by Tina Maurine
Corrosion detail had been pretty grueling. It seemed there was always an inspection to be done on the aircraft. It was our job to keep the birds pretty and the only fun part of the job, if you could call it that, was when we got to re-paint the birds’ entire ‘skin’ in a blue and grey camouflage pattern. Coming up with the pattern, taping off the design, and the detailed painting appealed to the perfectionist in me.
My attention snapped back to what AE1 was saying. “Well, Christy, it’s a pleasure to have you on the team. You really need to take advantage of these deployments and come into the shop when you can—get familiar with the maintenance publications and manuals—see how we do things. Maybe I can sign off on some of your paperwork in the next six months. Get you into the shop sooner rather than later.”
“Thanks, I’ll definitely try. Does the Line Shack keep you as busy as I’ve heard?” I felt like I was on the brink of shouting, but he didn’t seem to notice. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Sammie already had large earphones on and her eyes closed. That sounds like a pretty good idea.
“… but if you are assigned to my shift, I can pull you in to help out and get training.” AE1 Dunnmoth, thankfully, hadn’t noticed that I had zoned out and missed the first part of what he’d said.
“Oh, so you’re a supervisor?”
“Yup. I run a pretty lax shop… so long as my crews are getting their jobs done and we’re meeting the flight schedules. You really should make a point of hanging out with us instead of the kids on the Line.”
“Thanks, Dunnmoth, I’ll try. It’s hard to know what Kef will be like.”
Thankfully, he turned to talk to the striking black woman next to him. It was hard to hear what they were talking about, but it sounded like they were making plans about what to do after the AE shop got unpacked. I wonder if the two of them are DFBs.
I’ve never been in a time warp, but that’s what it felt like on this C-130. With my watch stashed in the back on a pallet in my backpack, and the stormy, overcast, and unchanging sky outside, I had no way to gauge the time.
We’d already stopped in Nova Scotia and Greenland to refuel, so I knew we were on our last leg. I’d had enough of the monotonous droning of the engines, the smell of jet fuel, and the hot air constantly blowing over us. The fact that I had repeatedly slipped in and out of sleep, played numerous hands of War on a coat in Tim’s lap, and had snacked on the crap from the snack shop I’d brought along… well, I was just done. There was no other way to put it. I didn’t know how much longer I could do this.
Things for me really deteriorated after we reached fifteen flight hours. It had taken all I had to cope with the propeller noise, the stifling heat, the nauseating stench of the plane and its smelly occupants for those first fifteen hours—I was literally counting down the final hour—when bad turned to worse.
A hush fell over the dim cabin as the flight officer came over the radio.
“Hey, gang! I hear you are all surviving in the lap of luxury back there.” There was a short pause and I heard chuckles in the background from the flight crew. “So, I have some good news and some bad news. It looks like we will be making it to NAS Keflavik ahead of schedule, if you take into consideration that flight control in Greenland wanted to ground us. However, the not so good news is that we have to circumnavigate a massive weather system that lies between us and Keflavik.” We could hear a jovial bull session in the background from the cockpit.
What was going on in there? A lap dance? A party? I sure hope they’re sober…
He went on, “This means that instead of having the previously estimated remaining flight time of one hour, we have at least another three to add to that. So, make yourselves comfortable and enjoy the in-flight movie. The flight crew will be coming around a final time with refreshments.” At this, the cockpit erupted in high-spirited laughter. ASSHOLES!
Darkness invaded me… Seriously? What the fuck? I am going to die!
And, die I did. At least, I came damn close.
I hear all the time that anything is possible if you can conquer mind over matter. Well, my response to that is, you’ve never flown on a C-130 in inclement weather with every foul smell possible assaulting your senses. I’d been hanging on by a thread until I realized I didn’t have T-minus sixty minutes left, but four hours instead.
I threw my belts off, forced myself onto my mostly asleep legs, hobbled over and smacked Sammie upon her head—harder than I’d meant to. Her eyes flew open.
