Chapter 20
An excerpt from Fly Safe: Letters from the Gulf War and Reflections From Back Home
The newspaper headlines were enough to scare anyone, especially those with a loved one deployed to Operation Desert Shield. Throughout December and into January, the top news stories were all about impending war:
“Bush Warns Saddam: ‘United States Poised for War.’”
“‘We’re Ready Now,’ Says Schwarzkopf.”
“Congress Allows Bush to Wage War.”
By mid-January, the headlines were even more alarming:
“War? Only God Knows.”
“Iraq on Borrowed Time.”
“Saddam Assails Bush, Fahd, Warns of Holy War If Attacked.”
With each passing day and each new headline, my feelings of dread grew worse. So I did what I always did when things felt out of my control: I took control of what I could—my little piece of the world. For me, that meant housekeeping: tidying up my house and also taking care of loose ends within our FSGs. Once the briefings were finished and only of a fraction of the wives had attended, I told myself that I—we—had done all we could to prepare. I couldn’t hold everyone’s hand. I checked in regularly with the company commanders’ wives, who in turn checked on their wives. After the intensity of the recent briefings, it sounded like everyone was quiet and hunkered down.
Then I got the flu and was forced to stay in the house for a few days. I was exhausted, both by my illness and from all the negativity and talk of war. We commanders’ wives had meeting after meeting to attend, and I began to feel as if they were generated just to give us something to do, but they were redundant. Getting sick was my body’s way of telling me, Enough! Secretly, I was glad, because I had that nesting feeling and all I wanted to do was be home with my boys and wait for January 15.
Dick was doing the same thing I was, only with big global ramifications. He was putting the finishing touches on his mission, checking on his guys, getting daily weather and intelligence (intel) briefings, and waiting for the go-ahead. On January 10, Task Force Normandy conducted their final rehearsal. There was nothing more for them to do.
And then he called on January 12, a Saturday afternoon. I thought that was unusual, because he usually called on weekdays. Luckily, the boys and I were home, because I was still too sick to take them anywhere. I always let them talk to Dick first; it gave me a few minutes to collect my thoughts. Since I never knew when Dick would call, I liked to have at the ready my questions and the things I wanted to tell him.
The boys were looking forward to the start of basketball, and that was most of their conversation.
“Dad, we start practice next week. Guess who my coach is? Brownie!” Tyler said. Clint was equally excited about his coach, Tyrone, another soldier from our rear detachment.
The boys finished talking, and then I got on. Dick sounded great, like nothing big was going on. Just days away from President Bush’s January 15 deadline, I was stressed to the max and just wanted to get the show on the road. I couldn’t figure out how he could be so calm, given the situation, but thank goodness he was, because if I had known ahead of time that he was calling to say goodbye, I might have come unglued.
I knew that I could not ask him any questions about what he was up to, so instead we chatted about normal things, like the kids, school, and sports. But then his voice turned serious and he said, “Vicki, I might not be able to call for a while.” He paused and then added, “I need you to take the motorcycle out of the garage.”
Boom! A jolt of reality hit me. He had used our code words, the ones we had come up with back in 1980 when he went on his clandestine mission with Ned Hubard. We hadn’t spoken those words in ten years. I don’t recall even talking about our code before he left that August. He knew I would never forget it, and I hadn’t, but it came out of the blue, and it meant he was going somewhere to do something dangerous.
In that moment, I thought, Okay, Vicki, this is not a surprise; you’ve been wondering about something like this for months. You know what you need to do. I replied, as nonchalantly as possible, “Okay. I just wish I knew why.”
“Just watch the news.”
“Hey, Dick, you know you don’t have to prove anything to me. I’m proud of you, enough for a lifetime. Promise me you’ll be careful.”
“You know I always am, Vick.”
I couldn’t just leave it at that, though. I had to defuse the situation. So, I added, “Dick Cody, you better not let anything happen to you, because I will kick your ass when you get home!”
