On this Memorial Day, I’m remembering the many people close to me who served and have passed. I’ve written before about my Air Force brothers — Lieutenant Mike Hodge and Captain Tim Shafer. But this one is the hardest, and most meaningful: my Dad.
Major General Bob Patterson, USAF, left us at 89. He was a 33-year Air Force pilot, a Vietnam veteran, a leader at every level, and the first commander of Air Force Special Operations Command (AFSOC). To the world, he was a snake-eating badass. At home, we just knew him as Dad.
Born in Mebane, North Carolina, he attended UNC on an ROTC scholarship. His father had served in the Army, his brothers in the Air Force, so his path was clear. After commissioning, he married his high school sweetheart — my Mom — and I soon arrived. Classic Americana: football captain and cheerleader.
In his soul, Dad was a pilot and a leader. He lost his own father at nine and built himself into the man we knew during some very tough years. He loved his country, loved flying, and loved leading men.
His flying career stretched nearly 70 years. A command pilot with over 12,000 hours — including 293 combat hours — in 53 different aircraft types. Yes, 53.
In Vietnam, he flew AC-130 Spectre gunships out of Thailand, patrolling the Ho Chi Minh Trail alongside legends like Colonel Robin Olds. It was a brutal year for our family. As the oldest child, I became the man of the house in eighth grade. We understood our mission: support Dad and support America.
When he returned, he spoke about combat only once. He showed us the gun camera film. What we saw was brutally impressive. I never saw it again.
He threw himself into the world of special operations. He was involved in the Desert One hostage rescue mission and was devastated when it failed. In 1983, he served as the senior Air Force officer during Operation Urgent Fury in Grenada.
His command assignments were extraordinary: two Numbered Air Forces (21st and 23rd), Air Force component commander for two unified commands, Airlift Division commander, two Tactical Airlift Wings, a Tactical Airlift Squadron, and the first Commander of AFSOC —overseeing all Air Force special operations, combat search and rescue, weather reconnaissance, and more. It was in his blood.
But above all, he was my Dad — the father of three, grandfather of seven, great-grandfather of four, my mentor, and my best friend. He taught me that leadership is not management. That lesson shaped my entire Air Force career and my life.
We only flew together once. As a general, he needed an instructor pilot for a four-day C-141 mission. We bet beers on every landing. I won. 😎
He took me to my first baseball game, he taught me how to drive, he commissioned me, he pinned my wings on, and he was an incredible mentor and one that I relied on constantly when I began assuming commands.
Dad lived with quiet strength, unwavering duty, and a love for his family that eclipsed even his legendary career. From the cockpit of a gunship over Southeast Asia to commanding America’s most elite special operators, he embodied service to something greater than himself. It’s rare these days.
He never sought the spotlight, but everyone who flew with him, served under him, or was raised by him knew exactly who he was: a man of integrity, humility, and courage.
On this Memorial Day, as we honor those who gave everything, I also celebrate a warrior who came home, built a family, and raised the next generation of patriots. He showed me that real leadership means lifting others up, making the hard calls, and never forgetting the people who count on you — whether in the squadron or at the dinner table.
I miss you every single day, Dad. Your lessons still guide me, your stories still make me laugh, and your example still inspires me. Thank you for your service to our nation and for being the best father a son could ever have.
Rest easy, General. We’ve got the watch.
