“Who’s got the water?”
“The battle group has dispatched four ships to corner the debris field with lights; small craft are launching into the grids. There were some surface assets in port also heading out. There’s a Victor class sub out there too.”
It was dark. Bruce was expecting the sight of burning fuel on the water but it was still horrifying to see. It was an enormous patch of water already over two miles long with different crash and burn points apparent from more than one aircraft going down. The sky was crowded with search helicopters and spotlights sweeping the surface looking for survivors.
“Eagle 01, Birddog, contact Thunder 01, 127.4.”
“Eagle 01. Roger,” Dasher replied. “Thunder 01, Eagle 01. Where do you need us?”
“We just dropped smoke and a flare on what looks like two souls in the water just south of grid four. We’re bingo fuel.”
“Copy red smoke and flare. We’re inbound from the east.”
“Texaco flight had emergency frequency china two.”
“Eagle 01. Roger.” The emergency frequency for the tanker crew was about the only frequency silent at the moment.
“How many jets involved?” Bruce asked Dasher.
“I’m hearing it was a full stack. Coming up on the smoke.”
Dasher dropped to a hover. They could see the smoke canister bobbing on the water shooting off a continuing stream of red smoke to mark position. The flare was still burning. “Ten o’clock, Dasher! Soul in the water,” Bruce hollered, picking out the bobbing yellow stripe of a life vest. The man was drifting close to a slick of burning fuel.
Spotlights illuminated the man and they saw him try to wave. “He’s holding onto a second man,” Rich called out.
“Take us in for a drop, Dasher,” Bruce said, weighing options and going for the speed of putting PJs in the water.
Rich moved out onto the rails as Dasher hovered. He stepped off, crossing his arms to drop straight down. Bruce took a deep breath as he stepped out on the rails, wished this wasn’t another ocean adventure, and stepped off to follow his partner. The impact with the water was enough to take his breath. Bruce surged back to the surface and set out at a crawl with Rich toward the survivors. The sea was going to kill men tonight if they didn’t intervene to prevent it.
* * *
“We’re going to burn up here.”
“Hold on, man, we’ve got help overhead to the south. PJs are dropping, so we’re not the only ones in the water.” Wolf lifted the man higher from the water, wishing he could see where the navigator for the Prowler was. He’d seen the man twice somewhere to the south. Bear had gone after him in the rubber craft; speed was of the essence as the flames were cutting him off.
“Someone clipped me, the hose sliced, and we had fuel streaming over us like rain. No one could get out of the way.”
Wolf kicked hard to propel them away from an approaching slick of burning fuel. The secondhand smoke was enough to kill them, it was so thick. The SEALs had been conducting a very quiet training exercise with the sub when suddenly the sky had begun raining fire. “How many chutes did you see?”
“At least six.”
“Here comes our ride. The craft has rubber sides; just remember to roll up and over.”
“Give me a shove and I’m in,” the man replied.
“Find him, Bear?”
“Cougar did.” The fact Bear said nothing more warned Wolf there was probably a sealed body bag now aboard the other boat. Bear leaned over the side to help pull them aboard.
“Where do you need me?”
“On the radio. See if you can get directions to the next sighting.”
“Do those guys need help?” Wolf pointed to the hovering helicopter.
“I heard they just picked up another two.”
“How many pulled out so far?”
“Seven. There’s more.”
* * *
Rescues this big and complex were enough to task not only training, skills, and experience but also emotions. Intermixed with the survivors were the burn victims. Bruce deflated the navigator’s life vest so he could maneuver the man he had dropped into the sea to recover onto the body bag laid out in the basket. It was the safest way to lift the body from the water. At least this man appeared to have died from a broken neck before the fire reached him.
“Need a hand?”
The Zodiac rubber craft came from the smoke to the south. “There’s an empty vest floating at about six o’clock. Recover it so we don’t try to tag it from the air,” Bruce called, finishing tightening the straps. He had crossed paths with both sailors and SEALs in the last three hours. He wasn’t that surprised to see Cougar back in this grid.
