His Duty to Protect

by Lindsay McKenna

  “Captain, are you ready to leave?” A nurse with the name tag Morayta, L. came in. She had long, brown hair wrapped up in a knot behind her head, a stethoscope hanging around her neck. She had large, brown eyes that sparkled as she drew near.

  “More than you could ever know,” Rachel muttered. She had seen Lauren Morayta over at the chow hall from time to time. “You got my orders cut?”

  Laughing, Lauren said, “I do.” She scribbled her name on a piece of paper on her clipboard. “Dr. Henson wants to see you in three days. By then—” she turned to look around at the busy place “—we should be back to normal.”

  Taking the folded piece of paper, Rachel thanked her. “How many died in this attack?”

  Lauren’s smile disappeared. “Three so far. All burn casualties.” She patted Rachel’s hand. “You were the lucky one. The doctor wants you to rest for seven days.”

  Rachel didn’t feel lucky. She slid off the gurney, thanked the petite nurse and walked out of the chaotic dispensary. Outside, she gratefully breathed in the hot August air. Turning, Rachel walked back to her Black Jaguar Squadron headquarters. There was no way she was resting now. Black, oily smoke hung over the base like a funeral pall. Rachel could hear the roar of fire trucks over in the Ops area. She wondered if they needed help.

  As she entered the busy tent, Rachel noticed how every office clerk was frantic and busy. Women were running here and there. It was an intense energy in the place as she stood just inside the door. To her relief, Rachel spotted her copilot, blond-haired Lieutenant Susan Cameron.

  “Susan!” she called, hurrying over to her desk. “Are you okay?”

  “Hey, Rachel. Yes, I am.” She came around the desk and gave Rachel a hug of welcome. “Are you all right? I was in Ops when the attack came. I got the hell out of there and tried to find you. I never could. And then we got word from the clinic that you had suffered smoke inhalation but were going to be fine. I stayed here because they really needed me.” Susan released her, relief in her gray eyes.

  Rachel smiled. “It’s going to take more than smoke to keep me down. Is anyone else from our squadron injured?”

  “No. We’re fine. Major Dallas Klein is going crazy, though.”

  “Why?”

  “Because we’ve lost two Apaches.”

  “That sucks.”

  Shaking her head, Susan returned to her desk. “The major has her husband on the phone to the Pentagon right now. She’s trying to find replacement Apaches for us. They aren’t easy to find.”

  Rachel liked Major Mike Murdoch. He had joined the Army once again when his wife, Dallas, was given the BJS command in Afghanistan. “Well, if anyone can tear some Apaches loose, it’s him.” She rubbed her hands together. “I can hardly wait to get back in the saddle.”

  “Right now, we’re two helos short,” Susan murmured, worried. She sat down and pulled a pen from the pocket of her flight uniform. “I just hope the Pentagon doesn’t screw us with wait time to get replacement Apaches. We keep our reflexes sharp because we’re flying all the time.”

  Nodding, Rachel saw Major Klein emerge from her small office at the other end of the huge tent. She appeared grim. And when Dallas spotted her, some of that grimness fled from her expression for a moment. She seemed relieved to see her. The CO walked over.

  “How are you, Rachel?” Dallas demanded.

  “Fine, ma’am. Just some smoke inhalation. Nothing more.”

  “Good, good.” Dallas looked around at the beehive of activity. “Helluva attack.”

  Rachel nodded. “Yes, ma’am, it was. The Taliban is really threatened by this base. It won’t be the last time they try to move us out of their territory.”

  Dallas put her hands on her hips. She wore her usual one-piece green uniform. The BJS patch, a black jaguar snarling, was attached with Velcro on the left upper arm. The American flag was sewn on the left front of her uniform along with her last name. Embroidered yellow wings denoted she was an Apache pilot. “They screwed us royal, this time,” she muttered, looking down at Susan and then over at Rachel. “They’ve never hit Apaches before.”

  “They got lucky,” Susan said, lifting her head from her paperwork. “Before, they always lobbed grenades at the airstrip.”

  “Well,” Rachel said, frowning, “they timed their attack better. We’d just landed and rolled to a stop in front of Ops. We use evasive tactics, change our flight path every day, but they got lucky this time.”

