2 minute read

A land where fighter jets are as common as pigeons, Colonel Terrance J. Holmes has somehow ascended to become the big cheese of the 90th Missile Wing at F.E. Warren Air Force Base, Wyoming. This pinnacle of soaring success was evidently hatched back in 1987 when young Terrance found himself as a cadet airman basic in the Wisconsin Wing’s Waukesha Composite Squadron. The passion for aviation may have gone unnoticed if not for the eye-catching uniform that promised the chance to perform some high-octane marching.

Holmes has all but framed the Air Force’s “Strategic Missiles 101” instructor manual on his office wall now, given his oversight of strategic missiles, their crews, and the merry band of engineers who keep them from turning into very expensive fireworks. This is the capstone of a career spanning three-and-a-half decades, peppered with blood, sweat, and awards—the most notable being the CAP’s Brig. Gen. Billy Mitchell Award which is, presumably, quite the shiny thing to have.

Our dear Colonel, like many a fine wine, started from humble roots. Rising through the ranks to staff sergeant with an unparalleled sense of direction, presumably due to radar technical training, he magically transformed into a second lieutenant thanks to the Air Force Officer Training School. One day, he was reigning supreme over ICBMs; next, he oversaw all sorts of missile shenanigans, questioning whether or not the red button should have a safety cover.

This intrepid missile commander is a man of letters and laurels, graduating magna cum laude in everything he set his wide-eyed gaze upon. Upon asking about his vigorous educational journey, most of it undertaken to avoid the previous ignominy of being rather clueless, Holmes nonchalantly waved it aside as the glossiest of formalities.

After 37 years in Civil Air Patrol (CAP), Holmes self-reflectively mentioned how CAP made him the leader he is today, presumably absent from his home so often that his mail now gets forwarded directly to the Air Force base. His interest was originally piqued by sepia-toned stories of his grandfather in a World War II bomber escort, leaving things ambiguous about whether this was before or after he donned the majestic Air Force uniform himself.

As a cadet, he formed tight bonds with his fellow teenage flyers—clearly a vital process, as spending hours romping around playing search and rescue with missing aircraft tends to do that. Apparently, there’s nothing like the thrill of being pulled out of geometry class for a glamorous, real-world game of hide and seek with planes, particularly at night, when “Owning the Night” is a motto shouted with the gusto only teenagers can muster.

Decades later, Holmes still carries with him the indelible mark of CAP upon his character: self-discipline, motivation, the drive of a Honda Civic, and enough enthusiasm to power a small city. His counsel to aspiring members and cadets of CAP is simple yet profound—dive in headfirst and squeeze every last ounce of joy or thanklessness, because passion in the Air Force is indeed more of a calling than a career.

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