Stormwatch - Chapter 04

© 2025 Duleigh Lawrence-Townshend. All rights reserved. The author asserts the right to be identified as the author of this story for all portions. All characters are original. Any resemblance to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental. This story or any part thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the expressed written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a review or commentary.

This is an all new addition to the Stormwatch series. If you haven't read Stormwatch Chapter 1, Stormwatch Chapter 2, or Stormwatch Chapter 3, please take this chance. Chapters one and two are updates to existing chapters with 50% new material in each, and a corrected timeline. Chapters 3 and 4 are all new and hopefully they rekindle the joy of the series.

Chapter 4 is a bit of a departure from the current story line, but it fills in a gap that was missing from the original story and explains the problems that Josh and so many veterans have to face. I both loved and hated every minute of writing this chapter, but many of Josh's issues are taken from real-life issues faced by veterans that I've met over the years.

For comments, questions, or merchandise, please contact the author.

STORMWATCH Chapter 4

Clearing The Air

Josh and Veronica loved to camp back in the woods. It was something that Veronica had only dreamed about, but with Josh, it became a reality. Slowly, they made their own campsite atop the rise on the north end of his property. The scout lean-to became a woodshed, and they made a clean level area with drainage to pitch a nice cabin tent. Together they built a firepit ringed with rocks collected from down in Zoar Valley and built a new picnic table. Josh insisted on putting an umbrella over the table, so he drilled a hole in the middle of the table so he could erect the umbrella.

As they sat eating their first breakfast together at their new campsite, Veronica asked. "Why the umbrella? We're under a thick covering of pine and maple trees; sunlight will not touch this forest floor for a couple of months."

Just then something struck the umbrella, an acorn? Tree branch? Maybe a leaf or a few needles from the tamarack tree above them hit. "It's like this all spring, summer, and fall," said Josh. "Trees rain bits and pieces, not to mention tree sap."

Veronica was feeling especially naughty. As they worked in the woods yesterday, she had gone topless all day, like Josh. "Tell me a story," she said as Josh served her breakfast. Two eggs basted in bacon fat, home fries and bacon. They had a long day of work ahead of them and Josh believed in a big breakfast. They were going to put up a new outhouse here on the hill.

"I don't know any stories. I have to borrow a book every time I go watch Paul and Andi's girls."

"Then tell me about your last year," said Veronica. They sat topless, leaning close to each other.

"Why do you want to know about that? I got out of the hospital, went to Hurlburt Field, went to Korea, went to the hospital, came back and got discharged, then went back into the hospital. Woo hoo. Fun."

"No, I'm serious. You'll occasionally say something like 'this is as bad as my last year.' I want to know."

Josh looked at Veronica and sighed. He didn't want to tell her; he was sure he'd get that pitying look that he had to endure in the hospitals. "Actually, it was closer to two years," said Josh. "After I got banged up and got my call sign Bounce Two Seven, I ended up in Wilford Hall Air Force Hospital getting glued back together before they mailed me home to Hurlburt Field in Florida. That's when shit really fell apart." He thought for a moment, then said, "and came back together, and fell apart, and came back together... I wasn't the Ephie you know. I was in pain all the time, and life kept slapping me down."

"Tell me," she said as she leaned over and gnawed on his bare shoulder.

"Ok, but don't look at me like Marjory Friedman does when I tell you." She knew what he meant by that. Marjory Friedman, their boss's wife, gushes pity over sad stories.

"Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye."

"Ok, but it's mostly boring...

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Technical Sergeant Ephraim J. Gravely rode in silence as his first sergeant, Master Sergeant John Terry, picked Josh up at the Fort Walton Beach Airport. Ephraim, or Josh as he's known to his friends, was still shaking and sweating from the flight. The flight from Wilford Hall Aeromedical Institute was worse than he expected and when he had to change flights at St. Louis, he almost didn't get on the plane. His nerves were jangling, and he felt a panic rise as he neared his gate.

Luckily, he had devised a plan. He stopped at every bar he passed in Lambert-St. Louis International Airport and ordered a gin and tonic. He downed the drink and pressed on to the next airport bar. That way, he was well lubricated when he got on the flight to Fort Walton Beach. It kept most of the horrors away. Not all of them. He also had a travel mug full of ice and he paid far too much for two bottles of water. He didn't know why, possibly because of the dry, dusty life he led for eight months, but having water at hand comforted him.

