hour we noticed two blue helicopters come in from the southeast, set down near us, and taxi our way. Their rotors kicked up dust towards our engine intakes as they moved behind our jet. They stopped about a hundred feet behind our tail; the passengers were loaded into black Tahoes and shuttled to our ramp. A few colonels got out and huffed designer luggage into our cargo hold. I figured if full birds were being personal bellhops, then this DV must be pretty important. Out hobbled an older Iraqi gentleman and his wife. One of the colonels walked up to me and asked who was in charge. I looked around and told him that I was and he introduced me to the Iraqi National Security Advisor and his wife. I shook their hands and asked the loadmaster to show them to their seats.

During the flight, as passengers are wont to do, the National Security Advisor and his wife requested to come up to the cockpit. In this case we accepted and hurriedly cleaned up our food wrappers and magazines. They stayed up there for awhile and asked all manner of questions. At one point they asked me where in America I was from. I told them I was born in Ohio but now lived in Seattle. I asked them where they were from. I don't know why I asked; mostly it was just the thing that you said to people after they asked you where you were from. I figured they might answer something like Mosul and I could say I had been there. They answered that they'd lived in London for the last 25 years, but were originally from Baghdad. I asked how that was (yes, I hate myself for asking). The NSA's wife told me that "Baghdad is a wonderful city. Well, it was." Awkward. I fiddled with radio knobs and pretended that the flight plan needed attending to while I thought of a recovery from that. A few minutes later I asked why they were headed to Germany. They told me they were on their way to London to visit with family for the New Year. They were scheduled to go a few days earlier but with Saddam's impending execution, there was much work to do. Thank God for our greatest export—capital punishment. Just then I wanted to know if they had been there, if they had seen him hang, but it was not a question that could be asked. The question was answered two days later though when I read a story on CNN.com that had a quote from the National Security Advisor who recounted Saddam's last words to him before he was led out to the noose. I thought that being separated from such a major world event by only one person and a few hours would be weird, but it wasn't. Underwhelming to say the least.

After that the couple gave us some homemade candies and asked us about flying. First the NSA wanted to know how far our radar went on the jet. We explained that we only had weather radar and that it only went so far. He seemed unsatisfied, but even if we had some sort of offensive radar, I wouldn't have told him. We're friends with those Iraqis, but not that good of friends. He then started asking about the countries we overflew. He wanted to know how we got clearance to fly over them. I explained that you got diplomatic clearances with each flight plan and that you also radioed for permission prior to entering their border. He wanted to know who arranged such clearances and why they would be granted. I told him that most clearances, as far as I knew, were hammered out in treaties between countries. I figured that most NATO countries would probably let us fly in their airspace, but I wasn't sure. He asked who made those arrangements, ambassadors, diplomats, or members of the military. Finally I told him that such information was far more into his realm of work than mine. He should be the one that could tell me about such things, more than I him. He looked a little bit sullen and soon returned downstairs with his wife for the remainder of the flight.

When we pulled into parking in Germany, five generals and five BMWs were waiting. The NSA and his wife left with their military aide. The other pilot and I couldn't help but wonder aloud how Iraq was going to succeed when their leaders weren't really leading. The man was nice enough and intelligent enough, but you could tell that he wasn't one of the great ones. Growing up is never easy, and it looks like it will be no different for Iraq.