Five. A perfect number of fingers per hand, nearly the optimal number of Guinness pints to consume in an hour, a good number of times to be WCW World Champion, but I never in my wildest dreams imagined that it would be the number of times I would get on a cargo plane and be freight shipped to the Middle East for the WWE’s Tribute to the Troops show.

The first year, when the invitation came to participate in a Tribute to the Troops show, I was nervous. No, nervous isn’t exactly the right word, I was frightened. Me? Going to Baghdad? A war zone? ME? I was sure that the second we stepped off the plane, we’d be blown to bits. Well, that didn’t happen. Actually, last year the setup crew came pretty close to being obliterated, when a mortar round exploded about three hundred yards away, but other than that little bit of excitement, the Tribute to the Troops shows have been as safe as any show in the states.

That first year, we had a big crew meeting where various contingencies were discussed. Assurances were given that if something bad happened to us, our families would be taken care of. Not to sound overly dramatic, but we were heading into the great unknown. In 2004, when the Tribute to the Troops show was in Tikrit for the first time, we had a shorter meeting, which basically said the same thing as the first meeting. That time, having pulled off a successful Tribute the previous year, we had a bit of an idea what we were in for. The third year we tried something different, and went to Afghanistan. Our meeting that year was over headsets just before the beginning of RAW. Had we become complacent, or was the Tribute to the Troops show becoming routine? A bit of both I think.

Last year, there was no meeting at all. The crew for the Tribute show received an email saying something to the effect of ‘You have been selected for the 2006 Tribute to the Troops show. Please remember to pack warm clothes.’This year was even less ceremonious. A solitary email reminding the crew to book flights home after the trip from the Washington DC area after five PM on Saturday was about it. The Tribute to the Troops show, the ridiculously long travel in a cargo plane, the war zone and all that had become ‘just another show.’

I’m not trying to say that the show isn’t important. On the contrary, I think the Tribute shows are probably the most meaningful shows the WWE puts on. Imagine being stuck in a dusty, hot, awful country five thousand miles away from families, friends and Burger King. For a few hours our show helps soldiers forget where they are, and have a good time. For me, that is a good enough reason to keep going back.

Monday Night RAW finished at 11:08, the usual time, but then the real fun began. The biggest problem with preparing for a Tribute to the Troops show is we have to bring it all with us, anything forgotten or left behind is a real problem. Mic flags, music players, specialty cables and a hundred other things need to be packed and come with us. We rush and scurry around, collecting a bunch of last minute things, hoping not to forget anything. It’s controlled chaos, the perfect thing after working fifteen hours.

Then, in the most rock star-like thing I’ve ever done, the police escort our buses to the North Charleston Air Base. There we officially change time zones, to Military Daylight Wasting Time. The normal routine is: get to the air base, wait, sit, wait, and just for good measure, have a safety briefing.

2007’s fun-filled briefing included the following wonderful information: “The groups going out to the Forward Operating Bases will be issued flak jackets and helmets. The setup crew (my crew) will not be getting helmets. We haven’t had any indirect fire at Camp Speicher in a few weeks, so everything should be fine there. If something should happen, get to a hardened structure or bunker… blah blah blah.” What did this guy think, that we’re rookies or something? We know. This stuff is old news now.

After the briefing, we usually sit and wait. And wait. I am convinced that the military uses a twenty-four hour clock because it takes them twice as long as it should to get things done. It was on one of these overseas trips that I first developed what I call Frenchy’s First Law of Travel. It states: “There are more things that can go wrong than things that will go right.” For example, last year we sat for six hours on the C-17 cargo plane, waiting for maintenance to fix the navigational systems. We didn’t leave until the next day.

2006 – This Can’t be Good.

Then there was the time we landed in Germany and blew out a tire. That was fun.

2004 – Uhh… Hello? AAA? I Have a Flat, and it’s a Big One!

And who can forget the first ever Tribute to the Troops, way back in 2003, when we had to change planes in Germany from the tanker to the much better armored C-17.

2003 – The Ramstein Changeover Crew Moves Tons of WWE Gear From Plane To Plane.

And Tell Us What They Really Think of Us

But sometimes we take off without a hitch – like this year. We were loaded on buses right after the briefing, and got on the C-17, curiously named ‘The Spirit of Middle Georgia.’

Rookies Patrick and Cary Prepare For the Ride of Their Lives!

