The Secret Life of Wings

"Sum," he said. "Start the motor and turn on the lights, and bring my bag up here." In the amber light of a flashing torn signal, he drew two syringes of penicillin and jabbed us in our butts, then gave us some kind of vile smelling powder and told us to pour that in our underwear, and only then did we all pile in the FJ and wind our way through the night back to the ranch. Sumner's dick was burning like hell by the time we got back, but it was better the next morning. That didn't keep my dad from stabbing us with another dose of antibiotics, however, and it took weeks to get rid of the crabs and fleas in our nether regions.

That was an awkward moment in our life together – again, the word Duty comes blaring to mind – but he and I never spoke – directly – of the experience after that night. Not once.

+++++

I never considered Annapolis, didn't ever consider a stint in the Navy, but when I graduated college I was broke and wanted to go to med school. Father was resolute, too: he wasn't going to pay for four more years of school so I was going to need assistance. The Navy, he mentioned, had a good program for that, and I think I saw him smiling when he said that, too, yet when I talked to the folks at the appropriate office I mentioned flying, mentioned my father had been a pilot and all sorts of full color brochures appeared detailing OCS and flight training options. I asked if I could fly, then consider med school. Sure, they said, if I didn't mind giving the Navy about fifteen years of my life.

I signed on the dotted line then went home to pack my bags. I think the symmetry of the situation wasn't lost on my dad; regardless, he didn't find the situation amusing, not in the least, but neither he nor my mother ever tried to talk me out of the decision. I made it through Officer's Candidate School with little trouble and went on to primary flight before tackling jets at Pensacola. A year later I was stationed in Guam, flying the EA-3B ECM platform, but a year later, with that aircraft's decommissioning, I began a long transition to the EA-6 series – by first finding myself in an A6-E Intruder squadron. Off the coast of North Vietnam, I might add, and at the height of the air war there.

Sumner, the kid from the ranch in Uvalde, was by then onboard the same ship and I saw him a few times, and we commiserated over red Kool Aid about that night in Boy's Town more than once. He asked about dad, seemed happy to hear he was teaching now, in addition to doing surgery. He was flying Phantoms, and true to his calling advancing in rank at a blistering pace. He was an ace and I'd heard his name mentioned as a likely CAG when one night we heard his aircraft had been lost north of Haiphong, trying to pick MIGs off an Intruder's tail. They never found his aircraft, or his body, and I wrote a letter to dad telling him about my time with him on the ship, and the action he'd been in when he went down. I thought, at the very least, he'd want to know.

A few days later I was called in to speak with my squadron CO, and he expressed sympathy for Sumner's loss, and I have to admit in that dangling moment I was at a loss, too. Then he wanted to know why I'd never let anyone know Sumner was my brother.

Like tumblers in a safe, I stood there in silence until all the pieces of the puzzle finished falling into place.

+++++

Sumner got married a few weeks after his graduation from Annapolis, before he had to report for a summer training program, and standing there in my CO's cabin the varied minutes of that afternoon came roaring back into focus. My dad, our father, had sprung for the wedding as well as the reception, and I recalled hearing something about the girl's family not having a pot to piss in, or something along those lines, anyway. I remembered her, however. A striking girl, very tall, very fit, she was a junior at Georgetown and wanted to study the law, maybe work at the State Department someday. I remember how totally at-ease Sumner was during the ceremony, and how totally ill-at-ease Tracy Tomlinson had been. At one point she danced with my dad and he seemed taken with the girl, almost smitten, but of course I had no reason to see any ulterior motives in his easy, possessive grasp.

I danced with her that afternoon, as well. A quick number, but I'd been impressed by her eyes, the clarity of purpose and her keen sense of understanding, if only because, I think, she sized me up in about five seconds flat.

"Sumner tells me you're going to med school," she said, and I recall thinking Dad must have told him – because I sure hadn't. "Why aren't you going to follow in your father's footsteps, join the Navy, do that whole thing?"

"I don't know. Never entered my mind, I reckon."

"Oh?" she smiled. "When did you decide on medicine?"

"When I was three."

She laughed. "Pretty big footsteps to fill, aren't they?"

