Coming Up for Air

by Karen Foley

  With the medic’s harness attached to a metal hook on a thick wire cable, Sergeant Helwig began lowering him down using the winch, calling out his position as he descended. When he was about twenty feet above the ground, machine-gun fire opened on them from what seemed like every direction. A rocket-propelled grenade whizzed past the nose of the aircraft, so close that Jenna thought she could actually see the vapor trail it left. Her first instinct was to pull up on the cyclic stick and get the hell out of there, but she held the helicopter steady and prayed that Sergeant Morrison wouldn’t be killed as he dangled on the wire.

  “We’re taking fire! We’re taking fire!” Laura shouted through the headset. “Get that man on the ground!”

  The crew chief worked the winch faster, while Specialist Baker stood over her, keeping an eye on the rescue operation unfolding beneath them.

  Bullets chinked against the side of the helicopter and two rockets whizzed by as Jenna held the helicopter steady. Behind her, she heard Specialist Baker returning fire.

  “Goalie, I’m coming in,” Chance said, his voice firm and controlled in her ear.

  Then he was there, his Apache sweeping in low over the trees and spraying the large clearing with machine-gun fire. Through her night-vision goggles, Jenna saw that a group of insurgents had been making their way along the edge of the clearing toward the tree line. Chance laid down enough ammunition to effectively stop their advance.

  “Okay, he’s down and he’s clear!” shouted her crew chief, and Jenna quickly steered her helicopter out of the kill zone.

  “Where are those rockets coming from?” she demanded. “T-Rex, is the extraction site clear?”

  “That’s a negative,” Chance replied. “We’re going in hot.”

  As Jenna circled the trees, she could see one Apache still hammering the ridge with missiles and machine-gun fire, while the second Apache—Chance’s aircraft—targeted the Taliban who were attempting to cross the clearing.

  “JTAC, what’s your position?” asked Laura.

  “We are unable to reach the extraction site!” the JTAC shouted. “Repeat, we are taking fire and are unable to reach the extraction site.”

  “Damn!” Jenna said. “Okay, I’m coming back around. Hook the stretcher to the hoist and we’ll winch him up.”

  Jenna knew their situation was perilous, despite the fact that Chance and Teacup were relentless in hunting down and eliminating the enemy. She took up her previous hover position while the crew chief and gunner monitored the rescue.

  “Okay, the patient is on the hoist!”

  Sergeant Helwig had just begun winching the stretcher upward when machine-gun fire exploded all around them and Jenna heard the now-familiar pings of bullets striking the side of the helicopter.

  “Shit! That one hit the tail rotor!” shouted Specialist Baker, leaning out the door to inspect the exterior of the helicopter. “We’re okay! We’re good, we’re good!”

  If the tail rotors were disabled, they would crash, likely killing everyone on board, as well as the wounded soldier who dangled helplessly beneath them. Jenna knew if they had any chance of rescuing the man, they had just one choice.

  “JTAC, I’m pulling up and getting out,” she informed the ground coordinator. “Tell Morrison we’ll circle back around and pick him up.”

  “Roger that.”

  Jenna flew the helicopter straight up until the gurney had cleared the trees, and then swung away to the west, out of the kill zone and away from the fierce fighting.

  “Stop! Stop!” her crew chief screamed into the headset. “The gurney’s swinging! We’re going to lose him! Go to a hover!”

  With her heart in her throat, Jenna straightened the aircraft out and came to a full hover. They were still over the trees, but she’d been heading toward the river, where they could finish hoisting the soldier to safety with less chance of being blown to bits. But even here, they could be targeted by an enemy rocket.

  “Get that man on board!” Jenna growled.

  “We’ve got him! We’ve got him!” the crew chief yelled. “He’s on board! Go! Go!”

  Jenna needed no further encouragement. She angled the helicopter around and flew in low along the tree line, trying to make themselves as inconspicuous as possible as they circled around and came back to the tiny clearing to retrieve the medic.

  “JTAC, we’re going to drop another hoist for Morrison,” she told the ground coordinator, but even as the words were spoken, another burst of gunfire peppered the aircraft.