  “Unfortunately,” Dallas agreed. “And I’ve got some bad news for you.”

  Rachel blinked. Her CO appeared grim. “Ma’am?” What on earth could this be about?

  Susan looked up, surprise written on her face.

  Dallas said in a low voice, “Major Murdoch just got off the phone with the Pentagon. He talked to Colonel Maya Stevens to see if we could get replacement Apaches for the two we just lost.” Her thin brows fell. “We aren’t getting replacements. All the new Apaches coming off Boeing’s line are going directly to the Helmand Province in the south where all the action’s at right now.”

  “But, ma’am, surely there are two somewhere,” Rachel stammered, her mind spinning. If not, then she would be flying once a week. They were pilot rich right now, but with the loss of two birds, that would drastically change the pilot rotation.

  “Tell me about it,” Dallas griped. “What it comes down to is this—the four pilots who last flew those destroyed Apaches will be transferred out of BJS for six months. Instead, because all of you are CH-47 trained, you’ll be sent to the new, incoming Chinook squadron that just arrived today. They’re pilot poor and in need of more person power. They got the choppers but not enough qualified pilots. You four will fill in the ranks and help them out until we can get the two new Apaches in here.”

  “But…” Rachel choked out.

  “But nothing,” Dallas snapped. “You four are going to suck it up and do the dirty work.”

  “It wasn’t our fault that our Apaches got targeted,” Susan argued, distressed.

  Of course, Dallas knew that no gunship pilot wanted to be relegated to a slow-moving, clunky transport helicopter. But it was clear she had no choice in the matter.

  “You knew coming over here to our squadron that you could pull duty in the Chinooks. Now, you will.” She turned to Rachel. “And you’re on seven days’ sick leave. That will give you plenty of time to refresh your knowledge of the Chinook and get up to speed.”

  Rachel felt as if the floor of the tent had fallen out from beneath her. Tyler Hamilton’s squadron was the one she was speaking about. Her mouth went dry. “Ma’am, may I speak to you in private?”

  Shrugging, Dallas said, “Of course. Follow me.”

  Once inside the small office, Dallas sat down behind her desk that was piled with work. Rachel stood at attention.

  “At ease, Captain. What is it that you need to speak to me about in private?”

  “Ma’am,” Rachel choked out, placing her hands behind her back, “I can’t be ordered over to that squadron.” She launched into the details. Keeping it short, Rachel quickly explained her history.

  Dallas seemed stricken by their information, but assumed a professional stance. “I can’t help what happened to you in the past, Captain Trayhern. I have to run an all-woman squadron. We just lost two of our birds that we desperately needed. If you want to return to flying here when we get them, you have no other choice than to go over to that Chinook squadron.”

  “No question I want to remain here with BJS,” Rachel said.

  “What happened between you and Captain Hamilton was five years ago. Let dead dogs be buried.” Dallas jabbed her finger toward Rachel. “And I don’t want to hear that you’re not getting along over there. You represent the United States, Captain. We’re the only all-woman Apache squadron in the world, and I’ll be damned if you’re going to give us a black eye. Got it?”

  Swallowing hard, Rachel whispered unsteadily, “Yes, ma’am. I got it.”

  “Dammit,” D
allas growled, “make it work, Captain. I’m sorry that happened to you, but Hamilton got his just desserts. It’s time to move on.”

  “I—I’m struggling with that,” Rachel admitted hoarsely.

  Dallas’s eyes narrowed. “Captain, he just saved your life. That should count for something, shouldn’t it? If he hadn’t seen you go down and rescued you, we wouldn’t be having this conversation, would we? Dismissed!”

  Chapter 3

  “Rachel?” Emma called as she popped into her tent in the BJS area, “I just heard what happened. Is it true?”

  Rachel was at her small desk, squeezed into the corner of her tent. She turned in the chair and greeted her cousin. “Hey, I didn’t expect to see you today.”

  “Got a minute?” Emma asked, sitting down on the end of her cot. “Is it true? Major Klein is moving the four of you over to the new transport squadron that just arrived? That she can’t get her hands on two Apaches?”

