Learning to Fly

"You've got the aircraft, Jessica. Let's go find another hog."

"I've got the aircraft."

"I don't want you looking at anything inside this aircraft---or thinking about anything inside this aircraft. Chase the hog; follow him like your life depends on it---as if you're tied to his tail. There's one! Three o'clock. Go get him!"

It took a couple of hogs for her to stop over-thinking things and get into the game andfly instead ofoperating the bird. Almost an hour later as he took control of the chopper back, she was giggling almost uncontrollably.

"That was fun!" she exclaimed, turning toward him, grinning from ear to ear...so pretty in the moonlight...so damn cute...absolutely adorable.

"If only we could go to war against dumb animals in open fields on moonlit nights. Look, Jessica, sometimes all of the technology gets in the way. The night vision equipment is far from perfect, although sometimes I fear it provides too much---not to mention distorted---information. You can't fly visual on night vision equipment and fly the instruments---that's why we have two pilots assigned to this aircraft.

"You're a very good instrument pilot; as a result, when you get a little disoriented you try to fallback on the instruments and depend on them---which you can't do low level over the trees when it's pitch black. You need to be flying ninety-five percent visual with maybe five percent instruments---and even at that, don't forget that you have another pilot with you. When you verify with the instruments don't try to check everything every time---altitude, attitude and airspeed. Use your co-pilot and prioritize. Don't over correct minor attitude, airspeed and altitude changes. Ready to try it again?"

"Yes, sir."

"You have the aircraft."

Things went much better right from the start. An hour later, Major Davis was confident that Jessica had turned the corner in her learning process. If she continued to progress over the next two flight sessions, he'd be able to sign her off as night, nap-of-the-earth qualified. He took control of the aircraft and flew the short distance back to their field base. Following the paper work and a quick walk around inspection of the helicopter, the two of them walked in silence back toward the operations hut.

It was the hot season; in spite of the environmental control system in the new bird it had been warm in the cockpit. It had been a stressful training exercise for the young lieutenant. She had perspired more profusely than he had and he could smell it. It wasn't remotely an unpleasant odor. Just for an instant, it made his dick twitch alarmingly. She smelled like a woman...just like a grown woman is supposed to smell. His mind wandered for a moment as he pictured her in different attire and in a very different setting. Just as quickly he was back in control...and back in command.

"Thank you, sir. I honestly felt like I was really flying for the first time...ever? Sometimes I---we---get so caught up in the procedures and..."

"And we probably violated more flight rules than I can count, Lieutenant. I'm glad it worked for you. Let's keep it our little secret---if you have no objections?"

"Yes, sir---I mean no, sir! Mum's the word."

"Go get some shut eye, LT. I know I'm going to."

"Yes, sir. See you in the morning, sir."

His was to be a six month command since there were lots of other young majors chomping at the bit to get their tickets punched. Two weeks before the change of command was slated, he felt damn good about what he had accomplished. The unit was running smoothly, leaders had been identified and promoted to leadership positions and the young commissioned officers were finally learning that the old warrants were a vital asset and a wealth of knowledge.

He had miscalculated his years of rated service. Evidently---and he wasn't going to argue---the clock had continued to run for at least part of the time he had been a civilian so he received his orders designating him a Master Aviator several months before he had expected it. The division commander, a two star, wanted to personally pin the coveted wings on his uniform in front of the entire company.

He had asked the Major General if he would like to pin the new Captain's bars on his newest platoon leader, Jessica Wainwright.

"She's going to be a platoon leader? She's certainly not senior since she's being promoted today," the two star had asked and stated.

"She more than up to the job. LT Wainwright is an exceptional officer, a no nonsense leader and a stellar command pilot. Even my warrants agreed unanimously that there's not another Captain in the unit not already in a platoon slot who is ready or qualified. No equal opportunity or affirmative action in play here, sir. She's head and shoulders above the competition. She is very special."

"You always check with your warrants before you promote a commissioned officer to an important leadership position, Major?"

"As well as my senior NCOs, my XO and my existing platoon leaders, General."