  “Get out! Get out!” the JTAC shouted.

  Jenna’s night-vision goggles picked up the sight of tracer fire, eerily bright in the darkness, and she realized that more insurgents were making their way across the clearing, shooting at her as she hovered over the trees. There would be no way she could stay in position long enough to drop a hoist and winch Morrison back up.

  “JTAC, we need an alternate extraction site,” she said into the headset. “The clearing is under fire. Repeat, we need an alternate extraction site.”

  The JTAC provided the coordinates for a landing site some three hundred yards to the west, on the opposite side of the river.

  “How is Morrison going to reach the far side?” she asked.

  “He said he’s a strong swimmer,” came the reply. “We have a unit on the opposite shore to provide cover. Rendezvous in eight minutes.”

  “Roger that.”

  As Jenna turned the helicopter toward the river, she took a second to glance back at the flight surgeon and the second medic, who were working frantically to stabilize the wounded soldier. She only caught a glimpse of his injuries, but knew that unless they got him into surgery quickly, he wouldn’t make it.

  “Hold on, buddy,” she murmured under her breath. “Just a few more minutes and we’ll be outta here.”

  But as they flew low over the river, more machine-gun fire erupted near the new landing zone, forcing Jenna to retreat.

  “JTAC, we’re under fire!” shouted Laura. “Where can we land?”

  “A landing isn’t possible!” came the reply. “Leave Morrison and get that soldier to a hospital.”

  “I am not leaving Morrison behind,” Jenna replied tightly. “I’m coming back around.”

  But as she swung around, another helicopter was there before her, cruising low over the landing site and laying down enough suppressive fire that the entire riverbank seemed to explode with light.

  “You’re cleared to land, Goalie,” came Chance’s voice over the headset. “Sorry for the delay. We got held up back there.”

  Jenna smiled and, as the Apache provided cover, she brought the Black Hawk gently down. Her wheels had barely touched the ground when Morrison dived through the open door and into the cabin of the helicopter.

  “We’ve got him!” Specialist Helwig called. “Let’s haul ass!”

  Jenna didn’t need any further encouragement. She forced the helicopter into a steep climb, angling away from the danger zone and toward Kandahar, the location of the closest coalition hospital. The entire mission had lasted less than twenty minutes, and yet Jenna felt as if an eternity had passed since she and Chance had exchanged words on the tarmac. Only now that they were safely away from the battle, did she realize she’d been operating on pure adrenaline.

  “T-Rex, our crew is on board and accounted for, and we are heavy one wounded soldier,” Jenna said into her headset.

  “Roger that,” came the reply. “I’ll escort you in.”

  Jenna just barely contained her surprise. She hadn’t expected Chance to guide her all the way to Kandahar, although of course he would. She didn’t know how to respond, so she simply acknowledged the statement and then directed her attention to the rescue mission being performed in the cabin behind her.

  “How’s he doing, Doc?”

  “He’s lost a lot of blood, but we’ve managed to stabilize him,” came the grim reply. “He needs immediate surgery.”

  “I’ll do everything I can to make sure he
gets it,” she promised, and pulled on the collective until the Black Hawk was at its maximum acceleration. At this speed, she could knock crucial minutes off their estimated time of arrival. She figured they’d been hit by enemy fire at least a half dozen times, but they’d been lucky; they were still operational and every mile they covered was critical.

  When the lights of Kandahar came into view, she listened as Laura radioed the control tower and was granted priority clearance to land. She thought she would feel thankful to reach the large base, and for the injured soldier’s sake, she was. But there was another part of her that understood that this was where she would say goodbye to Chance. He would return to Kabul and she would remain at Kandahar.

  As they closed the distance to the base, Jenna allowed herself to reflect on what Chance had said. Was he right? Had she been eager to fly this mission because she felt she had something to prove? Her first reaction was a vehement denial. Her father had never talked about his Vietnam experiences. She hadn’t grown up listening to his tales of glory, and she’d never harbored any fantasies about doing something heroic. She’d made the decision to follow in his footsteps and become an army helicopter pilot simply because she loved to fly. At the time, it seemed the best way to make a living and continue to improve her piloting skills.

