I want to post this so that everyone who's BP is through the roof after reading all the threads on the DU and all the others dancing on the graves of our dead soldiers can calm down when they realize that those people are truly a minority in this country.
Long Island Newsday
November 4, 2003
Heart Is The Navigator
Volunteers fly troops to war
By Sylvia Adcock, Staff Writer
They are the bridge between war and peace, the last goodbye and the first hello.
They make their living flying, taking families to vacation spots and bringing business travelers to meetings. But since the United States went to war with Iraq, a cadre of volunteer pilots and flight attendants for commercial airlines have flown hundreds of very different missions -- taking young men and women to war, and later, bringing them home.
The very purpose of their trip -- and the terrible knowledge that some of their passengers would not return -- has forged an emotional bond that has changed many of the airline employees who sign up for a duty that melds the civilian and military worlds.
In some ways, it's like any overseas flight. Nothing fancy, all coach class. Sandwiches, sodas, pizza, coffee. Hot towel service after the meal. But the pilots and flight attendants who fly the missions work hard to make sure these flights -- which sometimes involve taking soldiers home for a few weeks of leave -- are no ordinary trips.
For flight attendants, that means hitting the local party store for crepe paper, yellow ribbons, American flags, maybe a life-size Uncle Sam to decorate the plane. Kate Pantorilla, a flight attendant for American Airlines, even brings along a 2-foot-by-3-foot piece of sod when she's bringing soldiers home. She places the sod on the sill of the plane in Kuwait City with a sign that says, "Your first step on U.S. soil is one step closer to home." One young soldier bent down and kissed it.
For the pilots, it has meant carefully choosing the words they say over the loudspeaker. It's not the standard "p.a.," what pilots call their public address to the cabin. "The p.a. you make going in country is way more difficult," said Tom St. Denis, a Boeing 777 captain for American Airlines. "Bringing them home, it's easy: 'We're proud. We're happy. We're glad to be bringing you back. You did a great job.' That's easy.
"But going in country -- what do you say? 'Godspeed.'"
Commercial airlines have been ferrying troops overseas for years. Under a program called the Civil Reserve Air Fleet, U.S. airlines agree to make a certain number of wide-body aircraft and their flight crews available to the Defense Department in times of need. The airlines agree to be ready to go with only 24 to 48 hours' notice.
The program was first activated during the Gulf War in 1991, and again in February as the nation headed again toward war with Iraq. From February through June, 22 airlines flew 1,600 missions, airlifting 254,143 troops. Since June, when the reserve fleet was deactivated, the missions have continued under separate military charters, with all major airlines taking part. The troops are carried to and from Kuwait City on the same planes that carry commercial passengers; the military handles transportation from Kuwait City into and out of Iraq.
The flight crews, for the most part, are volunteers. Some have military experience; others just wanted to do something more than tie a yellow ribbon on their gatepost. It's become a coveted assignment for some.
"I need a troop fix," Pantorilla said. "These kids are so fabulous." Near Dallas, American flight attendant Marty Turner's voice-mail recording says, "If this is crew schedule for a military charter, please put me on the trip and remove me from any other trips."
At American, the flight attendants who get the military assignments tend to be the ones with the most seniority. Sometimes there is a short-lived moment of disappointment when a soldier realizes he's not getting a 25-year-old flight attendant. "What they're getting is their moms," said one pilot who has flown several missions. And that seems to be just what they need.
The flight attendants wear name tags with their hometowns and where they live to help start conversations. They make up their own rules: No one allowed in the galley unless they bring pictures of loved ones. "We'll accept pictures of dogs and cats, but not cars and trucks," Pantorilla said. Once, she held hands with a young soldier as the landing gear extended on the way into Kuwait City. "He needed to talk," she said. "I sat next to him. I said, 'My husband lets me hold his hand during takeoffs and landings.'" They held hands until the plane was safely on the ground.
The trips home are more lighthearted, although the soldiers are exhausted. Some of the flight attendants will pick a few of their passengers, dress them up in sarongs, feather boas, earrings and lipstick -- even using one of Pantorilla's Nicole Miller scarves -- and have them give out the after-meal hot towels. "Once they see the others doing it, they'll start laughing and then they're laughing and swishing," Turner said. Soon the cabin is cracking up. They even did it with a Special Forces unit, although no pictures were allowed.
The pilots have their own rules, too. The cockpit door is often open, and the soldiers are encouraged to come up and enjoy the view. Sometimes the pilots with military experience will offer a few words of advice, and on the way to Kuwait, the soldiers give them patches from their units and letters of last-minute thoughts to mail back in the States.
