Ordnance disposal master craftsman sacrificed his safety to save lives

  • Published
  • By Jeremy Gerlach
  • JBSA-Lackland Public Affairs
JOINT BASE SANA NTONIO-LACKLAND, Texas --  

In the sands of Iraq, where hostile explosive devices lurk inches under the surface, every step an explosive ordinance disposal master craftsman takes could be their last.

In the fourth installment of the Airman Heritage Museum’ Enlisted Character Development series, retired Senior Master Sgt. Paul Horton told an audience of Airmen that EOD master craftsmen only have one question to ask themselves: "How many people can I save before I go? How much more can I give?"

Horton’s speech, held at Joint Base San Antonio Lackland Pfingston Reception Center Oct. 26, focused on the theme of "sacrifice."

Horton recalled harrowing stories about near-death experiences in Iraq that he fought through to rescue countless lives of American and coalition forces. The stories captivated an audience of more than 100 Airmen in attendance.

Billed as the "Indestructible Airman" in a 2011 Air Force recruiting campaign, Horton served on multiple military operations: Southern Watch, Northern Watch, Allied Force, Enduring Freedom and Iraqi Freedom. He completed more than 1,500 combat missions, 65 Secret Service missions, 18 emergency responses and destroyed more than 68,000 pounds of enemy explosives.

"Being an EOD tech first resonated with me because the job is to protect people," Horton explained. "It’s like a chess game with the enemy."

Horton, who retired from the Air Force in 2015, was awarded the Bronze Star with three devices, the Purple Heart with one device and the Air Force Meritorious Service Medal for his service, among other honors.

For all his medals, Horton is able to sound off his scars just as quickly.

Horton sustained brain damage, severe bruising, cuts, an unhinged jaw and nerve dislocation, all from countless brushes with explosives, rocket-propelled grenades and small arms fire.

After each injury he sustained, Horton surprised his fellow Airmen by requesting to return to duty, returning to Iraq once and then Afghanistan twice after taking blows that temporarily knocked him out of the war.

"Sacrifice … means taking the missions no one else would," Horton said. "I felt the Air Force could put me in a no-win situation, and there was still a chance for me to get us out alive."

Horton told the crowd he made a choice early on in his career not to start delegating the danger of diffusing roadside bombs to other technicians.

"As a senior master sergeant, I could have just sat at a desk, done paperwork and sent someone else out there into the field," Horton explained. "But I belonged out there, making those decisions myself."

As Horton detailed the peaks and valleys of his EOD career, one mission in January 2, 2006, stuck out to him as a turning point.

Horton’s EOD team was on a roll that day after successfully destroying a series of bombs planted at a small school with no loss of life. After months of dangerous missions, lives lost that left the group "feeling jinxed and cursed," saving the school seemed to be the breakthrough they’d been waiting for, Horton noted.

"That day, our team was knocking it out of the park," Horton recalled. "We were stoked, it finally felt like victory – and on our way back, that’s when the Humvee in front of us got blown up."

Horton’s two-vehicle convoy was under mortar attack and small arms fire from nearby insurgents tracking the team from behind. The explosion flipped the vehicle in front of Horton’s; trapping several Airmen inside and temporarily disrupting the team’s communications. Horton was facing seemingly impossible odds.

 

"If there was a button I could have pressed to just not be there – to save myself – I would have pressed it," Horton said. "We were outnumbered, we were alone, and there was no one coming to save us."

 

That’s when a strange thought kicked in, Horton continued.

 

"Get everyone out alive," Horton thought. "And so we did."

 

After setting up triage for the wounded, and unpinning an Airman from beneath the Humvee, Horton refused morphine to deal with a severe wound so he could remain intelligible enough to secure a radio and direct a medevac rescue operation to his team’s location.

 

Horton may have gotten everybody on his team out alive that day, but he still doesn’t take credit for the rescue.

 

"I want to say it was me out there saving those people, but it was the job," Horton explained. "My job, my uniform, it just took over. It wasn’t Paul Horton out there, it was an Airman saving those people. In those moments, when all you want to do is to not be in danger, duty takes over."

 

That philosophy – uniform before self – helped guide Horton through countless other scrapes with death and danger. Instead of measuring his life and his career in terms of what he had accomplished, Horton began measuring himself based on how many lives he could save, regardless of his own safety.

 

Horton urged Airmen to take that message of sacrifice and selflessness to heart.

 

"Your value, your self-worth, it’s not what you have suffered, and it’s not what you have lost," Horton said. "It’s what you still have left to give."