You can always do more, but you never will

  • Published
  • By Senior Airman John D. Partlow
  • 47th Flying Training Wing Public Affairs
LAUGHLIN AIR FORCE BASE, Texas --  I have given the Air Force four years of my life, and I will never get them back.

But, that's ok.

God's good grace had me born in the country's great state of South Carolina. Being from the South, my blood was made of sweet tea, my feet were always bare, and my heart bled red, white and blue.

For me, I joined the Air Force because I didn't know what I wanted to do with my life. I had graduated high school, went to college for a year, and all I learned was that college... wasn't for me. Since that time, though, I have learned much more. When I didn't have an answer for what I wanted for my life, the choice was clear to cut my hair and enlist.

After graduating basic military training and technical school, I became a Public Affairs specialist, and was assigned to Yokota Air Base, Japan. Know where Tokyo is? It's about 10 miles away.

In March 2011, Japan was hit with a 9.0-magnitude earthquake off the Pacific coast of Tohoku. To put that in perspective, it was the world's 5th largest recorded earthquake, killing more than 15,000 people, leveling over 130,000 buildings, and causing seven... yes, seven... nuclear meltdowns. The closest base near the disaster just happened to be the Pacific's airlift hub: Yokota Air Base.

So my introduction into the operating Air Force was taking part in a humanitarian effort for one of the world's worst natural disaster, yet I couldn't be happier. It was then that I understood the difference I was making. It was also when I realized I wanted to do more.

With the eyes of the world on Japan, I felt like I was one of the few informing a world-wide audience with my stories and pictures. Even through the 12-hour shifts, the over-night turnarounds and the frequent trips to-and-from the disaster zone, I was happy to be a part of history.

That is when I finally got just a small taste of what I imagined a deployed environment to be like.

I wanted to deploy.

Now there's a big difference in wanting to deploy and the Air Force's need for you to deploy. I was ok with that logic, so I waited. I volunteered to deploy every chance I got, I consistently had my name in the running for tasking coming down... I was ready to go.

But the call never came.

And days turned to weeks, which turned to months, which turned to years.
I was upset, and I began to resent my Air Force. The funny thing about resentment is that the more justified you feel in it, the worse of a cancer it becomes.

Here I was: a healthy, 20 something-year-old male who wanted to serve in Iraq or Afghanistan and make a difference, and the Air Force was sending out married service members with kids and a family (while that isn't always true, it's just easier to get upset with that example).

So I stayed in Japan for two years doing the terribly boring work of involving myself in the community, informing Yokota members of base activities and other generic tasks.

I was a young man living in Japan on the government's dime... and I was unhappy. Somewhere (or so I believe), an Air Force decision maker heard me and then took me from Japan....to Texas.

In Feb. 2013, I moved to Laughlin Air Force Base, Texas. Know where Mexico is? It's about three miles away.

Let me beat you to the punch and tell you what my new tasks were: involving myself in the community, informing Laughlin members of base activities and other generic tasks.

I had given the Air Force two operational years, and I still hadn't deployed. I felt like my brothers-in-arms were allowed to play the game while I sat on the sidelines.

And then, for some reason, I began to listen and pay attention.

Almost everyone wanted more, just like me. I heard deployers who were disappointed because their deployment wasn't nearly as spectacular as their buddy's, Airmen who were upset because the wanted to travel the world, but were sent to Laughlin, captains who never got to experience a combat mission.

They all wanted more. That's when I realized two things: we all have a role to play and people like me want to play them all.

To say we are all cogs making up a watch is a gross understatement. The actions of the Air Force don't just change the present day... they turn the pages of history.

Most Air Force members want the Medal of Honor. Most want to be put through the ringer and have the opportunity to be the hero we read about in books.

And most will never have their story told.

Because most won't have that opportunity.

I learned my role later than most. While I wanted to be that guy in an AC-130 Spooky gunning down the enemy, in reality I was that guy who stands in front of you to take a picture at your uncle's retirement ceremony.

But that's ok.

That's the guy who gives the pictures to your uncle, and those pictures are the ones he looks at when the Air Force is nothing but a distant memory to him.

That's my role. I'm not meant to be the person who saves someone's life downrange, but I can make someone's day that much better.

I also realized then that you can always do more.

But you just can't do it all.

My role was to be at home station, help the community, try to improve the standard of living for my base, but my aspirations were elsewhere. Involving myself in the community, informing base members of base activities and other tasks made a significant difference, but I was unhappy because it wasn't the way I wanted to make that difference.

I was less happy and less productive because I didn't change my goals to my reality.
Whether you believe in a god, the sun or the moon, one thing is clear: you are not the total master of your destiny. Unfortunately, I didn't learn that until more than three years into my service.

I separate from this Air Force in July 2014 at the end of my enlistment after only four years of service. To me, that is but a drop in the bucket to people I've had the opportunity of serving with, but that is my role. There are those who serve for 10 years, but look at those who have served 20. There are also those who have deployed four times, but look at those who have gone six.

Know the part you play. It takes a whole team to get a jet into the air.
It's ok to not be the pilot.

The biggest lesson I plan on taking away from my Air Force experience is this: Strive to better yourself and your situation, but not at the expense of being unhappy where you are at.

Also another lesson: Any flat surface can take the place of an ironing board.