"Good for you, Major. Let's get those new wings on you and those railroad tracks on your newest platoon leader."

He would be going to a staff job as soon as his command was over but where exactly had not been determined. He'd done battalion and brigade staff as a warrant officer. A Battalion S3 (Operations and Training) or executive officer slot would be appropriate for his career path but who knew?

It was a shame they were living in the field in an increasingly dangerous backward country. Jessica would not be in his chain of command in two weeks and was about to be promoted. He could have dated her, assuming she was even interested in him in that way without any violation of the rules once the chain of command relationship changed. They'd never flirted; other young female officers in the company had come on to him on occasion but he'd brushed it off as harmless. The truth was none of the others interested him the way she did.

He genuinely liked her but that had had nothing to do with making her a platoon leader. She was an exceptional young officer who learned quickly and wasn't afraid to take charge or take risks even if it meant being unpopular.

***

"Congratulations, Captain---on both your promotion to Captain and appointment as platoon leader. You deserve it." said one of the other female officers later that morning as they ate together in the company dining facility.

"Thanks, Sharon! That means a lot coming from you."

"Have you got any scuttlebutt on who our new CO is going to be?"

"Not a clue but whoever he is he's going to have some pretty big shoes to fill."

"You got that right! My God, I was playing with Barbie when the Major first flew in combat and he's not even that old! He certainly doesn't look old. I've got to say under different circumstances---hell! Under any circumstances...I mean...he's...hot!"

"Get your mind out of the gutter, girl. I don't think we knew at first how damn lucky we were to have him as our first CO. He's a great commander...I know I've learned a hell of a lot from him---about flying and leadership. I'll miss him...we all will."

"Be honest now, Jessica, if we were back in the states and you had the opportunity..."

"Would I go out with him?"

"Yeah."

"I guess...if he asked me. We're only eight years apart in age and...he's cute. I don't really know him---I mean I know him as my CO and all that but not as a...man. Who knows? We might not have a thing in common. I don't have any sense that I'm his type or that he's remotely interested in me in that way. Maybe there's a girl back home...who knows?"

"Lucky girl, whoever she is."

"Maybe, but keep in mind that we only see the professional side of him and as attractive as that may be..."

"Inside he's really an asshole?"

"I'd find that hard to believe but he plays it pretty close to the vest which I guess is what you have to do when you're in command. It has to be hard on guys of his generation dealing with women officers and aviators—always on your guard to be sure you don't say or do something that will be misconstrued. Up to now, I've been just another LT in the flock. Now as a platoon leader I guess I'll get to know him a little better...maybe get some idea of what really makes him tick---although only for another two weeks."

***

Fate would extend Major Davis' command. The balloon went up, the shit hit the fan, the rebels came pouring out of the bushes and full scale war broke out threatening to unseat the duly elected, albeit weak government and sow the seeds of anarchy. It happened two days before the change of command was scheduled. The senior commanders agreed that all changes of command would be put on hold until the crisis at least became manageable.

Under what would later become known as the Powell Doctrine, the U.S. had strong international support and allies and an overwhelming if largely untested force in place. There were problems; equipment didn't always work as well as one might have hoped. Confusion reigned supreme in the early hours as the fog of war and the enemy's actions disrupted carefully prepared plans.

People got wounded; people died. The unit performed their missions admirably. Four weeks later the conflict was essentially over. The rebel forces had been killed or driven back into the bushes. The indigenous forces performed better than had been expected and were actively pursuing the rebels into their safe zones and killing or capturing them with ample logistics and air support from the U.S. and allied forces.

In short order the majority of the allied forces would depart, leaving a small contingent of aviators, security elements, advisors and civil affairs components. The lessons learned from the conflict would prove invaluable in preparing the equipment, training and tactics of the U.S. forces for future conflicts.

It was during that month that the unit gained a true understanding of how lucky they were to have Major Davis at the helm. He was an exceptional combat leader. The unit would receive numerous unit and individual citations for their expertise, devotion to duty, mission performance and sheer bravery. All agreed that it was the Major who was the glue that held it together---the force which made it all work.

