The Boys in Blue Ch. 07

Part 7. The boys in blue.

Alan led the way down the corridor, until he stopped at the door.

Robert recognised it; it was Dave Robinson's old Office.

"We'll get you a new name board," Alan said as they entered.

"Have you heard from Dave since he resigned?" Alan asked.

"He's flying as first officer on 747's, and hoping to get his captaincy in the New Year." Robert replied.

"Good for him," Alan said, "I'm afraid the next few months are going to be hectic for you," nodding to the pile of folders on the desk.

"In two days, you will leave for America, Arizona actually. They have a dedicated ground attack base there. You'll be with Tim, Tom Bell and Bill O'Neil. One of those folders spells it all out for you.

You'll have four weeks, to learn all you can about the A10, how it fly's, its strong points, and it's weak ones. When you return, Dave Hardy, Dick Winter, Jim Robbins and Bob James will go out on the same course.

I'm hoping that shortly after your return, we will be getting our own A10's. So we can start flight training, there will be civilian engineers from Rolls Royce and BA Systems, along with the electronic boffins deployed here.

Mainly to familiarise our ground crews, but to also, sort out any bugs that crop up during the flight training.

I hardly need to tell you Robbie; that speed will be crucial; the brass want you out there by July at the latest."

"I understand sir." He replied.

"Well I'll let you get started," Alan said as he closed the door.

Robert sat at the desk taking a long look around the office, and then picked up the first folder.

It was after nine, by the time he closed and locked his office door, and made his way to his bedroom, two floors up. The one good aspect, of his rank, meant he had a bedroom to himself.

His valise and laptop were already there; someone had unpacked for him. He unzipped the laptop, bag taking it out, he plugged it into the wall. After Skype came up he connected through to Terry.

The next morning he rounded up Tim, Bill and Tom, and they went to draw desert warfare uniforms. After which they collected their travel documents from admin.

Tim owned a three series, BMW, his pride and joy, and he would be taking them to Brize Norton in it, and leaving it there until they returned.

They were scheduled to leave Brize at eighteen hundred hours in a C-17.

Knowing they would have to be there two hours earlier, due to the red tape that seemed to exist at all airports, both military and civilian, they left at two.

On the flight over the Atlantic, Robert briefed them.

They were going to Fort Call that was situated in the middle of the Arizona Desert. The Fort was quite small compared to other American Bases, so the file had said.

Its main claim to fame was that it controlled dedicated air to ground firing range. American units came there to practice air to ground skills, not only fixed wing, but even attack helicopters.

The other main point, was that it had an A10 simulator; they would be able to practice everything that could be done in a real A10, in the air, safely on the ground.

They would report to a Colonel Raymond Swartz, call sign Stingray, the Base Commander.

Finally Robert distributed some sheets that displayed rank insignia of officers and non-commissioned personnel, while the officer insignia was pretty straight forward, the non-commissioned were bewildering.

They landed at a base in Maryland and transferred to a C-130 for the final leg of their journey to Fort Call.

The heat of the desert hit them like a fist, as the ramp of the Hercules slowly lowered.

The sky was an impossible light blue with not a cloud in it. They grabbing their valises then walked down the ramp.

A Hummer ground to a halt just behind the ramp... A young man in his early twenties jumped out and approached them, stopping a few feet away, he saluted Robert, who returned the salute.

"I'm to conduct you to Colonel Swartz office Sir," he said.

On the drive from dispersal, over to the central administration block, he told them that theirs was the only unit, on the base for training.

From what Robert could see, the base seemed to consist of three large hangars. Built at the side of one was a wide single story brick building. Beyond that was a two story white building, he glimpsed the roofs of others behind that.

The Hummer stopped in front of the white building; the American flag, lying listlessly against the tall flagpole, there was no breeze to move it.

"If you go through the doors there Sir,'" the driver nodded his head in the direction of the door, "Murph will show you to the Colonel."

The four pilots climbed from the vehicle and grabbed their valises, perspiring in their serge uniforms.

On, opening, the door cool air hit their faces.

"Thank God, for air conditioning," Tom Bell muttered.

A man came forward; a name tag pinned to his chest, S/Sgt Murphy it read. He introduced himself; he said they could leave their valises there, and asked them to follow him.