"When am I going to get my new crew?" asked Josh. He said it mostly for something to say. The first sergeant had nothing to do with assigning gun crews, but Josh felt he had to go back up and to go back up, he needed a crew. He was a damn good gunner, one of the best. He trained and evaluated the best gunners in Special Operations. Guns always work when Josh was on the plane.

"You need to pass a flight physical first big guy," said John, who at five foot six was shorter than most men in the USAF, so almost everyone was 'big guy' to him.

"That's going to be a while Johnny," said Josh. "I busted myself up pretty good. I just wanna go home and lay down on the couch and watch a ball game."

"Well, we will have that dream come true for you in a few minutes," said the first sergeant as he wove through base housing. Being on a flight crew, Josh had a pretty nice apartment in a duplex. He couldn't wait to get home. He missed Yesenia even though she only wrote five letters in the nine months he was gone. She wasn't what you would consider the literate type, but she was affectionate.

They pulled up to his apartment, and there was a staff car waiting. Two men in flight suits stepped out of the staff car. One was his squadron commander, Lieutenant Colonel Gabriel Marriner, the other was Colonel Ryker Ash, the wing commander of the 57th Special Operations Wing. In his rumpled dress blues, on crutches and wearing an eye patch, Josh looked like a battered survivor. An optometrist had discovered sand burn in his right eye from his final mission and bandaged that eye so it would heal. Josh covered the bandage with a black eye patch because it looked cool.

"Sergeant Gravely, welcome back," said Colonel Ash. "Major Hancock and Captain Jackson are still singing your praises for your actions over Eil Geradi."

Josh saluted, then shook the hands of the commanders. He didn't want to talk about Eil Geradi; he didn't want to talk about what he did there, he just wanted a cold beer and a bath. "We've declassified Eil Geradi?" Eil Geradi was a highly classified Neolithic shithole filled with Houthi terrorists, ISIS terrorists, Al Qaeda terrorists, and Taliban terrorists armed to the teeth with crap that some moron abandoned in Afghanistan. They were shooting up shipping and the new CINC ordered it stopped. Josh and his team shot the living fuck out of Eil Geradi, but someone down there shot back, which started the worst night in Sergeant Gravely's life.

"We thought you might like to know that Eil Geradi doesn't exist anymore," said Colonel Marriner. "Our friends in Minot... let's say they leveled the playing field."

Josh nodded to the colonel. The expression Friends in Minot was a euphemism for B-52 bombers, or any heavy bombers in general. Josh tightened his fists until his fingernails dug into his hands. "Yes sir. Shall..."

"Before we go inside, sergeant, let me be the first to shake your hand," said Colonel Ash. "Master Sergeant Gravely," he said with a grin as they shook hands.

"I made it?" Josh tested for Master Sergeant just before deploying to the gulf region.

"You sure did," said the wing commander, and he handed Josh a letter that informed him of his selection for promotion and his line number. Everyone in the USAF who is promoted past Senior Airman receives a line number which is based on your time in service. Folks who have been in the longest have the lowest number, and after that, so many people per month officially put on their new rank based on their line number. Josh's line number was 3520, which meant he had months to wait before he could wear the Master Sergeant stripes. That didn't stop wise commanders from putting promotion selectees in positions their future rank would demand.

"Thank you sir. God, this helps." Josh almost cried. It's been bad news every day, one day after another, for weeks and weeks. Now, some good news! Josh felt like his life was finally turning around. "Shall we go inside?"

The colonels smiled and nodded, so Josh set his crutches and crutched his way up the driveway. "Nice cars," said Master Sergeant Terry

There was a new Dodge Charger and a new Corvette in the driveway. "I own a 2020 Jeep Renegade and my wife has a 2014 Fusion, but I don't see them anywhere," said Josh.

He walked up to the front door and flung it open wide. He was going to cheerfully announce, "I'm home!" but what he saw froze him solid. There in the living room was his wife, Yesenia, stripped to the waist, big tits and a big pregnant belly. Her once fair skin was covered with tattoos. She was on her knees, sucking the cock of some greasy-looking piece of trash as he sat on Josh's couch. Finally, Josh shrieked, "GET THE FUCK OUT!" He took a crutch and brought it up to throw like a javelin.