  But now she acknowledged that there may have been some truth to his words. All her life, she’d struggled to gain her father’s approval. Had she subconsciously hoped that by flying this mission, she would earn that? Or had there been a part of her that wanted to prove she was just as capable as her male counterparts? She wasn’t sure she wanted to explore her reasons for volunteering for the mission.

  They were flying over the perimeter of Kandahar Airbase now. In contrast to Sangin, this base was enormous and the airport was the largest in Afghanistan, servicing more than one hundred flights each day. As she approached the landing zone, she saw a field surgical team waiting to rush the wounded soldier into surgery. She utilized every bit of training she had to bring the big helicopter in as gently as she could, and no sooner had her wheels touched the ground than the flight surgeon and medics transferred the injured soldier to a waiting ambulance.

  Jenna powered down the rotors and began the routine process of shutting the helicopter down. Her crew chief and gunner both jumped out, pulling their helmets and protective vests off and tossing them onto the cabin floor before they began circling the Black Hawk, inspecting the damage. By the time Jenna removed her own helmet and climbed out, they had been joined by a half dozen maintenance crew, all of them circling the helicopter with expressions of astonishment.

  “We were pretty lucky,” Specialist Baker commented, fingering a small divot in the paint, just beside the cabin door. “We’ve counted fourteen bullet holes.”

  Jenna just stared at the other woman, speechless. They’d been hit fourteen times, and yet none of those strikes had inflicted any serious damage? That wasn’t just luck; that was a freaking miracle. But it wasn’t until she slowly made her way around the Black Hawk, counting the holes, that she had a full appreciation for just how lucky they were.

  One of the bullets had passed less than a centimeter from the hydraulic system that powered the huge helicopter. Another had penetrated the metal so close to the fuel tank that Jenna couldn’t believe it hadn’t sparked an explosion. For the first time since she’d climbed into the cockpit to rescue the wounded soldier, she appreciated just how much danger they’d been in. She looked quickly at the faces of the women around her; women she would trust with her life. Women she had trusted with her life.

  “Is everyone okay? Nobody hit?” Jenna had heard of instances where crew members had been shot and didn’t realize it until later, or where a bullet had penetrated their body armor but hadn’t inflicted any bodily damage.

  “No, ma’am. We’re all good,” her crew chief replied.

  “Sergeant Helwig, I beg to disagree with you.” Jenna smiled. “You guys aren’t good—you’re the best. What you did up there was nothing short of amazing and I’m honored to have flown that mission with you.”

  “You sustained damage to the engine compressor,” said one of the maintenance crew, peering down at her from on top of the helicopter. “You won’t be flying any more missions in this baby until we get her repaired. She should be ready by morning.”

  Jenna nodded, thankful that there was an entire fleet of Black Hawk helicopters at Kandahar, so the troops wouldn’t go without needed air support.

  “Captain Larson, welcome back and congratulations.”

  Jenna turned to see her unit commander, Colonel Brad Tyler, standing several feet away. He was an imposing man, well over six feet tall, with steel-gray hair and eyes to match. Jenna had worked under him for nearly three years and she could count on one hand the number of times she’d actually seen him smile. He swept his gunmetal gaze over the women and Jenna was certain she detected something like pride in his eyes.

  “Thank you, sir,” she replied. “It’s good to be back.”

  Had it really been only two days ago that she had departed Kandahar Air Base to transport troops to Forward Operating Base Kalagush? It seemed a lifetime ago.

  “I haven’t seen the report yet,” he continued, “but I’ve already heard what happened. All I can say is you have nerves of steel, Captain. Maintaining a hover position over those troops while taking that kind of enemy fire took real guts.”

  Jenna stood up straighter. “Thank you, sir, but I couldn’t have done it without this crew. They were the ones who had the toughest job. They risked their own lives to bring that soldier and the medic back on board.”

  Colonel Tyler looked at each of the women in turn. “You should take pride in your actions tonight. You’ve done great credit to your battalion and to the United States Army, and thanks to you, we were able to save the life of that soldier. Well done.” He turned back to Jenna. “Captain, I want a complete report on my desk by oh-six-hundred tomorrow.”

