“Straight and level from here.”
She nodded to the copilot. He got up to become the jumpmaster.
The guys stepped out of the airplane one after the other.
She heard the call for last jumper. Waiting thirty seconds to make sure she was clear, Grace banked the plane and counted chutes. Five open colorful canopies. The guys had formed up in a straight line. They were trying to hit the huge X they had painted on the grass one right after the other. “I’ve got to think a bit about the company I’ve been keeping.”
Her copilot buckled himself back in and laughed. “Head on down; they’ll want to jump again.”
“I was afraid you would say that.”
She saw the first man touch down with a flare right on the target and his chute begin collapsing around him.
* * *
“Admit it, you had fun.” Bruce reached around Grace to open the movie theater door.
She smiled at him. “You looked cute getting sat on by Wolf.”
“Buttering me up is not going to get me to see a mushy movie.” On the last jump of the day the landing had not gone as planned. He had become a pancake under his friend.
“So what are we seeing?”
Bruce read the marquee. He sighed. “A mushy movie.” He bought the tickets. They had been alternating weekends—Grace coming to Pensacola and him traveling to Norfolk. They had seen enough movies at this theater they had fallen into a pattern of where to sit. They were a few minutes late, and the opening credits were finishing as he held the theater door for her. She followed the small lights on the aisle.
“Grace?” Bruce leaned over to whisper to her as she settled in. “What did you tell Wolf before that last jump?”
“Did I mention Jill had her camera with her when she came out to meet Wolf?”
“I don’t believe you did.”
“She promised to make a copy for you.”
“It’s dangerous to let you two drive down here together.”
“You’re just now realizing that?”
He leaned over and kissed her for that giggle. She was fitting in with his friends and family just fine.
Twenty-Six
* * *
MARCH 10
P
ENSACOLA
, F
LORIDA
Somewhere out in the world on one of the blue oceans an aircraft carrier launched warplanes; in the deep cold waters a nuclear-powered submarine hunted. Civilians on the beach had no idea what the military was doing at this minute to defend their shores. It was just as well. They wouldn’t understand what the military knew. . . . There was no such thing as playing defense on the enormous oceans, just many shades of offense.
“Gracie, you’re dripping on me.”
“You need to wake up.”
Bruce cracked open one eye. In silhouette, the bright sun behind her, Gracie was all tan, curves, and— He closed his eyes again, content with the impression. She was beautiful. And he was going to marry her.
“I’m resting.” He was wise enough to know she didn’t want to be asked just yet. She needed to know that what they had built during the last few months was going to stay strong through a deployment. He was about to get a chance to prove it. She was leaving for another six-month deployment in three days. He was already depressed.
If his assumptions were entirely wrong about how they could make it work out, he had a fallback plan in mind. If he had to quit his job and trail her around from base to base he could adjust. He’d had his career. The guys were beginning to call him Old Lucky. He wasn’t going to push the odds. He could get a good civilian job as a paramedic when he eventually left the military.
Grace nudged him with her toe. She was going to stand there until he agreed to wake up. They had had these silent standoffs before. They amused him, and she started them because he figured they also amused her.
He had more patience than she did. “Sit down while you wait,” he suggested with a comfortable sigh. The sun was warm, the beach all theirs, and unless his sense of time was off, they had over an hour before they were due to meet Jill and Wolf for dinner.
She sank down on the sand beside him. “It’s not like you to be so tired. What’s wrong?”
She was leaving in three days—that’s what was wrong. And he hadn’t slept well last night as he pondered that reality. He reached over and intertwined his hands with hers and squeezed. “I’m going to miss you.”
“Thanks. I’ll miss you too.”
He opened his eyes and squinted against the sun’s glare to see her face. “That had real emotion in it.” He sat up, brushing sand off. “I promise I won’t find another favorite lady while you’re gone.”
She shoved his arm. It got the smile he had hoped for but it faded quickly. He rested his hands on her shoulders and waited until she met his gaze. “I love you, Grace. This deployment is not a threat to that.” His thumb gently rubbed her shoulders. “What do you need to hear so that sticks?”
She held his gaze, offered a soft smile. “That’s what I needed to hear.”
“You’re sure you don’t want more words?” He was going to miss that smile. He leaned down and kissed her, storing up another memory for when she would be gone. “We’ll make this work, honey. However it is necessary.”
“Are you forward deploying?”
“I haven’t heard anything yet. We might be. The Balkan flights are growing and they could use another team of PJs on the ground; the upcoming NATO exercises will need coverage.”
“It would help if you were able to do TDYs while I was gone so you’d be home when I get back.”
She was already thinking like they were a permanent couple. There was comfort in that. “I’ll see what I can do.”
She got quiet again. Bruce wrapped his arms more firmly around her. He wished he could reassure her better on how it was going to work out. They would make it up as they went along.
“In the future there will be more days like this one,” Bruce said. “I promise you that.”
“I know.”
He rubbed her arm. “Come on, let’s go back up to the house. I’ll change and we’ll head over to the hotel.” There was no use getting sad about what they couldn’t change. They still had a couple days before she deployed.
She pushed to her feet.
Bruce took her hand as they walked back.
The phone was ringing as they entered the house. Bruce picked it up in the kitchen. “Where, Rich?” He caught Grace’s attention. “CNN.”