The number ended and we walked away, and I'm not sure I spoke with them again that day. I do remember thinking she was a home run, that she was gorgeous and smart and that you couldn't do better than that. Hell, I was happy for Sumner, though with Vietnam looming I wasn't exactly glowing with envy, and the odd thing is that may have been the last time I thought of Sumner and his new wife until I saw him on the ship. Now all that was over, and I was on my way to Pearl.

They had a house in the hills beyond Hickam Field, and dad was there when I drove up in a taxi. Waiting, I guessed, for the showdown.

If that's what I had on my mind, however, he wasn't having any of it. He was, anyone could plainly see, devastated. His eyes were bloodshot and his hands were trembling when he took my own and pulled me into a tight embrace.

"I guess we've got a lot to talk about," he said, though we never really did get around to having that conversation, yet I think that one sentence summed up all we never talked about. He took my suitcase and helped me in, let me get settled before we dressed for a memorial service that evening. Sumner's mother was there from Texas, which was when I noted the absence of my own mother. Tracy was there too, now several months pregnant and utterly destroyed by Sumner's death, and as we sat behind them during the service I became completely focused on the woman sitting in front of my father. Who the hell was she, I wondered? And why had she and my father...?

We stood together after, shaking hands with Sumner's classmates and shipmates, those who'd been in port and wanted to come. Of course he didn't have any brother's or sisters, just his mother and grandparents from Uvalde – and his father. Oh yes, that would be my father, too. Who was as distraught as I'd ever seen him.

I felt Tracy by my side just then, as we stood in evening light outside that chapel, as we stood facing gentle breezes and the setting sun.

"You didn't know, did you?" she said, and I turned to face her, and standing there looking at her I realized she was the only person there who'd seen into my own personal hell, and the contours of my dilemma.

"No, of course not," I whispered cheerfully. "He's only my father. Why the hell should I know?"

And she took my hand just then, and I don't know why but I brought her hand to my face and kissed it, looking at the ring on her finger as I did. The ring my brother –my brother!– had slipped on her finger, really, not so very long ago. The child in her womb would never be a stranger to me, for I would be his uncle – and my father would be his – grandfather. And all of this was so bloody impossible – yet so silly – because the life I never knew suddenly felt overwhelming in it's absence.

And where the hell was MY mother? The other touchstone in my life – she, who was never not by my father's side?

I looked Tracy in the eye, her hand still firmly in mine, and I'm certain I had succeeded in holding back the tears I felt welling before I told her:

"As long as I live and breathe, I will be there for you when you need me."

Yes, there's something about the word Duty that runs through my family, through our veins perhaps, with a passion I'll never fully understand, but as she looked me in the eye the weight of my oath fell over her. She began to cry as she nodded her head in sharp little jerks, then she fell into arms. I held her so tightly, one arm around her shoulders, my other hand cradling her head, I thought I might suffocate her, and when I looked up almost everyone there was staring at me. Not 'us' – me. As if they had witnessed a most startling, and perhaps inappropriate oath.

But not my father. There was a warmth in his eyes I had never seen before as he came to us. He joined in my support, put his arms around the two of us, and then all the other people in uniform came to us, and this dozen or so men and women put their collective strength around us, bound us all together, my words, our strength, and as quickly as we had come together, like the petals of a flower, we broke apart and drifted away on the wind.

+++++

We went to dinner after the service, my father and I, Tracy and her parents – and Sumner's mother – and when we arrived my mother was at the table, waiting. Father went to her and held her for the longest time, then he kissed her, gently, before we sat. I held the chair for Sumner's mother, then Tracy, and I sat next to her, suddenly her self-anointed protector.

It became clear my mother was 'in on it' – that she had known all along her husband was the father of another woman's child – and truly, it seemed to me that of all the people around the table that night, I was only one who had been perpetually 'in the dark.'

'Ha, so the joke's on me,' I think I said as we sat, if only to myself.

And all through that evening my mother looked at me only once. Her's was a bleak expression – not for herself, but, I felt, more for the isolation she saw in my eyes. And though she must have understood, she never said a word to me...there was only that one barren glance. Moths and flames came to mind, but maybe that was just me.