Cougar returned as the basket was lifted from the water to the hovering helicopter. Bruce hooked his arm around the side of the craft and took a breather before he prepared to be lifted from the water.
“What’s the latest you’ve heard?” Cougar asked, offering a canteen of fresh water.
“Twelve survivors, three deceased, and eight missing. Have you seen Wolf or Bear lately?”
“The fishing trawler thought it had a sighting. They diverted to check it out.”
“When this is over, why don’t you guys come join us for a sailor’s toast?”
“I’ll pass the word around.”
The night was going to haunt him, and Bruce wanted a chance to let it go with guys who understood what this was like. The rope was coming down. Bruce swam to grab it, slipped it around his chest, and signaled for a lift.
INCIRLIK AIR BASE, TURKEY
“Have you called Grace?”
Bruce looked up from his study of the bubbles climbing the side of his glass, trying to decide if carbonated soda went flat because the bubbles popped or because the bubbles dissolved. Wolf was watching him, his expression grave. “No. Have you?”
“She’s going to be watching this on the news.”
“I know. So is Jill.” Bruce sighed and pushed back his glass. “Too many people died tonight because of an accident. It’s not the way to end a tour.”
“If they were alive when they hit the water, we gave them a good chance of getting home,” Wolf replied. “It’s going to be a month of picking up debris from the beach. I heard one of Gracie’s past nuggets got caught in it.”
“Who?” Bruce asked.
“Bushman. He managed to pull off a dead stick landing into the net aboard the
GW
.”
Bruce raised his glass, finding the first reason to smile. “Way to go, Bushman. The man deserves a slap on the back for that landing.”
“Grace will be pleased to hear it,” Wolf agreed. “Why aren’t we calling her?”
Bruce studied him and weighed his answer. “Do you want to tell her about the guys who didn’t make it?”
Wolf shook his head. “Pilots tank every day. I really don’t want to tell her I pulled pilots out of the drink who burned to death.”
“Let’s not tell her.”
Wolf studied him quietly. “Are you okay marrying her, knowing this is part of her life?”
Bruce set aside the glass. “It’s not the marrying part that bothers me—it’s the idea of having to bury. I want old age for her, and tonight shakes that up a bit.” He pushed back his chair. “I’m out of it. I’m going to catch a few minutes of sleep.”
“Don’t dream.”
Bruce nodded his agreement. “Glad you were out there, man.”
“I wouldn’t want your job every day.”
“It’s mutual. Tell Bear and Cougar to raise a toast to Rich later. As usual, the man saved my hide twice tonight.”
“I’ll do that. And, Bruce—”
He glanced back at his friend.
Wolf smiled. “Tell Gracie I said hi.”
The man knew him. Bruce lifted a hand in a salute.
NORFOLK, VIRGINIA
“How do you handle being a civilian? This is awful.”
Grace tucked her cell phone tight against her shoulder as she added another name to her working list of confirmed okays. Other than Bushman’s dramatic landing it looked like her squadron had been lucky. They had refueled just before the incident occurred. “Gina said she heard from Mark Kells, and I just got an e-mail from Nancy saying she had heard from Craig Frances.”
“Anything on Frank Carter?”
“The Prowler flight?” Grace ran her list of names. “Nothing yet. It’s awful that our informal network is probably as close to complete as the guys on site trying to figure it out.” It was the names they had not heard about that worried her. The dead and missing were figured out because they didn’t show up on the lists of the living.
“I’ll post an update to the Stateside Support Web site with these names.”
Grace pulled up her e-mail again.
She had lost two friends. She knew two of the electronic surveillance officers from the backseats of the Prowler, and reports of their deaths were sketchy but had that ring of truth that came when crewmen relayed first- and secondhand accounts of the recoveries. Sea Stallion helicopters had been lifting off the
GW
deck, and another clip on CNN showed more then six rescue helicopters hovering over locations in the debris field. She knew there would be even more casualties. A refueling accident was one of the things pilots feared most.
The phone rang. “I’ll call you back, Jill. I’ve got a call on the house line.”
She hoped it was Peter with the latest names he had heard. “Yes, hello.”