It was bedlam. Yesenia was shrieking in Spanish. The guy she was blowing was shouting in Spanish as well. Josh was shouting, "Get out of my house you WHORE! You SLUT!" John Terry pulled the crutch out of Josh's hands so he couldn't kill the screaming pregnant woman. However, the greasy-looking piece of trash got up to run and completely forgot his pants were around his ankles and fell on his face. Josh had another crutch to use, and he brought it up like an axe. "Puta! (Whore)" he shouted.

Josh brought the crutch down like a sledgehammer, but the greasy piece of shit on the floor scrambled out of the way. That's when Colonel Ash and Lieutenant Colonel Marriner grabbed Josh by the arms and hauled him away from the house. Colonel Marriner pushed Josh into the staff car and said, "Calm down. Sergeant Terry and Colonel Ash are dealing with them. I need you Josh. Let's put you up for the night while we straighten this shit out."

"Just let me wound her," begged Josh. "Nothing fatal or debilitating, a few ugly scars here and there. She'll cover them with ugly fucking tattoos anyhow."

They stopped at the base hotel, a facility for personnel that are on base temporarily, or waiting for their housing unit to open. As Josh got his crutches set, his commander grabbed his duffle bag and led him into the hotel. "Get him a nice room for a few days," Colonel Marriner told the desk clerk. The clerk checked Josh's ID card, then ran his debit card.

"This was rejected," said the clerk.

"Here, try this one," and Josh handed the clerk a card that was just for official travel.

"That was rejected too," said the clerk.

"That fucking whore! How did she get access to that card?"

"Put it on my card," said Colonel Marriner. He handed the desk clerk his card and said, "He's going to need a week."

It was obvious Josh was trying not to cry. His entire world was gone. In one month, he was shot out of the air, his crew was injured, his best friend dead, and the incident with Ellie still made him wake up screaming. His body was broken, his crew in shambles, and he had to come home to that horror show. "I can't pay you back sir," said Josh.

"You already have sergeant. Just relax and let me take care of it," said Colonel Marriner as they entered his room. Josh sat down in a chair. He wasn't sure if he should, but nobody stopped him. Colonel Marriner was talking, but Josh didn't hear a word. He watched the commander walk out of the door and someone entered and speaking words that didn't register with Josh.

"Ephraim? Are you with us?"

Josh shook his head and noticed that there was a well-dressed man standing in front of him. "Colonel Ash asked me to do a little work for you. Have you had any sleep?"

"I don't know... I just don't know anything..."

Bob Mosgrove has never seen someone so busted up in his life, and as a divorce attorney, he's seen some seriously shredded people. "Ephraim, when's the last time you ate?"

"I... I don't know..." He looked in a corner of the room and said, "Craig? Did we eat?"

"There's no Craig here, Sergeant Gravely. It's just you and me."

"Craig?" Josh nodded, then turned to Bob. In a small, tired voice, he said, "He doesn't know either." Then Josh closed his eyes and everything went slack.

"Ephraim? Are you ok?" Bob snapped his fingers in front of Josh's face, but there was no response. He pinched Josh here and there, then swore. "Shit!" Bob checked Josh's pulse. It was there, but it was weak and fluttering. Bob Mosgrove was a lawyer. Lawyers don't lose patients. He called 911 and said, "I have a GI returning from combat, he... I don't know, it seemed like he had a psychotic break. Then he lost consciousness and is nonresponsive. Respirating? Yes, shallow breaths, his pulse is 50 and fluttery. Drinking? I don't think so. He was just released from Willford hall. Hurlburt Field, base hotel, room 101...

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Josh opened his eyes and saw the room was full of medical equipment. An EMT was shining a tiny flashlight in his eye. "Follow the light please," and he moved it side to side.

"What are you doing here?"

"Your lawyer called us and said you needed help," said the EMT.

"I don't have a lawyer... I don't have anything..." Josh desperately tried to get back to the pleasant nothing that he was in, but people kept bothering him.

"When is the last time you ate?" asked the EMT.

Josh squinted at his watch, then said, "Seven hours ago."

"What did you eat?"

"Gin."

The EMT sighed and said, "When was the last time you ate solid food?"

"What day is this? The last meal I ate was... Sunday. I had an open face roast chicken sandwich. The nurse wouldn't let me watch the game unless I ate."

"That was two days ago," said the EMT. "Look, sergeant. All this trauma on a diet of gin will kill you."

Josh looked the EMT in the eye and said, "What's the downside of that?"

