by Vicki Cody
Dick gave a great speech at the graduation ceremony. Something he said gave me pause: “When you leave the gates of Fort Rucker, be prepared for anything. You never know where you will end up, when you will be called into combat; just be ready and always fly safe.” There was a lot more to his speech, but for some reason, that comment stood out in my mind. At the time, I thought it was an odd thing to say, given the fact that we were not at war. I certainly did not think my son or any of his classmates would be going to war. I was taking pictures and living in the sweet moment of it all. What an exciting day, and a bittersweet one, too, because I couldn’t help think about my dad, who would have been so proud to see Clint get his wings. I told myself he was watching from above. Dick’s comments would prove to be very prophetic a few weeks later, when we were attacked by terrorists and the course of all those young aviators’ lives was forever changed.
PS: Life doesn’t always follow the game plan that we carefully plot and try so hard to control. We can’t predict or alter the future. My dad’s passing proved to me once again the importance of family, of spending time with our loved ones and showing that love to one another. It also taught me that there are “angels” out there who come to us when we need them. There are blessings everywhere, all around us—just open your eyes, your ears, and your heart and let them come into your life.
19
September 11, 2001
September 11, 2001, was a perfect early-fall day—the kind of day that makes you wish it were still summer, and every pilot’s dream flying weather. Watching Good Morning America that Tuesday morning, as I had been doing almost every day of my married life, I saw no hint of the doom that was about to befall our country. At 8:30 a.m., Eastern time, the weather report emphasized one of those rare occurrences: miles and miles of clear skies throughout much of the United States. Hurricane Erin, the longest living hurricane that season, had been taunting us for over a week, first as a tropical wave, then as a depression; then she had weakened and dissipated, only to reorganize, intensify, and turn into a hurricane on September 9, moving northwest. But she stayed east of Bermuda, and by September 11, she no longer posed a threat to the United States.
How different it might have been if Hurricane Erin had in fact blown over Bermuda and struck even a glancing blow to the southeast coast, bringing just enough weather to delay flights and shut down some airports; just maybe, the terrorists would not have been able to execute their plan. Did they watch the Weather Channel or call Flight Service ahead of time for a weather briefing? Did they know they were going to have such a beautiful day to destroy so many lives, to wreak havoc on our country and our way of life? I often wonder if they were that smart or just plain lucky that day.
I was getting myself ready for the day’s events and was away from the TV when Dick’s mom called. Like everyone in America, from that moment on, I was simultaneously on the phone and glued to my television. I was talking to my mom when the second plane hit the second tower. Approximately twenty minutes later, the Pentagon got hit, and that was when I felt my world really change. I didn’t know anyone who worked at the World Trade Center, and I didn’t know anyone serving in the NYPD or the FDNY, but I did know plenty of people who worked in the Pentagon. I called Dick, but his secretary told me he was on the phone and would call me back.
Tyler called from Texas A&M, very concerned. “Mom, please tell me Dad isn’t at the Pentagon today.”
Dick was still traveling to the Pentagon a few times a month for briefings and meetings, so I understood Tyler’s apprehension. I assured him that his dad was safe and sound at Fort Campbell. We talked for a few more minutes, but everything was happening so fast that all we could do was speculate; no one had answers yet. I told him we would call him when his dad got home from work. Nothing seemed right or normal in those first minutes and hours. All I knew was that I missed my boys more than ever and hated being so far from them. Clint was still at Fort Rucker and just weeks into his Apache transition course, so I knew I couldn’t call him. I would have to wait until he got out of class to talk to him.
I made phone calls, checking on people we knew in DC. I was worried about Nancy’s husband, Joe, who still worked in the Pentagon, and I was relieved to hear that he was fine; his office was on the side opposite the one that got hit.
