What is the day-to-day life of an Aviation Warrant Officer like?

From an old guy. I wrote this a while back...

Those Navy carrier guys! Yeah, but let them land an underpowered overloaded Huey on a moonless night to a desert mountain top postage stamp size pinnacle that is the same dimensions as the flimsy aluminum skids are square with a twenty minute low fuel light flashing knowing your at least 20 plus minutes away from the nearest FARP all accomplished while wearing heavy and cumbersome night vision googles. As you make the approach to inferred chemical lights, you tell yourself to relax as you realize your choking the cyclic so hard you can no longer feel your fingers because you've cut off all blood circulation to your hand. Through peripheral vision you see the effects of the dry desert air with Saint Elmo's fire dancing along the rotor blades knowing that anyone that touches the aircraft before she is firmly on the ground is going to get zapped hard by static electricity. With the collective almost all the way up under your arm pit, you know this heavy pig won't hover, you've got to take it to the ground or fall out of the sky. The closure rate on the pad feels good and through the goggles the ground starts to become more bright as the dim glow from the aircraft position lights illuminates the area. You slowly decelerate below effective translational lift dust starts to blow from the rotor downwash blurring your forward vision, through years of experience you instinctually change your focus through the chin bubble for the final seconds before touching down. You touchdown with an ever so slight forward nudge as the skids bring the vibrating hulk to a gentle halt, You momentarily celebrate the happy yet nerve wrenching event by taking a very deep breath as you continue your stare down past your jump boots through the dusty chin bubble noting there is nothing for almost four thousand feet into a black abyss. With skids instead of wheels it feels even with the collective fully down like the aircraft is sliding forward towards that cliff like abyss as men and equipment are quickly moved and shifted on the metal floor of the utility helicopter's cargo area. The night is still young and you only have to do this at least ten more times to get the ground pounder's LOG request completed. What's next ammo, water, or rations? As the rusty crusty CW3 Standardization Instructor Pilot trying to appear suave and debonair you look over at the First Lieutenant flying in the right seat wearing the bald headed novice wings of a newly minted Army Aviator and say "After we get some gas, the next ones yours LT"!

Making coffee.

You know, there are other Warrant Officers other than aviation branch... Just saying...