The EMT turned to Colonel Ash and said, "He should be in a hospital."

"He just got released from a hospital," said the commander.

"That's just my opinion," said the EMT. "Emotional trauma, physical trauma, all on top of a diet of gin..."

"I had it with tonic," insisted Josh. The EMT closed his eyes and pretended he didn't hear that. "It was diet tonic," continued Josh. "I'm trying to lose weight."

"It's not surprising he shut down like that," said the EMT as he packed his bags up.

"Please leave me alone. I'm fine," said Josh, who was desperately trying to go back to sleep.

"Gunner, I need you," said a familiar voice. Josh opened his eyes and saw that it was Major Emory Hancock. His pilot. The young major leaned in close and whispered, "I know what that cunt did to you, but you can't do anything or she'll take everything you own."

"She already did."

"Gunner, do you trust me?"

"You got me home sir... but thanks to Yesenia my levels of gratitude are wavering."

Major Hancock chuckled. "At least your cynicism is still intact. This fellow here he's Bob Mosgrove, he's a lawyer. If you want payback, you go through him."

"I just want my jeep and my credit rating back and that cunt and her spawn out of my life."

"Good, that's a start. Just listen to Bob, he'll steer you straight."

"Yes sir."

"Tonight. O-club. My treat. It's steak and lobster night."

"I don't know," said Josh. "Over at the NCO club it's Spaghetti-O's and garlic toast night. That's the top spread at the Bent Barrel." The Bent Barrel was the nickname of the NCO club.

Major Hancock chuckled and said, "If you want, I can have the chef at the O club warm up a can of Ravioli-O's for you."

"Sold," said Josh, a half-smile creeping up on his face.

"I know I said this before, I'm sorry about Craig, he was a good man and we all miss him. But thank you for saving Ellie. She was the best loadmaster I ever had."

Tears filled Josh's eyes, and he groaned, "Her leg..."

"You saved her life Ephraim," said the Major forcefully. "Don't you ever diminish that. I put you in for a Medal of Honor."

Josh looked at his flight crew commander like he was crazy. "It will never happen, but thank you sir."

"You may be right, but whatever happens, you've earned it as far as we're all concerned." Then the Major gestured to the lawyer who sat down next to Josh.

"Ephraim, my name is Bob Mosgrove."

They shook hands and Josh said, "Call me Josh."

"Ok, Josh. Have you heard of Do Ab?"

Anyone who has flown gunships after 2011 knows about Do Ab. A scout platoon from the 133rd Infantry Regiment, along with 20 Afghan soldiers, were ambushed by an estimated 500 Taliban fighters. Close air support by F-16s, F-15s, F-18s, AH-64s, and AC-130s protected the coalition forces. Then, as night fell, two AC-130s using infrared targeting systems hunted down the retreating Taliban and almost got them all. "Yeah, I know Do Ab," said Josh.

"I was in the first of the one thirty third and the Specters saved my ass," said Bob. "If there's a Specter that needs help, I'm there to give them anything they need. Pro bono."

Josh looked at Bob and tried to make up his mind. He wasn't in a trusting mood. Yeah, he was pissed at Yesenia, but his unit should have been checking up on her to make sure that she didn't get into trouble. He wanted to think that something happened and she couldn't find help from the US Air Force, so she turned to... shit. Josh just realized who was on the couch with his cock down Yesenia's throat. It was Alfonso Romerez, her old boyfriend.

He nodded to Bob and said, "I need help. Lots of help."

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Josh and Bob Musgrove strolled into Fort Walton Beach Chrysler Jeep Chevy. Well, Bob strolled. Josh was on crutches and in his dress blues and was wearing sunglasses. "Can I help you sir?"

"I would like to speak to the sales manager please."

"Regarding what?"

"My Jeep," said Josh. He took off his sunglasses, revealing the eye patch he was wearing. His blues were cleaned, pressed, and Bob insisted he wear all of his badges, wings, and ribbons, even the ones he earned on classified missions that were not supposed to be displayed. 'What are they going to do?' asked Bob Mosgrove. 'Send you back to East Africa?'

This was the first step in getting Josh his life back. Bob hoped it would get Josh his pride and self-esteem back too. Yesenia took all that away, including his jeep, most of his possessions, and his money. Luckily, Josh had done a masterful job at hiding his life savings from her. A hefty percentage of each paycheck went into savings because Josh was planning on buying a farm when he got bored with the Air Force. When he woke up in the base hotel with no home, no food, no car, and no cash, he didn't dream of touching his savings. That was for his farm.

