by M. L. Maki
Another thing, we need to sort out your finances. We’ve set up a bank account in your name for the business. The check book and stuff are all at the company headquarters in Bremerton. Thus far, I’ve had most of your profits rolled back into the business. That’s what I’ve done with mine, too. I should be able to give you a full report soon. If you have plans for it, or a reliable address to send it to, just let me know.
Your Eternal Friend,
Shawn
She sets the letter down, “What do I say?”
“Spike?”
She looks up at Cooper, “You don’t want to hear about my boy problems. How are you and the sergeant?”
“We got married two days ago. Before you say anything, you were swamped and neither of us wanted the attention.”
“Okay, I understand.” She takes a deep breath, “Time to go.”
Twenty minutes later she’s taxiing her plane, to the north end of the runway. “Okay, Lizard, pre-takeoff checklist complete.”
Lizard, “Ready back here.” Then on radio, “Arthur 1, Kenley Tower, you are cleared for takeoff. Climb out at 185. Unrestricted climb.”
“Arthur 1, cleared 185, unrestricted.”
Spike pushes the throttle forward, feeling the power, and smiles. They rocket into the air, “God, I’ve missed this.”
“Me too, Spike. Can we chat?”
“Sure.”
“How did your date go?”
“I felt like a princess the whole night. It was wonderful. Britain pulled out all the stops to show me a wonderful night.”
“Was he, um, a gentleman?”
“Oh, yeah. He was a total gentleman. He flirted a bit, sure, but it was just part of it being a special night. Turns out he’s dating someone else. That, and he knew about Jeremiah.”
“Wow. I’m glad. So, you and Buford are serious?”
“I don’t know yet. I think so. He seems serious.”
“Could you see yourself marrying him?”
“I don’t know about that. Probably not.”
“People get married, Spike. Happens all the time.”
“If it wasn’t for the navy, I could.”
“Well, I’m really glad for you.”
“Thanks, Lizard.”
ASPEN 277, APPROACHING DELMONT, SWITZERLAND
Major Peterson at the controls, “They’ve marked the field. Got it.”
His co-pilot, Captain Sanderson, “See it.” Peterson opposes controls and idles back the engines and the C-130 descends rapidly. He corrects, flares, and glides the big plane in with barely a bump as they touch down on the grassy field. They slow down near a barn and swing the plane around, “Lower the ramp.”
The load master lowers the ramp and a squad of Marines rush out, rifles ready. Lieutenant Oscar Hammond follows them, running toward the barn. The door opens and people run out. “Come on! Come on! Let’s go!” He hustles them to the plane. Two Tomcats pass overhead in a roar. Hammond gets them all on board, doing a head count, and boards the plane last, after the Marines. “Ramp up!”
The ramp raises and Hammond says, “Sit down and strap in.” He and the Marine’s check that everyone’s secured, then sits down and straps in.
On the phones, the load master says, “We are ready.”
ROOK 138, 200 FEET, EAST OF AMIENS, OCCUPIED FRANCE
Ensign Ira ‘Ike’ Kepford, “Shit, this is low. I need your eyes out, Mary.”
His RIO, Ensign Mary ‘Lacy’ Carpenter, “I’m setting up the attack. Okay, outside.” She searches for threats. “Damn, we’re close to Thud. Time to death ain’t much. We’re getting close.”
ROOK 1, 200 FEET, EAST OF AMIENS, OCCUPIED FRANCE
Thud is flying north toward the east quadrant of the town, “Ready, Speedy?”
“I am, amigo.”
“Popping.” He pulls back on his stick, his wingman following, quickly gaining altitude.
“I got it. Launch.” Thud pickles off four AGM-1B Firebolt missiles.
On radio they hear GQ, “SAM launch. SAM launch 345.”
Thud, “Shit.” He inverts and fires countermeasures in the Houlihan maneuver. The Firebolts are programmed to fly straight after they lose lock. The German SAMs flash by and explode behind them. Thud rolls out at tree top, “Fuck.”
ROOK 138
Lacy, “Ike is hit. Ike is hit. Still flying.”
Warning lights flash all over his panel. “Okay. Flame out on one. Hang on.” The jet shakes. Ike throttles back the good engine, slowing them down. The shaking eases, but now it’s trying to roll left. He turns north west, flying down the Somme River. Tracers arc over the jet. “Come on, baby.”
