August–September 2015; Bangor, ME; Copenhagen, Denmark
Six hours after launching out of the northernmost military airfield in the US and soaring high above the icy, white-capped waters of the Arctic, we entered Danish airspace. Snuggled up tightly on our lead jet, we peeled off the massive Omega tanker that had safely escorted and refueled us for the duration of our long transatlantic flight. It was late afternoon and the shadows were growing longer as we descended over the beautiful Danish farmlands that looked like a hand-sewn quilt of rich, Indian summer colors. When we checked in with the tower at Roskilde—our final destination—the air-show director requested a low-fast flyby of the field before we came in to land. We knew there would be some Boeing support crews and air-show organizers there to meet us, but we had no idea the degree to which the press and public would also be involved.
As we landed and taxied up to the ramp, a large crowd had assembled with a sizable press corps. Reporters love pilots, so WSOs usually take a backseat, both in the plane and when talking to press. So when I popped open the canopy and stood on the wing to stretch my legs, I was glad to know that of the four of us, I would not be in the spotlight. But as my helmet came off, my braid came loose, and my blond hair spilled out across my shoulders, I could hear a murmur ripple through the crowd. I didn’t know it at the time, but there was only one female jet pilot in the entire Danish air force, and if you’ve ever been to Scandinavia, you know that Danes and Scandinavians in general are some of the most progressive people on earth. I’m sure they expected to see a square-jawed American military man with a buzz cut, and yet the first person getting out of the arriving jet was a tall blond woman that looked like them.
I climbed down the ladder, and the next thing I knew, three cameras and an ice-cold can of Carlsberg were thrust in my face.
“Open it.” The reporter nodded at the beer with a smile. Parched from dehydrating myself so I wouldn’t have to pee during the flight, and not wanting to be rude, I obliged. I popped the top and took a nice long swig, not even thinking about the fact that I was on camera. I answered a few of their questions, telling them how excited we were to visit their country, and I posed with my pilot and our plane for a few more shots.
“That was quite the welcome! No one warned us to expect such a crowd on landing,” I said as we piled into the Boeing van headed to our hotel.
“Oh yeah, the Europeans go crazy every time we bring jets over.” Boeing’s media director chuckled. “Your arrival and interviews are going to be on the ten o’clock news tonight. Did you see the helicopter filming you when you buzzed the tower?”
“What? They were airborne for our flyby?” I was surprised that I didn’t see the helo, but then it dawned on me that they were flying above us because we were so low, and I was only looking for contacts on or below our altitude. “If I would have known about the welcome party, I would have at least touched up my makeup before climbing out of the jet. The oxygen mask is killer on the complexion,” I joked.
“No need to worry,” the Boeing rep said. “There will be plenty of opportunities for you to shine, Miss Duchess,” he said, misconstruing my call sign “Dutch” and giving me a knowing wink. I could tell we were going to have a great trip.
But it wasn’t all play. We showed off our jets at the air show and spoke with the Danish fans about the F/A-18’s capabilities. We worked the different events and stood safety watches in the tower for our demonstration and VIP flights. To my surprise, I was asked to help Boeing’s executive vice president of military aircraft sales and Boeing’s lead test pilot talk to the Danish defense minister about our beloved jet.
We spent almost an hour escorting him through the simulator and showing him the F/A-18 Super Hornet. The Boeing VP did most of the talking, but the Danish minister had some doubts about the Super Hornet’s performance in combat and was concerned how well the jet performed in combat and against high-level air-to-air threats like the Russian fighter jets.
Before the VP could answer the minister, I interjected. “Ma’am?” I asked while stepping forward in the circle that we were standing in. “If you don’t mind, I think I can speak to the minister’s question.”
“Dutch, absolutely,” she said, turning the stage over to me.
I thanked the Boeing VP and turned my attention to the minister and his entourage. “Sir, I recently flew this jet in combat in Afghanistan, Iraq, and Syria, employing air-to-ground ordnance—specifically bombs and missiles—so I have experienced its capabilities and versatility firsthand. The two-seat setup with the current software package and sensor configuration make the Super Hornet an incredibly effective weapons platform in opposing the current threats we’re facing in the Middle East. The systems are intuitive and combat-proven and enable crews to seamlessly integrate with all the coalition forces to quickly and accurately deliver weapons on dynamic targets. When prosecuting ISIS targets, we were as fast and lethal as any other platforms out there, regardless of rank or experience of their aviators versus ours.”
“How quickly can one of your aviators complete training and then employ weapons in combat?” the minister asked.
“The day our pilots and WSOs complete our F/A-18 training syllabus, they are worldwide deployable and are capable of flying in combat and unleashing devastating effects on the enemy. I think the Danish would benefit from integrating into our existing F/A-18 training programs like the British are.”
“Interesting…” He thought for a second. “What about air-to-air? We are having major issues with aggressive Russian fighters, and I’ve heard that the F-35 is the only jet that can go against them.”
“I also have extensive experience with air-to-air engagements as a combat division lead and mission commander, so I can understand your concerns about the Russians. Without getting into classified aspects of the jet, I can tell you that we have an upgraded radar suite in the Super Hornet that is extremely capable. We train to fight the highest-level threats and are consistently able to detect, lock, and shoot the enemy before they even know we’re there. Daily, we smoke our most capable adversaries in realistic training scenarios. Trust me when I say the Russians are no match for the F/A-18’s technology or tactics.”
After I answered a few more questions, we wrapped the meeting. Afterward, back at the hotel, I realized I had commandeered the latter half of the discussion and was worried that I’d said too much. I tried to shrug it off and went down to the bar to join the Boeing crew.
Should have shut up, I told myself, and ordered a martini, angry that I had let my guard down and opened up. I thought about Beans somehow hearing about this lapse, and envisioned him chastising me about overstepping.
I was silently berating myself, hunched over the bar, starting my cocktail when I heard my name.
“Dutch.” I turned to see the VP from Boeing approaching me. The woman—yes, woman—who ran sales for all of Boeing’s military aircraft, including the F/A-18 Super Hornet. “That was incredible what you did earlier,” she said. “You were spot-on when you spoke to the defense minister.”
I had grown so accustomed to doubting myself that it took me a moment to process her words and recognize the compliment. “Thank you, ma’am.” I sighed, relieved. I sipped my martini and instantly felt the muscles in my back loosen. “Glad I could help.”
“But I want to know, how did you know what to say?” She put one hand on her hip and gestured with the other.
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“No one from our team prepped you or told you to say those things?” She stepped toward me and lowered her voice. “I’m in sales. I do these meet and greets all the time. No Navy guy we’ve ever pulled up has performed as well as you did. You said exactly what the minister wanted to hear. You broke it down so he could understand the jet, and you relayed the capabilities better than most people who’ve been in the business for years.”
“Well, thank you, ma’am.” I straightened up at the bar. “I’m passionate about these machines. The Super Hornet is an incredibly capable jet. I love flying it, so I just told him the truth.”
The executive took a little breath in and started to say something, and then stopped. “Thank you … thank you for being honest.”
A month later I heard from the VP, telling me that our conversation with the defense minister turned the tide of the deal, and Denmark was reconsidering buying the F/A-18. And that if I ever wanted a job with Boeing, she would have me.