In
1999, I enlisted in the Air Force to be an Avionics Technician. Upon
completion of basic training and technical school, I was assigned to
Cannon Air Force Base in New Mexico. I married into what can be
called an "instant family" with a pregnant woman and her
first son in 2000. I did not foresee this as a problem until later.
During this time, I was having training issues as well. In order to
continue a career in the military, it is required to become
proficient in that particular field of expertise. This includes
testing into higher levels, but no matter how hard I studied, I could
not pass the tests to be considered proficient. I also had a bad
attitude at the time. I became what people called a "dirt-bag
Airman"- someone that cannot or will not hold his/her own weight
in daily duties. I blamed my shortfalls on the training I received or
on other people. I would report to work in a unkempt uniform and no
haircut. I would refuse to do my assigned duties and was extremely
disrespectful to my peers and supervision.
My
world was falling apart. I was not able to progress in my career; my
wife had become adulterous and was destroying our financial
standings. I was on the verge of losing it all. Then, I reached the
breaking point. I was assigned to the tool and supply shop. Our
duties included supplying tools and equipment to the other sections.
We also conducted inspections of these tools, packed them for
deployments, and moved heavier equipment during exercises by way of
forklift. I had just failed my second test for progression. Usually,
this means dismissal from the Air Force and the squadron commander
was looking forward to sending me on my way. With the fact that I
could not progress my training, show financial responsibility, and
displayed conduct that would make any supervisor cringe, he had all
the justification he needed to sign the forms without hesitation.
This was on a Monday. On Tuesday, while at home, I received a phone
call from command. I was instructed to report to the base commander
Wednesday morning, and I had better look sharp. The next morning, I
arrived at the Commander's office with a fresh haircut and clean
pressed uniform. I looked like I had just left basic training; my
hair was short and within standards, I was clean shaven, my uniform
was starched and pressed and my boots were shined to a mirrored
gloss. For twenty minutes, I waited nervously for him to call me into
his office. I was so nervous, I could not stop shaking. I knew I did
not want out of the Air Force, but I had made such a mess of my
career, I did not think there was any way for it to be saved . . . I
was wrong.
The
commander, a gaunt, middle-aged man with graying hair, beckoned me to
his office. As I approached I was greeted with a smile and an apology
for taking so long to call on me. His office was well lit with
decorations and awards from his time as a pilot and commander of
various commands and old aircraft parts mounted to plaques,
displaying people's thanks for his leadership. Flags from various
countries he visited or served in were displayed proudly along with
the plaques and various other displays. His desk was u-shaped and
made of solid oak. Strewn along one side of it were records. These
records were mine. Apparently, he had been reviewing them before he
called me into his office. The meeting was short as only a few
questions were asked. One portion of the conversation I distinctly
remember is, "I have reviewed your records. With how your test
scores are, how in the world did you fail that test twice?!" I
could not answer his question. The commander then made a comment that
will change my life forever. "I'm going to hold onto your
separation package until Monday. You have the rest of this week and
the weekend to come to a decision. Take this decision seriously as I
am laying a lot on the line. Do you or do you not want to continue to
serve in the Air Force? Let me know of your decision Monday morning,
and we will go from there." I was shocked!
The
rest of the week was a blur. All I remember was discussing the
decision with my father and my wife. It was not a hard decision to
make since I did not want to leave the Air Force like this. Come
Monday morning, I promptly called the commander and gave him my
answer to stay. "Okay," he stated, "For the next six
months, you are hereby placed on probation. At the end of the six
months, your conduct will be evaluated. Should you be found as a
promising airman, you will be reassigned to a new profession. Good
luck and if you will excuse me I have some other phone calls to
make." With that, I bid him a good day and hung up the phone. My
crumbling world had just been thrown a lifeline.
My
supervision decided to keep me at the tool shop. As I could not lay
hands on aircraft, it seemed the most logical place to go. Glen, the
assistant flight chief for the tool shop become my mentor. He knew
what it was like to reach rock bottom and be able to recover from his
mistakes so he helped guide me in not only my duties, but my personal
mistakes as well. I made the decision to file for divorce and say
goodbye to our failed relationship. Glen offered his home to me,
giving me the opportunity to recover, both mentally and financially.
Over the time span of the six months, I had become an exemplary
Airman. With Glen's help and a few others, I had rebuilt my world. A
year later, I was awarded the right to a new profession, and I became
a Knowledge Operator. I met my current wife and, ten years later, I
am still happily married with three boys, an accomplished career, and
the memory of that day when someone saw potential in me and gave me
the push I needed to release it.
By Andrew Way
A parent of three boys who enjoys games and carpentry.