Arlie Appler, a Boeing 777 captain with American, has flown more than 20 of the military assignments since his first just before the war started. Once, a Marine sergeant on the way home gave Appler a lucky coin that he believed had kept him alive during the fighting on the way to Baghdad and later Tikrit. Appler gave the Marine his original set of captain's wings that his wife had pinned on him in 1987; the wings are now in the unit's memorial to its service in Iraq.
In May, Appler was flying an Army unit from Alabama to Kuwait when a young specialist walked into the cockpit. "He was clearly nervous about his future," Appler said. "He said, "Captain,' and I said, 'No, I'm Arlie.'" He reached in and got two dog tags, held out one and said, "I'd like you to have this." The soldier told Appler he had no one back home to give it to. Appler told him he'd be on hand when the soldier returned from war to return it.
Since then, the Alabama soldier has been one of several dozen soldiers in Iraq that Appler and his wife, Mabel, correspond with. Every few weeks, they head for the Wal-Mart to put together care packages, filled with things like hot rod magazines, Harley Davidson T-shirts, hard candy, anything to break the tedium.
Appler is heading down to Alabama this week to see the soldier who gave him the dog tag. The 23-year-old, who had been serving as an MP in Baghdad, had not been doing well; his unit was hard hit and officers were worried that he was feeling immune to the dangers after a hand grenade went off near him and he didn't flinch. The specialist is home for a few weeks of R&R.
Appler was himself a military aviator who saw combat.As the soldiers' last contact with the civilian world, Appler wants to do whatever he can to keep up their morale. "I tell them they have the full support of the American people," Appler said. "I take some liberties. It's the right thing to do."
The memories of the soldiers stick with the pilots and flight attendants, and both groups say they've considered the assignments a privilege. On Turner's first trip, a soldier gave her a patch from his unit, and she pinned it on her serving sweater, part of her flight attendant's uniform. Later she sewed it on, and now the sweater is so heavy with patches -- all to way up to that of a one-star general -- that she can barely wear it.
And she treasures an album that she asks all her military passengers to sign. "Thanks for the best ride home," wrote a sergeant from Fort Hood, Texas. "You don't know how much it means to us." "Thanks for a wonderful flight," wrote a soldier based in Tucson, Ariz., after the flight into the war zone. "It's people like you that I find honor in defending with my life."
Long Island Newsday
November 4, 2003
Heart Is The Navigator
Volunteers fly troops to war
By Sylvia Adcock, Staff Writer
They are the bridge between war and peace, the last goodbye and the first hello.
They make their living flying, taking families to vacation spots and bringing business travelers to meetings. But since the United States went to war with Iraq, a cadre of volunteer pilots and flight attendants for commercial airlines have flown hundreds of very different missions -- taking young men and women to war, and later, bringing them home.
The very purpose of their trip -- and the terrible knowledge that some of their passengers would not return -- has forged an emotional bond that has changed many of the airline employees who sign up for a duty that melds the civilian and military worlds.
In some ways, it's like any overseas flight. Nothing fancy, all coach class. Sandwiches, sodas, pizza, coffee. Hot towel service after the meal. But the pilots and flight attendants who fly the missions work hard to make sure these flights -- which sometimes involve taking soldiers home for a few weeks of leave -- are no ordinary trips.
For flight attendants, that means hitting the local party store for crepe paper, yellow ribbons, American flags, maybe a life-size Uncle Sam to decorate the plane. Kate Pantorilla, a flight attendant for American Airlines, even brings along a 2-foot-by-3-foot piece of sod when she's bringing soldiers home. She places the sod on the sill of the plane in Kuwait City with a sign that says, "Your first step on U.S. soil is one step closer to home." One young soldier bent down and kissed it.
For the pilots, it has meant carefully choosing the words they say over the loudspeaker. It's not the standard "p.a.," what pilots call their public address to the cabin. "The p.a. you make going in country is way more difficult," said Tom St. Denis, a Boeing 777 captain for American Airlines. "Bringing them home, it's easy: 'We're proud. We're happy. We're glad to be bringing you back. You did a great job.' That's easy.
"But going in country -- what do you say? 'Godspeed.'"
Commercial airlines have been ferrying troops overseas for years. Under a program called the Civil Reserve Air Fleet, U.S. airlines agree to make a certain number of wide-body aircraft and their flight crews available to the Defense Department in times of need. The airlines agree to be ready to go with only 24 to 48 hours' notice.
