Morris came back to Rachel. “I need you to stay here and wait for them. These people have never seen a helo before we came here, much less rode in one. I know the girl who’s pregnant is very shy. Her mother will accompany her, but both can use your woman’s touch.”
“Sure, no problem,” Rachel said, peering past his shoulder. A door opened and two women came out through it, dressed in black burkas, hidden from head to toe. It was obvious the shorter of the two was very pregnant.
Rachel had no time to dally. Once the women were on board, Hamilton was up front bringing the twin engines online. She smiled and patted the mother’s hand. Both of them seemed frightened. Rachel just hoped the girl wouldn’t deliver the baby here, in the back of the bird. She had no idea what to do to help her. Moving up front, she quickly got into the copilot’s seat, pulled on her helmet and plugged the connection into the intercom system.
“Did you give those two earplugs?” Hamilton demanded, his hands flying across the instrument panel.
“Roger that,” Rachel said, strapping in.
“You’re taking us off. I’ll direct you to the outpost and where to land.”
Good, she had something to do. Gripping the cyclic and collective, she spoke to the crewmen in the back. The ramp was down, one of them manning the machine gun. Liftoff!
Flying to the outpost was a quick trip. The rotors raised thick, blinding clouds of yellow dust. Hamilton once more talked her down, and relief flooded through Rachel as she landed. In no time, the engines were shut down. This time, Hamilton leaped out of his seat.
“Stay here with the helo. And try to make these two women feel welcome. They look like they’re going to bolt out of the rear.”
Rachel removed her helmet. There was quick teamwork in the back. The Army soldiers from the outpost swarmed into the rear of the Chinook, helping the other three get the boxes off-loaded as quickly as possible. She stepped down and went to the two Afghan women. They looked positively frightened. Kneeling down in front of them, one hand on each of their hands, Rachel tried to soothe them. Her Pashto was rough at best, but trying to speak it made both of them appear relieved.
Within two minutes, the bird’s cargo bay was cleared. Rachel divided her attention between the frightened women and the men smiling and laughing at the rear of the helo. When she saw Hamilton stride back into the chopper, she rose. Giving the women one final smile, Rachel left and went to her copilot seat.
Hamilton’s body brushed against her shoulder as he came and sat down. The space between the two seats was very narrow. Her flesh tingled where he’d accidentally grazed her. Trying to ignore the sensation, Rachel did as ordered and took off once the engines were online. In no time, they were airborne. Hamilton was on the radio with Camp Bravo telling them they were detouring to Bagram Air Base outside of Kabul.
Relieved that Bravo Command gave them permission to fly the two Afghan women directly to Bagram, Rachel felt lighter. Happier. She loved change. And today, a mundane and unexciting flight had turned into something much more. As she headed the helo up to eight thousand and pointed the nose of it toward Kabul, she heard Hamilton chuckle. She turned her head toward him for a moment and saw that he was smiling. How handsome he was. Even though she couldn’t see half his face, hidden by the dark visor, she definitely noticed his mouth. Nearly hypnotized by it for a moment, Rachel shook off the sudden desire that bloomed within her. What was going on? Hamilton was her enemy. He had always been that. Confused, she stuck to flying the Chinook through the early morning air.
“A good day,” Hamilton told her later. They had just landed at Bravo Camp. At 10:00 a.m., the sun and air were warming up. The Ops area was busy and frantic, as always. Two Apaches had just landed and another two were trundling out to take off. Noise from the blades of two other Chinooks filled the air, making it nearly impossible to hear conversations.
Rachel had her helmet bag, her clipboard and other flight gear in her left hand. Yes, it had been a good day, but she wasn’t about to let Hamilton know that. When she lifted her hand to push through the door of Ops, Hamilton beat her to it. He shoved it open and stood aside.
Shocked by his gentlemanly gesture, Rachel nodded awkwardly and shouldered past him. She was glad to be at the Ops desk since she knew the drill from there. A sergeant handed her a flight mission form. Without looking back, she chose one of the small rooms. She entered and shut the door in order to focus on the report. Only this time, Hamilton followed her inside.