We both burst out laughing. At that very moment, what else could we do? I had had my fill of seriousness, and I sensed he had as well. We always had the ability to laugh, at ourselves and with each other, and that day was no different. I had a sinking feeling that this was more than a typical goodbye but was determined to sound normal. “Fly safe, Dick. I love you!”
“I love you too.”
I hated to hang up, wanting to linger a little longer, but there wasn’t much left to say. My mind was telling me, There’s no need to drag this out. He’s got a lot on his plate, and you don’t want to make it more difficult than it already is.
When I went into the den, the boys were watching TV and acting like nothing was out of the ordinary. I took my cues from them, thinking I would process my conversation with Dick later, when I went to bed. We put a movie in the VCR and escaped into one of our favorites, Adventures in Babysitting.
In bed that night, I felt calm, like I had when Dick first deployed. I knew I was approaching another hurdle and was curious to see what it was; I hoped to get some answers to the questions and speculation that had been crowding my thoughts for too long. I still believed that Task Force Normandy was a mission “in support of” an Air Force mission. I never dreamed that Dick’s mission was the mission.
For the next three days, I did nothing but clean the house. Coming out of my sickbed, I just wanted to get everything in my life in order. I baked and cooked, cleaned closets and mopped floors. I worked until I was exhausted. But I always had the TV volume on high so I could hear any breaking news while I was in another room.
My phone rang continually throughout those days. People from all parts of our life—family and friends, both Army and civilian—were calling to check in with me. Each one asked the same questions: “Does Dick think there will be a war? When will it start?”
I speculated right along with them, talking about the latest headlines and saying I thought the war would begin sometime soon. But I was always careful about what I said on the phone and never revealed that Dick had called me to say goodbye. I could hear his voice in my head saying, “Vicki, remember OPSEC!”
I didn’t know that when Dick called us that day, he and his crews had just come from the final mission brief with COL Johnson at SOCCENT. Also in attendance were Dick’s brigade commander, COL Tom Garrett, and division commander, MG Peay, who had yet to be briefed on Dick’s mission. The mystery of what Dick had been planning and what he and his crews had been training for came to light as he briefed the mission’s basic details and timeline. What he omitted were the actual targets; that information would come later. But it was enough for everyone present to know that it was a history-making mission and the most dangerous one the flight crews would ever go on.
Then COL Johnson addressed Dick and his crews: “I was part of a failed mission in Iran, back in 1979, that ended in disaster. I will not allow that to happen again. There is no room for error, no room for failure; too much is riding on this, and too many lives are at stake. I have guaranteed General Schwarzkopf 100 percent, and that is what I need from each one of you. If you are not willing to die to complete the mission, raise your hand now.”
The room fell silent as reality set in, but no one raised his hand.
As the meeting was coming to a close, COL Johnson took Dick aside and privately told him, “I need you and the task force in place no later than the fourteenth.”
“Roger that, sir!”
Dick’s division commander, MG Peay, walked over to him and said, “You’re going to do it, Dick. The 101st legend continues. Start the war, but don’t be the first casualty!”
King Fahd Airport
Hi Vicki,
Happy New Year! I hope the rest of your time in Vermont was good for you and the boys. I feel so grateful that we have family we can depend on to help us get through these times. Everyone back home is so impressed with the way you have weathered this storm and how well you have brought up the boys in my absence.
Every day that you are in Vermont, I try to imagine what you are doing and where you are. I sure wish I was there with you all. How was the skiing?
This has been a tough deployment for us, but I have to think that it’s for a higher reason, something bigger than we are, and that we will be better for it. You need to know that I am firmly committed to getting every one of my guys, including me, through this thing and home safe. This is such an important mission. Like I said before, I do not want my sons to have to face this when they grow up. The world is at a critical juncture. All of the third-world, heavily armed countries and nations need to know without a doubt that the US and the United Nations will not tolerate a dictator taking over another country.
It’s been a long day, one headache after another. Sometimes I get so tired of being caught in the middle between two competing headquarters. I just want to do what I’m supposed to do, without all the politics! I am keeping a journal, taking good notes. This will make one hell of a book someday!
I better go for now; I need to get some sleep.