“What the fuck?” she exclaimed loudly, visibly startled.
“I need you to get up. I NEED to talk to you. NOW!” I pronounced NOW with such staccato clarity that there was no doubt my urgency. She unfastened and followed me back past the seats, to where pallets of cargo had been stacked.
“What’s up? Hey, you don’t look so good,” she said, looking at me with great concern. “You’re really green.”
“Oh, my word, you have no idea,” I replied, glad for something—anything—to take my mind off my misery. Even talking about my misery. How ironic is that? “I get severe motion sickness.”
“Oh no! That’s terrible, Tess; I’m so sorry. This must be brutal for you.” She put her arm around me in a conciliatory hug.
“It is. I always have to drive, because I get sick if I’m the passenger, even in the front seat. This flight is so much worse than driving.” I shook my head. “I’ve been counting down the time, practically to the minute, until we reach NAS Kef. I’m hanging by a thread and I do NOT think I can do this any longer.”
Sammie nodded patiently, and when my impassioned soliloquy stuttered to a halt, she took my hand. “Come on. Let’s go further back, away from prying eyes.”
We further veiled ourselves by rounding the back side of the pallet stock-pile.
Ohhhh… it felt so nice back here. No longer crammed in a sardine can, the cold air kept the jet fuel circulating, and preventing its smell from being so nauseatingly strong. We sequestered ourselves well in the shadows cast by the dim amber lighting and piles of luggage, equipment and cargo. The ambiance created an imaginary curtain of privacy that made relaxing and getting more comfortable possible. We actually pulled ourselves up on the last cargo pallet, kicked back on it, and made plans for our future for the next couple of hours.
“Let’s room together,” I suggested, so blissed out I forgot we’d been friends for hours, not years.
“For sure,” she agreed, “and let’s go clubbing this weekend too. After this miserable flight, we deserve a drink.”
“Or five,” I suggested. “How do we set up the room?”
“Hell, I don’t know,” Sammie replied, pretending to sound annoyed. “We don’t even know what it will look like.”
“I imagine a plain, beige box,” I told her. I’ve stayed in so many apartments that look like that.
“What do you two think you are doing?” A shrill, whiny voice came from nowhere. We looked around, but since shadows cloaked everything, we had a hard time seeing where it had come from.
“First, you need to get down, Second, you need to tell me who you are, and third, your butts need to find themselves back in their seats.”
Out of the shadows stepped a short, hobbit-like, female officer. She sported the tightest bun on her head that I’d ever seen—so tight that it pulled her eyes up in the corners. It was so harsh, it rendered her appearance even weirder. She had her pen to paper and looked like a state trooper getting ready to give us a citation.
Sammie and I looked at each other and busted out laughing. We took our time sliding off the cargo heap. Still laughing, I let Sam lead the way. To my mortification, instead of stopping to tell the officer her name, Sammie practically shoulder-checked the her as she brushed past! That was way ballsier than me, and I quickly followed, making sure not to touch her. After all, there was no way for her to know who we were, because we weren’t in uniform. I’d say, for Sammie, this was inarguably a stroke of luck; the officer never pursued us.
Apparently
, everyone was tired of traveling. It looked like over half of the squadron had unbuckled. A good many played cards, despite flying through a rough storm with significant turbulence.
Not ten minutes after I sat down in the overly hot, overly crowded, overly fumy troop seat, I got the cold sweats. Oh no. Not this! I felt sick, again. Just under two hours left of this miserable flight, I was past exhausted, and now had to work hard to hold the contents of my stomach down.
“Move, MOVE!” I shouted as I pushed off my seat and tried to make my way through the mass of carry-ons and legs, to the bucket in the back.
Off to the side, just before the stacks of cargo was a bucket on a pallet. It had no seat; only was a curtain of sorts that covered most of the three sides. There were at least five-inch gaps where the curtain didn’t touch the bulkhead.
As I neared the makeshift facilities, all I could think was, over a hundred people have been flying for 18 hours, and as far as I know, the bucket hasn’t been changed out. Then the smell hit me. I pulled back the privacy curtain…
Nope. Not one change. I fucking knew it!
