Santa Rides a Blackhawk
What's chalk mean, anyway? I'm slated for the second group, specifically, Lift 2, Chalk 1. I ask one of the soldiers what chalk means, but like so much military jargon, there may not be a person alive who has any idea.
I'm here with the ESGR, Employer Support of Guard and Reserve. Today's a boss lift, the biggest even Tom Lasser’s seen, and he's been with ESGR since at least the very first boss lift. Tom's not going up, he says he's been up enough. He used to fly helicopters back in Vietnam and beyond. He's one of the Legacy Aircrews guys who meet once a year down at Los Al to remember each other and the ones who've flown west.
The boss lift is a way to honor the bosses who make sure their soldiers have a job waiting for them when they come home. They're crucial to a successful mission, and today, 150 of them are coming down to Los Al to see what their soldiers do at their other job. Everybody that wants to gets to go up in a Blackhawk. Which means just about everyone except Tom Lasser is going up.
If LAPD flies Cadillacs in the sky, the Guard’s got flying Volkswagens. I mean no disrespect. I would take a Blackhawk ride over just about anything in this mean old world. The shake, the howl, the whomp whomp whomp, the look of that guy across from me who I'm wondering is his lunch going to stay down.
The doors are off, the windows are off, and I've got the best seat in the house. As I lean out the cabin, my glasses feel like they're going to jump. I make a mental note to use my camera to keep my specs from leaping into the wild blue. It's cold up here, feels like 40s with my jacket tied uselessly around my waste. The four point harness ensures any movement will be limited. When Chalk 2 pops periodically into view, I lean out and grab shots of it, along with the changing scenery. We go out over the ocean, up the coast, downtown LA, the Hollywood sign. This is my fourth Blackhawk ride, and I'm butterfly-free.
Stephanie, our newest ESGR volunteer, describes her ride as “an exhilarating rush of feelings and emotions…I was moved to tears mid-flight.” Her brother flies Blackhawks in Colorado, but this is her first time up. She's assisting me with video, at first on a rented Canon, then with her more familiar iPhone. ESGR is thrilled to have her. She loves our soldiers, and she loves to serve, plus she's got a newsroom background. Always on the move, Stephanie. Grab the light stand and herd me some cats, and go see Joe about those interviews!
There are eight flights total today. Breakfast burritos and MRE lunch. I miss out on both as I chase down my shots. Our schedule gets blown to bits by the sheer, overwhelming number of bosses who show up today. All our tape markings on the floor where we meant to pose award recipients, rendered meaningless, so we improvise. Easy to do when we've got a Blackhawk in the hangar parked exactly where we want it.
Bosses are leaving. Stephanie scrambles for interviews. I photograph the Patriot Award and one or two Statements of Support. Some final small group shots.
I'm thinking about my next photo op. Maybe Mr Wilson can get me onto a Chinook. Strap me to the ramp so I can capture the guys jumping out.
Why would you jump out of a perfectly good aircraft? The question comes up as a laugh, because everybody knows why. It’s because you can. The same reason why these young men and women leave a perfectly good civilian job to serve in the military, knowing these outstanding bosses will keep their positions open for them. It's because you can.