by M. L. Maki
He nods, “They love you.”
“They’re awesome. Nothing we do would be possible without my crew.”
“When I told Triage, he told me something I want you to know. He said that if I break your heart. If I hurt you. If I play the cad. Men will be lining up to kill me. He also said, he would be in that line. I will never hurt you.”
She’s quiet as she navigates to the London Bridge. They merge with a line of trucks and drive over the Thames. “I know you won’t. That doesn’t mean we can work. I don’t want to be put on a stump and barked at. I’m a person.”
“I know that. I also know you’re wrapped up in guards and shields. Maybe it’s cozy in there, but there’s room for me.”
“You know, I’ve always been a disaster as a girlfriend.”
Jeremiah grins, “That’s because all those other guys were jerks or idiots. That, or because you were too young to believe in yourself.”
“Why don’t you want some innocent young thing to fetch your beer?”
He’s quiet, then, “Because, in that situation the guy is in charge and the girl isn’t. It may be a male fantasy, but it isn’t mine. My partner will be as driven, intelligent, and strong as I am. Or, in your case, a bit more on all counts. I don’t want some girl at home who asks what it was like to climb the mountain. I want someone who knows, because she climbed it with me.”
“Oh, I see. Not what I’m used to. We have a lot to learn about each other.”
“Yeah, and we’ve already started.”
She pulls up to the entrance to the Savoy and they get out. Sam hands the keys to the valet. The door man opens the door, smiling and beckoning them in. They walk into the lobby, then through to the dining room. As they enter, the conversations go quiet. Buford gives his name to the Maitre d’ and they are guided to their table.
Their waiter, “Wine, sir?”
Buford grins at Sam, “Champagne, please.”
“Of course.”
They peruse their menus and when the waiter returns with their champagne, they order their dinner: roast lamb with potatoes and French beans.
Sam smiles at Jeremiah, “This is nice.”
At a nearby table, Ernest Hemingway is sitting with a photojournalist. The man pulls out his camera and Hemingway puts a hand on his arm, “No.”
“This is a story.”
“No. It’s two people who deserve their privacy. Leave it.”
“Look. It’s a scoop for me. I thought you interviewed her.”
“I did, and we’ll continue to follow her story. But, right now, leave her alone. We’re free and safe today because of what she did. Leave her be.” He turns and gives the man the full weight of his gaze, “I mean it.”
Sam, “Do you like climbing mountains?”
“When I was in high school, I did a lot of rock climbing. I’m not as good as Munchkin, but I’m okay.”
“Do you like it?”
He gives her a rueful grin, “I like being good at things. I like making a difference. When I’m out of the Navy, I’ll never camp out again. That, and I hate cold showers.”
She laughs, “I so get it.”
The concierge walks to their table and hands Bufford the key to their room. “All is arranged, sir, ma’am.”
Buford, looking uncomfortable, “Thank you.”
“Of course.”
As he walks away, Sam says, “That was awkward. It’s okay, Jer. Really.” She takes a sip of her wine. “This is quite good, don’t you think?” She bursts out laughing at the look on his face.
“Damn it, Sam…Oh, hell. I’m sorry.”
“It’s Cooper. He tries so hard. It’s okay. Anyway, I agree with you. That need to make a difference, I have that, too. I’ll always fly, but I will be happy to put the killing behind me. Do you ride?”
“Yeah, grew up on a horse. Western, of course. You?”
“Yes, but English. My family runs a horse farm; breeding, training.”
“That’s something we have in common, sort of. Any idea what you’ll do after the war?”
“I expect I’ll be tossed out of the Navy. You know, the reason I became a naval aviator in the first place was to be an astronaut. I so wanted to go into space and pilot the space shuttle. Now, who knows.”
“I’ve a feeling you’ll be able to stay in as long as you like. Think they’ll let you keep your star?”
“I doubt it. It’s positional. I might get my four stripes when I turn over. I mean, I should. If I kept the star, I’d never get to fly.”
“True. I know you’re from Tennessee. What’s it like?”
“My family has a farm in a beautiful green valley in east Tennessee. It’s been in our family for over a hundred years. We breed hunters and show horses. It’s where I grew up. I love horses, but I love flying more. There was a biplane at the county fair every year. I saved up and got myself a ride when I was fourteen. That was it for me. By fifteen, I’d finished ground school and by seventeen, I had my license. Mom was incensed. She wanted me to stay home and take over the farm. Like I said, I like horses, but that was her dream.”
“Seventeen? Wow. What did you fly?”
“A Cessna 172. It’s a high wing single engine monoplane.”
“I’ve never heard of it.”
“Cessna is making trainers right now. The 172 isn’t produced until the fifties” The waiter arrives and sets their plates in front of them.
Jeremiah, “Once you’re out, what are you going to fly?”
“I’ll buy a surplus transport, or something new, but inexpensive. Private aviation explodes after the war. I’ll own a plane until I’m too old to fly.”
He nods, “Right, and I’m a willing passenger. Have you ridden western?”
“Yeah, some. Why?”
