| A ROMAD is unique. By trade he has a fascination for flying and jumping out of airplanes but often curses fighter pilots for their inability to distinguish between the broad side of a barn and a clearly described target. He neither gives nor expects any slack or quarter. Trust and respect must be earned by performance. Be it in Bubba's truck, a sporty car, or a tactical vehicle, he knows not of speed limits or the laws of gravity. His habitat varies, for he is an adaptable creature, but he tends to favor areas with easy access to cold beer and hot women. When a mission is done, he has an affinity for bizarre and sometimes dangerous stunts such as rappelling off hotel balconies or setting gag booby traps. He is an extremely gifted speaker. He can, with no preparation, provide details on such topics as how to drive Army officers crazy, the exact proportion for Margaritas, or how to train and care for Air Liason Officers (ALOs). A ROMAD is many things. He has the stamina of Superman, the lungs of a drill sergeant, The audacity of Dennis the Menace, and the patience of a diplomat; how else could he cope with young ALOs. He has a brain crammed full of seamingly unrelated, irrelevant facts, but the experience and imagination of an old warrior. Just ask him, he'll tell you a story. At home, he's sweet and loving......a real nice guy to have around. Off duty, he's a charmer in public and a smooth Don Juan in private. As a father and a huband, he's tough but gentle, protective and proud of his family. His kids can even do push-ups. In the field, he is calculating and confident. His steely voice pierces the airwaves with requests and commands into many radio handsets. On the hunt, he's a gifted jack-of-all-trades, scanning the battlefield with the eyes of a hawk, anticipating every whim of his Army commander. He is a magician; no hill or ravine is too steep or too deep to traverse, nor any equipment beyond the hope of repair with duct tape. After a mission, he is tired, thirsty, and generally irritated at everyone. Dismounting his vehicle, he curses anyone in sight. With hair matted by his helmet and creases in his shoulders from backpacking heavy radios, he knows he has again beat the grim reaper. But then, with the odor of sweat and deisel clinging to his mud encrusted BDUs, he'll smile and find some cold ones whereupon it is revealed that he single handedly beat the Commies and even had time to read his ALO a bedtime story. A ROMAD comes in many varieties; old, young, but always prepared for any mission. He hovers between play and business, and beware, can make your date vanish before your eyes. But most of all, he is the fabric that holds together the Air Force Tactical Air Contol System. Controlling multi-million dollar jets with the finesse of a surgeon, he guides pilots and ensures the delivery of bombs on target. He lives every minute of every day, for tomorrow may never come. If you have to ask why anyone would want to be a ROMAD, you won't understand the answer anyway. |
