In this segment, Brigadier-General Welsh talks about the first morning of the take-off, initiating Desert Storm:
Now father John was popular with us because father John was the first guy to buy you a whiskey, he was the first guy to light up a cigar; he was the first guy to start the party, the last guy to leave (laughter). And he would've been the first one, along with Father Pat I suspect, of wading into hell with his bvd's to pull you out if he had to. We knew Father John real well...he fit in great with the fighter squadron.
As I got to the airplane, Father John just said, "hey, I thought you might like a blessing before you go." And I immediately hated myself because I consider myself fairly comfortable in my religion. And I'd never thought of that. Too many other wrong priorities on my mind at the time. So I knelt down on the cement right there in front of the jet and Father John gave me a blessing.
And I went over to the preflight of the airplane and as I'm getting ready to climb up the ladder I notice all these guys running, coming out of the darkness, who had seen this. And all my other pilots are running over to the airplane to get Father John to bless them (laughter). So he did. And when everybody came back safe from the first sortie we kinda decided that's it. Father John has to bless everybody. (A lot of laughter). Can't change that.
And it didn't matter if you were Jewish or Baptist or Islamic, it just didn't matter. Father John gave the blessing for the 4th fighter squadron. And the amazing thing was it didn't matter whether you flew at 2 in the afternoon or 2 in the morning, we flew around the clock. And later on talking to Tom Rackley who was commanding the 421st, I found out that Father John did the same for his guys. I don't know how he did it. But he did, and every time I landed from a combat sortie ... every single time... my canopy would open, I'd shake the hands of Sgt. Manny Via, my crew chief, who was the first guy I shook hands with everyday, then I'd climb down the ladder and at the bottom of the ladder was Father John to bless me and welcome me home.
Next slide please.
When I came back from Desert Storm I ended up alone, different story, but I ended up single ship returning to Hill AFB, and when I pulled up into the parking spot here these are the folks who were waiting out front. Now my squadron had been home for 3 days before I got there and down at the far end you'll recognize Father John again (laughter). That's my wife Betty, and a couple of my kids, and a couple of their friends who were with them. I'd written Betty and told her about Father John and his blessings and you want to know how cool she is? When this airplane stopped, and the canopy came up, Manny Via climbed the ladder and shook my hand, and I walked down to the bottom of the ladder and Betty told Father John, you first. Father John walked over and blessed me and welcomed me home. And then Betty and I did some serious groping (crazy screams and laughter).
Next slide Fred, no leave it there.
A year and a half later, a year and a half later...Father John Pearson dropped dead of a massive heart attack. Great story, huh? Too much whiskey. Too many cigars, too many parties, I guess...a week after he died, 16 of the 28 pilots who flew in my squadron in desert storm were at his funeral at Stockton, California. They came from Korea, they came from Europe, they came from Australia, they came from all over the United States. To tell his family about Father John, and to bless him, and ask God to walk him home. I'll never forget father John Pearson.
Next slide, Fred.
This is a place called Allamaya barracks in northwestern Iraq. These are ammunition storage bunkers. They're not real significant. Except there's a guy I want to tell you about who had something to do with the holes in them. His name's Ed, USAFA class of 86. Ed left for the desert with his wife Jill, pregnant with her first child. This is a story repeated throughout Desert Storm and all the services and throughout history in the military. Obviously he couldn't go home for the birth.
About 2 in the morning one night, I got woken up in my hooch by my exec who said, "yeah, call up the command post" which was about ten minutes away. So I get dressed and go sprinting to the command post and it's my wife. And she says, "Mark, I'm at the hospital in Ogden, Utah and Jill Rank is in labor and she's having problems. Is there any way we can get Ed on the phone with her."
So we went and rousted Ed, brought him down to the command center and my wife had worked out some arrangement with the hospital where Ed walked in, sat down, and I handed him the phone and he's talking to Jill who's in the middle of a really bad labor. And as he held the phone with one hand and talked to his wife, I sat in front of him in a chair and I held his other hand. For about 2 1/2 hours. Which is something neither of us has ever admitted publicly before (laughter).
And I could see the happiness in his eyes every time he said she talked back to him and said anything. And I could see the worry and the pain in his eyes every time another contraction started and he heard her flinch or gasp or scream. And I felt him squeeze my hands every time he could tell she was really in pain. And I saw him smile when he heard his son Nate cry for the first time, from 9000 miles away.
Next slide Fred.
And he says Ed, when he came home and met his 6 month old son Nate, I'll never forget Nate. 12 hours after Ed hung up that phone, he was the cell leader for a 12 ship of F-16s that hit those bunkers at Allamaya barracks. It was the best battle damage assessment we had in our squadron during the war. They hit every target and a lot of them, as you saw on that photo, dang near dead center. Ed went from caring, concerned, loving, father and husband, to cold-blooded, calculated killing-machine in 12 hours. Only in combat folks. I'll never forget watching the transformation.
(Tomorrow: Part IV of "Next Slide, Fred!")
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Thought for the Day:
"Your new-caught, sullen people,
Half devil, and half child!"