He stopped at the glass panel door and knocked.

"Enter," was heard.

"The British Officers Sir." S/Sgt Murphy announced

He stood to one side allowing the four to enter, once in, he closed the door as he left.

The four lined up before the desk, came to attention, and saluted.

The Colonel sat back in his chair and gave a half-hearted salute back.

Colonel Swartz had been in the air force for thirty-one years.

He had served his country, all over the world. He had flown sixty-four missions during Operation Desert Storm, in the first Iraq war.

A devout believer, in the air to ground war fare, he ran his base on a tough, no nonsense basis.

He looked at the officers before him, noticing the perspiration on their foreheads. His eyes dropped down to the medal ribbons on their chests. These guys have been in at the sharp end he realised.

"Relax gentlemen," he said, in his drawling Texas accent, "Welcome to Fort Call, all we are going to do today, is get you squared away. I'm sure you are ready for a shower," he smiled. "Sergeant Murphy will show you to your quarters and sort you out with something more wearer friendly. After you have cleaned up he'll show you where to get chow, and the Offices Club room. You will begin your training tomorrow at 0900 hundred hours; he'll show you where. Any questions, No, well I'll see you later tonight in the Clubhouse."

Sergeant Murphy showed them their quarters.

All would have their own room, consisting of cot, lockers, drawers, bedside table and a small washstand. A telephone was on the side table, but was only connected for base communication, he warned.

After showing them the bathrooms, he took their measurements down in a small notebook.

Robert gratefully peeled of his uniform in his room, his shirt underneath his jacket black with sweat beneath his armpits, stripped to his shorts he grabbed his wash bag and headed to the showers.

He was hanging his RAF uniform in the locker when Sergeant Murphy returned; three other enlisted men were with him, each carrying a large pile of clothes, shoes and boots.

The sergeant deposited his pile on Robert's bed.

"You should find them more comfortable to wear Sir, dress of the day is shirt and slacks like mine," he said. He reached into his pocket and removed a plastic nametag.

"I hope that's the way you express your rank sir?"

Robert looked, Sqd/Ldr Barlow, "Its fine Sergeant thank you."

Later that evening the four officers were sitting in the Officers Club each with a bottle of Budweiser, or Buds has it was more commonly called, the bottles freezing to the touch.

Two American, Captains, came over to their table, and presented them self's, Chuck Connors and Pete Harding, both were A10 instructors.

After Robert, had introduced them to his officers, they began talking about what lay ahead for them in training.

At one point, Chuck turned to Robert, "Didn't you get an award from your Queen for that Afghan operation?"

"You mean the VC", Bill interjected, "It's the highest military award we can give."

"So it's on par with our Congressional Medal of Honour?" Chuck asked.

"Yes, I think so," Robert replied.

"I have to admit I don't know a lot about the award," Chuck added.

"Well," Tim took over, "It was founded during the Crimea War in 1856, the metal for it is supposed to come from the Russian guns that we took at Sebastopol. To date about thirteen hundred and fifty have been awarded, to all ranks and services belonging to the Commonwealth."

Bill took over explaining, to Robert's embarrassment, how he had won his.

When he had finished Chuck turned to Robert with a newfound respect in his eye, "that's the gutsiest move I've ever heard off.'"

Shortly after they turned in, it had been a long day.

The next morning was a repeat of yesterday weather.

They reported to one of the hangers; they were wearing the American shirts and slacks that had been given to them, but with their RAF rank tabs slid onto the shirts shoulder flaps.

They were introduced to, Chief Master Sergeant 'Gus' Green, line chief for the bases A10 fleet.

After the introductions, he took them into a hanger where two A10s where lined up. For the next four hours, they climbed over it, under it and along it, as Gus explained to them the aspects of the aircraft.

When they were all together again, he said

"This is a pilot's aircraft, it lacks a lot of the refinements, which are present, in fast movers." Referring to the term used for modern fighters and fighter-bombers.

"You have to fly it. Some say it's an ugly son of a bitch, maybe so, but in the kind of work it's designed to do, it will survive, when others would crash and burn."

Back in the mess hall having dinner, Bill commented that it was an ugly brute and that the ground crew, called them Warthogs, or Hugs for short.

