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I left home for the first time in my 20 years of living
on January 10, 2017, to become an Airman. I saw the Air
Force as an opportunity to better myself through
professionalism, education and experience.
 As
a first generation Airman I went in blind, but I knew what I wanted
and I wasn’t going to let anything get in my way.
However, I was not prepared for the emotional rollercoaster I had
strapped myself into.
After two flights and a bus ride, I
finally arrived at Lackland Air Force Base, Texas. As soon as the bus
stopped, the doors swung open and a military training instructor ran
us off. We made our way into a small room filled with crates
overflowing with backpacks, shower shoes, reflective belts and other
essential supplies for trainees. Once we were rushed through and
loaded up, we were corralled into a giant auditorium filled with
what felt like over 1,000 people. The silence in that room was
chilling.
I sat down with nervousness, adrenaline and
intimidation all welled up inside me. The only sound that could be
heard was the voice of an MTI who shouted names and instructions.
After several hours of
in-processing and a frantic run to the 331st Training Squadron, I
arrived at what would be my “home” for the next 60 days. The dorm
was everything I expected it to be, plain and symmetrical in every
sense of the word. And there I finally looked at the faces of the
women, who I had no interest in getting to know, but would share
this journey with.
A tall and intimidating master sergeant,
our MTI, barreled in behind us commanding we stand against the wall
locker of the bed we had chosen. Her strong voice rang through the
room like nothing I had ever heard before.
She began to talk
about many rules and topics. One that stood out in my mind was this
wingmanship concept. My immediate thoughts were negative. I didn’t
want a wingman. I wanted to get through alone because I was there to
become an Airman and not have to worry about other people.
She told us to pair up with the trainee beside us to exchange these
little paper wingman cards. With the heavy atmosphere that we were
in, the only words my new found wingman and I were able to exchange
was our names, which I instantly forgot.
Days went by fast
but it didn’t seem fast enough. Being away from my family and my
husband, who I was dating at the time, was excruciating. I fell into
a deep sense of loneliness and helplessness that I could not escape.
I realized I couldn’t do it alone. For the first time at BMT, I
found myself asking God for a friend.
At the end of each day
our MTI gathered us in the dayroom to talk and pass out letters.
This particular day in week two was the first day many of us
received mail. It was the most exhilarating experience. I walked
back to my bed and ripped open my letters to find a handful of
photos of my family. Tears immediately poured out of my eyes onto
the little 4-by-6 pictures of everyone I had left back in Ohio. I
looked up at my wingman, the girl whose name I had forgotten. Tears
also flowed from her eyes onto her own photos.
We both knew
exactly what the other felt. We collided into an embrace and that
was it. That was the answer to my prayers. It wasn’t just an
internal strength that I needed but a strength that I could receive
off of my wingman, trainee Tatiana Guzman.
As time went on
our friendship grew. We bonded over activities such as rolling socks
and scrubbing our dorm’s shower walls. We had each other’s backs and
refused to let the other fail. Throughout the rest of our training,
she helped me in my struggles and shortcomings and I helped in hers.
We went everywhere together and talked like we had known each other
our entire lives. She was finally getting me to understand what it
was like to have a wingman. However as quickly as I gained that
strength, I lost it.
After a visit to the doctor for a knee
problem, Guzman walked up to me with tears streaming down her face
and told me she was leaving our flight to go to medical hold. I
couldn’t believe it. I didn’t want to believe it, but it was
happening and there was nothing I could do. I helped her pack and
escorted her to medical hold. And that is where I had to leave not
only my wingman but my best friend.
The next few days were
harder than they were in the beginning when I had no one. I was
angry and hurt. How was I going to finish? My new found source of
strength was no longer there. That is when I learned another side of
wingmenship. It wasn’t just the concept of being loyal to one single
person.
Other women in my flight, who I joked with or ran
beside during physical training, started to substitute that missing
strength. Throughout BMT, I had only considered Guzman my wingman,
but from that point on it was more than just her.
Days got
better even though I was missing Guzman. I came to terms with the
fact I would have to try and contact her after BMT and hope we would
see each other again one day. That one day came faster than I
thought.
 I walked through the chow hall line and sat down to
eat. I looked up from my tray and saw Guzman heading towards the
exit. I couldn’t believe it. I was so excited but knew I couldn’t
express it without being called out by an MTI. The chow hall was for
eating, and eating only. I scarfed down my food and headed out the
exit to try and catch up with her. When I got outside, she was
nowhere to be found.
I marched back to my dorm and was
immediately greeted by a shout in my face, “Guzman is back!” I
sprinted to my bay to only find an empty bed next to mine. I tried
to hold back the tears as anger and embarrassment welled up inside
me. By that time, the entire flight had completely surrounded me in
my state of emotional distress. After what felt like a million hugs,
the wall locker door behind me flew open and out came Guzman. She
was back and this time it was for good.
I
not only had Guzman by my side the rest of BMT, but the rest of my wingmen
... known as
Flight 194.
Upon completion of my training, I was surrounded
by some of the best friends I have ever had. Throughout those two
months, I realized the Air Force was not a solo mission but a
wingman mission. On March 3, 2017, I became an Airman, just like I
had promised myself, but with a few extra people in my life.
Don’t allow your strive to accomplish your goals detract you
from letting others in your life. Your wingman may be the very thing
to get you through your journey.
By U.S. Air Force Airman 1st Class Tessa Corrick
Provided
through a target="_blank" href="http://www.dvidshub.net">DVIDS
Copyright 2018
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