Matthew Allen: Lessons Past Mach Two

 

 Photo of Matt Allen by Sharren Allen.

 

            The two jets flew alone, without Navy support. First Lt. Matthew D. Allen fired anti-radiation missiles, disabling enemy defenses before they could lock onto the aircraft, while his wingman, call sign “Chaos,” dropped 2,000-pound bombs on the production facility. On the return flight, they maneuvered wildly to evade Iraqi targeting systems.

 Allen was 23 when he flew combat missions during the 2003 invasion of Iraq. In March, he served as a wingman on a strike mission near Baghdad. Flying alongside his more experienced wingman, Allen targeted surface-to-air missile sites and a missile production plant. 

            “They sent just the two of us out there,” he said. 

     From left to right: Ralf, Slider, Goat (Matt Allen), Chaos. 

     Photo from Matt Allen, unknown photographer.

Flying under combat scenarios requires calmness and total dedication. Allen surpassed his peers' skills and made critical decisions under the impossible pressure of conflict. Like a select few other meritorious pilots, he received a prestigious military decoration for gallantry under fire.

My uncle showed me his Air Medal certificate. The golden seal, shaped like a sun and flanked by an eagle clutching lightning bolts, crowns a document awarding Allen the Air Medal. It reads: “This is to certify that the president of the United States of America, authorized by executive order, May 11, 1942, has awarded the Air Medal to First Lieutenant Matthew D. Allen, given under my hand 4 September 2003.” signed by Lt. Gen. Walter E. Buchanan III of the U.S. Air Force.

            There was never any doubt that Allen would end up in the cockpit of a fighter jet. His mother, Sharren Allen, said that she always knew her youngest son would grow up and fly planes. “All he wanted to do was go out to the airport… [he] had a passion for it, so young,” she said.

            Allen attended the Air Force Academy in Colorado Springs, Colorado, from 1995 to 1999, where he learned to fly and earned his callsign, Goat. The Academy offered a series of leadership programs, and Allen trained as a glider instructor, teaching young cadets the fundamentals of flight. 

            “It’s incredible,” he said. “You’re looking at the Rockies, the lakes, Pikes Peak.” 

            Though gliding seems basic compared to modern jets, Allen called the experience formative. He likened it to the training that helped the pilot in the movie “Miracle on the Hudson” successfully land a plane with no engines on the Hudson River. Those basic skills could mean the difference between life and death, and they served him well throughout the rest of his career.

            After graduation, Allen ranked among the top cadets selected to fly the F-16. He trained for seven months in Phoenix, learning to fly the exclusive fighter jets.

            Allen graduated from training two days before the attack on the World Trade Center.

            “Everything changed after 9/11,” Allen said. 

            Before the war on terror, deployments were uncertain. No one knew where they would go. Afterward, many pilots expected assignments in Iraq, Qatar, and Afghanistan. Allen’s first deployment took him to Kunsan Air Base in South Korea.

            In the spring of 2002, after a year in South Korea, he returned to Germany, preparing to deploy to the Middle East with his peers. He anticipated his chance to fight for freedom. Allen and the rest of the squadron were stationed in Qatar in January 2003 after Saudi Arabia refused to host U.S. combat aircraft. 

            At the time, the U.S. had not established a base there. Allen spent six months living in a tent while flying combat missions, clocking around 150 flight combat hours. He spent a further six months on the ground in Afghanistan before leaving the Middle East.

            Allen spent the remainder of his career testing the F-22 Raptor, a next-generation stealth fighter with radar-absorbent coating and an almost undetectable design. 

                “You go from being the size of a pickup truck in an F-16 to the size of a BB,” he said, speaking about the F-22’s near invisibility on radar. 

            The F-22 is one of the most sophisticated fighter jets in the world, able to cruise faster and higher than most other crafts. In one training exercise, Allen flew an F-22 against eight F-16s. 

            “In a minute and thirty seconds, they were all dead,” he said. 

            The aircraft’s speed and stealth left his adversaries with little time to respond. Its price matched its combat prowess. Allen recalled picking up a new jet in Georgia and signing a government check for $120 million. It was machine power on a scale and at a cost that few people understand.

            Allen said that the lessons he learned in the Air Force came at a cost. He lost around thirty friends in accidental or combat-related incidents. The losses came steadily, every year or two, some from within his own squadron.

Matt Allen flying an F-22. Photo by Sharren Allen.

            “When they took their last flight, they didn’t know it was their last,” he said. 

            The experience reshaped his outlook. 

            “Life is very short,” he said.

            Allen also gained a new perception of foreign policy. The U.S. bombed Iraq heavily during the invasion. At the time, Allen anticipated the fight, eager to risk his life in air missions and spread American ideals of justice and freedom. Now he questions the extent of U.S. foreign intervention. “We pour in money, and blood, and effort,” he said. “But not every country wants to be like the U.S.” Some resources spent abroad, he said, might be better spent at home. 

            Today, Allen still flies, but under different circumstances. Sharren Allen remembered several near-death experiences Allen had before he left the Air Force. “He’s had nine lives. It was time to get out of the military,” she said. After finishing his eventful two-decade career, he became a commercial pilot for Delta Air Lines, now carrying passengers instead of weapons. The sky is the same, but his understanding is not.