He Lifted Airplanes into the Sky
By Guy Lounsbury
Joe Butler is dead1.
Four words so easily spoken yet they carry as much weight as any other four words ever uttered. Death, the ultimate finality, has claimed one of our own. "There is a remedy for everything but death" said Don Quixote; it is so hard to accept. I hardly knew Joe even though he didn't live far from me. I would see him occasionally around town. We would share a nod of recognition; maybe a quick spoken word between us but that was all. I doubt I gave him a thought otherwise. Out of sight, out of mind, sadly it is too often the way of life. Now, during the past week, I find he seems to always be in my thoughts.
I was at Thule AFB with Joe a few years back. At that time I was an AGE mechanic but as everyone that has been to Thule knows, there isn’t much for an AGE mechanic to do there as long as everything is going well. I can remember there was a problem with avionics in a scheduled flyer one day. Joe let me act as a gofer for the guys fixing the plane. It was a role, seemingly inconsequential, that he granted me. I was happy to assume it; any small part to get the plane airborne seemed grandiose. I doubt he even would have remembered it, but I will never forget it. Everyone should get a chance to help, hands-on, launch an aircraft. Joe gave me an opportunity and that day I watched a C-130 takeoff with my direct help. The feeling is beyond words. For that I will never forget him.
Maintenance people have it tougher than anyone else in the organization, they feel the most pressure, but they also feel the greatest job satisfaction. We fly airplanes, often in incredibly difficult conditions; that is our mission, that is our goal; Maintenance puts them in the air. We all do what we can to support the mission, but in the end it is the guy with the greasy hands that holds his breathe when the plane takes off. I have the utmost admiration for every single one of them. Certainly Joe was familiar with a feeling that is so very rare amongst us, he lifted airplanes into the sky.
Somehow, the members of the 109th have become my family. I don't know when this transformation took place, I don't even know how. But still it has and now I am saddened when a circumstance takes any one of us away. Organizational pride, how many times have we all heard that phrase from our commanders? It almost always comes up during the retirement ceremonies in which we stand for infinite minutes listening to the accolades of people that many times we don't even know. My reaction has always been consistent and swift, "Please let it be short, my feet hurt and my back is killing me." Joe Butler's death has made me reconsider my attitude. I hardly knew him, but now I feel as if I would stand at attention for hours to hear of his accomplishments, if only he was there to likewise have his moment in the spotlight. Joe knew what his job was and he did it. We all deserve to stand smartly in our dress blues and to hear our deeds come resoundingly forth through a loudspeaker. We all deserve our moment in the spotlight, certainly Joe deserved his. Joe Butler has made me realize that I feel organizational pride.
In my normal, everyday life, many people have asked me if I knew Joe. I tell them not really, but if truth be told I did. I knew Joe in the same way that we all know each other. We are ordinary people that do extraordinary tasks. From the full timers that keep the ball rolling day to day, to the traditionalist that offers to suspend their normal life for the greater good, we all raise our right hands and say "Yes I will do what is needed; I will go where I am needed and I will give everything that is needed. I will proudly sacrifice all for what I believe in". That is the tying bond between us.
We say we joined for money, benefits, education, whatever the reason, but in the end we all knew what we might be asked to do and we all said we are willing to do it. We should never doubt that guardsmen are unique. Many people say they are patriots, we, the relatively few, back our words with commitment.
We all have fears of the coming days; we all know what might happen, we all know what we might be called upon to do. Joe died in support of the mission, he made the ultimate sacrifice. He joined a long, honorable line of others that has given all that there is to give. And so, from the ice of the poles, to the sands of the Middle East, and all the places in between, Joe has reminded us of our 109th mission. Let us never forget in these trying times what he, and people just like him, have paid so dearly to tell us, the members of the 109th, "We serve the world."
1. Joseph Butler died of a heart attack on May 3, 2002 while instructing the 109th Cool School Arctic Survival Training Course.