“Just wondering. If your mom was so against you flying, how did you pull it off?”
Sam smiles and chuckles, “Dad gave her absolutely no choice. He knew I loved it. When he put his foot down, the issue was closed.”
Jeremiah, “I like riding. It’s a melding of man and animal. Well, it can be. It depends on the horse.”
“Yeah, it does. Some just don’t have the temperament. They’re like people in that.”
“Mine was an Appaloosa named Ash. Grey, of course. She was so smart and she could anticipate my moves. God, I miss her.”
“Mine was Smoky. She was smart and loving. She followed my around like a puppy.”
Jeremiah, “We’re beating around the bush, aren’t we?”
“Yeah. I feel very out of my element.”
“I won’t hurt you.”
She meets his gaze, “I know, but that is a very low measure of compatibility.”
“I love you.”
“Jere, do you know what love is? I’m not sure I do.”
He’s silent, lost in her eyes. Then, “It’s when your own happiness is totally dependent on the happiness of your love. It’s when your own success does not exist without the success of your love…It’s waking up together, and no matter what has gone wrong, no matter what lays before you, the world is well, because you are together.”
She smiles and puts her hand over his, “My mom and dad fought more than they agreed. My grandparents love each other, but us kids didn’t really see it. They just worked together. I don’t think I understand how love works.”
Jere grins, turns his hand over and takes hers, “Let’s find out together.” He motions for the bill.
The waiter comes over, “Sir?”
“The bill, please.”
“Sir, your dinner is gratis.” He turns to Sam, “Commodore, thank you so very much for all you have done.”
She smiles, “You’re welcome, but we should pay.”
“Absolutely not. Thank you very much.” He bows and walks away.
She looks at Jere, “I don’t like the celebrity stuff. I should pay.”
“Let it go for now. It means a lot to them. Accept it gracefully.” He stands and offers his hand.
> She stands and accepts his hand, “You’re right.” They walk out to the lobby and to the elevators. She looks for the number on the key. Their room is on the top floor. When they open the door, they find a suite with a large sitting room. There’s a fire in the fireplace. It’s like a palace.
Jeremiah turns to her and pulls her to him, “I love you.” She stiffens and he stops.
“No, it’s fine. Don’t stop. Please.”
He holds her for a moment, letting her relax, then pulls back. “It’s okay, Sam.” He kisses her gently. She’s still stiff, but she returns the kiss, deepening it. She puts her hands behind his head and pulls him closer. He feels the tears on her cheeks.
He raises his head, frowning, “Are you….” She pulls his head down, pressing her lips to his. Then she pulls back and gives him a watery smile.
“Sorry.” She toes off her pumps. He finds the zipper to her dress, then hesitates. She nods and kisses him again. He unzips the black dress and it falls to the floor. She brings her hands down and pushes off his jacket, then unbuttons his shirt.
Jeremiah takes a deep breath and steps back. Smiling, he carefully undresses and drapes the borrowed suit over a chair. Sam grins at him and hangs up the dress. “You’re right. This is nuts.”
They come together and finish undressing each other, giggling. Her tears are gone. “Jere, I’m on birth control, just so you know.”
“What’s….later.” He picks her up and lays her on the bed. “God, you’re beautiful. So beautiful. Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m just getting the hang of this, you know. I…I love you, Jere. Oh my God, I love you.”
“I love you, Samantha. So much.”
FARMAN FACTORY, CHATEAUFORT, YVELINES, OCCUPIED FRANCE
0540, 10 October, 1942
Ernst Heinkel walks quickly with Oberstleutnant Oscar Mentz, Major Ernst Knigge, and two Hauptmann, “You must fly it to Frankfurt and there we will continue our work.”
Mentz, “We know how to fly. What we do not know is if this thing will fly.”
“Ya, it will. Of that, I am certain. These are our only prototypes. It is imperative that we get them safely to Frankfurt.”
“Why do we not test them here?” The two air crew climb the ladders to the cockpits of the two planes. Heinkel stands on the top of one of the ladders.
“Because the British and Americans have begun their air offensive. We must move production to a more secure place.” Heinkel helps them each strap in, then he goes over the engine check start sequence.
CHAPTER 4
ROOK 132, 100 FEET, 60 MILES WEST OF BREST, OCCUPIED FRANCE
0710, 10 October, 1942
Lt. Byron ‘GQ’ Standley, “You’re humming. What’s up?”
“Just in a good mood. I’m glad to be back in my bird.”
“Me too. Does it have anything to do with the boss dating that SEAL?”
“You know about that?”
“Sis, everyone knows about it.”
“I didn’t think about it. Of course, they do. Okay, time to focus.”
“The mast detector is getting a whiff of search radar. Nothing airborne.”
Hot Pants, “Okay, feet dry.”
GQ, “Auto-drop selected. Two minutes.”
Hot Pants, “Bogey, one o’clock high.”
“Illuminating.” He switches on the powerful search radar, “There’s four. One o’clock at twenty miles.” They feel the weight of four one-thousand-pound bombs releasing. She pulls back on the stick and they rocket toward the new threat. “Okay, sister, they’ve fired on us. Eight missiles are inbound.”