"Your Jeep?" asked the salesman. He clearly didn't understand Josh's request.

"Yes. I'd like it back now please."

"Your jeep is here for maintenance?" asked the confused salesman.

"Uh, no. It was stolen while I was overseas serving my country. It was used as a trade-in here for a new Charger without my consent, permission, or my signature on the title."

"I don't see how that's possible," the salesman said with a fake smile.

"Of course not, you're a floor salesman. The sales manager or the franchise owner would understand," said Josh. "Fraud? Theft? One wonders what the state would think about it."

Sid Davis, the sales manager, stepped up to find out what was going on as the salesman snarled, "You better have some evidence and a lawyer handy if you're going to be using language like that around here."

"I just happen to have both," said Josh with a smile. "Bob? Would you like to talk with Mister Davis about my jeep?"

"I'd be happy to, sergeant. Why don't you see if your jeep is still on the lot," said Bob Musgrove. "Mister Davis, you're the sales manager? Why don't we talk in your office while Sergeant Graves reevaluates his feelings about the civil suit he would like to bring."

As they walked off into the manager's office, Josh looked around the show room, then stepped outside and looked around the lot. The sun was intense, but the breeze off the nearby gulf was cool and refreshing. Josh started across the lot, making his way over to the area where the Jeeps were. "Can I help you find something?" came a female voice from behind him.

He turned and saw a beautiful blond saleswoman approaching him. "Is there something you're looking for sergeant?"

"Yeah, something about five foot six, blond, brown eyes, loves baseball, fishing and long walks on the beach."

She smiled and said, "Hard top or convertible?" and she took off her straw sunhat.

"Either will do, I'm Josh Gravely." He shook hands with her and said, "I come back from deployment and my jeep was gone. I'm looking to see if you have a suitable substitute."

"I'm Deanna, it's nice to meet you. Now... a jeep? We're having a big sale on Dodge Ram right now."

"Grandpa wouldn't like that," said Josh.

"Grandpa doesn't like pickup trucks?"

"Jeep pickup trucks are ok. A classic Jeep Commando would rock, but a Gladiator would be much better."

"Grandpa insists on a jeep?"

Josh gave her an odd look then said, "Grandpa IS a jeep."

Deanna smiled and said, "Grandpa IS a jeep?"

"Grandpa is what my mother named my jeep. It was the first vehicle I ever owned. A 1951 CJ3A and I've had it with me since I was in high school. The last time I saw it; it was in great condition. My mom said, 'that damn thing is as ugly as your grandpa'. She didn't like Grandpa Gravely. She said, 'if I had a dog that ugly I'd shave it's ass and make it walk backwards.'"

Deanna laughed and said, "I take it your mom doesn't like jeeps?"

"Nah, she just didn't like me. Ah was a surprise baby and she and pa were never happy with the surprise. Of course I didn't help none. I parked that jeep right where she would see it when she had her morning cup of bourbon. We were hillbillys that couldn't afford a hill."

"And you still have the Grandpa?"

"I think I do. My lawyer says it's still in the garage, probably because my soon to be ex can't drive a stick."

"Come on, that's cold."

"Cold nothing, I was stationed at Minot North Dakota, I know cold. I get my dream assignment and go on a nine month deployment. I came back and she's six months pregnant. I caught her and her old boyfriend when I got back."

"You caught them? They were..." Deanna's eyes rolled. "They were um... busy?"

"When I walked in the house if I had kicked her in the ass, he would be singing soprano with the Vienna Boys Choir right now."

As Deanna stifled her laughter, they strolled among the cars and Josh told her about the injuries he suffered without telling her everything that had happened on the mission. That became a habit, blaming his injuries on a 'rough landing' rather than the non-stop horror he experienced for over two hours in the sky. He mentioned a few times about his singing, silly remarks like "this isn't going to boost my singing career" and "It's getting hard to sing in church, it keeps coming out 'Goddamnit.'"

"You like to sing?" she asked.

"I actually love to sing; I just don't do it much anymore. Just a few tunes in the shower and the occasional drunken stab at karaoke."

She took a business card and wrote an address on it and handed it to him. "Come meet me and my husband here. I think you'll like it. And believe me, singing clears the soul. It helps get that anger out of your soul that I keep hearing."