They hear on radio, “Yankee, Arthur 1. Launch two helos. Repeat, two helos. Vector to France. Any available A-10 units vector to intercept Rook 138. Arthur is feet wet.”
ROOK 1
Thud comes alongside his wingman, “Tell them to pull one.”
Speedy, “Ike, pull engine one.”
Lacy, “We already have, sir.”
Speedy, “You’re still on fire, Ike.”
ROOK 138
Ike, “Calm people live. Dumping ordinance.” He dumps all their remaining missiles. Abberville flashes by on their right. “Securing fuel to one. Mary, put your hands on the handles.”
“Okay.”
“Still burning. Losing hydraulic pressure now.” He turns toward a field near a forest, “Eject. Eject.”
ROOK 1
Speedy, “Two good chutes. North west of Abberville. They’re going to need cover.”
On radio, ‘Rook, Dog 1 inbound with four hogs. Give us some room.”
Speedy, ‘Roger, Dog. Climbing.”
They hear Spike, “All units, Arthur 1. Full scramble. All available units scramble. Felix orbit four at Bravo. Felix 1, continue with mission. Beefeater orbit four at X-ray. Knight orbit four at Foxtrot. All available Hogs come to the scene to suppress ground movement. We need two Valkyries inbound. Feet dry over Le Havre.”
Thud, “Spike is in theater. Send No-No to her wing. Put Flower on our wing. God, I want to be on her wing right now.”
ASPEN 277, FARM NEAR DELMONT, SWITZERLAND
Major Peterson holds the brakes and revs all four engines. When they’re whining at maximum revolutions, he trips the brakes and they start rolling, “Come on.”
The trees are getting closer, seeming to fill the windscreen. Finally, Captain Sanderson, “V-2, rotate.” The big cargo plane lifts into the air, just clearing the trees. They climb and clear the mountains into occupied French airspace.
ROOK 131
Ensign Von ‘No No’ Nix, “Okay, Robot, she’s out here alone. Find her.”
Ensign Heather ‘Robot’ Kohlman, his RIO, “I got her. Come to 186. She’s subsonic.”
They hear Spike in rough German in the clear, “Hey Hans, I’m up and flying toward Paris. This is my last flight before I go home. If you want me, come get me. Your last chance.”
Von, “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Come on, Robot. She’s trying to draw them away from the rescue.”
Robot, “Right thirty.” He turns the jet. “It’s working. More than half broke south toward her. About a hundred and fifty miles.”
“Tell her we’re coming.”
“Spike, Robot, we’re at your nine o’clock and sixty miles.”
ARTHUR 1, 40,000 FEET, SW OF PARIS
Spike, “Damn it. What we’re doing is nuts. I don’t want to risk them.”
Lizard, “The world would come if they could, Spike. Deal.” They listen to the radio traffic as the rescue is organized.
Spike, “This is about drawing the Germans away from the downed pilots. Lock nine. Pick two. When they fire, I’ll pickle off two to make them think about the incoming. We’ll break toward No-No. Have him watch our back. Let’s draw them further south. Going to zone 5.” She lights the afterburners and they’re pushed back into their seats.
“Got it.” On radio, “No-No, we’ll break toward you. Watch our backs as we make the
turn.”
Robot, “Got it, Lizard.”
Lizard, “They’ve fired on us at sixty-miles.”
Spike pickles off two AIM-1s, “Fox 3. Fox 3. Grunt.” She pushes the stick over and turns to the south.
On radio, “Arthur 1, you have ten plus missiles tracking.”
Spike tightens the turn and dives. The German missiles close at Mach 3. Diving in zone 5, Spike accelerates to Mach 2. The German missiles expend their fuel and lose lock, dropping away. They didn’t have the energy to catch her in the thicker air.
Robot, “We have missiles fired on us. Breaking down and south.”
Spike, “Grunt.”
Lizard, “Understood, Robot. Going vertical.”
Spike, “Get me lock.” She pulls over the top and levels out.
Lizard, “Lock. Forty miles.”
Spike, “Fox 3. Fox 3. She triggers off her last two AIM-1s, her jets nose pointed at the targets.
Lizard, “Six missiles coming at us. No, eight.”