"Does that mean there a pig to fly," asked Tom.

"That's what we're here to find out," replied Robert ruefully.

For the next ten days, they attended lectures, saw gun camera footage, of the havoc, the A10, could inflict on a targets like tanks and vehicles. They spent hours on the simulator.

The first problem, getting was used, to taxing.

The A10's nose wheel, which was off set, to allow for the length of the cannon, mounted in the nose of the aircraft.

Which meant, it had two different turning circles, dependant on whether you turned left or right.

Which Tom Bell discovered, when he tore off the tail of a C130, on the simulator, he had to buy the 'Buds, that night in the Officers Club.

Robert has been frustrated, at trying to contact Terry.

The base was situated in a black hole area regarding WI FI satellite communication, so the laptop was useless.

Trying to telephone took up to thirty minutes, just to establish a connection, and then the reception was terrible.

He had managed to briefly talk to her, for a few moments, on two occasions, before the line went dead.

The problem was resolved, when Chuck Connors offered to fly the four, up to Phoenix, for the weekend. Chucks home was in Phoenix with his wife and three kids.

Chuck had told Robert that there was no problem, with computers uplinks, in Phoenix, and to take his laptop.

So, Friday evening, after their studies had ended, the four Brits, as the rank and file of the base personnel, now called them. Quickly, showered and changed into civvies, jeans, and tee shirts. Armed with a small overnight bag each, they headed for dispersal where Chucks Beechcraft Baron was waiting.

Two hours later they had booked into a hotel that Chuck had recommended.

Chuck having left with his wife and kids who had picked him up.

The four met up in the hotel restaurant and had dinner, before moving to the bar.

They settled into a cubical, where a blonde waitress in a micro mini skirt with pneumatic breasts visually on display served them their Buds adding,

"Gee you guys, I just love your cute accents."

After she had gone Bill said; "I think I'm in love," lecherous intent, written all over his face.

Tim commented that the desert air was probably responsible for his horny behaviour.

Later Bill went to the bar to get another round in; they could see him talking to the blond, when he returned he said.

"Her name is Sherry, and she gets off in an hour, and she's going to round up a few of her friend and join us," he said in a triumphant voice.

"You'll have to count me out; I'm going to try and contact Terry," Robert said rising from the table.

Back in his room, he connected the laptop to the wall plug that would give him his connection, then switched over to Skype and clicked Terry's address.

He reckoned that it should be after seven, in the UK, but would she be still asleep he worried.

Then her face appeared on the screen.

"Bobby," she said a broad smile on her face, "I was just getting into the shower."

Her hair was piled up on the top of her head pinned into place; she was wearing a towelling bathrobe, "God I must look awful."

"You look beautiful."

"How are you, how are you feeling?"

"Looking at you, very horny."

She, chuckled, "Keep that thought."

They began to talk about America, and the base, what she had been doing, but he noticed that the front of the bathrobe, had opened slightly, and he could see the partial swell of her breasts. He could feel himself becoming aroused; finally he said breaking into her conversation.

"Terry, either fasten that robe up or take it off."

She, stopped, and looked down at the gap that had opened, she looked back at the screen, at his face, and she could see the longing in his eyes.

He saw her stand; his only view that off the robe belt tie and her hips. He saw a hand pull on the belt tie and the robe opened, and fell away. His mouth was suddenly dry, and he tried to swallow.

He could see her flat toned stomach the curve of her hips the swell near her vulva, and then she sat down again. His, eyes were drawn to her breasts the dark pink of her areolas, her nipples, and then her face studding him.

"Oh, god Terry you are so beautiful," he whispered.

She smiled, "Bobby this will only make it harder for you."

"Darling, it couldn't get any harder, than it is at the moment."

It took a second or two, for her to realise what he really meant.

Her face flushed, "We'll be together soon darling, then you can show me how hard it is," her voice suddenly husky.

He took a cold shower after they had broken the link, and had gone to bed still seeing her in his mind.

He awoke from his sleep, by the sound of moans and gowns and the squeaking of the bed coming from Tim's room, he rolled over and put a pillow over his head.

The next morning three very happy Brits and one frustrated one came down for breakfast.

The three pilots had arranged to meet the girl's downtown at a bar later in the day.

