They parked 25 ft from the porch steps. They did not approach immediately. They had been trained to observe before approach. They observed the porch. They observed the rocking chair, the elderly man under the wool blanket, the woman in the federal judiciary windbreaker, the younger woman in the Coast Guard sweatshirt, and the man in jeans and a Wyoming Cowboys ball cap.
They observed the 2009 Ford F250. They stepped out of the expedition. They walked up the gravel. Senior Airman Otterstead was 23 years old. He had been an Air Force Defender for 4 years.
He had attended my wing commander welcome brief at the FE Warren AFB Defender Squadron auditorium in August of 2024, 12 months and 3 weeks earlier. As one of 140 new defenders cycling into the squadron during a manpower refresh, I had personally shaken his hand at the conclusion of the brief. I had personally shaken every defender's hand at the conclusion of the brief. It had taken 2 hours and 11 minutes. Senior Airman Halverson was 21 years old.
She had been at the same brief. She had asked me a question during the open Q&A. She had asked me whether the 90th Missile Wing Commander had ever served as a missile combat crew officer himself and what the deterrent rotation cycle had been like in the mid 1990s. I had answered her in front of 140 of her peers for 9 minutes. I had not forgotten her face.
She had not forgotten mine. They were both 2/3 of the way up the driveway when I stood up from the porch swing. I removed the Wyoming Cowboys ball cap. I turned to face them. Senior Airman Otterstead stopped walking.
His right hand floated 6 in from his sidearm. His face did the thing faces do when the brain has not yet given the rest of the body new instructions. Then he snapped to attention. He saluted. Senior Airman Halverson snapped to attention half a second behind him.
She saluted. Both defenders said in nearly identical Air Force issued tones. Colonel Callaway, sir. I returned the salute slowly. My father in the rocking chair had been watching the entire sequence.
He smiled. He said quietly to me beside him. Looks like the kids are home. Mray squeezed his hand. In the corner of my eye, Briy Pendergast's Pearl White Lincoln navigator turned onto Saddle Ridge Road at 0707.