Let’s talk about the Air Force — and I don’t mean this-or-that jet or how many bombers we need. Because when it comes to what really counts, it isn’t the hardware — it’s the wetware, the people.
I had the honor of spending quality time (and more than a few drinks) last week with several just-commissioned Air Force officers at an Academy graduation party we threw — and let me tell you, the future looks solid.
The VodkaWife™ grew up in the Air Force, spending 16 of her first 18 years in NATO. Her father flew combat missions over Vietnam and went on to command fighter squadrons — and eventually, a couple of bases — across Cold War Europe. So it should come as no surprise that her best friend in high school, Cammy, wasn't just another Air Force brat — her best friend married a fighter pilot, Julian, who now wears two stars on his shoulders.
“We’re elbow-deep in blue uniforms around here,” your friendly neighborhood VodkaPundit says — and not without pride.
Their son — I’ll keep him anonymous — followed in Dad’s footsteps and secured a slot at the Air Force Academy four years ago. The Academy is maybe 12 minutes away, so naturally, Melissa and I started hosting a smallish party each fall during Parents’ Weekend for “our” cadet — and his best friend and Academy roommate. He’s one of “ours” now, too.
When graduation rolled around, we insisted on hosting the party — and told them to bring as many fellow grads as they wanted. Between my family, our two Academy families, and more graduates than I could reasonably keep track of, there must have been over a hundred people here that night.
Did I mention that both young men got assigned jets? Their parents couldn’t have been prouder if their boys had tied for valedictorian. Neither could we.
It was one helluva bash — and the 48 hours it took me, a professional drinker, to recover is all the proof you need.
But that's not the story. The story is those freshly minted officers — the jobs they’ve taken on, and more importantly, the attitudes they brought with them.
Even after 20-plus years of marriage-by-proxy to the Air Force, I'd never attended a commissioning ceremony. While watching an entire Academy squadron, one by one, take their oaths of office was impressive enough, what came next was more moving than I could have anticipated.
First, their cadet shoulder boards come off, and their Second Lt. "butter bars" go on. In virtually every case, those bars were pinned on by beaming mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, and uncles.
But that wasn't what squeezed a manly tear or two out of Yours Truly.
It was when each brand-new officer rendered his first salute.
I was once a lowly high school cadet at Missouri Military Academy, never earning more than three stripes — so I can tell you that cadets do a LOT of saluting. I had to salute practically everybody: cadet officers, faculty officers, and even the two active-duty Army sergeants who served as cadet advisors.
It's easy for me to imagine what it must feel like for a former cadet to finally render his first salute... but it's the who, not the what, that got to me.
Picture a retired master sergeant — someone’s grandfather, uncle, or mentor — hobbling up to his new Air Force (or Space Force) officer to offer a crisp salute. Then picture that proud young man or woman returning it. I might have another tear or two writing these words, but I assure you, they're still manly.
The commissioning ceremony was as moving as the party was a riot — but the party is also where things briefly got serious.
"What's next?" was my question to a small group of grads crowding the pulled pork station on my kitchen island. "When do you report to your first assignments? Where are you going?"
After hearing various answers, one young officer, about to start his fighter pilot training at Columbus AFB in Mississippi, added some color. "The training schedule is... compressed. It feels a little like World War II."
"Like they just need to get a lot of butts in seats?"
"Yeah, exactly."
He wasn't worried. He was matter-of-fact. That was the attitude expressed by every grad I spoke with last week. There's a feeling that something bad is coming, but they're ready — almost cheerful — to face it. All of this, just days after Memorial Day, when the country took time to remember our war dead.
As Academy grads, some of those men and women — these impressive men and women — will likely form the core of tomorrow's Air and Space Force leadership. They're butter bars today, but some will wear eagles or even stars tomorrow.
They’ve already made their families proud. Now they'll do the hard part — making the country proud.
I can't wait to see what they do.
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