That alone made me sicker than I already was.
Crap, this thing is disgusting. I gagged.
Kneel, damn it. A sick vision crossed my mind, of what might splash onto my face if I got too close, but my stomach wouldn’t wait any longer. Bracing my hands on my thighs, I puked from about two feet above the bucket.
Then, my belly cramps moved lower; crippling gas pains rippled through my lower gut.
Oh, God. Not this too?!
I had no choice but to wipe my mouth, and immediately sit on the same bucket to relieve myself.
I did say that bad turned to worse, but I was in such a miserable place, it wasn’t even funny.
After getting so sick, I sat gasping and moaning for several long minutes before I pulled back the curtain. Thankfully, nobody had noticed where I was or what I’d been doing. I’m sure some of my shipmates who were closer must’ve heard me, but they didn’t make me feel self-conscious about it.
The blessed breeze in the cargo area made it cooler than the rest of the plane and felt AUH-MAZING. I didn’t even care if the hobbit came back. I just climbed up on a pallet of shop gear and lay back. Fatigue tugged me closer to sleep. The continual hum of the engines and the breeze actually settled both my stomach and my mind. I finally drifted off.
Mmm… I nuzzled my head into what I can most closely describe as heaven. It was early, perhaps a little after five, and the sun flirted with the horizon, just visible through the 1960 Airstream’s window. I smiled and closed my eyes, snuggling my hips and bare torso into the athletic physique and defined chest that had ‘Lisa’ tattooed on it beside me. I must have woken him slightly, because the faintest “I love you” escaped his mouth on exhaled breath as his tan arm protectively pulled me in. It always amazed me the comfort and security I felt in his embrace, the relaxation that always over-took me in his arms, the unreal truth that he wanted me. That I was what he was looking for.
“Thanks be to God,” I said a silent prayer. “How did I ever get to where I am now? How did I ever find you?”
These thoughts and others ran through my head in lazy circles as the cozy warmth finally overtook me…
I startled awake, taking a minute to realize where I was. The obnoxious cockpit intercom radio blasted on, interrupting my tender dream. I stretched and rolled over, snuggling deeper into the duffel-bags and mulling over the traces of my dream in my head.
I deserve to find a guy like the one in my dreams… don’t I? Wiping the rebellious tears from my face, I pulled the moistened hair off my cheek. I lay there for a few minutes, mindful of my breathing. Willing my heart to slow down, I sat up and saw that absolutely nothing had changed since I’d laid down. I closed my eyes again and let the loud engine hum of the C-130 put me back to sleep.
3
“Tessa, wake up.” Sammie’s urgent voice cut into my pleasant dream.
I opened my eyes to hear the intercom yakking away. “Repeat, we are in our final approach. Please fasten your seatbelts,” there was a pause, “and return your seatback and try tables to their upright and locked position.”
Again, the flight crew yucked it up in the cockpit, though I noticed their laughter sounded weary.
“Assholes,” I grumped as I I reluctantly climbed from atop my resting spot.
“Let them have their dumb jokes,” Sammie scolded as she led the way back to the hated rows of slings that imitated seating. “They just fought through one hell of storm to bring us here safely.”
I pouted and buckled myself back into my three point harness—my bindings from hell.
“Hold on tight, rookie.” I looked up at the sound of Tim’s voice next to me. “This will be one helluva bumpy landing. Ari is on our aviation electrician team and a member of the flight crew. He came back while you were… where the hell were you, anyway?” he questioned groggily. I heard him mumble ‘sleeping,’ but before I could confirm that’s where I’d been, he continued, “Must have been nice.” He shot me a friendly smile. “Anyway, Ari told us it’s really storming over Kef.”
Crap. More turbulence. Just what I need. I scowled involuntarily at Tim.
He continued his report, crushing my new resolve with more harsh facts. “It’s forty degrees below zero on the last report they had, and there’s near white-out conditions with the wind gusting up to 50 mph.”