“Got visual. Grunt.” She pushes the stick back into another high ‘G’ dive, pulls back on the throttles, and pickles off countermeasures. Then, she spins her jet to meet the enemy. “Grunt.” She levels off, bleeding speed. Two FU-279s close at Mach 1.
Lizard, “Splash one.”
Passing between the two Germans, “Grunt,” she inverts, pulling into a tight turn, pushing her wings forward manually, and extending the air brake. The Tomcat whips around, “Tone. Fox 2.” She relights the burners as an AIM-9 sidewinder drops and fires. It zigzags into the left engine of a ‘279. The engine explodes, shrapnel tearing out of the fuselage. The plane falls onto its left wing, sliding to the ground below. The remaining ‘279 turns right, entering a minimum distance turn. Spike turns hard, entering the turn a mile behind the German jet. She quickly pulls lead and fires her gun. The 20 mm stitch holes into the fuselage from the engines forward. The rounds hit the fuel tanks, then the cockpit. The jet catches fire and rolls on its back, trailing flame and smoke. She sees the ejection seat leave the plane.
Lizard, “On our six.”
She reverses in a diving turn, relighting her afterburners, “Where?”
“No-No crossing.”
Robot, “Splash one.”
Spike, “Vertical thatch.”
FELIX 1 OVER ASPEN 277
Commander Richard ‘Oyster’ Osterman pickles off four AIM-1, “Volley Fox 3.”
Lt. Bruce ‘Tripod’ Guiles, “Splash 3, Boss. That might draw them off Spike.”
“I hope.”
DOG 706, 200 FEET, NW OF RESCUE SITE
Marine Captain Ed ‘Hoss’ Buckmaster turns hard, skidding away from tracer fire. He spots the concrete gun emplacement in a corner of the field. “Fuck you, Hans.” He rolls in at ninety degrees to the gun, picks an aim point, and fires at the concrete wall. His 30mm rounds dig through the wall, creating a cloud of dust, and hits the gun. It explodes, shooting into the air and rolling across the field. “Yeah.”
DOG 1, NEAR RESCUE SITE
Marine Major Floyd ‘Sparks’ Parks yards his A-10 over, “Tanks approaching from the east. Panzer 4s.” He pushes hard on his rudder, slewing the A-10 and firing his gun, walking the 30mm rounds down the line of tanks. “Six tanks. Four dead.”
On radio he hears, “The Germans are running from their trucks.”
He keys his mic, “If they’re armed, they’re combatants. Engage.”
His wingman comes on the radio, “Last two tanks are dead.”
Then they hear, “Hog pilots, Valkyrie 1, thirty seconds out. Give us some room. Ike, Lacy, pop smoke.”
ARTHUR 1, IN A FUR BALL 140 MILES SOUTH OF RESCUE
Spike fires a burst of 20 mm at a passing ‘279. She stitches it at the wing root and the wing folds. She inverts into a dive as No-No climbs toward them in the vertical thatch. “Lock trailer.”
“Got it. We’re sans missiles.”
“I know.” The German pilot jinxes up to break lock and into her gun sight. She fires and hits him across the wings. The jet catches fire and stumbles in the air, shedding bits of wing.
They hear on radio, “Knight flight in with four, Spike.”
RESCUE SITE
Ike and Lacy are hunkered down at the edge of a bit of forest. Ike pops a red smoke grenade and throws it out into the field. Lacy, on her survival radio, says, “Valkyrie. Red smoke. Red smoke.”
“Identified. Lay down on the ground. Don’t stand until we wave you in.”
They see two helos flying in on the deck, firing their miniguns into the forest away from the smoke. One comes to ground hover eighty feet from them. The weapons operator motions them in. They get up and run for the helo. Moments later, they’re aboard and the helicopter lifts.
KNIGHT 1, FUR BALL
Gandhi, “Spike, No-No, break down. Quad fox 3.”
‘Shotgun’ Mossberg’s RIO, Lieutenant Commander John ‘Packs’ Boxter, says “Splash three.”
Gandhi, “Splash four. Free to maneuver.”
Lizard, “They’re bugging out. If you have long range missiles, use them.” Four German jets are blotted out of the sky before they can fly out of range.
They hear on radio, “Valkyrie 1, feet wet.” Arthur 1, Felix 1. Aspen is climbing out. We have the package.”
Lizard, “Roger, Felix, thank you. Fuel check?”
All units report their fuel levels. Spike and No-No join with Felix and escort the C-130 home.