I had never felt so unsettled as I waited for Dick to call me back. When he finally did, I was hoping that he would have some answers. After we both talked about the shock and horror of it all, he said, “I’m sure this is an act of terrorism. I’ve locked down the post. That’s it—no one is coming onto my post. Traffic is backed up for miles, and it’s a mess out there, so don’t even try to go anywhere.”
“What do you think is going to happen here?” I asked him.
“Vicki, until we sort this out, I have to go on the assumption that any military installation could be a potential target for terrorists. I’ve got fifty thousand people and the largest fleet of Army aviation to protect.”
I had heard that all air traffic, every commercial flight in the United States, had been ordered to land. No plane would be flying into or out of the country, and all of the planes already in the air had to land somewhere.
Dick went on to explain, “I’ve been on the phone with the FAA and NORAD and told them I just can’t take a chance with commercial flights landing here. I got permission to set up Avenger missiles around Campbell Army Airfield, and I’ve given the order ‘no commercial planes are to land here.’ There could be more hijacked planes out there. I’ve got Apache helicopters circling over the post, and the military police are sending guards to the house. You need to stay put for now.”
“Wow, you did all of this already?” I hadn’t thought that far ahead. I was still thinking in terms of major US cities’ being targets.
I knew Dick had a million things to do, so I made him promise to call later with any updates. I hung up the phone and went out onto our front porch, needing to feel the air and listen to the sounds of life. Just beyond a grove of trees, the main gate was a few hundred yards away, but it was eerily quiet for that time of day. I heard Apache helicopters circling overhead, and as I stood there, looking toward the sky, I felt something I had never experienced in my lifetime: I was afraid for our country, and for all of us at Fort Campbell. Suddenly, all of our day-today routines—the boring, mundane details of everyday life—became insignificant. My priorities changed in a heartbeat.
I, like everyone else that day, felt the whole gamut of emotions: shock, outrage, anger, fear, and utter sadness at all the loss of life that occurred and the uncertainty that we faced as a country. The phone lines at Fort Campbell became tied up, but every so often someone got through to me. When Clint finally reached me, I was so glad, because talking on the phone with my kids was one of the only things that assuaged the overwhelming loneliness I had been feeling all day.
When Dick got home that evening, we had a chance to decompress a little and we watched the news together. As we saw the acts of patriotism and heroism emerging from such devastation, we felt a glimmer of hope that we were going to be okay. I couldn’t remember ever having felt such pride in my country.
If the terrorist attacks were a turning point for all of us in the United States and our way of life, they were also a turning point for the Army. We went from a peacetime military to one preparing for combat operations almost immediately.
On September 12, I was in Dick’s office when Clint called. The boys called me daily, but once they were in the Army, more and more they called just to talk to their dad, as Clint wanted to do that day.
Dick’s tone was serious. He was pensive as he hung up the phone. “He wants to come to the 101st, Vicki.” Dick then relayed what Clint had said: “If you’re going to combat, I want to go with you and the 101st.”
I looked at Dick. He seemed to be struggling with something. Clint had turned to him for advice not as a father, but as the commander of the 101st Airborne Division. Dick and I both knew then that we were
at yet another crossroads.
“What did you say to him?”
“I told him if that’s what he wants, he should call his assignments officer at Aviation Branch and put in his request. The 101st always needs Apache pilots, especially if we deploy. I’m sure they’ll approve it. I didn’t ask him, Vick; he asked me.”
Clint and Tyler were just beginning their careers, and I had never given any thought to their deploying to combat. I said, “I know, Dick. I just hadn’t thought about that piece of it. I’m still processing what happened to our country. I guess if there is a chance the division is going to deploy, then I would rather Clint be in the 101st with you.”
While we all dealt with the emotional aftermath of the attacks, Dick and I went into preparation mode. Dick visited every school on post to reassure the teachers, the administrators, and, most importantly, the students. Less than two weeks after the terrorist attacks, he and I held a meeting for all the leadership at Fort Campbell, both military and civilian. Dick believed that either all or part of the division would deploy at some point, and that when that happened they would be called upon, whether as part of a deployment or in support of the deployment, and he wanted everyone—active-duty military, civilians, and family members—to be prepared.
