Dear Boss- Well, I Quit

The Air Force is currently conducting a Reduction In Force (RIF) to cut the budget.  Basically, they have too many people and are trying to figure out which ones to fire.  Unfortunately, the writing is on the wall that they won't be letting go of pilots like me.

I found a bit in the regulations that says I'm allowed to write a letter to the RIF board and state my case.  While most people would use this as an opportunity to wax poetic about why the Air Force should retain them, I... well, I went a different direction.

If it works out, I will consider this to be easily the best thing I've ever written.

MEMORANDUM FOR RIF BOARD L0411E/L0311E                        10 Aug 2011

TO:      CY11 Officer Reduction In Force Board

            HQ AFPC/DPSOS

            550 C Street West Ste 3

            Randolph AFB TX 78150-4710

SUBJECT:  CY11 Officer Reduction in Force Board - Lance Uppercutt

1.     I am writing to ensure the board is aware of an issue of concern.  Despite my records indicating to the contrary, my continued service would not be beneficial to the U.S. Air Force.  It is said that soldiers are men most apt for all manner of services and best able to support and endure the infinite toils and continual hazards of war.  I do not believe I can weather those inifinite toils any longer.  It is the core of an officer, not his actions, from which his subordinates draw their direction.  My actions have always been aligned with the interest of the service, but the core of my being betrays a weariness for the “dirty business” of war.  When motivation erodes, the structure of leadership and discipline cannot stand.  It is in the greatest interest of the Air Force that the tenets of basic order and discipline be maintained as there is deathly serious work at hand.  Despite excelling throughout my career, my continued service would be detrimental to those hallowed tenets. 

There is doubtless apprehension for prospects in a recalcitrant economy should a separation occur.  I, however, am not concerned.  I believe that intelligence and force of personality will win out in the end.  If I can’t find suitable employment, then I possess neither.  I hold education in the highest regard and welcome a respite from constant deployments and TDYs to further myself.  I can better serve this nation by pursuing endeavors in academia and in that pursuit regain the motivation to positively influence the future of this country.

Lastly, and perhaps most importantly, I am a volunteer.  This board has the unenviable task of deciding the fate of many careers.  Why cut short the service of an officer who prefers to stay in favor of keeping someone who has asked to leave?  A motivated officer in the wrong career field is better by an astounding margin than an unmotivated one in the correct career field.  With a handful of galvanized Air Force officers I truly believe there is no impossible task.  Please let me step aside and make way for those officers with the courage, honor, and drive that can positively impact and shape the Air Force and this country for years to come.

2.     As a result, I wish to convey to the board my desire to be separated from the Air Force.

3.     Thank you for your consideration in this matter.

                                                                        //Signed//

                                                                        Captain Lance Uppercutt

                                                                        123AS Training Flt/CC

Support the Troops. Protest the War.

The recent occasion of Veterans Day gave me pause and allowed me to reflect not only on my own service, but the service our fighting men and women provide as a whole.  What stood out in my mind, where recent memories lend to greater influence, was the disservice that we are currently conferring upon members of the military.

I speak of this nation’s laudable, though ultimately damaging, unwavering support for the military and all that they do.  No, it is not wrong to support the troops, but we must realize that support without borders is the reason the war in Afghanistan continues.  If we support everything about the military, including the war itself, we are punishing those that we intend to praise.

The wars in Iraq and Afghanistan have claimed the lives of nearly six thousand American service men and women and injured thousands more.  The consequences ripple through our society, as the family and friends of these casualties must soldier on in their own way.  It is the current generation’s charge to provide a strong foundation for the future of our great country.  That foundation has noticeable cracks when good people, like those who choose to serve in a time of war, are lost forever.  Perhaps recent Medal of Honor recipient, Staff Sergeant Salvatore A. Giunta, put it best when he said, “I lost two dear friends of mine.  I would give this back in a second to have my friends with me right now.”   It seems the benefits no longer outweigh the costs.

The importance of the casualties is offhandedly downplayed with the simple axiom that we are an “all-volunteer force.”  I am only able to speak for myself, but I can tell you that is simply not true.  I graduated from Undergraduate Pilot Training in April 2005 and therefore incurred a ten-year commitment to the Air Force.   I signed on the dotted line because being a pilot was just the next in a series of sensible life choices.