  Glumly, Rachel nodded and shut the manual on the Chinook she had been studying. “Yeah. Can you believe it?”

  Emma reached out and touched her shoulder. “How are you? Your throat?”

  “Better, thanks.” Rachel gestured to the bottled water on her desk. “My throat has improved a lot since yesterday’s attack. The doc ordered me to stand down for seven days because of smoke inhalation, but I’m fine.”

  Emma set her helmet bag on the wooden floor. “Is there anything Khalid and I can do for you?”

  “Aside from Khalid buying me an Apache helo to strap my butt into, no,” Rachel chuckled.

  Emma nodded with a smile. “I remember when I was flying Apaches and then was ordered to fly the Chinook. I hated the slow-moving transport. Besides that, you’re wide open for attack. All I had was a tail gunner at the rear of the helo. I felt like a piece of raw meat hung out in the sky with a sign that said ‘shoot me.’”

  “I know.” Rachel liked the fact that now Emma was allowed to wear civilian clothes instead of a uniform. Her hair was growing longer and it suited her. Today she had on a dark green, one-piece flight suit with her name on it. “How are things in your neck of the woods? I was over at communications at HQ, and it seems pretty quiet out there today.”

  “It is,” Emma agreed. “Usually, when the Taliban makes a big attack, they run and hide for a week. They don’t want Apache wrath out hunting for them.”

  “Major Klein is like a madwoman on a wolf hunt over there,” Rachel agreed. “She wants to find and blow them out of existence.” And then sadly, “I wish I was in one of those Apaches. This is hell, Emma. I know I went and learned how to fly a Chinook transport, but that was years ago.” She held up her hands. “This is like starting all over.”

  “Hmm,” she agreed, “it is.” Her brows drew down. “And is it true you’re going into Hamilton’s Chinook squadron?”

  Rachel groaned. “Yes. The old squadron did its tour of duty, and now Hamilton had been ordered in to replace it. And you know the worst of it? He’s the CO!”

  Emma shook her head. “I didn’t know that.”

  “Ever since Hamilton was removed from the Apache program, he’s been in CH-47s. That’s five years. Plenty of time to become a CO of a squadron.”

  “I guess he kept his nose clean since then,” Emma said with a twisted smile.

  “He’s a captain. He’ll never rise higher in rank than that, no matter how long he stays in the Army and flies those transports,” Rachel growled.

  “And you’re studying the CH-47 manual to bone up? When do you have to go over there?”

  “Read this,” Rachel told her cousin, and handed her the order she’d just received.

  “Oh, God,” Emma whispered, frowning. “Not only is Hamilton CO, but he’s the IP? Instructor pilot?”

  “It’s like the universe has it in for me. Not only do I get to live with this bastard for the next six months, he has to qualify me in the CH-47. How’s that for double jeopardy? I’ve been racking my brain trying to figure a way out of this.”

  “Can you get out of it?”

  With a shake of her head, Rachel sighed. “Major Klein made it clear that if I want to fly the Apache when it arrives in six months, I have to sit my butt in that CH-47 and do the duty. If I refuse to fly a transport, then I’ll be shipped out to another Apache squadron. You know how important it is that women fly together. You’ve done it. There’s a camaraderie between us that no male squadron will ever have. I love it here, Emma. I don’t want to give that up.”

  Gripping her cousin’s slumped shoulder, Emma said soothingly, “Hey, I understand. I loved flying with the Black Jaguar Squadron in Peru and then here. We’re making history. We’re showing everyone that a group of women can do as well as any male squadron or mixed squadron.”

  “That’s the other problem,” Rachel warned her. “Hamilton’s squadron is all men. Then all of a sudden, he’s getting four female Apache drivers thrown into the mix. Because he hates women and loves spreading his crap that we’re not cut out for flying or war, this is going to be a nightmare for all of us.”

  “How are the other gals taking the assignment?”

  “Better than I am. But they don’t have the past history with Hamilton like I do. They were in other training outfits, not mine.”

  “This sucks, dude,” Emma agreed, placing her hands in her lap. “Could you use some interesting news that Khalid got wind of the other day?”