Jessica Wainwright began to gain a better appreciation of the man behind the gold oak leaf clusters. Her respect and admiration for him grew exponentially as she watched him command from the close up vantage point of a direct subordinate. Little did she know that she would someday command an aviation unit; she would in fact be the first woman aviator selected to command a line unit of the same type. She would be an exceptional commander. It would be the critical lessons she had learned during those few short weeks of combat under Jim Davis' tutelage which she would apply again and again in her own command years later.

Disaster struck. It had been pegged as a routine, albeit critical re-supply mission. Delays in on and off loading supplies coupled with the desire to get one last load to the local forces still facing sporadic contact with the rebels had resulted in the final drop off being completed just as darkness fell.

Jim Davis was in command of that single ship mission not only because he led from the front but because when the unscheduled re-supply call had come in, virtually all of the other command pilots in the unit were either already on missions or well over their twenty-four hour flight maximums.

The pilot who should have taken the mission was inexperienced and green. The mission was in unfamiliar territory. Major Davis had looked into his young pilot's eyes and made the decision. Dismissing the co-pilot, he'd taken command of the mission. What he then saw in his young pilot's eyes was a sense of relief, not disappointment.

Coming out from their last drop off, they took heavy automatic weapons fire. Damaged but still serviceable, they attempted to climb out to a safer altitude when the rocket propelled grenade exploded, disabling their tail rotor. Miraculously, the crippled ship stayed in the air, desperately trying to get to open ground where an emergency landing might be survivable.

Less than a kilometer from an open area that might have afforded them a relatively safe landing, the multiple failing systems and puncture lines took their toll and the aircraft started going down to the horror of the observers on the ground. When last seen, it had crashed into the thick woodland canopy only a few hundred yards from a clearing.

Based on the reports from the observers on the ground, higher command delayed dispatching an Air Force search and rescue team. It was night time, the weather was deteriorating, the terrain was inhospitable and in the absence of any emergency radio beacon, it was assumed that all on board had been lost. Some worthless, fat assed desk driver said,fuck 'em.

In the last big war, a rescue team would have been sent out regardless of the situation and sadly, too many times the rescue chopper succumbed to the same fate as those they were trying to save. In an attempt to preclude further casualties and cover their ass, higher command elected to respond gutlessly---in spite of the fact that the air rescue crew wanted to go.

Shortly after the word reached the unit within minutes of the crash, Captain Jessica Wainwright was in a heated discussion with the company executive officer.

"This is bullshit, Sharon! The fucking Air FARCE pussied out on attempting a rescue? What the hell is that all about?"

"I just got off the horn with Air Force Search and Rescue. They claim they were cranked and loaded when they got the order from the Army to stand down. I've already pretty much put my ass and career on the line---all the way up to Division and they wouldn't budge. The Air Force guys are as pissed off as I am---you are...we all are. A bunch of bullshit about additional casualties, weather, nightfall no emergency radio signal...no one alive to activate it...worst case assumption. No rescue attempt, a recovery attempt tomorrow after daybreak. Friendly ground troops are working their way toward the crash site---won't get there until morning."

The first sergeant stuck his head in the door. "Ma'am?"

"What is it, First Sergeant?"

"There are a couple of Air Force enlisted men out here that need to talk to you, Captain."

"Send 'em in."

"What are you fellows doing in my compound?" the XO asked acerbically.

"Frankly, ma'am, we're UA (Unauthorized Absence)---AWOL, although our Major---unofficially of course---knows where we are. We're para-jumpers assigned to Search and Air Rescue. Our boss has been told he will face a court martial if he attempts to take off in the Jolly Green. We're here to offer our services."

"Wait a minute! Sharon, did anyone specifically order you not to attempt a rescue?" Jessica inquired.

"The subject never came up. I was trying to get the Air Force...I never asked for permission to..."

"Look, Sharon, I'll take the fall for this. I'll tell 'em I didn't clear it with you; the first thing you knew, I was taking off and refused to answer the radio."