“Grace.”
“Bruce . . .” She scrambled to mute the TV. “Oh, it’s good to hear from you.”
“A long few hours.”
She bit her lip and forced herself to hold back the tears that came immediately to the surface. She’d been worried, so worried about him. The last thing he needed was to get hit with a long burst of questions. He sounded down, really down. “Yes,” she said gently, wincing as CNN began to replay the tapes of the crash site and the floating wreckage. She turned away from the image.
“Teams responded fast. I’m sorry for the friends you lost, Grace.”
“Are you hearing numbers?”
“Most of the missing are being found alive. We may have lost five.”
“Five.”
“Breathe, honey.”
“So many.”
“Grace, do me a favor? When you see me next, give me a really long hug.”
Her eyes watered. “A really long hug. Gotcha.”
“I saw Wolf, Bear, and the other SEALs. They were okay, only minor sprains and singe marks from the work.”
Wolf was fine.
She closed her eyes, admitting the relief. “Thank you.”
“Without shutting you out—Grace, I don’t want to talk about it. I can’t for now.”
She squeezed the bridge of her nose, suppressing the emotions, understanding better than he could realize exactly what he was feeling. When the images were too alive to talk about, when the memories were best forgotten. “Then let’s not.” She stretched out on the floor and pulled over a cushion from the couch.
“Sometimes I wonder how I keep doing this job.”
“The children, Bruce. And all the pilots you are able to help. Did you hear anything about the boy who liked baseball cards?”
“I got a note through one of the embassy guys that he was faring well.”
“I’m glad. When you can tell me that story, I’ll enjoy hearing it.”
“Wolf ate some sand.”
She smiled. “Did he?”
“I’m going to like having him for a brother-in-law.”
“He admires you, Bruce.” She searched hard to find any subject that would be a distraction for him. She wanted so badly to be with him to give him that hug. “I hear you are going to get yet another chance to renew your handle. I saw the baseball team postings.”
“Did they rig the teams again?”
“PJs versus SEALs for game number four.”
“Remind me to steal Wolf’s shoes. The man loves to slide.” She was relieved to hear a glimmer of a smile in that answer.
Silence settled between them.
“God is merciful,” Bruce said quietly.
“Very merciful. He’ll help you sleep, Bruce. You did what you could.”
“I am tired.”
“Thank you for calling me.”
“I almost didn’t.”
She understood that too. “Even if you hadn’t, I would still give you that very long hug.”
“I love you, Grace. If only because you’re gracious with calls like this one.”
“I love you more. When you come home I’ll be waiting.”
“God bless, honey.”
She returned the phone to its cradle. Five dead. How many of those men would Bruce see when he shut his eyes?
Jesus, bless this man whom I love so much with Your comfort, Your incredible comfort. He needs it, Lord.
JULY 10
A
NTAKYA
, T
URKEY
In the front of his Bible, Bruce found the first letter Grace had written him on this deployment. He read it while he lay on the bunk, unable to find the sleep he needed. A year that had changed his life. With the letter was a homemade Valentine’s card she had sent him. He opened the red construction paper and smiled at the
X
s and
O
s. Her poetry was about as bad as her singing.
There was a more fragile letter in his Bible, one he had forgotten. He slipped out the page of stationery that had come long ago with the box of candy that had melted.
Dear Major Stanton,
I’m writing to talk about my nephew Scott. He was shot down outside of Al-Kut during the Gulf War. He died. But the comfort of knowing the PJs went in to try and help him has been a daily comfort.
Bruce refolded the letter, finding it difficult to read to the end. It was a nice letter, but it was a reminder that memories of loss lasted for a decade.
Jesus, men died tonight because they were here to keep the peace. If there is any comfort available to those stateside hearing the sad news, please provide it. I need to see Grace. Please let this settle down so I can go home soon. Tonight I’m at the limits of my strength.
He loved Grace. He loved her so much. Did he want to ask her to pull back from being a pilot? He was so tempted tonight to do so. He rubbed his eyes where emotions welled. He’d seen too many men die in the line of duty and too many times had been late to help.