  Rachel perked up. “Sure. What has he heard?”

  Emma leaned forward. “You have to keep this top secret.”

  “Oh, I will,” Rachel promised, seeing the glint in her cousin’s eyes. “Whatever it is, it’s big!”

  Laughing a little, Emma said, “Oh, it’s an eye-knocker-outer.”

  “What? Tell me!”

  Emma grinned. “There’s a new Black Jaguar group forming under Colonel Maya Stevens. Khalid has been working with Maya and her husband, Dane, who were both assigned to the Pentagon. Maya was the creator of the original BJS, and she showed the boys in the Army how to use the Apache to stop the drug runners in Peru.”

  “Oh, she’s famous for that. She’s the bedrock of the BJS,” Rachel enthused, excited. “But what is this new BJS squadron?”

  “Not a flight squadron.” Emma’s eyes glinted. “It’s a U.S. Marine initiative. They’ve asked her and Dane to head up a group of women volunteers from the five military services who will have boots on the ground. They’re specialists in language and Afghan culture. Their job is to be put in individual Marine deployment squadrons that are coming here.”

  Confused, Rachel said, “Women in combat?”

  “Yes, with a particular mission. They’re in training with the Marines right now at Camp Pendleton. Come October, they’re going to arrive here, at Bravo Camp. This will be their HQ. Maya will head it up because she knows how to integrate women into all male elements. It’s not flying but Maya will also be working with transport squadrons here, as well as Apache deployment.”

  Rachel gasped at the information. “My God, it’s really happening. These women are being trained for combat roles among the Marine squadrons?”

  “Yes. There will be one woman per assigned Marine squad out in the country working with villages and elders. There’s a whole new effort to win hearts and minds here. And Maya was arguing this right up to the halls of Congress. She told the senators in a closed-door session that if they used women who spoke the language and worked with the wives of the elders in a given village, that more loyalty, more contact and far more information would be shared.” Emma grinned. “You know how women talk to one another. These women are being trained as paramedics, too. They’ll be able to give vaccinations, treat the children, wives and female elders of the village.”

  “What a brilliant idea!” Rachel said, amazed and excited. “Brilliant!”

  “Khalid has been friends with Maya and Dane for years, so he got the inside scoop. Don’t breathe a word of this. The fun part is that you will be interfacing with BJS ground troops beca
use you’ll be flying the Marine squads out with these women. Maya felt that having an all-woman BJS squadron here already would help give these ground-troop women the support they need.”

  “Is the Marine Corps happy about this?” Rachel wondered.

  “For the most part, yes. But you know the Marines—only a man can fight. There’s a lot of resentment among some of them, but Dane is working with the sergeants who command these squadrons. There’s no room for prejudice out on the ground. All you care about is that the person next to you, regardless of whether they are male or female, can shoot and kill.”

  “And these women are volunteers?”

  “Yes, all five services are represented, even the Coast Guard.”

  “And they’re enlisted?”

  “Yes. Maya and Dane chose from among all the volunteers. These are women with at least four years in the military. They are the cream of the crop. This idea was put into overdrive almost a year ago. These women had to learn an Afghan language, complete paramedic training and then go to Camp Pendleton in California to become rifle qualified. They’re the whole package.”

  “That is incredible,” Rachel whispered. She saw the happiness glowing in Emma’s face. “Leave it to Maya to break down more doors. While the squad leader is dealing with the male elders, the woman soldier can be talking to the elder’s wife. I’ll lay you ten to one she’ll get more info from that wife than the sergeant or lieutenant ever will from the man.”

  Nodding, Emma said with a grin, “That’s exactly what Maya is counting on.”

  “Wow,” Rachel murmured. “Does Major Klein know about this? She must. She was Maya’s executive officer down in Peru.”

  “Oh, she sure does. Dallas is excited about it, too. She’s gung ho on the whole BJS ground program.”

  “They’ll be together again like they were in Peru. That’s kismet, because we both know they were a successful team down there in stopping drug cartels from getting cocaine out of Peru. The Pentagon, the Chief of Staff know that when Maya and Dallas were a pair, things got done right.”