+++++

I returned to the carier a few days later, returned to my squadron and resumed my life as a pilot – usually going after SAM sites just north of the DMZ – but a month later I was detached and sent back to the states, to Washington state, to resume training on the EA-6 series then about to come online. Six months later I flew one of the first EA-6B Prowlers across the Pacific and joined the USS Enterprise's air wing, itself another homecoming, of sorts. Operation Linebacker I was at an end though the ship was still at Yankee Station, and her Phantoms, Corsairs and Intruders were still working on targets "off the reservation" – in Laos and Cambodia – when a series of typhoons roared through the Tonkin Gulf and caused us to sail south. My first real 'action' came a few months later when the ship was sent to the Bay of Bengal, to prevent the Indian Navy's blockade of East Pakistan, and as a Soviet submarine had been spotted in the area my Prowler's job was to jam Indian and Russian surface radars. India's fighters had been robust – in the early 50s, perhaps – but the situation soon appeared capable of pulling us into open conflict with the Soviet Union and tensions soared. In any event, the Enterprise was pulled back to Yankee Station, and as my five year service was at an end I was summoned to Pearl Harbor.

Where I was asked my intentions. Re-up for two more years, until three more EA-6B squadrons could be manned and operational, would be most appreciated. Yes, there's that dirty word again – Duty – and without another word said I signed on the dotted line and was told to report to NAS Whidbey Island in two weeks. Three more aircraft were ready, and I would be, nominally, the CO of this group while we transited the Pacific, bound for Enterprise and my first foray into Cold War mischief-making.

And it turned out Tracy was still on the island, and she answered the phone, sounding tired and depressed, when I called later that evening.

"Ben? Is that you? Where are you?"

"Pearl. BUPERs. How are you doing?"

"You're here? On the island?"

"Let's see," I said, feigning a sweep of the horizon. "That's Diamond Head off to my right, so yeah, looks like it..."

"Do you have time," she laughed, "to come by while you're here?"

"I can," I said. "Is this a good time?"

"Oh, God! Yes!"

I had no idea what the hell that meant, but she sounded happy enough so with grip in hand I hailed a taxi and rode out to their house in silence. When I got there I found her waiting in the doorway, a huge smile all over her face, and as I got out of the taxi she came out to meet me.

Again, those eyes. Again, I remembered how I'd almost envied Sumner on his wedding day, and I felt a sudden sense of guilt just being there, but she took my hand and led me inside. I found what looked like an atom bomb blast in there – boxes everywhere, dishes stacked on a table – waiting to be wrapped in paper and placed in boxes...

"You're moving?"

"Yup. Back to Maryland. My parents just left, took Sumner back with them. I'm going to go back and study for the Bar..."

"Sumner?"

"Didn't you get my letters?"

I shook my head and she looked at me – with unanswered questions looming in the mist. "What?" she said. "How...?" She went and sat on a little coral colored sofa in the lanai, and I followed her into the sunny room and sat on a chair across from the sofa. She pointed at the sofa then, and asked me to come sit by her.

And I did, too. Color me nervous.

"Letters?" I asked...reminding her.

"Oh, the first one was foolish, a little girl's impulsive ramblings. I asked that you come here as soon as you could, that we needed to talk."

"About?"

She looked at me again, suddenly quite unsure of herself, and I thought as I looked at her that this was a girl rarely unsure of herself. "About that moment, after the service when we all came together. I wanted to ask you what you felt then, why you said what you said."

"Felt?" Now I felt unsure of myself. Of how to proceed, really.

"Yes. You. What you said, and how, took my breath away."

"I was looking into your eyes, you know, and all of a sudden I felt this overwhelming love of live, and for Sumner. Odd, of course, as we were never that close," I said, looking down, "not as close as we might have been, but I wanted in that moment to protect you...for him. That it's my duty now to protect you, and his child."

She looked away, nodded her head a little as a vast disappointment settled over her, then after a moment she looked at me again. "Your...duty?" she asked softly. "Is that..."

"Tracy, I'm afraid I don't know you well enough to say what I want to say."

"Do you want to know me? Well enough, that is?"

"You know, I have to leave in four days. Whidbey Island, then another deployment..."

"You re-enlisted?"

"I did. About an hour ago."

"Oh dear. Your father is going to be...upset."