After doing some shopping, Robert bought Terry a silver and topaz bracelet made by the local Indians; they eventually arrived at the bar.

Sherry, along with two other girls were sat in the cubicle, she introduced Robert to the other two girls, Tina and Rosa.

Tina was another blond whilst Rosa was dark, showing her Mexican heritage, they all seem to share, the same plastic surgeon, Robert thought.

The girls all appeared to be wearing hot pants; cut so high their buttocks seemed to be escaping from them. Two of them were wearing tee shirts cut off just below their breasts, while the last wore a halter; it was obvious to Robert that none wore a bra.

After a few drinks, Sherry suggested that they return to their condo, to use its swimming pool. Robert tried to beg off, but they all insisted that he came; they had said already that they could provide the boys with swimming trunks.

In the end, Robert agreed, knowing that they would have to return to the airfield, for their flight back to base, and wanting to make sure they all kept together.

After settling their hotel bill. They all piled into Tina's old Cadillac convertible and drove to the outskirts of town.

The condo was a two-story building with wings on either side surrounding a fair size swimming pool.

The girls dashed off to their respective apartments, whilst Robert removed his tee shirt and flopped down on to a sun bed.

"Robbie," he opened his eyes, Sherry was standing in front of the bed alongside another girl who seemed to tower above her.

"Robbie," she continued, "I'd like you to meet a friend of ours, Jill this is Robbie, I'll leave you guys to get acquainted."

Robert sat up, and swung his legs to the floor, extending his hand.

"Hello Jill, would you like to sit down?"

She smiled and sat down on the edge of the sun bed.

He guessed she must be all of five feet ten inches if not more; she was dressed in jeans with a black bikini top.

"Hi Robbie," she had a low husky voice, "Sherry tells me you are over here learning to fly."

"Something like that," he said chuckling.

They began talking, she was interested to learn about Britain, London, had he seen Buckingham Palace, it amused him the way she broke Buck-ing-ham down into three separate syllables.

They were still talking, when Tim shouted if they were coming in; the three couples were already in the pool.

"Do you want to take a dip?" Jill asked him.

"Nothing to wear," he shrugged.

"I'm sure Jimmy has a pair that would fit you,"

"Who's Jimmy?" He asked.

"My boyfriend, he's in the Marines, at the moment in Afghanistan."

She rose to her feet and extended her hand.

"Come on let's get you fixed up."

She led him up the stairs and along the veranda of one of the wings.

The apartment was a large room with a small walk in, kitchen. She rummaged in a drawer, returning with a pair of trunks.

"You can change in the bathroom," indicating the door.

When he emerged, she said. "Well they fit, you can leave your clothes here they'll be perfectly safe."

With that, she snapped off the press-stud and lowered the zipper of her jeans; she wiggled has she pushed them down over her hips, her breasts wobbling with the motion.

She had large rounded breasts, a smallish waist that spread out to her hips, and impossible long slender legs.

Her face was pretty, rather than beautiful he realised. She had short blond hair that curled around her long neck, blue eyes and a small turned up nose. Small black bikini bottoms tied at the waist by bows hugged her hips.

"All set," she asked leading him out of the room.

Robert was thankful to get in the pool; he had experienced a tremor in his groin looking at her in the apartment.

At one stage, they all were larking about, with the girls riding on the men's shoulders trying to knock one another over. He was conscious of her thighs against his head. They got knocked over, and both fell deep into the water.

Jill came to the surface, spluttering, her eyes screwed up tightly, she hung on to him as she tried to catch her breath.

Robert was aware that he was aroused and hoped she hadn't noticed.

Later, they lay on sun beds drying off, she looked over to Robert.

"Do you have any one back home?"

"Yes I'm engaged."

"What's she like?"

He found himself talking about Terry, describing her, her funny little ways, when he realised he had been talking for over thirty minutes.

"You love her; an awful lot don't you Robbie?"

"Yes I do," he said with a catch to his voice.

"And you are missing her an awful lot too."

"Yes, what about Jimmy do you miss him too?"

"Yeah, I worry about him over there. Have you ever been out there Robbie?"

"Yes I've done three tours."

"So what is it like, Jimmy doesn't say much?"

"Well, it's totally different for me, being in the air force, the ground troops, have it far worse.