Turning, Rachel placed her gear on the floor next to the picnic table that doubled as a desk. “I’m sure I can fill out a report by myself,” she said.
Ty sat down opposite her. “When you’re flying an Apache, your report is very different from ours,” he said quietly, not wanting to face the hardness he saw in her face. Damn, she was so good-looking, and yet, that icy demeanor made him smart inwardly. Ty reminded himself he was to blame for her defensiveness. “Sit down.” He opened one of his flight pockets and pulled out two pieces of folded paper. “When we fly, we have to name the outpost, village or any other items that may be important for Intelligence. This morning, we landed at a village whose name you don’t know and can’t spell as yet.” He opened the papers and nudged one of them toward her. “I made a copy of all the villages, names of elders and outposts that we normally service. In your report, you need to not only put in the names and places but how we also transported two women to Bagram.”
It made sense to Rachel. Still, she didn’t like Hamilton sitting across from her. Taking the pen from her pocket, she looked down at the neatly typed list. Hamilton might be a sonofabitch, but he was thorough. Rachel saw the names of villages, the elders’ names, their wives’ and children’s names, the outposts. “This looks very complete,” she said.
The softening in her voice made him relax a little. Giving her a slight smile, he said, “I learned a long time ago flying over here that if I didn’t know the names, I couldn’t connect with the people.”
“No,” Rachel murmured, studying the list, “you get a lot further if you know the name of a village’s leader.”
“Right,” Ty said. He reached over and pointed to the paper. “Captain Morris supplied the name of the daughter. The wife is on this list.”
Dutifully, Rachel filled out her report. She had to have help from Hamilton several times regarding the list. Her Pashto wasn’t that good, and she needed to get better at it. Suddenly, a question popped out of her. “Do you know Pashto?”
Surprised, Ty sat up. “Yes, I do. Well,” he added, opening his hands, “I learned it over time. I’ve never taken an immersion course.”
Rachel cursed herself for veering into personal territory. He didn’t deserve anything from her. Angry with herself, she lowered her gaze back to her report, mouth thinned.
Heartened that she was showing at least a little interest, Ty added, “You know, we have a Rosetta Stone version on Pashto here at the squadron. If you’re interested, you can use it and bone up on the language a little more in your spare time.”
Rachel said nothing. She signed off on the report, turned it around. “I’m assuming you’ll read this, and if there are any corrections, your clerk will let me know.”
Ty glanced up as she stood, grabbed her gear and got ready to leave. “Yes, I will.”
“I’ll find out when I fly again out at the Ops desk,” she said, her voice firm as she opened the door.
Ty sat there alone in the room, the door closing once more. For a moment, the room had been warm. Alive. But now it was sterile once more. He did his best to continue with his report. His heart ached, and he had the feeling it wasn’t physical. Rubbing his chest, Ty tried to figure out why things had suddenly changed. Frustrated, he tried again to focus on his report.
The more he tried to work, the more flashes of Rachel’s face, her beautiful gold eyes haunted him. He’d seen the gentleness in her expression when she’d brought the two frightened women into the helo. He’d felt his heart respond when she�
�d smiled and patted their hands to try and relieve their fear. Like the starving wolf that he was, Ty had found himself wishing she was looking at him like that. And touching him intimately…
“Crazy, dude,” he muttered darkly as he forced himself back to his paperwork. “Certifiably crazy…” Once, he’d hated her so much he was blinded by it. Now five years had passed. He’d grown and maybe matured a little. So what the hell was this emotional response to Rachel? Ty looked up, sighed and stared around the quiet room. The worst part, he was saddled with her at close quarters for the next six months.
Chapter 6
The sun had just risen as Rachel stood with the three other women from the Black Jaguar Squadron. It was freezing, and she was glad to have on her heavy green coat and gloves. Today, Hamilton would train them on cargo net hauling and delivery. He’d ordered them to meet him at the other end of the airstrip where a Chinook was standing by. What got her curious was a wooden pole about ten feet high, anchored into a bunch of sand bags. What was Hamilton up to now?