"Hell, Jessica, I hear Fort Leavenworth (home of the Army's main prison) is great this time of year...probably wasn't going to make Major anyway."

"Let's go, gentlemen. I've already got an aircraft standing by and ready to launch."

"You're flying the mission, ma'am?"

"I'm the best fucking night pilot in this unit---other than the Major---and he's not available. I've got one of my best senior warrant officer aviators in the other seat. Grab your shit and let's get moving."

"Yes, ma'am," the two Air Force enlisted men replied in unison.

Twenty-five minutes later the Army chopper approached the edge of the woodlands.

"How the hell are we going to find 'em, Ed?" Jessica said to the man closer to the Major's age than her own sitting beside her.

"Ground observation of a crash is always suspect. By my calculation, they could be anywhere within this 1,000 meter grid square and the canopy is too thick to see the ground. We're going to have to set up a search grid, not more than fifty meters wide and look for signs---hope someone is alive down there and can signal us."

"Ed, you've known the Major longer than I have----back to the last war. What would he have been thinking?"

"Trying to get to an open area but then, once he knew it wasn't going to happen, try to zero it out---in spite of the loss of rudder control--- settle in level...pray they didn't get skewered by a tree."

"Plot a course from their take off---we know which direction they departed. What do you think about starting in the middle of that grid square and working our way out in concentric circles?"

"Makes as much sense as anything. Wait a minute! The Major is a stickler about going over the terrain maps---doesn't fully trust all this modern navigational shit. He might not have attempted the most direct route to the clearing---once he knew he wasn't going to make it. He'd want to avoid crashing through the trees and ending up on the side of a hill and rolling over...he'd look for reasonably level ground---assuming I'm not full of shit and he even had time to think. Fuck, he always has time to think! Jess, let's start righthere." the chief warrant officer said, pointing to a spot on the map.

"You got it!"

Ten minutes later as they circled over the outside edge of what was the largest patch of level ground within the search area, one of the Air Force men in the back shouted over the intercom.

"Stop! Wait! Pivot and go back about seventy-five meters. There! Hold your hover! There are broken branches at our three o'clock almost directly below us and I swear to God I see something flickering down there!"

"We're not going to have enough fuel to do this too many times. How sure are you?"

"I've seen this before, Captain---we've got to give it a shot! Hook me up. I'm going in."

The five people on the helicopter waited for word. The minutes ticked off as if in slow motion.

"Why the hell isn't he talking to us? What the hell?"

And then the most important words Jessica had ever heard crackled inside her helmet.

"I've got 'em! They're alive but pretty beat up. Get that litter down here pronto and send my partner down---I need some help getting one of 'em free from the wreckage and getting 'em stabilized. They're okay! Some broken bones for sure, shock, cut up but alive...no one is bleeding out...no fire."

Ten minutes later the first member of the crew came up in the litter, awake, smiling wanly, his leg and arm splinted and a nasty gash across his cheek. The next two came up in the ensuing minutes in similar condition. Jessica waited anxiously for her commander. She saw the final litter come up. He was awake; he was smiling ever so slightly. As soon as he was on board, he grabbed a headset and spoke.

"Jessica! Ed! Glad you could make it. It's taken me most of the last hour to get out of that Goddamn seat. We hit a little nose low and it crumpled the dashboard so to speak---pinned us both in. I was trying to get Mike out when the cavalry arrived with their special tools; I'm afraid Mike's got a couple of broken legs."

"Why didn't you activate your emergency radio?"

"Well, as you know, we deployed without enough emergency radios---only one per aircraft instead of one per air crew member---and guess who forgot to check the batteries on the one assigned to this bird? Yours truly."

"Are you okay, sir?"

"My back hurts like hell and I have a splitting headache but I'll live. Damn! Almost five thousand hours in the air and I've never crashed one. There goes my spotless record."

The para-jumpers were hoisted back on board. Jessica nosed the aircraft over to head back home. They headed toward the field hospital pad which was actually less than a thousand yards from their own base.