"Ya think?" sighed Josh.

"I know it will."

Josh looked at the card, then looked up and there was a beautiful new Jeep Gladiator pickup truck. It was painted an odd olive drab green and had stencil markings like a military vehicle. "You put me in that and I'll come to your meeting."

"I'll be right back with the keys," she said, and she headed back to the office. She returned with the keys and a dealer's plate she attached to the rear of the truck. "Take it for a ride," she said.

Josh eased into the driver's seat of the truck and luxuriated in that new car smell as he examined the dashboard. The truck fit him like a hand in a glove. Nothing fancy, but there was enough electronics to get him where he wanted to go. He started the engine and watched the instrument panel come to life. It was like being in command of his own gunship. Deanna leaned in the window and said, "Go on, take her for a ride."

"Him," corrected Josh. "All jeeps are Alpha Male." He put it in gear and rolled out of the dealer's lot and onto the Miracle Strip Parkway and headed west past base, then crossed the causeway to Santa Rosa Island where the famous beaches lay. He cruised past the partially crowded beaches on Gulf Boulevard and returned to the mainland across the Navarre Beach Causeway and pulled into the dealership where Bob Mosgrove waited for him. "You like it?"

"I love it. Put on a three inch lift and a set of eighteens and I'll marry it."

"Then come inside and sign the papers," said Bob with a grin. "Mister Davis realized there were some, uh, mistakes made and is willing to trade this truck for a few concessions."

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By the time he had to move out of the Base Hotel, Yesenia and her clothing were gone. A volunteer from the 'Airman's Attic' who was really a security policewoman, helped Yesenia pack and made sure she didn't trash the place when she left.

When she was truly gone, Josh moved back into his apartment in base housing. They gave him three months to clean up the mess and move out. They were three of the worst months he ever experienced. He had duties to perform at the squadron; he was the TODO, the Technical Order Duty Officer. His job was to insure all technical orders (maintenance or operational manuals) were up to date, all pages were in the loose-leaf binders, and all changes were properly annotated or added. It was a dreary, mind numbing, boring job that was also one of the most important jobs in the Air Force. Attempting to perform maintenance on an aircraft with an out-of-date technical order is an invitation to disaster.

At night was the drudgery of cleaning, boxing, and selling or throwing out the last five years of his life. He was selling everything except the TV, and anything that didn't sell would go to the Airman's Attic where it would be given to young airmen who were broke and needed furniture.

Bob Mosgrove called or visited Josh every night to keep him updated on his activity. "We need to talk about your divorce. She wants alimony and child support," said Bob.

"She can want in one hand and shit in the other and see which one fills up first. I don't want a divorce. I want an annulment."

"I don't know if I can swing an annulment..."

"She beat me over the head with the Roman Catholic catechism for months before and after we were married, and I come home to find her sucking the altar boy's chode? No. She doesn't get a divorce, she doesn't get child support, she doesn't get alimony, and she doesn't get my name. We cut her ass off, we determine which bills are hers and dump them on her, and I get my name back.

"That's not how it works, Josh..."

"Go to her father, he is an old school Mexican father. He insists on saying the mass in Latin, he's that kind of Roman Catholic. He doesn't want the shame of a divorce staining his family. Tell him I get an annulment or I release the videos of his darling daughter and her tribe of boyfriends that I found on my laptop to Father Montoya and the entire Sacred Heart Society."

"You wouldn't."

"Check your mail."

There was a long pause, then Bob said, "Holy shit..." He watched as raven haired Yesenia swallowed one of the biggest cocks he had ever seen.

"Yeah, holy shit. That's not her loving husband, and I have a couple of hours of stuff she wouldn't do with her loving husband on video on this laptop. The date stamp on that video is less than a month after I deployed."

"I don't like blackmail," said Bob.

"It's not blackmail, you're trying to prevent a very angry scorned husband from doing something awful. Go to her dad and tell him that my honor has been slighted, he'll understand that. Remind him that if I get an annulment, he gets that damn gringo out of his family. He will love that, and if you have a Mexican associate explain it to him in Spanish, he'll sign anything."

"I can have this divorce complete in a couple of weeks," insisted Bob.