Dick and I already had plane tickets for a trip to College Station to visit Tyler and go to a football game, but Dick did not want to leave his soldiers and the division and was already working on contingency plans for possible deployments. I hesitated for only a moment before I told him I would go by myself. I wasn’t going to miss out on seeing Tyler and doing something that had become a fall tradition for us. The terrorists had taken enough from all of us—they weren’t getting that, too. Nancy had plans to fly out there from Washington, DC on the same weekend, since her daughter, Abbie, was also a student at Texas A&M.
When I boarded the plane in Nashville that September day, I felt vulnerable and nervous, which I had never been before when boarding a commercial flight. As I settled into my seat, I gave myself a little pep talk about the unlikely chance of a terrorist attack occurring on my flight from Nashville to Houston and then to College Station. I made some bargains with God that day, too, just to be sure.
I was so glad to see Tyler and wrap my arms around him, even more so because of everything that had happened since I had last seen him. That Saturday, Tyler, Brooke, Nancy, Abbie, and I stood in the stands at Kyle Field and, along with eighty thousand other Aggie fans, enjoyed a typical Saturday ritual. For many of us, it was the first time we had gathered in such a huge crowd since the attacks. There was a different feel to the game that particular Saturday—a sense, a feeling, that went above and beyond the usual, intense Aggie pride. Maybe it was just an overwhelming sense of patriotism, but whatever it was, it felt good.
That weekend at Texas A&M soothed my soul; I spent time with my son, reunited with a close friend, got my fill of some good Mexican food, and witnessed, yet again, the wonderful Aggie spirit. When I said good-bye to Tyler at the College Station airport, I felt almost normal again.
Life back at Fort Campbell was very different, though. Getting on and off the post was still an issue because of all the new security measures. We had guards around our house, initially MPs and then soldiers in Humvees. At first I was glad for the added safety measures, but then I felt isolated. Eventually, I got used to it and it became the norm for me. There were a lot of new norms for all of we Americans to get used to.
Once again, fate stepped in and a very special person came into our lives, someone I doubt we would have met if not for the events of September 11. In late September, Dick received a phone call from Ms. Wynonna Judd, country-music star and half of the legendary singing duo the Judds. Born in Kentucky and living just down the road in Nashville, Wynonna asked what she could do for the soldiers of Fort Campbell, Kentucky. Dick was taken aback but over the course of the conversation realized what a sincere and genuine person she was. As he later said to me, “She’s the real deal, Vick.” She and Dick talked about her coming to Fort Campbell and doing some concerts for the soldiers to show her support.
We got a lot of VIP visitors at Fort Campbell—senators, congressmen, high-ranking military leaders, and a celebrity or two—so Dick and I had become accustomed to hosting VIPs. When he asked me to go with him that day to escort Ms. Judd, I didn’t hesitate. Tyler was home on break and went along with us, too. I knew very little about Wynonna and her famous mother, and I wasn’t sure what to expect, but Dick, Tyler, and I were excited to meet her. When she emerged from her big tour bus with her signature sunglasses and bright red hair, she certainly looked like a celebrity—there was a definite star quality to her—but within minutes I could tell she was a normal and ordinary person who just happened to be a famous singer. I liked her immediately.
As we took her on a tour of the post and to the Air Assault School and watched her with soldiers, she endeared herself to Dick and me. Over the course of the afternoon, she told us she had never been to an Army post and knew little about those serving in the military. She was like a sponge soaking up everything that day, from Army “stuff” to personal information about Dick and me.
She performed two concerts for the soldiers during that visit. When we sat in the front row and watched her perform, we were blown away by her voice. She sang like an angel. There was something about her—maybe it was her heart, maybe it was her spirit—that made her seem like a ray of sunshine during a very dark time. The connection between us and the mutual fascination of that first encounter marked the beginning of a close and enduring friendship with her and her family.