She inverts the ’14, dropping chaff and flares, then dives.
GQ, “Good, sis.”
“G’s.” She pulls back on the stick, rolls on the throttles and shoots back up. Two planes dive on her. She gets tone from her Sidewinders and pickles one off. Then, “Gs.” She puts the jet into an eight G barrel roll and gets on the six of the trailing ‘262 in the second element. “Guns.” She gets a quick burst and hits the plane in its engines and they catch fire.
“We’ve got one on our six!”
Hot Pants, “Fox 2.” She fires her last AIM-9 Sidewinder. It zigs once and explodes into the engine of another ‘262. “Gs.” She rolls level, then pulls up into a 9 G climb. Tracers pass beneath them.
ROOK 136, HOT PANT’S WINGMAN
Ensign Mical ‘Pin Up’ DeGraff, “Guns. Guns.” She fires a burst at the ‘262 chasing Houlihan.
Ensign Steve ‘Man’ Uhle, her RIO, “We’ve got one coming onto our six.”
“Hold on. Gs.” She cranks on the Gs and pulls into the lead, firing her guns and stitching the centerline of the ‘262 in front of her. The tanks burst into flames, and the wings fold like a butterfly’s. She then inverts, extending her air brakes, and idles her inboard engine, tightening the turn.
Man, grunting, “Fuck.”
The following ‘262 shoots past her and she pulls behind it. Another pull of the trigger, and the ‘262s engines explode.
Man, “Hot shit! Good kill. Time to take it home.”
KNIGHT 1, 200 FEET OVER BREMERHAVEN
Commander Stephan ‘Swede’ Swedenborg, “You see the dock yard?”
“Yes, brother. Got it.” Their aircraft shakes from the explosions from the bombs. The nearby dock yards flash yellow-orange, then black smoke billows into the air.
“We put our last two on the right dry dock.”
“Right. Auto-drop is set.”
They hear, “SAM. SAM. 160.”
Gandhi on radio, “Knights, do the Houlihan.” They all invert and pickle off countermeasures, diving for the deck. To Swede, “Thirty seconds.”
Swede rolls the plane upright and level. They feel the jet lighten as two 1000-pound bombs release. Swede dives between the remaining buildings at 500 knots. “Guns.” He fires, putting rounds into the Nazi headquarters building. Then he climbs out and turns left, “Let’s find the missile sight.”
“It’s on the concrete thing.” Swede sees the missile tower. Two missiles are being reloaded.
“See it.” He wiggles his rudder and puts his nose on the missiles. He pulls the trigger. The tower explodes, then moments later, they’re shaken by a massive secondary explosion. “That’ll do. Time to go home.” He rolls left and turns north.
Gandhi on radio, “Brother Swede says it’s time to wrap it up, put a bow on it, and head home.” They leave the waterfront and dockyards burning behind them.
ROOK 1, 200 FEET OVER OCCUPIED PARIS
Commander Frank ‘Thud’ Jackson, “Okay, the airfield is burning and we fucked up their air defenses. It’s Miller time.”
His RIO, Lt. Jose ‘Speedy’ Gonzalez on the radio, “Rook flight 1, RTB. Heads on a swivel.” The flight checks in and they head for the coast, flying down the Seine. On intercom, “Do you think they’ll let Spike fly missions?”
Thud, “She’s in charge. She’ll fly. She’ll insist on it.”
“You heard about her date?”
“Speedy, everyone knows about her date. That SEAL took a bullet for her on the flight line.”
“Yeah. Just…he’s an ensign. Is he good enough for her?”
“Not our call, man. If she likes him, I’m all for it. Of course, if he hurts her, I would be inclined to put a round in his brain bucket.”
“Yeah, me too.”
6TH FLOOR, SAVOY HOTEL, LONDON
Samantha Hunt wakes up. Her head is on his chest and her arm and leg are over him. She inhales his scent and smiles
and closes her eyes. He stirs and puts his hand in her hair, “I love you.”
“Yeah, I love you, too. Time to get up.”
He puts his hand under her chin and lifts her face for a kiss, “Not yet, love. Not yet.”
TREASURY BUILDING
0616, 10 October, 1942
Quincy Diggs walks purposefully through the building, smiling. He knocks and enters Major Pettigrew’s small office. “Hello, Major. Might I have a word?”
Pettigrew sets down his paperwork, “Of course. And you are?”
Offering his hand, Diggs says, “Quincy Diggs, chief of staff for Senator Russell.”
“A pleasure to meet you, sir. How may I help you?”
“I understand you’ll be managing the bond tour for Hunt.”
“I am. The Navy is trying to cut it short. It seems they want her back in combat.”
“Ridiculous, don’t you agree?”
Pettigrew looks puzzled, “I do. What is the Senator’s interest in this?”
“What do you think of women in uniform?”
“Outside of pin-ups, I think it’s terrible. I mean, Hunt may be successful, but she’s making a mockery of manhood.”
“I completely agree. Perhaps we can work together to sort this out.”