He joined her in the living room. A major earthquake had just hit Turkey. Bruce watched the reports: a magnitude 7.4 and an epicenter in the southern region. “One hour. I’ll be there.” He hung up the phone. “Get your things; let’s get you back to the hotel to pack. I’ll find you a flight back to Norfolk, ASAP.”
Grace simply nodded. Bruce knew the
GW
deployment would be moved up. The last earthquake in the southern region had caused over a hundred million dollars of damage at Incirlik Air Base. The Air Force had patched together the runways and turned the base into the hub of relief flights for the country. Operation Northern Watch would be moved entirely to carrier operations. And there wasn’t a carrier available . . . but there was one that could be sent with dispatch.
Twenty-Seven
* * *
MARCH 22
USS
GEORGE WASHINGTON
(CVN 73)
A
TLANTIC
O
CEAN
The carrier was preparing itself for going into harm’s way. An expedited transit across the Atlantic, rough seas, the weather uniformly choppy—it was pressuring the flight deck crews, the pilots, and the sailors alike. Safety drills for fire and water, incoming missile drills, battle group drills—they were ringing out glitches in every procedure in preparation of the task ahead.
Grace was too busy to miss Bruce for eighteen-some hours a day. The other moments when she shut her eyes to sleep, he was at the front of her thoughts and he stayed there.
The earthquake had destroyed three of twenty-one dams on the Euphrates, not disrupting the huge gravel dams themselves, but damaging the sluice gates that allowed water to flow and power to be generated. The Euphrates’ water level was dropping daily, Syria was accusing Turkey of not dedicating resources to the critical problem of the dams, and there were now daily satellite shots showing Syria moving troops north. On top of the twenty-three thousand reported dead within Turkey, the two countries wanted to go to war. It was senseless, but the match had been tossed. Somehow NATO and the United Nations would have to figure out a way to put the lid back on.
In the midst of training nuggets, getting her own flight hours in to requalify for carrier landings, and assuming the new mission planning load that came with this deployment, Grace was struggling to keep ahead of the demands.
They were tasking with orders to assume Operation Northern Watch flights over Iraq. On the surface the orders were similar to what they had done on the last deployment. They were enforcing a no-fly zone, providing reconnaissance, watching borders. But the situation on the ground was very different.
They would be flying over a Turkey now in the midst of a national crisis. They would be flying within miles of a growing Syrian military presence. And Iraq was taking advantage of the chaos to move troops.
Peace was far away.
Bruce ~
How are you doing on the ground? Do they have the refinery fire under control? How are the rolling blackouts? News comes in, but anything over an hour old is pretty dated. I heard about the terrorist bombing at the café. Rescue workers getting hurt—senseless violence, and so sad.
I’m glad you are currently based in the relatively safe haven at Incirlik. Did I really need to know they had just put in Mylar sheeting on the base housing windows in order to handle a bomb blast? I’m glad it had the corollary effect of helping to minimize damage during the earthquake, but I wish the terrorist threat level wasn’t so high it was needed.
We will be in range to begin flights for Operation Northern Watch in four days. You can feel the tension around the squadron. My biggest headache in the planning is the lack of emergency divert fields. So many airports are either still repairing damage or are heavily involved in relief flights. Since this earthquake, Iraq has twice flown MiGs into the no-fly zone. Peter’s assessment to the squadron is not if there will eventually be a confrontation, but when. I’m worried about nuggets. Nothing new there.
Life has changed. The responsibility is heavier. The needs more pressing. The awareness of the risks higher. Without being morbid about it—Bruce, there is a letter for you left with Jill. I wanted to say a few things, just in case. I want a hug next time I see you. A long one. A tight one. And I may let you fix me a pilot’s special.
I pray this finds you well.
Grace
Grace ~
I have confidence you’ll watch the details and have safe flights. We need you overhead. Your job right now is as vital as any on the ground. If there weren’t overflights right now, I have no doubt there would be war.
It’s tense here, for the base is home to thousands of Turkish military as well as numerous civilian contractors, and all of them have stories filled with grief. The concrete apartment buildings that pancaked— The destruction is so incredibly complete. The major way of getting supplies and people around are helicopter flights. The PJs have unfortunately been busy. We’ve had two helicopters go down in the last day due to being overloaded.
I take this day by day. We will be moving forward soon. Communication is going to get very hard after that, for not much is moving that is not emergency related. Know you are in my thoughts and prayers.
Catch the third wire.
All my love, Bruce
Twenty-Eight
* * *
MARCH 28
USS
GEORGE WASHINGTON
(CVN 73)
M
EDITERRANEAN
S
EA OFF THE
C
OAST OF
T
URKEY
There was not much time to relax around the VFA-83 squadron ready room—for flight operations were going on twenty hours a day and one briefing cycle was backing up against another. Grace called the mission briefing to order precisely at 0800. There were six pilots taking notes, including Peter, her new CO.
“From 1000 to 1530 our mission on this flight is to control Iraqi airspace east of the Tigris down to the thirty-sixth parallel. Our secondary objective is to take reconnaissance photos to evaluate present water levels in the Tigris River,” Grace opened, setting the stage for the information to come. Flights didn’t happen; they were scripted.
There was nothing in the briefing—its order or content—that she had not thought through in detail. She brought down the whiteboard listing mission assignments. “I will be leading the four-plane Panthers flight; Peter will be leading the four-man Torry flight providing aircap.”
She talked through the mission flight. Rendezvous points, the altitudes and formations they would fly, speed, navigation markers, routes of ingress and egress.