KNIGHT 1
Swede, “Time to make a strategic advance to the rear.”
Gandhi, “Brother, she used herself as bait.”
“It drew them off the rescue. It was the right tactic.”
“Yeah, I know. But, does she have a death wish?”
“She’s finally found her man. She isn’t going to give that up.”
“The Brit or the SEAL?”
“The SEAL. Buford.”
“He’s an ensign.”
“Not forever.”
“Yeah, but by the time he makes commander, she’ll be president.”
“If only we were so lucky.”
CHAPTER 11
RAF KENLEY
1614, 16 October, 1942
A crowd has gathered as Aspen 277 rolls to a stop and spools down its engines. The rear ramp lowers. The Marines are the first off. Each one smiles at Duck as they line up to guide the passengers off. Lieutenant Hammond and the load master lead the rescued military and civilians off the plane.
Duck spots his parents and feels himself tearing up. Sofia Newberg drops her small bag and pulls Duck into a hug. Sergeant Major Jerry Newberg, grinning, his eyes welling up, grabs them both. They stand, holding tight to each other. Lori Givens, “Guys. Guys. We’re in the way.”
Duck pulls away, “God. It’s good to see you. I thought…I thought you were gone.” He pulls his mother close, again, then releases her. “Mom, Dad, this is Lori Givens. She’s my girlfriend. Lori, my parents, Sofia and Jerry Newberg.” He pulls Lori to him. Duck Newberg is incandescent with joy. “I’m so happy. So happy.” He looks around. “Maybe we should go in.”
Sofia pulls Lori into a hug, “Welcome to our family, Lori.”
They go into the hanger with the rest. Family members and official staff await the rescued. Major Louis ‘Shotgun’ Mossberg says, “Jarheads, over here.”
The five US Marines who were his ground crew, walk over and salute. SGT Smith says, “Wow. A major. Congratulations, sir.”
“Thank you. What happened to the others?”
The sergeant, “Willy and Bean were shot and killed on the base. Nichole was captured near the border and killed herself before we could spring her.”
Shotgun, “To protect you?”
“Yeah, we’re pretty sure.”
“I’m glad you made it. Come on, let’s get you fed and get some beer into you.”
General Walter ‘Beetle’ Smith beside before Commodore Hunt. “You going to commission Sergeant Major Newberg, too.”
Spike smiles, �
��If he held a unique skill the Navy needed and the Army does not, hell yes.”
“Does he?”
“He comes from Air Force Special Forces. If I were you, I would promptly give him his majority and assign him to command your SERE school.”
Beetle, “What’s SERE?”
“Survival, evasion, resistance, and escape training. How not to get captured and make it possible to get rescued. His son, Duck, told me the sergeant major instructed at SERE.”
“Thanks for the advice. I’ll let Eisenhower decide.”
They look around at the many reunions. The Newberg’s are holding tight to Duck and have pulled Lori into their circle.
Spike, “General, I’m going to commission the women. You don’t want them.”
Beetle, “I hate that policy. You’ve proven it’s stupid, and I despise doing stupid things. We should be smarter than that. That said, Commodore, be my guest. And, thank you for getting them out.”
A fit brown-haired woman walks up to Hunt, “Ma’am, I’m Lieutenant Roots. I have five female enlisted and one other officer with me.”
Hunt, “You’re senior?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Roots introduces the women with her.
“What do you do for the Air Force, Lieutenant?”
Roots, “My call sign is ‘Square’. I fly the F-111 Aardvark, ma’am. My brother, Tom, is a F-15 pilot.” She motions to a young man who’s been hanging back, “Tom, over here.” She turns back to Hunt, “You can commission him, too.”
Hunt, “No. I promised General Eisenhower I wouldn’t steal anymore Air Force people from him. Look, the Army Air Force is not allowing women to fly, so you, I can commission. Your brother, no. You should have no problem transitioning to a Tomcat. Which of your cadre do you recommend for commissioning?”
“All of them, ma’am.”
Duck walks up with his parents and Lori, “Ma’am, this is my dad, Jerry, and my mom, Sofia. Mom, dad, my boss, Commodore Hunt. She’s the best boss.” He looks up at Spike, “I’ll tell you how she rescued me later. She’s an angel.” He turns beet red. “Sorry, ma’am. That just came out.”
