The importance of training

  • Published
  • By Lt. Col. Christopher Borchardt
  • 436th Aerospace Medical Squadron Commander
DOVER AIR FORCE BASE, Del. --  As Dover Air Force Base ramps up the exercise schedule in preparation for our Operational Readiness Inspection, it's a perfect time to share two profoundly influential experiences I had with senior Iraqi Air Force officers while deployed to Kirkuk Regional Air Base in 2006.

I was primarily providing critical care air transport support in Army UH-60 Blackhawk medical evacuation helicopters for those wounded from Anbar Province, but an additional duty was assisting with the reconstitution of the Iraqi Air Force.

The first experience that left a significant impression was on my first day in Iraq when I was called in before my shift to the emergency room to see a "pilot" since I was the only Flight Surgeon on the base. This surprised me because the United States Air Force fighters that had been stationed there had left a couple of rotations ago, and I'd been briefed the only aircrew I'd encounter would be the transient C-130 crews who dropped off supplies and picked up wounded.

I arrived in the emergency room and saw a heavyset tall gentleman in a flight suit that was waiting to be seen. I introduced myself and realized that he was an Iraqi pilot, so I began to speak louder in classic American fashion to ensure my English would be understood. He replied back in perfectly good English that no interpretation or loudness was necessary, so we settled into the discussion of what had brought him to the clinic.

Eventually the conversation came around to the usual Flight Doc question of "when are you on the flying schedule next," to which he replied "fly? I do not fly." I asked him why not. He pointed at my 335th Fighter Squadron patch from Seymour Johnson AFB where I was stationed at the time and said "your capable Strike Eagles destroyed my Mig-23s!"

Turns out the 335 FS that had reduced Kirkuk's airfield to rubble back in 1991, and he certainly hadn't forgotten. The profound part of it for me was the fact that he chose the word "capable" and used it with reverence. Being "capable" doesn't come quick or easy, and he clearly recognized, and unfortunately suffered through, the remarkable achievements of the 335 FS who'd trained and exercised to reach that level of combat capability.

The second experience came halfway through the deployment while we were out conducting some painful training in our chemical defense gear and all sorts of other heavy battle-rattle equipment. I was standing next to an Iraqi colonel and noticed his intense stare and a tear in his eye while he watched us work through the drill. I eventually garnered up the nerve to ask what was on his mind. He looked at me quizzically and said "Your country must love you" which left me with a puzzled look.

After we'd looked at each other for minute he followed up with "all of this training and equipment... They must love you to provide you with all this training and equipment. When I first went to war I was given a gun and only told to keep moving east."

When I find myself fatigued in the middle of an exercise or frustrated that I have to accomplish another bit of training I'm sure I'd just completed last month, I think back to these two encounters which reinforced in me an appreciation for the effort that goes into ensuring I'm prepared and capable. During the late-night chaos of an exercise I can at least put a grin on my face thinking of all the "love" that's gone into the experience.

Your contribution to humanitarian aid, global delivery, medical support, combat capability, or any number of other critical functions depends on what you develop and sharpen during training and exercises. Participate smartly in the upcoming exercises, learn from what goes well and poorly, become "capable", then go on to write history performing the mission in the real world knowing you're loved.