The program was first activated during the Gulf War in 1991, and again in February as the nation headed again toward war with Iraq. From February through June, 22 airlines flew 1,600 missions, airlifting 254,143 troops. Since June, when the reserve fleet was deactivated, the missions have continued under separate military charters, with all major airlines taking part. The troops are carried to and from Kuwait City on the same planes that carry commercial passengers; the military handles transportation from Kuwait City into and out of Iraq.
The flight crews, for the most part, are volunteers. Some have military experience; others just wanted to do something more than tie a yellow ribbon on their gatepost. It's become a coveted assignment for some.
"I need a troop fix," Pantorilla said. "These kids are so fabulous." Near Dallas, American flight attendant Marty Turner's voice-mail recording says, "If this is crew schedule for a military charter, please put me on the trip and remove me from any other trips."
At American, the flight attendants who get the military assignments tend to be the ones with the most seniority. Sometimes there is a short-lived moment of disappointment when a soldier realizes he's not getting a 25-year-old flight attendant. "What they're getting is their moms," said one pilot who has flown several missions. And that seems to be just what they need.
The flight attendants wear name tags with their hometowns and where they live to help start conversations. They make up their own rules: No one allowed in the galley unless they bring pictures of loved ones. "We'll accept pictures of dogs and cats, but not cars and trucks," Pantorilla said. Once, she held hands with a young soldier as the landing gear extended on the way into Kuwait City. "He needed to talk," she said. "I sat next to him. I said, 'My husband lets me hold his hand during takeoffs and landings.'" They held hands until the plane was safely on the ground.
The trips home are more lighthearted, although the soldiers are exhausted. Some of the flight attendants will pick a few of their passengers, dress them up in sarongs, feather boas, earrings and lipstick -- even using one of Pantorilla's Nicole Miller scarves -- and have them give out the after-meal hot towels. "Once they see the others doing it, they'll start laughing and then they're laughing and swishing," Turner said. Soon the cabin is cracking up. They even did it with a Special Forces unit, although no pictures were allowed.
The pilots have their own rules, too. The cockpit door is often open, and the soldiers are encouraged to come up and enjoy the view. Sometimes the pilots with military experience will offer a few words of advice, and on the way to Kuwait, the soldiers give them patches from their units and letters of last-minute thoughts to mail back in the States.
Arlie Appler, a Boeing 777 captain with American, has flown more than 20 of the military assignments since his first just before the war started. Once, a Marine sergeant on the way home gave Appler a lucky coin that he believed had kept him alive during the fighting on the way to Baghdad and later Tikrit. Appler gave the Marine his original set of captain's wings that his wife had pinned on him in 1987; the wings are now in the unit's memorial to its service in Iraq.
In May, Appler was flying an Army unit from Alabama to Kuwait when a young specialist walked into the cockpit. "He was clearly nervous about his future," Appler said. "He said, "Captain,' and I said, 'No, I'm Arlie.'" He reached in and got two dog tags, held out one and said, "I'd like you to have this." The soldier told Appler he had no one back home to give it to. Appler told him he'd be on hand when the soldier returned from war to return it.
Since then, the Alabama soldier has been one of several dozen soldiers in Iraq that Appler and his wife, Mabel, correspond with. Every few weeks, they head for the Wal-Mart to put together care packages, filled with things like hot rod magazines, Harley Davidson T-shirts, hard candy, anything to break the tedium.
Appler is heading down to Alabama this week to see the soldier who gave him the dog tag. The 23-year-old, who had been serving as an MP in Baghdad, had not been doing well; his unit was hard hit and officers were worried that he was feeling immune to the dangers after a hand grenade went off near him and he didn't flinch. The specialist is home for a few weeks of R&R.
Appler was himself a military aviator who saw combat.As the soldiers' last contact with the civilian world, Appler wants to do whatever he can to keep up their morale. "I tell them they have the full support of the American people," Appler said. "I take some liberties. It's the right thing to do."
The memories of the soldiers stick with the pilots and flight attendants, and both groups say they've considered the assignments a privilege. On Turner's first trip, a soldier gave her a patch from his unit, and she pinned it on her serving sweater, part of her flight attendant's uniform. Later she sewed it on, and now the sweater is so heavy with patches -- all to way up to that of a one-star general -- that she can barely wear it.
And she treasures an album that she asks all her military passengers to sign. "Thanks for the best ride home," wrote a sergeant from Fort Hood, Texas. "You don't know how much it means to us." "Thanks for a wonderful flight," wrote a soldier based in Tucson, Ariz., after the flight into the war zone. "It's people like you that I find honor in defending with my life."