to a never-ending onslaught of questions to which we had no answers.
More aircrew arrived from Mildenhall. Our job was to train them to use our jamming system. The real nature of their presence was apparent. They were expert Arabic linguists.
I’d already decided on my New Year’s wishes and resolutions.
Friday, 11 January, 1991
It was my birthday. I was the big two-five. My birthday present to me was my last will and testament. I filled out the paper work for my will and a general power of attorney at the base legal office.
Katie threw me a birthday party complete with cake, presents, and friends. We celebrated, but it was clear that our thoughts were on other things.
Navy reservists had been arriving since the beginning of the week. One of the KCs out on the pad was named The City of Pensacola in honor of Pensacola, Florida.
Transport KCs were ferrying supplies and troops to the Gulf. They’d be the ones to bring back the body bags if the war really kicked off.
A great deal of uncertainty then. Every day, it looked more and more like we’d be going soon though I would always tell Katie I’d heard nothing.
For some time at work we had been studying Iraqi tactics and getting lessons in identifying the Iraqi dialect from the numerous Arabic dialects. Now we were studying key words, phrases, and their number system.
My journal that up until then I’d written in only sparingly was getting more-and-more frequent entries. All my other writing projects were on hold. I decided to pack away the book I was working on. There was just too much going on. I put it into a box with the others.
Work was different that day. It seemed as if everyone wished he were some place other than work. We moved up to forty-eight-hour standby. Now with as little as forty-eight hours’ notice, our whole unit would be expected to pack up everything and deploy to the Gulf.
Uncertainties were rapidly diminishing. Our mission, should we deploy to the Gulf, was clear-cut. We’d jam Iraqi command and control communications and transmissions from ground and air targets. It was a mission we had been preparing for since early August. One we were more than ready to do.
The deadline for Iraqi forces’ withdrawal from Kuwait was only four days away, yet Saddam Hussein didn’t even want to meet with our Secretary of State to work this thing out with some level of civility. Saddam Hussein was still hedging his bets. The answer would most likely be war. Iraq had the fourth largest ground army in the world, an army tempered by the long Iran-Iraq war. The United States had the seventh.
We had an ace in the whole, though; Saddam Hussein didn’t fully recognize the significance of air power though he had a sizable air force. Nor did he believe the United States was willing to commit to full-scale war. He firmly believed our current society could not accept the level of war casualties he was willing to make.
No matter how willing you were to serve and no matter how gung ho you were, there was always a level of uncertainty that prodded at the back of your mind—a thousand images of Vietnam played along with it all the time now.
I’d been putting off making that return trip to legal to pick up my will for several days. Eventually, I finalized it with little reservation. Afterward I put it in a locked box.
Katie saw it. She nearly came to tears. It’s unexpected that a simple piece of paper signed and notarized means so much.
Monday 14, January 1991
The weekend was hardly a time for relaxation. Things at home were visibly tense though Katie and I pretended they weren’t. She wanted to know for sure if I would go and I couldn’t honestly tell her yes or no.
Arrival at work Monday morning brought the grim news of an upgrade to