  “Yes, sir.” As the Colonel walked away, Jenna shifted her attention to the two Apaches, fully expecting to see the pilots receiving their own nods of congratulation. Instead, it looked as if they were gearing up for another mission. Maintenance crews crawled over the aircraft and she could see them restocking the rocket barrels and machine guns, while a tanker truck refueled them.

  She spotted Chance standing by the cockpit of his Apache, speaking with Fishhead, his copilot. Without giving herself time to change her mind, Jenna jogged the short distance to where they stood.

  “What are you doing?” she asked without preamble, interrupting whatever discussion they had been having.

  Chance wheeled around in surprise, but Jenna didn’t miss how he swept his gaze over her as if assuring himself that she was in one piece. “Nice job up there, Captain,” he said. He glanced at Fishhead. “I’ll just be a minute.”

  Taking Jenna’s elbow, he steered her toward the nose of the Apache, where there was less activity. “Listen,” he began. “What I said earlier…about you wanting to prove yourself…” His jawline tightened. “I was out of line. What you did out there was truly spectacular. I don’t know many pilots who could have handled that kind of combat situation with the skill that you did.”

  Jenna felt something in her chest shift. His words caused a warm glow of pleasure to spread through her. The fact that he hadn’t invalidated his praise with the words even though you’re female, or especially considering this was your first combat mission wasn’t lost on her, either.

  “Thank you,” she said simply. “That means a lot to me.”

  “Yeah, well, I behaved like an ass and I apologize. You did a great job.”

  “You’re going back out there.” Her words were a statement, not a question.

  “I have to. Those troops need air support or there are going to be more rescue missions before the night is over. As soon as we’re rearmed and refueled, we’re leaving.”

  Jenna nodded, because there wasn’t anything she could say. This
was his job, as much as going out to retrieve that wounded soldier had been hers. Asking him not to go wasn’t an option.

  “Well, watch your flank,” she finally said. She had no idea if and when they would see each other again.

  Chance nodded. “I will. You take care of yourself, okay?”

  The finality of it all struck her and panic filled her. What if he was injured, or worse? She realized she hadn’t come close to saying what was in her heart, and to leave those words unspoken might be the biggest regret of her life.

  “Chance—” Her voice broke.

  For just an instant, his face twisted. Then he hauled her closed and planted a brief, hard kiss on her mouth. She didn’t even have time to register it or respond before he released her and stepped back.

  “I’ll see you later.” Then he turned and walked away.

  Jenna moved back from the landing zone and watched as the maintenance crew completed their preparations and Chance climbed into the cockpit. The rotors of the big helicopter began to churn, chopping at the air and stirring up clouds of dust. Jenna threw an arm over her nose and mouth as the two Apaches slowly rose into the air on a wave of thunder and heat, the thwap-thwap-thwap of the blades reverberating through her chest.

  They hovered briefly and then dipped nose down as they accelerated forward. She wasn’t certain, but she thought she saw Chance raise a hand in farewell just before the big Apache roared away into the night.

  14

  JENNA FELL INTO A FITFUL sleep sometime after midnight. She’d spent most of the evening at the flight ops shack, writing her official report of the rescue and listening to the transmissions coming in from where the ground troops were still pinned down by the Taliban. The two Apaches had been joined by other attack helicopters, and after nearly an hour had finally made progress in providing relief to the ground troops. Knowing that Chance was safe had been enough, and she’d stumbled to her quarters around ten o’clock, grateful to be back in her own CHU, in her own bed.

  But sleep was elusive, and when it finally came, she dreamed of Chance. He was beside her in the narrow bed, his hard body pressed along her backside. She could feel his warm breath against her neck, and when he skated his fingers along her bare arm, he raised goose bumps on her skin. The dream was vividly real; she could even feel the hot, rigid thrust of his arousal against her buttocks and she sighed in pleasure. But when one hand slid around to cup her breast and run a thumb over her nipple, her eyes flew open in alarm.