Day 32

Almost done! But first, the final ceremonies.  This morning we ran the “Warrior Run” – we woke up at 0445 and fell in at 0500.  The Warrior Run is a 2-hour run – not straight, mind you. We ran about a mile through the base until we got to a plane (there are actual historic planes all over Maxwell as monuments). We would take a break, and taught something about the plane. Based on the facts, we had to do something. For example, “This is a B-52, the only jet in the military that carries nuclear missiles… blah blah blah… and THERFORE we will now do 52 pushups!”  Then we would run another mile until another statue.  You get the idea. I lasted about an hour and a half, but then my knee gave out again. I kept trying but it kept failing me. Finally, one of the officers drove by (he was picking up the stragglers) and I went along with him.  The run ended at the oldest building on the base. It was in that building that so much of what we had learned during the five weeks here – strategic and tactical methodologies, the vision of an independent air force, etc. – all happened.  And outside is the massive wing-and-prop statue. There, Lt Col Ackerman – the one who welcomed us on that first morning when we crossed the Blue Line – spoke to us again, adjuring us to always come back to this place and remember what it meant then, and what it means today, and what it means to each and every one of us. We were standing by flights is two rows – he announced, “Morehouse Class, about face!”  

We all turned and our flight commanders walked through our ranks, pinning us with the Wing-and-Prop pin. Maj Haigh had something to whisper to each person as he pinned them, and I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that when I overhear him say to the person near me (he was speaking quietly and said this to everyone), “Welcome to my Air Force”, my eyes welled up. I know how much the Air Force means to him, and when he says “MY Air Force,” he means it.  It was a great approbation.  When he came to me, he stopped, smiled, and said, “Rabbi, I’m glad you were here. Welcome to my Air Force.” Wow.

We marched back to the campus, went to the DFAC for breakfast, and changed into our Blues.  We did our last parade practice while the visiting family members were briefed in Boyd (Let THEM take a nap there!) about the graduation. When we were done and all sweated up, we had to march to the practice pad to sit out in the sun and watch the six best flights compete in a drill competition. They weren’t the best flights; they were political choices. Who cares…

After lunch, we went to a dedication of one of the dormitories (not ours) to the class exemplar, General Morehouse (hence, “Morehouse Class”). About the most boring thing EVER.  At 1430, we walked to Polifka Theater for graduation. 

At Graduation - Lt Coombs (my roomate) and Lt Nichols

Graduation - the entire class (all 290 officers)

This is a MASSIVE theater – must sit a thousand people – and it was actually a very moving ceremony. No one from Papa Flight made Distinguished Graduate, which shocked us to no end, but once again, by this point I don’t think anyone cares. Our squadron one Honor Squadron, so my certificate at least lists that… What I DON’T understand is why we couldn’t go straight from the graduation back to the parade field, do the parade, and LEAVE!!! Why are they keeping us here for another day???

After graduation, everyone went back to the campus, back to the dorms, and dispersed with their families for dinner off base. Except me. I went in to the DFAC and I was THE ONLY person from the ENTIRE CLASS who ate dinner that night on base. Which ended being incredible! I walked into our side of the DFAC, and it was populated with BOT students. I couldn’t eat with them! So I walked into the other side (I had never been there in five weeks) and it was mostly empty. I began looking for a place to sit down when suddenly I hear, “Chaplain, sit here with me.”  It was Chaplain McDonald, the assistant OTS chaplain, sitting at the staff table.  Let me explain: in each of these two rooms, there are dozens of four-person tables for the students, and a long row of tables at the head for the staff. For five weeks we have been sitting under the glaring gaze of that table. Not only that, but while we had been silent, sitting at tight-meal attention, they were yucking it up, talking and laughing the whole time. The staff table was like the Holy of Holies! And there is Chaplain McDonald, beckoning me… I glanced at the two colonels and the handful of majors and looked back to McDonald and mouthed, “I can’t sit there!”  He looked down the table and said, “Colonel, is it okay if that chaplain sits with me?”  The colonel looked at me, looked at him, looked at me, looked at him, and shrugged his shoulder.  I went and sat next to McDonald AT THE STAFF TABLE(!!!!!!!) and felt like a MILLION DOLLARS! I was at the STAFF TABLE!!!!!

We had a wonderful dinner, and schmoozed for about an hour – it was the most relaxed and enjoyable meal I had in five weeks. I hated for it to end. But end it did, and I went back to my room to pack. It all ends tomorrow…