“Today,” Ty told the huddled group of women pilots, “you’re going to practice delivering cargo to outposts. As you know, all outposts are perched on the highest peak they can find. Those ten-man squads are cut off from normal supply routes. No one can climb those rocky mountains.” He patted the thick, round pole. “So, what we do is we use two huge cargo nets. My crews will fill them with boxes of ammunition, medical supplies and MREs, meals ready to eat.” He walked over to where the two cargo nets were lying on the tarmac. Picking one up, he elaborated, “These are not the normal nets you might be thinking of. They’re made of steel cable that has been woven together. They are designed to carry a lot of weight. And the weight will be different on every flight. Each outpost sends in a weekly order to the Ops desk. The ground crews collect it, and then on a given day, we fly it out to them.”
Rachel tried to ignore how handsome Hamilton was in front of the group. She recalled flight school and his arrogant, intimidating style of teaching. He wasn’t doing it here. Instead, he was open, educational and actually nonthreatening. A far cry from five years ago. She wrapped her arms against her chest, the high-altitude cold stealing her warmth.
Ty dropped the thick, heavy cargo netting onto the tarmac and straightened. “Today we’ll be practicing cargo drops and cargo pickups until you get them right and feel comfortable doing them. This pole is here for a reason. You’re going to have a very small area to gently put those two huge cargo nets near the outpost. You won’t be able to land. Instead, you’re going to listen to your load master, who will be near the opening where they’re hooked up. He’ll guide you down to six feet above the ground. At six feet, they’re on the ground. Then you have to hold this helo perfectly still so the load master can unhook them.” He looked at each of their serious faces. Ty wanted to stare moments longer at Rachel but didn’t.
“Okay,” Rachel spoke up, “so we hover.”
“Right,” Ty said. “But you need to be aware of something. First, when those two cargo hooks are released, there are two men down under the belly of this helo.” He pointed to the CH-47. “Secondly, you can’t allow mountain winds or currents to push this bird around. One small error, and you could crush these two soldiers who are under the helo. They’re trying to get the cargo nets out from beneath it as fast as they can. Then once they’ve dragged the nets clear, four other men will quickly open them up and form a line to take the crates out of them.”
Rachel withheld comment as he became deadly serious. Why did he have to have such a beautifully shaped male mouth? It would be so much easier if Hamilton were ugly, and then she could blatantly ignore him.
“Now, here’s the tricky part,” he told them. Using his left hand to illustrate, he said, “Here’s the landing zone.” He held his other hand barely above the left one. “Here you are with a heavy transport helo that is bucking local or regional mountain winds. You must hover there until they can refill these nets with empty cartridge and ammo cases, their trash and whatever else needs to go back to the base camp.”
“So,” Rachel said, “those men are dragging these nets back up under the helo?”
Nodding, Ty smiled a little. Rachel’s cheeks were flushed, while everyone else seemed cold. “Exactly. You have two men struggling with the weight of those cargo nets. And they’re risking their lives by once more, pulling them under the belly of our bird. The load master is hovering just above them, his hand stretched out to try and get one hook and then the other. This is a very delicate ballet between ground and flight personnel. The key is keeping the helo rock-solid steady during this time. Outpost drops and pickups are the hardest parts of flying out here on the frontier.”
There was a murmur among the four women Apache pilots.
Ty walked over to the pole and wrapped his hand around it. “I know in an Apache, you don’t do this type of flying, so none of you are really accustomed to this situation. That’s why we’re out here today. We’re going to spend it taking the Chinook up and then hovering. You’ll be working via communications with the load master. We’ll hook up these two cargo nets with a lot of weight. Your job is to slowly lower the helo until this pole almost touches the belly of the helo. That is exactly how many feet you have. If you come in too fast, you’ll splinter the pole. And if that had been real, that pole was a soldier waiting under the belly of your helo to get the netting released. You have just badly injured or killed him.”
Rachel traded grim stares with the other women pilots.