What our UPT instructors failed to impress upon us was the grueling deployment requirements.  The Air Force reports that C-17 pilots are deployed, on average, 117 days a year.  This is in stark contrast to the reality of 200 days or more that most pilots endure.  The Air Force is not guilty of cooking the numbers, rather those numbers incorporate more senior officers that have given up flying the jet for career advancement in the form of flying a desk.  The line pilots pick up the slack and feel the crunch.  Furthermore, tracking these deployment numbers has been an inexact science.  Only recently have some units begun to accurately track these rates.

All of this time overseas has led to increased problems at home.  The military suicide rate, which before 2001 was half the national level, has increased to more than double the rest of the country.    Depression and the additional problems it causes, from alcoholism to domestic violence, are tearing apart the fabric of our armed forces.  I myself have battled with persistent depression for more than two years.  From discussion with colleagues I know that, though not always reported, my condition is not a rarity.

All of this has led to extreme levels of fatigue.  This, too, is something that the military tracks.  However, when investigating a mishap they normally review only that mission and twelve hours prior to it. The mental and physical fatigue that two protracted wars cause our soldiers extends well beyond half a day.  Again, I am only speaking from my perspective; I cannot begin to imagine the danger and fatigue that the boots on the ground regularly face.  One thing is for sure: our military is getting old before its time.

So are we a volunteer force?  Sure, but just because we signed a contract years ago doesn’t mean we don’t wish we could take it all back now.

The financial cost of the war is exorbitant.  We have no idea when it will finally be won.  The mission of bringing a stabilized democracy to a nation that has eschewed government for all of history cannot be completed overnight.  When will we, if ever, know when this war is complete?  When Afghanistan’s security forces finally take over in 2014?  When we have Bin Laden’s body?  When terrorism no longer exists?  What will it take?

Economic and sociopolitical reasons aside, we need to end this war because of the toll it is taking our troops.  The longest war in American history is only getting longer, and the ones paying the real price are the boots on the ground.  Public sentiment helped to drive us out of Vietnam.  I do not advocate turning on the troops as some did during Vietnam, but rather standing against the mission that they diligently and earnestly carry out.  We owe it to them.

So if you really want to be a patriot: Support the Troops.  Protest the War.

Deployments Suck

One of the worst parts about being in the military are the deployments.  And the getting shot at.  And keeping your hair short.  And getting yelled at for everything.  And the complete lack of logic.  And the PT sessions that in no way get you in shape.  And all the fat people that nearly die from the four pushups in the PT sessions.  And the hurry up and wait.  And the food.  And living in tents in the desert.  And the sheer stupidity of...


OK, I'll just leave it at this: being in the military is worse than cancer.  Not like leukemia or bone cancer or anything bad, but like cancer of the grundle.  It's really inconvenient, and might just kill you if you let it go long enough.  But most of all, it's just a major pain in the ass.


In an unending quest to make me test the ability of issued 9mm hollow points on my grey matter, I have been in charge of getting my squadron ready for the deployment.  One of my many bosses (You think seven is a lot?  Try having anyone with half a brain and higher rank than you being able to tell you what to do) asked me what was supposed to go in his A-bag.  Now, I'll freely admit that I'm an idiot and probably one of the worst officers in the military, but even I know what the fuck goes in my goddamned A-bag.  It's common knowledge.  Also, there are plenty of documents with the answer to that question readily available.  But seeing as how I only had forty other fucking things to do at that exact moment, my boss made me send out an e-mail to the whole squadron with the required items for our A-bags.


Context:  Our squadron is the lions and our patch looks like this:

Which I think looks a lot like this:

From: Cullen
Sent: Friday, October 15, 2010 4:13 PM
To: 16th AS Distribution List
Subject: Your confusion leaves me disillusioned/

Keep it up and you'll get a contusion/
I mean you're cruisin' for a bruisin'/
Now I don't mean to step/
But ya'll are making me a wreck/
You'll fight cuz I don't look strong/
But you got it all wrong/
Though my genetics are pathetic/
My rhymes are sublime/
My energy's frenetic/
Now let's crush this mobility line

Sorry, Food Lions, I passed out there for a moment.

