Today featured a visit for the ages! It was one that evoked the spirit of Saint Patrick’s Days spent with comrades in distant places with a sense of solidarity and will. It is hard to compare unless you have shared some over the 47 years since I first saw Bronco in his crisp green Nomex flight suit on USS Midway.

It is worth a thought for the young men and women who are protecting the freedom of the seas for innocent commercial shipping in the waters off Yemen this morning on orders of the President. They are in the vicinity of Great Socotra Island- ‘vic Socotra’ is what we called the blue waters back then, out of sight of land for 110 days. Or something like today’s Spring Break to the end of summer. Bronco saw some land when he flew with Fighter Squadron ONE FIVE ONE where I got the nickname that has followed me for a half century across other seas and troubles. Bronco has led several on other oceans, but the memory this afternoon was profound.

That place was called GONZO Station back then because it was so far away from anything that resembled home.
It featured an eerie pale blue beauty highlighted with thw white of breaking waves and the tropical sky tinged with the realization that violent action was possiibly just a head-turn away, headed inbound at hundreds of miles an hour. Bronco was his call-sign, one of those curious relics of a Naval aviation tradition in which names were replaced by capabilities.

Then, Bronco was officially assigned to the Airwing FIVE Staff, a rollicking small group who attempted to keep jets suppied and aircrew trained a half world from home. They managed the collective affairs of the nine squadrons that made up the Midway’s Strike Force.

Bronco and I talked about the young people flying out there today, and we thought of our time in the same fight to demonstrate our commitment to a peaceful world. That is the half century this has been going on in that place. The /Houtki Rebels have lunched 137 missile stikes on out ships and peaceful merchants. It must stop.

That is what Bronco and I chatted about today. There was other stuff, of course, but strangly metaphoric in nature. He is currently attempting to reunite some bones in his ankle with screws and calcium cocktails. I struggle with renegade blood clots that are attempting to wall off the flow of blood to my legs. So, we are both hobbled but we won’t stop our fights on the medical front. I suspect we both prefer the external Iranian threat we faced in 1979, but we live and fight in the times we must, and send our support and love to those who fly and steam on ships so far away.

It was a fabulous visit that brought back a stark realization. We salute the generation after ours that is out there today, standing tall to support the freedom of the seas a globe away. Bronco and I would go back to do it again in a heartbeat!

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