Then there were the squadron personnel, and what seemed like every other member of the A-10A community, officers and enlisted, and maybe a few civilians thrown in for good measure. A lot of people, pilots especially, wanted to touch him for good luck.
Not that they were superstitious or anything.
Finally, there was the media, which treated him with more reverence than a four-year-old having a private audience with Santa Claus.
All of which confused the hell out of him, because, after all, he had been shot down. And by his standards, that meant he’d screwed up.
No one else seemed to see it that way, though, and Mongoose was smart enough to keep his mouth shut and not contradict them. He remembered to take his aspirin and had his arm cast signed so much it looked like an ink pad. Finally, he found himself sitting alone in Colonel Knowlington’s office, waiting for the colonel to return from some last-minute detail over at the host squadron commander’s office.
So finally he reached in his pocket for Kathy’s letter.
He found the crinkled photograph that had belonged to the Iraqi captain first. He pulled it out and stared at it, a token that what he had gone through really had happened; it wasn’t part of a surreal dream.
The strangers looked out from their glossy space with unknowing smiles. He ran his finger over the surface of the photograph before returning it to his pocket and retrieving the letter from home. It was crinkled and folded all to hell. The inked address with his name had smeared and faded. Tucking it in the fist of his damaged hand, he slipped his finger under the flap to slit it open.
He stopped halfway.
What if, after all this, it had bad news? What if the one thing that had gotten him home turned out to be a Dear John letter, or worse?
Couldn’t be. Would never be.
He drew his finger all the way through.
Honey:
Well, nothing much happened today. Again. Just a boring day.
Robby’s getting bigger by the minute. He misses you. I show him your picture every day. I tell him you’re thinking about him and doing an important job for us all and that you’ll be back soon.
This morning we saw a pair of hawks circling in Felicia’s yard. I took him outside to see. ‘Pretty birds,’ I said. They swept down and we ran over to see, even though we didn’t have our coats on. It’s been warm.
Then I realized what they were doing. There was a little chipmunk on the ground and they killed it. I took him quick and ran inside. I don’t think he saw.
They were so beautiful and mean at the same time. But of course they were just doing what they had to do.
We miss you so much—
“Am I interrupting you?”
Mongoose was so startled he jumped to his feet.
“Hey, relax Goose,” said Knowlington, folding his arms. “Nobody’s going to be shooting at you for quite a while.”
“Sorry.”
“That’s leg’s okay?”
“Got a mile’s worth of bandage on it. Feels okay. My arm’s another story.”
“You want me to open that for you?” asked Knowlington, pointing to the letter.
“No, no, it’s fine.” He refolded the envelope and slipped it back into his pocket.
“I wish I could say you don’t look the worse for wear.”
“I feel fine.”
“I know that lie.”
“I’d like to stay here with the squadron. Obviously I can’t fly for a while, but I think I can put myself to pretty good use.”
“You don’t want to go back and see your wife and kid?”
“Well . . .”
“We’ll try to keep the war going for you, but I can’t make any promises. Ol’ Saddam’s a lot more incompetent than anyone thought.”
Mongoose smiled. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry? For getting shot down?”
“No, for misjudging you,” said Mongoose. “I wasn’t the easiest guy to get along with at first, I realize that. I was wrong.”
“If I had a complaint I would have told you.”
“Thanks for rescuing me.”
“Aw hell, I didn’t rescue you. You thank A-Bomb and the Special Ops guys.”
“A-Bomb told me you came up with the Mavericks and you ran the mission yourself. I appreciate that. I did misjudge you, Colonel,” he added. “I thought, uh— ”
Knowlington nodded. “That I was a drunk? Yeah, well, maybe you had it right. I am. A sober one, though.”
There was too much there for either one of them to talk about it directly. It didn’t need words, though; they understood each other a lot better today than yesterday.
“Come on, I got a surprise for you,” said Knowlington, jumping up.
“Surprise?”
“Yeah. Don’t worry, it’s not a party or anything, and I promise, no more generals, or guys with cameras and dumb questions. But I had a little trouble figuring out how to get it set up, so you have to come down the hall with me.”
Mongoose followed the colonel past Cineplex and the rest of the squadron rooms, down to an office belonging to the intelligence section that was housed in the back end of the Hog Heaven trailer complex. One of the intelligence officers was on the phone.
“Here you go,” said the officer, handing him the phone. “All ready for you.”
Mongoose took it warily. “Hello?”
“Jimmy? Are you okay.”
“Kath? Kath!”
“I’m so glad you’re okay.”
“So am I,” he said, and he slipped down into the chair. In the background he heard little Robby crying. He glanced upwards and saw that Knowlington and the intel officer had left him alone, shutting the door so no one in the world would see that in certain very special circumstances, Hog drivers did cry.
__A NOTE TO READERS__
While this story is based on actual A-10A missions during the Gulf War, it is a work of fiction and should be treated as such. With the exception of historical figures, all characters and call signs in this book are invented and not based on actual individuals. While the bases and commands (other than the Devil Squadron) actually existed, they have been completely rearranged and reconstructed. Liberties have been taken in the name of dishing out an entertaining yarn.
Some details regarding operations and rescue procedures which could conceivably be of use to an enemy during combat have been omitted or obscured. They have not affected the telling of the tale.
The heroism and exploits of the characters in this book are but pale shadows of that displayed by the men and women who actually served during the Gulf War.
Other Books by Jim DeFelice
This is the second in the original Hogs six-book series including
HOG #1:GOING DEEP
HOG #2: HOG DOWN
More in the series coming out soon.
As a thank you for buying this series, visit Jim DeFelice’s website to find out how to download a free copy of his Hog Pilot short story, called In the Hunter’s Shadow, at www.jimdefelice.com
Number One New York Times Bestselling author Jim DeFelice (American Sniper), writing as James Ferro, originally published this book in paperback for Berkley in 1999. His other books on Kindle include:
Novels:
Leopards Kill
Brother’s Keeper
Havana Strike
Short Stories:
Wolf Flight (WWII)
Ace Combat (based on Ace Combat game)
Military History:
Omar Bradley: General at War
Rangers At Dieppe (WWII)
Andy Fisher FBI technothrillers:
The Helios Conspiracy
Cyclops One
Threat Level Black,
Patriot Spy Revolutionary War series:
The Silver Bullet
The Iron Chain
The Golden Flask
You can also find his co-authored series listed on Jim’s Amazon Author’s page:
Rogue Warrior with Dick Marcinko
Larry Bond’s First Team and Red Dragon Rising series
Dale Brown’s Dreamland and Whiplash series.
The first five books in the Stephen Coonts Deep Black series
Hogs #2: Hog Down Page 21
