Stomper called me today. But there was nobody talking. Maybe he bum dialled me by mistake – so much for smart phone technology. I replied via text that I would call back. Stomper called again an hour later. He hadn’t called by mistake, but for some reason I missed him. In retrospect, maybe he just didn’t respond. When I asked him how he was doing he replied “I need to take a break from life for awhile.”
Immediately I asked “But you are gonna come back, right?”
“Yeah yeah, but you know…”
Of course I knew. I just ticked an important box. Since Stomper’s military career diverged from mine about 18 years ago, we’d probably only shared a few war stories over a pint or two in different parts of the world. In the last five years we’ve only chatted on the phone a few times, and in true military spirit, each conversation was as if only a couple of weeks had passed.
When I was a Bograt (dangerous newby pilot) on the Squadron, the fellow pilots were like a family. Sure, you had some brothers that you’d favour over others, but when the chips were down, you knew they’d all be checking your six, just as comprehensively as you checked theirs. That included during Air Combat Missions, at the bar, or out skiing in the mountains.
Now Stomper and I haven’t shared a cockpit for many years, but he’s been there for me when I was suffering, and I’m very thankful. He didn’t have the answers, but his strength was invaluable, just by being there. Now it was my turn to check some boxes for him. Did he go to the Doctor and ask for some leave? Did his Boss support him with his admission, and were they going to check up on him? How’s the Missus going? Tick, tick and tick.
The confusion of the situation wasn’t helped by the dodgy telephone connection, but I listened as best I could. He talked about his latest posting, and that today he felt he couldn’t even do the simplest of tasks. Then he asked “What do I do Jorgo?”, and I faltered slightly. I didn’t know the answer. This guy had done a hundred things I’ve never achieved, and had been promoted higher than I ever aimed for, and now he wanted my advice. The best thing I could do was to encourage him to talk, and let him get some things off his chest.
An important thing I never say, is that I understand what they are going through – because each situation is unique to every person. Please note, that this was more than a box ticking exercise, this was real life.. He told me about the medals he’d earned, and that each one had cost him something important in his life. That certainly resonated with me, and he knew it. We’ve both been through our own distinct battles, and he wanted to hear how his ‘brother’ got through his. I wanted to ensure that he had some focus, so I tasked him with doing something with his Stand Down Leave. To visit somewhere, build something, or sign up to the new gym- any small achievable goal. I’m awaiting his decision, so that I can check his progress, and ensure he gets some satisfaction in the near future. Plus, I’ve told him when I’m due to visit his location again, so that we can catch up for a brewski and a chinwag.
Telling your mates your theories for helping their issues, often amplified to that person that 1) you don’t know what you are talking about, and 2) you aren’t really listening, and both of those points mean that guys are less likely to talk. They often just want to be listened to.
One last point, Stomper apologised for loading me up with his problems, but I was quick to thank him for calling me! To be honest, I’m grateful that someone of his calibre and achievements turns to me for advice, even if all I offer is a friendly listening ear. Just remember that when you leave your Squadron, your Squadron mates are still there for you.
-Flt Lt (RET) Jorgo
This is editorial due to publish in the next edition of RetroBomb Magazine.
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