I love you and miss you, and I will come home to collect on all those promises you made!
Dick [smiley face]
I was still getting letters that Dick had written to me during the holidays, so I could almost pretend that nothing was amiss. I continued my daily routine, but the knot in my stomach was the size of a baseball.
Journal Entry
Sometimes you reach a point where there is nothing left to say. Every part of you is telling you to hang on a bit longer, but at the same time you know what you need to do: let go gracefully. It’s the right thing to do.
I did not want my last conversation with Dick, regardless of the outcome, to involve me crying or whining about the situation at hand. Whatever he’s up to, he needs to be completely focused, with no excess baggage from me. For the record, I stepped up to the plate that day, in a big way. I did it for Dick, but I also did it for me. I needed to know that when things got tough, I could be counted on.
Chapter 21
On January 14, nine Apaches and a Blackhawk took off from the safety of their parking garage “home” at King Fahd International Airport (KFIA). Task Force Normandy was headed to Al Jouf, a staging area in northwestern Saudi Arabia, approximately 640 nautical miles (nm) away and approximately 100 nm south of the Saudi–Iraqi border. It would be their “safe house” while they awaited their final orders.
Task Force Normandy was made up of two teams of four Apaches. The White Team was led by LT Tom Drew with CW2 Tim “Zeke” Zarnowski, LTC Dick Cody with CW2 Brian Stewmon, CW2 Thomas “Tip” O’Neal with CW3 Dave Jones, and CW3 Ron Rodrigues with CW2 David Miller. The Red Team was led by CPT Newman Shufflebarger with CW3 Tim Roderick, WO1 Jody Bridgforth with CW3 Jim Miller, WO1 Tim “Vinny” Vincent with CW2 Shaun Hoban, and WO1 Jerry Orsburn with CW4 Chip Hall.
Dick had added the ninth Apache for backup just in case something went wrong, and a Blackhawk helicopter, nicknamed Goodwrench, loaded with tools, spare parts, mechanics, sleeping gear, and MREs.
There had always been a special camaraderie among the Expect No Mercy soldiers; other units saw it, felt it, and envied it but could not describe it; it just was. The days leading up to their departure, a tremendous energy overtook 1-101st as everyone did their part in getting the task force prepared and ready to launch. The crew chiefs inspected every inch of their aircraft—not just the ones that were leaving, but all of the aircraft—in preparation for an inevitable war. They weren’t sure when they would have to move out with the division to their forward operating bases (FOBs). And now that Dick was leaving, the soldiers were apprehensive about where he was going and why, and when he would return. Sensing this, and because, as their leader, Dick believed that trust and respect worked both ways, he made a risky decision to let them in on as much as he felt was necessary.
At their afternoon formation on January 13, far away from any other units, Dick gathered his battalion around him and told them to take a knee.
“I am leaving tomorrow with Task Force Normandy. We will be gone for about four days. Because I have complete faith and trust in each of you, I am going to entrust you with some information. But you need to understand how serious this mission is and what is at stake. You cannot tell anyone what I tell you—it will put our lives in danger. For the next few days, I need you all to stay together here in our area. Don’t go over to the other units, and don’t talk with your buddies there; you can talk amongst yourselves here. I don’t care what you hear, what questions anyone asks you—you can’t talk about this. I am counting on each one of you, and I know I can trust you.” He then gave them a sanitized briefing of the mission and concluded, “When we get back, we will all prepare for the next phase of this deployment. Expect No Mercy!”
The next morning, as Dick and his two teams flew over the sprawling tent city that was home to the eighteen thousand soldiers of the 101st Airborne Division, those on the ground were oblivious to the history-making aviators on their way to the division’s next “rendezvous with destiny.” If they heard the hum of the blades and looked up to the sky, they saw nothing out of the ordinary. Hundreds of aircraft flew into and out of KFIA daily. There was nothing to cue them in to what was different about that particular formation of helicopters and what was going to take place in a matter of days. It was just another day, just another flight of helicopters going out for some training. And that was exactly what Dick wanted them to think.