"Am I supposed to care?" I shot back, uneasily.

"You're still upset about that, aren't you? Your father, I mean, and Sumner?"

I looked away quickly, then stood and walked out into the back yard, and though I heard her following I felt like I needed space. Time, and space, to come to terms with my feelings. The house was, I saw then, rooted deeply into the side of this hill, and the corner where I stopped had a small but very unobstructed view of the Pacific.

"This is one helluva view," I said as she came up behind me – and then I felt her hands on my shoulders.

"You're not very good at the whole changing subjects thing, are you?" And she was turning me around as she said that, in every sense of the word. "I asked you about that, by the way, because when I heard those words, looked into your eyes, I suddenly understood everything was going to be alright. I fell in love with you, Ben. As horrible and as petulant as that sounds, it's true. And I don't want to lose you."

She had her hands on my shoulders still, though I was facing her now, and at a loss for words. "Love...me?" I said slowly, but suddenly she was on her toes, and she kissed me gently.

"Yes. You, but please, don't ever ask me to explain myself, or where this feeling came from, because I'd only come off as a complete idiot."

"Alright."

"Now, tell me. You're not engaged or something, are you? Three girlfriends waiting for you back in Dallas?"

I shook my head and she grinned.

"Not gay? Don't have a secret boyfriend?"

"Dear God in heaven no – what makes you say that?"

"Well, I can't believe you don't have someone..."

"Well, I do, as a matter of fact. I'm flying her several times a week, if you must know..."

She shook her head, grinned. "That's something I'd have expected your father to say, or..."

"Or Sumner?"

"Yes," she said, still smiling, "Sumner. God, your father must've really pulled a number on you two. It's like wings are in your DNA, or something."

I smiled. "Sumner? He was that way, too?"

"Oh, he had a terminal case if ever there was one. He called the moment the secret life..."

"The secret life of wings," I repeated, smiling, remembering the first time my dad...our father...told us about this life.

"He tried to explain it to me once," she said. "About a time down at the ranch, one night sitting around a campfire, listening to coyotes..."

"Did he tell you about the rattlesnake?"

"The what...? No!"

"We were sitting around this campfire, mesquite wood, too, and it smelled grand. Geesh, I think I was ten or eleven; Sum must've been –"

"Fourteen."

"Fourteen, right. And this rattlesnake, I mean the granddaddy of all rattlesnakes, about six, seven feet long and as big around as a cantaloupe, comes sliding in and coils up a few feet away from the fire. Dad's foot was about a yard away from the thing, and both Sumner and I were, well, I was terrified, but dad just looked at the thing for a moment and started talking again, and he said he had something important to tell us. The Secret Life of Wings, he said, and I was trying to listen but finding it almost impossible to listen.

"Anyway, dad's talking – then he stops and I look at him. 'What's wrong,' he asks, and I just point – slowly – at that huge thing coiled up by the fire and he nods his head as he looks from me to the snake – and back again. 'You don't bother him, he won't bother you,' he said and, hell, I don't know, I figured if he wasn't scared I wasn't going to be scared either.

"So, he starts to tell us about the first time he went flying. Some circus flyers, maybe barnstormers, I don't know, landed on a field near his house when he was a kid. His mom gave him money to go up that afternoon and all he could remember was the engine turning up, then the little bi-plane running down the field and he said that right at that moment, when the airplane first left the ground, he heard the airplane talking to him. The wings, really, not the whole airplane, and that as they climbed into the sky he heard them laughing, almost crying out with joy from being free of the earth.

"And here's the weird part. When they got back on the ground, after the pilot stopped and helped my dad out of that tiny little cockpit, the guy looked at him kind of funny like and said something my father never forgot. 'Did you hear it?' and my dad kind of looked at the pilot and nodded his head. 'When we took off, I heard laughing.' The pilot nodded his head, too. 'Only happens these days,' the pilot said, 'when someone sits up front, and that someone has to have something special inside to be able to hear that laughter.'

"Something special?" my dad asked.

"The old pilot nodded his head again. 'Yup. When you grow up, you're going to be one of the best pilots that ever lived. Somehow, these old wings know that, and they want you to know they know."

"Sumner never told me all that. And not about that snake! What did it do, anyway?"