“Do you think we’ll land okay?”
“We have to. They don’t have enough fuel to circle back. Not to worry, though. We have a good flight officer in the seat. He has made this deployment five times before, so he’s used to the weather.”
Sure, mister. I’ll just stop worrying because you say so. Then anger gave way to terror. Oh please, oh please, oh please, let us be okay. How did I ever get into this stupid predicament?
Instantly, my mind jumped to how my crazy military adventure all started with me signing away my freedom, followed by my going away party the night before I left for boot camp.
God, I miss Lindy!
I’d seen my friends, her brother… oh fuck that’s right… there was that ‘Lisa’ tattooed guy—what did he call himself? Oh yeah, Ren. At the time, the anonymity felt perfect, but it didn’t stop him from getting under my skin. I can’t believe this is the second time I’ve thought about him today. We parted forever and a day ago; but seriously, who hangs onto one-night stands for so long, right? The plane bounced again violently.
Oh please, oh please, oh please…
After that last bout of turbulence, the flight officer came over the cabin speaker. “Make sure you are all securely buckled up. We will be landing shortly…” He cut off as the plane abruptly dropped. I don’t know how many feet… but holy shit!
Please, God, Please, I prayed silently. Are we going to make it?!?
“Sorry about that, folks. This isn’t the easiest weather to fly in. Not to worry, though. I’ll put us down just fine. Once we land, we’ll taxi up in front of our hangar. As soon as we give the word, unbuckle yourselves and put on your foul-weather jackets. Once the cargo deck drops, make haste single-file. It is currently -42 degrees outside plus wind-chill. There will be portable heaters blowing, but I’m sure you’ll still feel plenty cold. You’ll need to hurry out of the elements. Follow the lead and get right on the buses that will take you to your barracks.”
With that, the radio went dead as the plane hit some major turbulence. The best way I can describe it is that it felt as though we were 4x4ing up a granite rock embankment. We lurched from side to side. The plane jumped up and down. I looked around, and a lot of us had gone pretty pale. Sammie was still listening to her CD player and chewing gum. Her large brown eyes had grown even bigger than I remembered, and I saw fear in them. She looked over at me and smiled feebly. I returned it with a broad smile; one I hope conveyed to her that everything was all right, although I wasn’t so sure.
Okay, so I’m lying. God, forgive me. I’m only trying to help.
The hurricane force winds hit hard, slamming into our condo building. As they gusted and wailed outside, the windows swelled and buckled—looking as though they were breathing. It was terrifying. There was nothing any of us could do. We sat in a tight circle. Our pasts didn’t matter at that moment. We were scared shitless.
We huddled tightly, each in our own heads, hands strangling the ones we held onto. The power had gone out hours ago, and the sun had dropped, leaving us in an inky blackness that now consumed us. The darkness smothered us as it negated our sense of sight. The powerful hurricane heightened our hearing, which was all we had to go by.
We heard destruction; lots of it. Things flew around outside our dark cave, slamming into whatever crossed their paths. We heard thunderous cracks from branches and glass breaking nearby.
“Please, let it not be our car…”
“Wait, no. That’s dumb. It’s a car. If that’s all the monster outside takes, we’re lucky. Don’t forget that the only thing separating us from the devilish hurricane is a sliding-glass wall at the end of our living room, and it’s only checkerboard-taped with duct-tape.”
I didn’t pray often, but I found myself doing exactly that—praying my ‘family’ stayed safe from the monster.
My heart raced as though trying to explode out of my chest. I couldn’t breathe…
“Petty Officer Christy?”
I snapped out of my terrified flashback.
“Christy?” I looked at AE1 Dunnmoth, and realized I’d been squeezing his hand until it turned white. “You okay, sailor?”
I barely managed to nod as the terror of the flight brought back the memories of the last time I’d been this scared. The horror in the dark that long-ago night continued to crowd in on me, merging with the rotten flight to engulf me in a state of sheer panic.