 

No Safety Briefing Is Complete Without Demonstrating Proper Smoke Hood Procedures.

Cary Demonstrated A Better Way to Deal With Safety Briefings.

Marty Demonstrates the Polish Way of Handling Danger.

For a switch, the hitch unhitched after we were airborne. The tanker that was tasked to meet us for in-air refueling was grounded due to bad weather in Pittsburgh.Burning nearly 20,000 pounds of fuel per hour, we’d fall into the Atlantic about two hours before reaching Germany without refueling. Nobody wanted to make that swim, so we diverted to Stevensville Air Base in Newfoundland to fill up with hundreds of thousands of gallons of fresh high test.

They Said It Was Cold Out. They Were Right!

Umaga Proves it’s Never Too Cold to Pose.

True to Frenchy’s First Law of Travel, anything that could go wrong did. No, we didn’t have a flat tire on landing like we did two years ago. Worse. While refueling in the sub zero temperatures, a blizzard hit, grounding us for four hours. Of course.

Oh, the Weather Outside is Frightful…

On the bright side, this delay would mean five less hours to duck indirect fire. And I have to say, ‘indirect fire‘ sounds much more pleasant than ‘carpet bombing‘ or ‘shelling‘ does.

Sleep comes in fits and starts, the metal benches we sit on designed from maximum discomfort. Some of the lucky ones that manage to fall asleep soon fall prey to the bored, as the pranks begin. Someone – I’m not saying who – prowled the plane, red plastic cup in hand and ‘anointed’ those that were sleeping, claiming to have raised them from the dead.

But this year’s flight to Germany wasn’t nearly as bad as previous trips. Everyone seemed calmer and more laid back, or maybe they were just tired from a full year of traveling and working the whole world. I only got hit on the head by a handful of pistachios, and one beer can, and the can was only half full at that – a definite improvement!

It’s fascinating to me how time takes on a different quality when the everyday routine is removed.Take away all outside stimulus, take away the sun or moon, and it could really be any time at all. We sit in this cold, dry, noisy tube, and minutes, hours or weeks could be going by. Trapped inside the plane, there is really no way to tell if we’re going up or down, or just where the hell we are.

Passing the Time

To make up for the delay in Newfoundland, the decision was made that when we landed at Ramstein Air Base in Germany we’d remain on the plane in an effort to save time.That took away two of the things I was looking forward to most, a nice, cold Bitburger beer in Germany – a five year old tradition it would be a shame to break, and getting off the plane and away from the increasingly foul smelling noxious clouds of processed protein bars poisoning the air in the tightly enclosed flying metal tube.

I want to know one thing. Who thought serving a Mexican buffet for dinner before this flight was a good idea?

Landing in Germany,I made a $1 bet with new director Patrick McManus. The bet? Though we’d been told the layover would be two hours, I bet it would be much longer. He said it would be less than three. Poor Patrick. I had an unfair advantage. I know Frenchy’s First Law of Travel, in fact I live it almost every week. Ramstein hasn’t exactly been a lucky place for us, in the last five trips, we’ve broken three planes in Germany.

Almost on cue, Frenchy’s First Law was proved once again. As we sat on the plane, the rumor soon circulated that there was an engine problem. What a shock! Something to do with the reverse thruster pins in the engines or something like that. In any case the engine was broken and we weren’t going anywhere until it was fixed. I went outside to see the issue first hand.

Some of the talent left the plane for what we assumed to be a ‘Meet and Greet’, but what actually turned out to be an ‘Eat Some Meat.’ There was a buffet set up, but for some reason we weren’t all allowed to go in and eat. Fortunately someone grabbed a bunch of to-go boxes, packed the feast up and brought it back to the poor trapped technical crew.

Three and a half hours later, the reverse thruster pins were fixed, and we were finally on our way to Tikrit. I won the bet, but come to think of it, Patrick never paid up!

Hey Patrick! You Owe Me a Dollar!

Seven hours later, we entered Iraqi airspace. The interior lights changed from green to red, indicating we’d entered a ‘hostile’ zone.

Suddenly we were thrown forwards as the massive thrusters roared, proving, I suppose, the thruster pin repair at Rammstein was successful. The giant cargo plane spiraled down and down, in a maneuver designed to confuse enemy fire known as ‘The Corkscrew.’ Finally, we landed at Camp Speicher, twenty one and a half hours after leaving North Charleston.

Time to go to work!

The setup post for the Tribute to the Troops show can be found here.