*Airman Jason Troup about to go on another mission. (Afghanistan, 2009.)*

Red was quiet.

Unusually quiet.

He rarely spoke, and didn't make comments on a topic unless he was asked to directly.

Maybe he was just being professional and respectful. After all, Red (a.k.a. Airman Jason Troup, back then) was a junior enlisted Airman at the time, and I was a Captain. Maybe Red was just doing what most Airmen do in the presence of officers -- keep a low profile, and stay out of trouble. I know this philosophy served me well during my time as an enlisted Marine.

But, no. As we went through pre-deployment training in preparation for our stint in Afghanistan, I got the sense that Red's silence was more of an introvert's defense mechanism. I suspect his shyness was the result of a judgmental world -- one where people wrongly assumed he wasn't as talented or as capable as others. Or maybe people could tell he wasn't from a rich family, and therefore assumed he wasn't as sophisticated.

I saw myself in Red, as we had some things in common. Before joining the military, life did what life does. Things weren't great for me as a teenager; I joined looking for a sense of belonging and purpose. I was hoping to be with people who cared less about how I looked or my social flaws, and focused more on what I could do. I chose the Marines after high school; I assume Red joined the Air Force for similar reasons.

On paper, Red was a network communications Airman. But this was Afghanistan; nobody cared what our "official" job titles were anymore. The Air Force was heavily promoting the concept of Provincial Reconstruction Teams -- a joint mix of diplomats, military forces and construction expertise aimed at stabilizing Afghanistan. Our small team was helping to build schools, hospitals and roads in Afghanistan. This meant each person on the team would do whatever job was needed at the time. We had supply Airmen trained to drive armored vehicles in convoys with our Army sisters and brothers. We had administrative Airmen performing civil affairs and community engagements with our French allies.

I was the team's public affairs / media relations officer, but I was also leading the information operations effort. Charged with wearing two hats, but also needing to document all combat missions, I needed help. I deputized Red as an honorary Public Affairs Airman. Although everyone on the team was armed with a rifle and handgun, Red would also be armed with a camera.

When I told him my plan, Red just smiled and said "Yes, Sir!"

I could tell he was looking forward to the new experience (particularly because our little forward operating base didn't have a lot of connectivity in need of fixing.) We took turns going on missions, which freed me up to tackle other matters. I was grateful for his help, and appreciated his willingness to learn anything new, even when it was not in his comfort zone. Red did what needed to be done, often quietly, but always eagerly.

Red takes pride in helping others, and he loves learning.

He also loves the Pittsburg Steelers.

The only thing Red would get EXTREMELY vocal about was his beloved Steelers. He's from Butler, Pennsylvania (about 30 minutes north of Pittsburgh). He represents his team with a fury and passion that only the likes of Steven A. Smith, Skip Bayless or Jamelle Hill could appreciate.

The Steelers are Red's thing. THAT's his thing that forces his voice to trumpet the loudest. Red would defend the Steelers in a conversation with anyone, at any time. It did not matter that the conversation included senior officers who outranked him. It did not matter that we were in a middle of a small Afghan village where Taliban might be waiting for us (so it was not a good time to engage in sports talk).

For someone known to be quiet, I admired how Red showed NO fear about speaking up on behalf of what he's passionate about. If you were talking s&!t about the Pittsburg Steelers, you were going to hear from Red. On sight. Loudly. Every. Single. Time.

Our Army security forces loved talking sports to pass the time on long convoys; I was glad Red was sitting in the back of the trucks with them.

Until the IED hit.

I was back at base when the Ops team reported the convoy was attacked by an IED. The MRAPS did what they were designed to do by deflecting most of the blast and protecting life inside, but we still had a few Airmen and Soldiers injured. Those of us at base waited for what seemed like an eternity for the team to return after medically evacuating the injured and cleaning up the blast site. We were all saddened to learn about our injured, but I was grateful to learn Red was okay. (His truck was next to the one that took the direct hit.)

I asked Red how he was feeling. He didn't say much. I didn't press him, wanting to give him time to deal with what he just experienced. Instead, I asked the convoy commander, who was also a victim of the attack, how Red held up. He told me Red jumped into action after the blast, camera at the ready, capturing imagery from within the vehicle and then documenting the scene outside.

He documented the aftermath of the blast at the source.

*Photo by Staff Sergeant Jason Troup (USAF, retired)*

He documented our Army security forces establishing a perimeter to protect the team.

He capturing imagery of the medical evacuation.

*A member of PRT Kapisa is medically evacuated after an IED attack, Afghanistan 2009. (Photo by Staff Sergeant Jason Troup)*

As a public affairs officer, I was so proud of Red. This is the LITERAL definition of "combat camera," and he excelled when tested. For the next several weeks, it seemed like everyone wanted a piece of Red's imagery. The intelligence folks needed pics. The medical group needed pics. The Operations teams needed pics for their briefings to senior leaders. Thanks to his work, analysts could learn more about the enemy and those affected by the attack would have imagery to support any medical treatments, appropriate award recognition and future VA disability claims.

Along with the heroes who suffered injuries during the attack, Red became somewhat of a miniature celebrity in my eyes. After that, no one seemed to care about how quiet he normally was, and any misperceptions about how capable he was simply vanished. There was no questioning or judging Red any more.

He showed everyone what he could do.

Red went on to continue serving long after we left Afghanistan. Although I haven't seen him in person lately, we stayed in touch via socials (as people often do.) He's earned his Bachelor's degree in Computer Networks and Cyber Security, and he recently retired after 20 years of honorable military service! It's clear he's been showing people what he can do ever since, and is showing no signs of slowing down after taking off the uniform. One thing's for sure:

Red is not quiet anymore.

If anyone is looking for a knowledgable network guy, you can't go wrong with Staff Sergeant Jason Troup (USAF, retired). He comes battle tested and highly recommended. (Just keep your ^&@#! mouth SHUT when it comes to the Pittsburg Steelers.)

=====

Red:

Congratulations on making it across the finish line. Out of the many people who volunteer to support and defend the constitution of the United States, few of us choose to make it a career, and doing so is not easy.

THANK YOU for your service to our nation, and thank you for your Airmanship during our time together in the 'stan. I'm proud to have served with you, and as a recently-retired Airmen myself, I wish you the best in this next chapter of your life.

We're in this together. Here we go!

-- Darrick

Thank you, Red. Here we go!

Asante, Kenya. Asante.