03/07/2023
Yes.
My sister USAF Maj General Sharon Bannister articulates the importance of this day better than I can right now. Thank you, sis. Thank you, Dad. Be good.
----
In the mind of a Gold Star daughter
Today marks the 51st anniversary of a life-changing day for me--and this year it's extra hard as it also marks the year of my retirement/transition from my life in the Air Force after 31 years of service.
In the early morning of 7 March 1972, a 2 ship of F-4E aircraft took off from Da Nang Air Base, Republic of South Vietnam on an armed reconnaissance mission over southern Laos. The number 2 aircraft, tail number 69-7552, call sign Gunfighter 61 was cleared to attack two enemy trucks at 0655. Unfortunately, the target wasn't completely destroyed, so they were cleared for its second attack run. The lead lost Gunfighter 61 in the early morning haze, enemy ground fire was heavy, and seconds later the flight lead saw a fireball over the great jungles of Laos. Of note, both targets were destroyed.
On that hazy morning in March, First Lt Carter Howell and my dad, 1st Lt Stephen Rusch, proud Airmen assigned to the 4th Tactical Fighter Squadron, 366th Tactical Fighter Wing, disappeared. Though visual, electronic, and photoreconnaissance searches continued for 3 days, on my 6th birthday, 10 March, the search concluded and Lt Howell and Lt Rusch had their status changed to Missing in Action. No words can explain the years to follow. The uncertainty was always there. What if my dad had died on impact? What if he had been captured and tortured..what if he got lost in the jungle, injured, alone. Years of dreams and many nights of tears, fading hope, and an aching heart that never heals.
In 1992, I joined the Air Force a bit lost, lonely, and empty--unfortunately not an unusual state of mind for Gold Star children. But I found something unexpected. As I was finishing up Officer Training School, the host of our Graduation Dining In (Maj Gen Billy McCoy) recognized me from a picture when I "was no older than 6" he had seen while deployed with my Dad. I was in Mess Dress with no name tag on my uniform, 20 years older than I was in the
picture, and across the room from him when he recognized me. I knew immediately I was joining something bigger than myself. I've never taken that for granted, thus have spent every day trying to have the same impact on the Airmen I've served while giving all I have--every day--to ensure our medics are trained and ready to save lives. Saving even one Airman, Soldier, Sailor, Marine, Guardian, means one less "Gold Star" in the world--and that means everything to me.
I carry my Dad's dog tag in my uniform - one of the only items found at the crash site in 2007 - as a reminder to be the best Airman/Leader/Human I can be in hopes of making someone feel like General McCoy made me feel that life-changing day in 1992.
THANK YOU to the many mentors and leaders who have taken care of this Gold Star Daughter.
And thank you to the "elite" teams I have been blessed to work with who continue to make me proud each and every day. Regardless of what I chose to do next, the time I've had in uniform will always bring meaning that will be hard to put in words.
Major General (almost retired), but forever a Gold Star daughter.