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Bringing Dad home: Veteran reminded of Air Force family

  • Published
  • By Robert A. Apodaca
  • 11th Space Warning Squadron
SCHRIEVER AIR FORCE BASE, Colo. --  How many of you have someone else from your family in the Air Force? A father? Mother? Uncle? Aunt? Did you grow up as a military brat? How many of you are first generation members of the Air Force?

My uncle retired as a colonel in the U.S. Air Force. My other uncle retired as a 3-star general. And my father graduated from the Air Force Academy in 1961, the third graduating class of the Air Force Academy.

I grew up in a military family. My brother was born on a military base. I was born on a military base. And I was only three when my father was deployed overseas to North Vietnam. And on June 8th, 1967, he was shot down over North Vietnam. Declared a Prison of War / Missing in Action.

I didn't know my father. I grew up without having my father around. I joined the Air Force because of him. I actually attended the Air Force Academy in an attempt to get to know him. But ultimately, it was the Air Force family that helped me to learn about who my father was, what he was like.

I remember once when I was a brand new 2nd Lieutenant, I was walking down the hallway at the Peterson AFB (Colo.) clinic, and I passed by this tall, old, retired guy. And after I had passed him, I heard a gruff, growly, command voice holler "Apodaca!" I spun around at attention. "Is your dad named Vic?" It turns out that he was my dad's squadron commander when my dad was shot down. He invited me over for dinner that night and he spent hours telling me stories about my father.

And he wasn't the only one. My dad's classmates from the Air Force Academy have taken me in - sort of adopted me. And they have included me in their reunions. Through them, I have learned how my father helped his classmates during tough times as cadets. How he rallied them at football games. Different pranks he would pull on them. I learned what a thirst for life he had. I learned what determination he had. I learned how much he loved to laugh, how much he loved to fly.

But the biggest thing I learned is what a great family the Air Force is. These guys still stay in touch after fifty years. They still make an effort for each other. And they can still drink me under the table!

Being a member of the Air Force family means a lot to me.

When you think of the "The Airman's Creed", do you take the time to listen to what the words really mean? For me, those are more than just words; they are a promise between "Brother's-in-Arms."

Who can recite the last stanza of the "The Airman's Creed?"

I am an American Airman.
Wingman, Leader, Warrior.
I will never leave an Airman behind,
I will never falter, and I will not fail.

Think about that ... those last two sentences. "I will never leave an Airman behind. I will never falter, and I will not fail."

Do you remember what you were doing when the Twin Towers fell on 9/11? I'll never forget.

It took almost 35 years to find out what happened to my father. After decades of not knowing, they were able to identify my father's remains from a crash site in North Vietnam.

We had planned to have a Memorial Service at the Air Force Academy on Sept. 14, 2001, where his classmates would be holding their 40th Class Reunion. He would finally be laid to rest surrounded by his family, friends, and brothers-in-arms.

On Friday, Sept. 7, 2001, I travelled to the Central Identification Laboratory at Hickam AFB, in Hawaii. There, I was presented with the case file on my father, the work that took decades of effort. International Treaty negotiations. Meetings with the North Vietnamese government. Requests for information specifically about my father, and finally, the DNA analysis that was able to identify my father's remains.

On Monday, Sept. 10, 2001, I was finally bringing my father home. They loaded my father's casket onto the plane Monday night, and we flew all night long over the Pacific Ocean, headed for the memorial service at the Air Force Academy that was to happen later that week.

As we landed at the Minneapolis Airport on the morning of Sept. 11, 2001, terrorists started attacking our country. All flights across the nation were grounded. And I was stranded in the airport trying to figure out a way to take my father home.

"I will never leave an Airman behind."

For anyone who remembers, it was an eerie sight to look up to the skies. There was no sound of jets taking off anymore, no contrails of airliners crossing the skies. It was a chilling quiet that had settled across America.

After days of waiting in the airport, still no flights were scheduled to leave. I was staring out the window wondering what to do, when I saw the huge tail of a C-130 out in the distance. It turned out that an Air National Guard unit was stationed at the Minneapolis Airport. I called back to the Air Force Academy to let them know what I had discovered. So, phone calls were made all the way up the Chain of Command, with a request to bring my father home.

I received a phone call in the middle of the night, saying "Be on the flight line at 0700." I escorted my father's remains across the taxiway to the other side of the airport, where we boarded a C130 for the last part of his long journey home. After takeoff, the aircraft commander looked back at me and asked "Do you realize that you are the only passenger in the air over the entire United States right now?" The only other aircraft in the sky were fighter jets performing Combat Air Patrol across the United States. It was an amazing feeling to realize what lengths the Air Force was going to, what effort it took to bring my father back home.

"I will never leave an Airman behind."

I could hear the pilots talking to the AWACS aircraft, coordinating our route to Colorado. And as the other fighter pilots in the air heard about this flight, they wanted to honor my father. They would fly in formation with us as we were returning home. I would look out the window and see a fighter jet just feet off of our wingtip. He would rock his wings and pull away, and another jet would slide into his place.

When we landed at Peterson AFB, Colo., a Color Guard was waiting to take my father to the Air Force Academy. We finally made it home. He was laid to rest with his friends and family gathered around him, to bid him a final farewell.

This is a great Air Force that we belong to. A great family to be a part of. You are part of that family. You make it great.