I looked up high at the giant T-Tail over me as I stepped off the big white bus and waited there on the tarmac by the Red Cross.
Waiting for the medics to move their convalescent patients out the back door and up the ramp, the reality of transitioning my fighter-pilot mind from prepping to fly a sunrise Dawn Patrol mission over Afghanistan, to loading up, instead, on a Medevac C-17 bound for Germany at 10 in the morning hit me like an anvil. I turned around quickly to see jets ripping through the cold air, a two-ship of our very own Chief StrikeEagles - getting airborne over the runway next to us and driving the point firmly home for me.