By mid-October, life at Fort Campbell returned to a somewhat normal routine, but with a sense of urgency in all the training and the leadership meetings Dick and I facilitated. The Air Force had begun air strikes in Afghanistan in early October, and elements of the 160th SOAR and 5th Special Forces Group quietly left Fort Campbell for Afghanistan. Dick and I tried to anticipate what was in store for the 101st, but we, our entire country and military, were in a holding pattern, just waiting to find out what the next move would be.
The World Series was postponed because of September 11, and it began on October 27, the latest starting time ever. It was nicknamed the November Series because the last three games were played in November. The New York Yankees had won the American League pennant and played the Arizona Diamondbacks for the world championship. After the first two games in Arizona, the Yankees brought baseball and hope back to New York City. President Bush threw out the first pitch of game three, to nonstop chants of “U-S-A, U-S-A,” in a packed Yankee Stadium. At a time when we were all searching for meaning, looking for something good to come out of what had happened, needing an outlet for our patriotism, just wanting some semblance of normalcy, the Yankees provided us with that during those evening games in the late fall. The devastation in Manhattan contrasted sharply with the jubilation at Yankee Stadium in the Bronx, but it seemed fitting that the Yankees got to be in the World Series that year. Dick would rush home from a long day at his office to watch the games and stayed up until all hours just to see his team play, just to feel the comfort of baseball. It was a seven-game series, and even though Arizona won, it represented much more than a sporting event—it provided relief from all the sadness and uncertainty; it gave us all a reason to stand up and cheer for New York; it gave us something ordinary to talk about.
That November, we got the mother of all VIP visits. Imagine my surprise when Dick called to tell me that President and Mrs. Bush were coming to visit Fort Campbell the day before Thanksgiving. It was President Bush’s first visit to Fort Campbell, and it came at a perfect time. While the pain of the terrorist attacks was still fresh in our hearts and talk of war and deployments was on our minds, President Bush’s visit to our post was a rallying cry for all of us, especially our soldiers.
The day they arrived was picture-perfect. Dick and I stood on the tarmac at Campbell Army Airfield, watching Air Force One taxi toward us. We kept squeez
ing each other’s hand because we couldn’t believe what we were about to do. President and Mrs. Bush emerged from the plane with their very large entourage, and shaking hands and greeting each of them felt like an out-of-body experience. We then followed them in the motorcade, with secret service surrounding us, to one of the soldiers’ dining facilities for a Thanksgiving meal. In our van, I turned to Dick and said, “Can you believe we’re doing this?”
At the dining facility, about one hundred soldiers who represented our division were waiting to have lunch with President and Mrs. Bush. Dick and the president sat at a table, Laura and I at another. The rest of the official party, including Condoleezza Rice, was interspersed among the other tables of soldiers. Dick and I were like proud parents as we watched the soldiers, so sharp and poised, talking with all the VIPs. Laura and I chatted easily with each other and with the soldiers at our table. I was trying to relish every moment, every word. I could barely eat my delicious turkey dinner, which killed me because I was hungry and I love to eat, but it’s not every day that you get to sit with the First Lady!
After lunch, the president went around the entire room and posed for pictures with all of the soldiers, who were thrilled to have that opportunity.
As we were leaving the dining facility, Laura turned to me and asked, “Will you be cooking a big meal for Thanksgiving tomorrow?”
“Yes, I’ll be in the kitchen most of the day. My mom is here visiting, and our son is home from flight school. But I’m making breakfast for the ten soldiers who guard our house on the morning shift, and then I’ll cook a turkey dinner for the soldiers on the evening shift and for us.”
“You sure have a lot to do!”
I was thinking the same thing when President Bush interrupted my reverie. “Would you and the General like to ride in our vehicle to the parade?”