COMMENTARY: Reward for service outweighed sacrifice in Haiti Published April 9, 2010 By Tech. Sgt. Justin Adams 67th Aerial Port Squadron HILL AIR FORCE BASE, UTAH -- I still remember the gut-wrenching feeling that came over me when I heard about the disastrous earthquake in Haiti Jan. 12. Hundreds of thousands of people were suddenly homeless, separated from family and friends, and so many dead. While America and other countries responded quickly with donations, it simply was not enough. They needed people on the ground, where immediate concerns could be addressed. I was one of 15 Air Force Reservists from the 67th Aerial Port Squadron at Hill Air Force Base, Utah, who volunteered to deploy to Haiti. I was grateful for the opportunity to represent our unit and serve the Haitian people. I kissed my wife and daughter goodbye and reported to Hill the very next morning, packed and ready for a quick out-process. In the short time we had before boarding the C-17 en route to Haiti, the aerial porters took up donations for infant supplies--baby wipes, diapers, formula. Our hearts were already in Haiti. We arrived in Port-au-Prince after five hours in the air. We stepped off the plane and experienced a wave of heat, humidity, and a foul odor in the air that no one could identify at the time--what we later learned was the smell of decomposition and various wastes. The passenger terminal at the Toussaint Louverture International Airport was so severely damaged that the processing areas were set up in tents and canopies 20 feet from the aircraft ramp. The scene was chaotic, but we knew we were there to fix that. Without so much as pausing, we scrambled to set up our tent between the active runway and the working flight line--our new noisy home. We were told we were part of a Joint Task Force Port Opening, an elite group consisting of both Army and Air Force transportation professionals. We were then briefed on the camp's standing orders: one shower every 10 days; laundry would be done as needed using a bucket and a plunger; MREs and water only; beware of tarantulas, snakes, and insects; use plenty of sunscreen. With mounds of dust and grime blanketing the sweat on our faces, we feasted on the first of many MREs. We adapted quickly. No one complained. No one wished they could go home. Rather, we were all ready to get started. Our initial day of work was a constant chaotic scramble. Planes patterned in the air for a chance to relieve their load of humanitarian aid, with a new aircraft ready for us about every hour, although many landed back-to-back. Our 12-hour shifts seemed to be over moments after we started. Some days we'd be strapped inside material handling equipment, driving from plane to plane without a break. The equipment we had to work with consisted of four 25K NGSL K-Loaders (an aircraft loader holding only three pallets at a time) and seven 10K-AT Forklifts. Countries from all over the world touched down in a dash to deliver their goods and take off to repeat the process. Once I finished downloading a plane, I would drive up and down the flight line to find and be ready for the next. There was always something to do. The cargo came in all forms: 463L pallets, "cookie sheets", wooden skids, and a back-breaking haul of loose-loaded cargo. In our first week alone we uploaded 5,838 passengers, 65 tons of cargo and offloaded 3,409 passengers and 5,727 tons of cargo on 134 aircraft (291 international, 94 United Nations and 439 commercial). I have never perspired so much for so long a period. I loved it. Our living conditions were primitive. We lived side-by-side in a tent, with nothing more than what we brought with us. But the morale was surprisingly strong. Our team lead, Master Sgt. Jeffery Petterborg, not only kept us employed and uplifted, but also ensured each of his people was taken care of on a personal level. We formed friendships and bonds that will last a lifetime. To keep each other entertained and energized, we gathered scraps of wood and constructed a workout station equipped with a pull-up bar, dip rails, and an inclined plane for inverted sit-ups. We also wrapped chains around an 8-by-8 piece of dunnage to use as a shoulder press. Innovation was the key to sanity. In addition to our heavy workload, we helped orphaned Haitian children board the planes that would take them to new loving families in the United States. Though we didn't speak their language and couldn't console them with words, we held them and played games with them to make them feel comfortable. Some of the children cried for their mothers, while others immediately put their trust in us. I remember holding a toddler about the age of my daughter; he was so nervous, holding onto me tightly. He didn't like the idea of ear protection, but after a game he allowed me to place the plugs in his ears. I felt such gratitude for the safety and security my daughter and family enjoy, and for the life we live back home. It made me want to work even harder, to help these people live the life they work so hard to have. The worldwide compassion struck me deeply. There may not be peace in the world, but there is a great amount of compassion. We counted more than 35 countries bringing aid--both military and civilian--to the needy nation. As aerial porters, every piece of cargo came through our hands. It was touching to see small hygiene kits, blankets, food, children's toys, clothes, first aid equipment, and letters signed by American children. So much love and compassion in a brown paper bag! This was a testament that, regardless of cultural and civil differences, countries can unite and reach out to help those in need. As work continued to increase, we received word that there was desperate need to retrieve victims from the rubble at Hotel Montana--a highly rated resort in which several Americans were trapped after the earthquake. Once again, our hearts sank and our hands rose to volunteer. After we completed the first six hours of our scheduled shift, we traveled by convoy to the hotel and were shocked by the striking reality of the mass destruction. As we walked up to the site, we passed a poster board full of pictures of missing people, alongside candles and flowers that served as a memorial for many of the victims that we would soon find. The earthquake diminished the hotel to a disorientating heap of rubble. There was no structure to orientate around, but rather a confusing and dangerous demolition scene. Scraps of clothing hung from the rebar, business papers were scattered around, and torn blankets and partial mattresses were reminders of the bitter reality. Some commented that it hardly seemed real, but was more like a movie set. We worked hand in hand with the Army and Navy--with morticians, civil engineers, firefighters and many other groups in the effort to recover the entombed bodies. Our 67th aerial porters guided the heavy equipment used to sift through and rake the rubble. We also watched for any signs that could locate the remains, such as wet soil, flies, and other indicators of a victim's shallow grave. When remains were retrieved, the entire site shut down its equipment, stopped what they were doing, and went to the position of parade rest out of respect. Despite the overpowering odor of the remains, the recovery of a victim brought great satisfaction. We knew it meant one more family could have closure. The reward for the act of service far outweighed the physical and emotional demands of the 18-hour day. When I arrived in Haiti, I feared another natural disaster, a lack of preparation, and the unknown. By the end of the deployment, my fear changed to a concern that I may not have the opportunity to express my love and appreciation to my loving and supportive wife and family. Since we had reported to our unit in less than 24 hours, financial and other affairs fell solely on the shoulders of our spouses and families. They took on the sudden burdens gracefully, as military spouses somehow always do. I want to express special thanks to not only my wife, but for all of the military spouses and families of the 15 aerial porters from Hill AFB who deployed to Haiti. Simply, without the support and encouragement of our families and community, the men and women serving would not have been as effective. It takes a community. Being deployed to Haiti, at the heart of a global humanitarian effort, was an experience I'll never forget. I learned to be prepared for anything. I learned to never let a moment pass without expressing love and appreciation to our families. I learned that, despite our differences, each of us has an amazing amount of charity within us. I learned that regardless of branch of service or status in the military, we are one force, and we are one fight!