"Bob, look, she's demanding more than I make in child support, and on top of that she wants alimony. If you settle for a divorce you're putting me in prison. I will disappear before that happens, I'll go AWOL and live on the street of some west coast city with no self-esteem." He pulled on a nice polo shirt as he talked to Bob on a "Burner" phone. His usual cell service was suspended for failure to pay for nine months while he was gone. While Bob worked with the different utilities that Josh owed due to a lack of payment, Josh had to buy cheap burner phones from Walmart. He had a small flip phone. Its only option was speaker phone. It took pictures, but they sucked and texting was a nightmare. He couldn't wait to get back to a proper android phone. "I have to go, I gotta go meet Deanna."

"The car salesman?"

"Yeah, her and her husband."

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Josh entered the large open room at a local yacht club. There were tables and chairs set up around the room like a big café, and guys were standing in small groups of four or more singing or doing voice exercises. There were several women sitting in the chairs watching and talking softly among themselves. "You made it!" said Deanna cheerfully as she appeared next to Josh. "Come on, I'll introduce you."

"What is this?"

"They call it wood shedding, but it's just warmups before the director gets here." She led Josh to a quartet that was warming up. "Honey, this is the fellow I was telling you about. This is Josh. Josh; this is my husband, Rod."

Josh shook hands with Rod and the three guys he was singing with. "What part do you sing?" asked Rod.

"Part?" Josh looked at the four men who leaned in to hear his answer. "I sing the whole song."

One of the men was a grumpy looking old man with a sour look about him. "Oh. He's a wise ass," the old fellow said. Then he broke into a huge smile, "welcome to the gang! You'll fit right in." They laughed and clapped him on the back and Josh was wondering what he got himself into. He thought Deanna had invited him to a church choir practice, but this was far from that.

"Do you know Let Me Call You Sweetheart?" asked another fellow.

"Yeah, it's been a while..." and before he knew it, he was singing the old standard with four other guys in perfect four-part harmony. It was fun. For the first time in months, he was smiling. Before he knew it, Josh was singing with the quartet in four-part harmony, and each of these guys had an ear. They knew their music and if Josh was off the note by a half step, one of them would point up or down to get him back on key.

Someone said, "let's line up!" and everyone headed to a set of risers at the far end of the room and a harried but happy looking man took position as director. "Who do we have here?"

"Gene, this is Josh Gravely, and he stopped by to check us out."

The director stepped up to Josh and said, "Josh, I'm the director Gene Mitchell, and you're welcome to be here." When he said that, Josh heard a harmonica note behind him and Gene stepped back and directed the chorus in a song called "You're as Welcome as the Flowers in May." As they sang in perfect harmony, they trooped past Josh and each man shook his hand.

As they neared the end of the song, there were still many guys in line to shake Josh's hand, so Gene yelled "I Want a Girl!" and the chorus switched to singing "I want a girl, just like the girl, that married dear old dad..." which had Josh laughing for some reason.

When they were done singing, Gene called Josh forward and said, "What part do you sing?"

"In high school I sang bass in The Music Man, but I don't think I could hit the bass notes y'all are hitting. A high school bass is a different kinda animal," said Josh.

Gene smiled; The Music Man was an entry into barbershop singing for a lot of men. "Sing something for me, anything that feels comfortable." Josh looked around and shrugged, then began singing I've Been Working On The Railroad. Gene stopped him and said, "Go over there and sing with the baritones." The baritones in the chorus gathered around Josh and taught him how to sing the baritone part, and before he knew it, Josh was hooked.

He sang all night. He sang tunes that he thought were too modern for barbershop. He thought barbershop music was "Down By The Old Mill Stream" and "My Wild Irish Rose." Instead, they were singing modern show tunes, hits from the 60s and 70s, they sang do-wop from the fifties and more. He reached for his phone to add Barbershop Practice to his calendar, but there's no calendar on a twenty-dollar burner flip-phone.

<><><><><><>֍<><><><><>

The weeks passed, and Josh fell into a rhythm. Wednesday night was barbershop chorus practice, and Deanna was right. It was a lot of fun. But it was not a cure for the anger and humiliation of what Yesenia did to him. It helped for a few days, but by Saturday night, the degradation burned in his gut. That's when he found himself at the tiki bars down on Santa Rosa Island. His hip was healing, and he was able to operate a clutch, so he took Grandpa when he went prowling. He didn't want to destroy his beautiful new truck after a long night at the Tiki Bar.