There has been some confusion about what to take in your A-bag.  Here is
the approved list:

Gas Mask
Web Belt
Canteen
Canteen Cup and Cover
Flashlight
Kevlar Helmet
Mess Kit
First Aid Kit
Sleeping bag

These items must be in your A-bag for the deployment or else you are a
D-Bag (the D stands for dirt).  If you have any questions or concerns,
stop by Readiness as soon as possible.

V/R,
Capt Cullen Gallagher
Assistant to the Readiness Flt/CC
Wing Keepin' It Real Officer




Unfortunately, my boss loved it.  He said he read it to his wife and she thought I had real potential as a "rap guy."  Also he needed me to go pick up a first aid kit for him since he didn't have one.  On the plus side, everyone has pretty much agreed that I really am the Wing Keepin' It Real Officer.  I'm trying to get that put on my performance report.


Later, this same guy requested that I make a packing list for the squadron.  Because it's not like every person in our squadron goes to the Middle East for two weeks of every month already.  Oh, wait.  I took this job slightly more seriously, as 120 would be printed out and handed to everyone in the squadron.  It would also have the addresses of all the locations so family members could write their deployed husbands/wives/children, etc.  I imagined this would probably hang on every squadron member's fridge for the duration of the deployment.  So here's what I made:

Yup.  A big picture of my face.  Also, somewhere in the packing list I put "jammy-jams."  The very serious military people sort of didn't notice because they were so busy getting lost in those baby blues.

On the plus side, my friend Nate e-mailed a picture of his kitchen with the caption, "Aw, crap."

I guess in his deployment absence, his children have begun to think that the guy in the flight suit on the fridge is their dad.  It wouldn't be the first time I've been accused of that.

Avoiding Work

Here are a few more things I created in my never-ending effort to avoid work.




One of the things I hate about working on the desk is finding people to fill in for random "mandatory fun" or community service that our bosses volunteered us for.  The pilots and loadmasters in my squadron were far too busy, ya know, saving the world and shit.  Okay, the pilots were busy saving the world and the loads were busy sleeping in the cargo compartment.  But still... busy.  Furthermore, we get about twenty worthless e-mails a day, so it's kind of hard to keep people from auto-deleting them.  To combat this, I blatantly lie in all my subject lines.


Context: I once convinced a co-worker that I blew out my knee while in the Middle East and she got the squadron commander to send out a replacement for me despite the fact that I was just kidding.  Also my squadron at the time had a mascot called Tunner.  Don't even bother looking it up.


From: Cullen
Sent: Monday, August 07, 2006 1:02 PM
To: 4 AS ALL
Subject: My friends Jessica Simpson and Brad Pitt want to meet you.

4th AS Tunnerites,

Let me open by apologizing for my clever ruse.  That subject line is not
entirely accurate.  It should have read, "Jessica Simpson wants to marry
me and Brad Pitt envies my abs."  I'm sorry, I know how jokes in e-mails
can be misconstrued (*ouch! my knee*).  Now that I've captured your
attention like an injured little bird that I later intend to release
back into the wild, I want to let you know of a great opportunity to
help the 4th Booster Club.  We are looking for workers at Safeco Field
Wednesday, 9 August at oh-ten-hundred.  This is our best chance to earn
money for the squadron since that casino I was running in the heritage
room got shut down by "the man."  I guess the gaming commission doesn't
believe that the Choctaw reservation extends into our bar.  Whatevs.
Anyway, please get at me via e-mail, or just stop at the desk if you
want to sell some beer and partake of some free food while the Mariners
crush their competition.  Okay, while the Mariners attempt to keep pace
with their competition.  Okay, if nothing else, you can marvel at how
tall Richie Sexson is.

Lt Cullen
Squadron Ab Model




The followup:


From: Cullen
Sent: Tuesday, August 08, 2006 12:10 PM
To: 4 AS ALL
Subject: Safeco Tomorrow

Fightin' Fourth-

I am still looking for volunteers to work Safeco tomorrow morning at
1000.  I have been informed that the show will be at 0930.  To let you
know how serious I am about getting volunteers, let me remind you that I
am the owner of three things that may be of interest to you: a tow
truck, the current schedule, and a recall roster with everyone's address
on it.  Alone those three things mean nothing, but together they mean I
can stalk from house to house of all you available non-volunteers, and
steal your cars to create my own car-henge in my backyard.  Then when
you return to get your car I will charge you admission like everyone
else.

