*Pops into chair wearing pink ACUs and waves to the audience.*
Good Morning, 1NightStanders. Today, I’m talking to Sergeant Bobby Martin, an Air Force Pararescueman.
Okay, I know it’s not just me thinking this, what’s a Pararescueman?
Bobby: Okay, let’s get this over with. Generally I’m not one to toot my own horn, but it took a lot to get here and that’s something I’m extremely proud of. So, we are also known as PJs, a group of Air Force elite, and are the only group in the Department of Defense specifically trained and equipped to conduct conventional and unconventional rescue processes. Our main mission is personnel recovery and combat search and rescue operations.
Additionally, PARARECUEMEN are among the most highly trained emergency trauma specialists in the U.S. military and we must earn and maintain an emergency medical technician paramedic qualification throughout their careers. Just for shits and giggles I brought along the list of training we have to go through to be a pararescueman. After completion of six weeks of Basic Military Training, we spend the next 17 months training at the following schools:
•The PARARESCUE/Combat Control
10 weeks, Lackland AFB, TX
•US Army Airborne Parachutist School
3 weeks, Fort Benning, GA
•US Army Combat Divers School
4 weeks, Key West, FL
•US Navy Underwater Egress Training
1 day, Pensacola NAS, FL
•US Air Force Basic Survival School
2 and a half weeks, Fairchild AFB, WA
•US Army Military Freefall Parachutist School
5 weeks, Yuma Proving Grounds, AZ
•Special Operations Combat Medic Course
22 weeks, Fort Bragg, NC
•PARARESCUE Recovery Specialist Course
20 weeks, Kirtland AFB, NM
Then the real fun begins. Many of us have spent the greater part of the past eight years in Iraq and Afghanistan where we have one mission only, and that is to rescue American or Allied forces in extreme danger. Our targets have been shot down or are isolated behind enemy lines, surrounded, engaged, wounded, or captured by the enemy, we will do whatever necessary to bring our brothers and sisters home.
That’s it in a nutshell.
There is something so hot about men in uniform. I was in the Army once. My father has a legion, real elite. I’m sure you’ve heard of them. Anyway, I served as a recruiter. There was this Roman Centurion I once knew.... I mean if you’re going to go all out, Centurion is the way to go. Pararescuemen are a lot like Centurions, they are both hot, and soldiers. One flies in a helicopter and the other...okay, so there not a lot alike, but a girl can dream, can’t she? You wouldn’t understand until you’ve seen a man with great legs wearing a tunic and armor. And though I love the primitive charm of a man with a sword, there’s certainly nothing wrong with a man who knows how to handle a gun.
Er, weapon. Isn’t that what they’re calling it these days? Sword—gun, they’re all rather phallic wouldn’t you say?
Bobby: (cocks an eyebrow)
Tell everyone a bit about yourself. What it is you do? How you got into your current line of work.
Bobby: Beyond all the other stuff that PJ’s do, I’m also a trained sniper. Comes in handy now and then. As for what got me here? I’d have to give my mother credit for that one. She gave me a strong sense of honor and pride in my country, and while she may not have thought I’d take this route with my life, it was really the only way I could see myself going. I wouldn’t want to do anything else.
|Buy In My Sights HERE|
Bobbie: Actually I’d, uh…well, I helped my Lieutenant get together with his wife through 1 Nightstand. After they got married, I was bullied into using the service for myself.
Tell me about what you were looking for in a woman, what qualifications were a must on that application?
Bobbie: All women are hot in their own way. But for me, long legs, a nice rack. Typical guy stuff, I guess.
Was your date everything you expected?
Bobbie: Not exactly. I mean Siobhan was, for sure! The moment I saw her I was hooked. But she also tripped every warning bell I had, too.
Anything you didn’t?
Bobby: Being shot at was a real buzzkill. Having my teammates come rescue us with Siobhan wrapped in only a sheet wasn’t fun either. The jackasses still haven’t let me forget it.
All right, let’s get to the quickies. Everyone likes the quickies.
Damsel in Distress or Xena, Warrior Princess?
T or A?
Boxers or briefs?
Southern Belles or Northern Babes?
Ever had a little demon tail?
Bobby: No. But I’ve kicked some demon as— um, tail.
What? It’s a legitimate question. I’ve really been doing my best lately to behave, but such hotness sitting across from me, and well, I regress a teeny bit. I’m a lover, not a fighter. Okay, okay, so I have been known to shove the occasional date into lava and torment the damned, but I have my reasons.
Okay, that pretty much kills our time like a sniper with a bullet.
Stop by next month and see who sitting in the hot seat. Thanks for stopping by Bobby, oh, and one last question for the road.
You’re traveling to Singapore on the Oriental Express. You see a little man hobble toward the baggage cars and go inside. You go after him to tell him the sleepers are in the other direction, only to find him tearing through luggage. When you ask him what he’s doing, he turns around and you realize the old dude isn’t old at all. In fact, he’s not a dude. The woman has a twelve inch blade and lunges for you. All you have in your pockets are chopsticks from the lo mien you’d been eating and floss, because you have fantastic dental hygiene.
You’re too far from the exit to get to it before she gets to you and guts you like a fish. What do you do?
Bobby: First off, we Pararescuemen are trained in hand-to-hand combat. This princess doesn’t stand a chance with her pointy fingernail file. And it’s not like I can just ignore her or call train security. I glance at the baggage she’d been digging through. Oh, sh*t, there’s weapon’s grade uranium in there. Must have been what she’d been after. Now we’re talking national security. The b*tch is going down. I just wait for her lunge, disarm her, and hog tie her with a belt from one of the bags she’d been rifling through. From another suitcase, I grab a sock and stuff it in her mouth. Whipping out my chopsticks from my back pocket, I stick them between her teeth (so she can’t spit out the sock), and tie them behind her head with the floss. Now that she’s secure, I call the train security officer and report the threat to national security.
Thanks for stopping by today, Bobby. To hear more about how this hunky military man’s date went, pick up your copy of the tell-all exclusive, In My Sights, at