“And then I’ll have two crewmen standing by, out of range, as you bring and hover the bird just above that pole. Today, you’re going to learn to trust your load master’s direction and follow his orders exactly. Further, you need to learn to handle the bulk of this helo, feel the sudden loss of all that cargo weight and then the sudden addition to it. There will be a lot of bobbling up and down when that happens, and you can’t allow it. You can crush the men beneath you.”
“Wow, a real dance,” Rachel muttered under her breath. Her brows drew down. She realized instantly that they all had a long way to go on learning this maneuver. Seeing the worry in the faces of every pilot, she knew they all got the seriousness of the training.
Ty looked over the women. “Any questions?” He saw all of them shake their heads. “Okay, then let’s get going. I’m going to be sitting in the left-hand seat, and you’ll each be the pilot in command. You’ll have to get used to doing it from one side of the helo and the other. If you’re right-handed, it’s always easier to do it from the right seat. We’ll build your confidence there, and then we’ll transfer you to the left seat. Most pilots have a weak and strong side when they fly. You’ll find out pretty quickly where that’s at.” He managed a slight grin.
He pointed to Rachel, “Okay, you’re first, Captain Trayhern. Let’s saddle up.”
Great. Rachel scowled but didn’t say anything. When Hamilton was her flight instructor back at Fort Rucker, he would always yell at her, curse her and tell her how bad a flyer she was. Would he do that now? God, she hoped not because she would land the damned helo and go to Ops and report him for harassment.
Joining Hamilton, she kept her distance from his shoulder. The sun felt good, the temperature only slightly higher. The rest of the base was still busy, like bees coming and going. Apaches were warming up for takeoff. Two Chinooks bearing two cargo nets beneath their bellies slowly lifted into the air, bound for outposts in the godforsaken brown mountains.
As Rachel climbed into the helo, she saw that Sergeant Tony Bail was standing near the big, square opening in the middle of the belly of the chopper. He raised his hand and smiled. Rachel nodded to him. This twenty-year-old would be giving her directions. She took her helmet out of the bag and pulled it on. Hamilton waited for her to climb the stairs. Heart pounding, Rachel quickly moved to the pilot’s right-hand seat. She concentrated on their preflight list and then engaged the rear and front rotors.
“Okay,” Hamilton told her, pulling his micr
ophone close to his mouth, “let’s take her up and go to five hundred feet. From there, I want you to pretend we’re over an outpost. You’ll have those cargo slings under you. You’ll feel the load. Ready?”
“I am,” Rachel said, hand around the collective and cyclic. Her boots were firm on the rudders beneath her feet. The shaking and shuddering of the helo soothed her nerves. Rachel tried to steel herself against a potential tirade from her new boss and old enemy. Lifting off, they broke connection with the earth. Instantly, as she slowly pulled the helo upward without tipping forward or back, Rachel felt the tremendous weight of the slings. She responded to it.
“Good ascent,” Ty said.
Relief sped through her for a moment. Was that praise? Rachel said nothing, climbing to five hundred feet and hovering.
“Okay,” Ty said, “begin to lower. Sergeant, take over?”
“Yes, sir. Okay, ma’am, I’m down on my knees near the opening. I will talk you down.”
“Roger,” Rachel said. She knew the other three women pilots were watching. Nerves taut, she began to ease the Chinook down.
“Your nose is high,” Ty warned.
As she glanced quickly at the horizon indicator, Rachel noticed he was right. Not by much. Okay, he was going to be a stickler on a flat landing where nose and tail were exactly even. Correcting, she watched the altimeter slowly unwind. Bail’s voice was high and nasal, but he was good at direction.
“Continue lowering,” he told her.
Rachel lived in fear of striking that upright pole. As they got closer, sweat popped out on her upper lip.
“Twenty feet,” Bail warned her. “A little slower…”
It was a delicate dance. Rachel’s hands gripped the controls hard. She was constantly using her rudders to keep the helo from swinging one way or another as she continued the descent.
His Duty to Protect Page 6