SO LET'S GET SOME VOLUNTEERS TO HELP OUR SQUADRON!

Or are you not patriotic?

Lt Cullen
Squadron Masseuse

p.s.  They play the Tampa Bay Devil Rays, so the Mariners will probably
even win for you.

Mathletics

So there's this thing called CrossFit.  It's a workout thingy that I do.  I'm not entirely proud of it, mostly because it is a thinly-veiled cult, but it is a good way to stay in shape.  And the Kool-aid is fantastic.


Anyway, this gym regularly profiles its members on the website.  As such, I was given the opportunity the answer some questions on what I like about CrossFit.  This is what happened:


http://www.crossfitintegrity.com/sunday-july-4-2010-athlete-profile-cullen-gallagher/

Yes, that is a picture of me.  Yes, I am pale and awkward looking.  No, those weights aren't fake.  It's only 135lbs, keep your panties on.

Lance Uppercutt Wants To Fight The War

WarBlog 3
25 November 2006

On Thanksgiving it's hard to be thankful for anything when you're thousands of miles from home and bored out of your mind. I guess it's better than being thankful for a bunch of Pilgrims destroying an entire indigenous people. At least they were nice enough to let those Indians in on their little secret: smallpox blankets keep you thirty percent warmer than regular blankets. Wait, warmer? I think I meant to say deader. Smallpox blankets keep you thirty percent deader than regular blankets. The Air Force shot me up with smallpox about a year ago. I'm not thankful for that. When I got smallpox from the government all I wanted to do was itch it, but I knew I couldn't or it would spread. I guess that last sentence could have been a metaphor that taught me a lesson, but the pock mark was gross, so I don't think I would have touched it anyway. It left a scar. At certain points in my life, mostly when I'd been drinking, I thought I could get a tattoo. I figured that the only two things that had been significant in my 25 years were Christianity and being in the military, so I could get a tattoo about one of those. I guess I could have gotten Jesus riding a ballistic missile and throwing sharpened crucifixes at terrorists. Two birds, that. I'm not thankful I considered getting a tattoo, but at least I never pulled that trigger. I figure the smallpox scar is good enough. I just found out that we're going to be getting anthrax shots again. Not carefully measured doses of death metal, but actual doses of anthrax the biological weapon, which might honestly be less painful. I'm not thankful for anthrax or death metal.

Yesterday, for the second time in as many nights, we were circling just north of Baghdad waiting to land at an airfield that was under attack. I'm not thankful that we continue to land at places that are being swept for unexploded ordnance. While we were holding we started running low on gas and my night vision goggles were getting heavy. I could be thankful for strong neck muscles if I had them, but I don't. Despite our immediate insurgent and fuel-related problems, my mind was focused on the approaching Turkey Day and the gratitude I would be required to either think about or verbalize for anyone who would ask (and they did). I'm not thankful for work acquaintances who feel the need to talk to me during an otherwise delightfully miserable holiday dinner. Anyways, while circling the carnage, the only thing I could really come up with was my mustache.

Somewhere there is an unending list of things that the military does wrong, but mustaches aren't on it. However, as expected, they get it right in a half-assed sort of way. I'm not thankful that 'military intelligence' is an oxymoron. You see, you can have a mustache, but it cannot go further than the edge of your lips. That little rule, and the complete absurdity of the mustache in general, has mostly restricted facial hair to the enlisted force. However, many officers—myself included—have started mustaches while we are deployed since back home they are almost universally shunned and over here they are looked upon slightly more affectionately. Mine is a little patchy and misshapen, and it's coming in a little too red for comfort (I don't want GingerKids afterall), but I'm happy to have it nonetheless. My real complaint is that we aren't allowed to have full-on beards. God made me an unequivocal weapon of annihilation, so shouldn't I ride wings of fire into war with my beard flying in the wind? When I look at my tattoo I know that's how Jesus would do it. And I'm thankful for that.