The women of Santa Rosa Island were warm and inviting and were easily swayed by someone that could sing. Josh was sure if he could wear his uniform on stage with all those ribbons and medal, badges and wings, he'd have his cock in someone's mouth before the song was over. Forget Sinatra, Dean Martin was the music that made their panties wet. Dean's sweet Italian crooning was all new to Millennials and younger, and it was 'pussy bait' to Zoomers and Boomers, and Josh had the range for everything that 'Dino' sang. He avoided Dean's top hits and went for the songs that slipped under the radar of history.

I have but one heart, this heart I bring you

I have but one heart to share with you...

I Have But One Heart was a sweet crooner that nailed them every time, and Josh had a list of romantic sure-fire pussy traps. Before long, somebody who was in the tiki bars with her buddies was purring along Gulf Boulevard in a classic Jeep named Grandpa. It was a tropical night and the cool breeze was coming in off the beach and it felt incredible. "I'm going to get wild," the drunk blond said.

"I dare ya," he said.

"Woo hoo!" Josh looked over and she had taken her polo shirt off. Her breasts were small, but her nipples were rock hard as the ocean breeze caressed her skin. "I love this!" she cried as they purred along in the antique jeep. The next thing Josh knew was that she had pulled down her shorts and was sitting nude next to him. He knew right where to go.

He turned off Santa Rosa Boulevard and followed a packed sand road to the beach where they ended up riding along close to the gentle surf. "I want to go skinny dipping in the moonlight," said the blond, and she hopped out of the jeep even before the wheels stopped turning. "This feels incredible!" cried the blond as she splashed in the surf. It was the first time she had ever gone swimming in the nude. Even though she normally wears a tiny bikini bathing suit, the water touching her nipples and her unprotected vulva sent thrills through her body. Add that to riding in the old jeep and the crooning of Josh, or whatever he called himself, and she wanted a man.

"Come on!" she called. "The water's great!" Josh was leaning against Grandpa, watching the woman splash in the gulf. "Chicken!" she called.

Josh kicked off his sandals, peeled off his Atlanta Falcons Aloha shirt and dropped his shorts, then walked slowly toward her, his erect cock swaying with every step. She watched him approach, trying to keep her eyes on his eyes, but that cock was so nice and thick, and long, and... before she realized what had happened, she was in his arms and they were kissing hungrily. His right hand held her head in place as they kissed, his left arm wrapped around her and pulled her to him. She shocked herself by grabbing his ass and pulling him to her. His hard cock pressed against her and she wanted it in her. She knew she was drunk, but this was something she wanted.

He scooped her up in his powerful arms and carried her up the beach to the damp sand that was hard as concrete and there they lay in the moonlight kissing, waiting for each other to make the first move, and eventually it was mutual. She lay on top of him, considering his cock while his tongue danced on her clit.

He was a champion pussy licker, and she began groaning as he slowly drove her out of her mind with his insistent tongue. She felt a finger ease into her pussy and involuntarily her legs spread wider for him. As he fingerfucked her pussy and tongue lashed her clit, she began suckling his big round balls, which caused him to groan. She then held his cock up and studied it, then lowered her hungry mouth over his throbbing cock.

There in the moonlight, the couple feasted on each other, driving each other insane with desire. The blond was soon on the edge of a hard orgasm and her body tightened up as it hit. Shockwaves crashed through her body. She released his cock and sand out her pleasure to the sky as he slipped two fingers in and out of her cunt.

As she calmed down, she tried to wriggle away, but he said, "Ut uh. My turn." She laughed and tried to crawl away on her hand and knees, but he caught her and lined up his cock and drove into her without warning.

"Gawd you're splitting me open!" she groaned.

"Take it!"

He began a pounding fuck that drove the blond forward; She sank to her elbows and fought to keep from having her face driven into the sand. The sound of their bodies clapping together filled the night air, as did the sound of an occasional slap on her ass. It was hot, and it was driving her to another mind shattering orgasm. His cock pounded in and out of her pussy harder, deeper, faster. The slaps to her ass added hot spice to the blazing fuck, and then they both came, shouting, screaming, cumming. His sperm flooded her pussy as he drove into her hard, pounding at her pussy with a vengeance.

Then they collapsed to the sand, panting. He half expected him to roll over and leave her, but they cuddled in the sand, watching the moonlight dance along the distant waves. "This part is so nice," she whispered.

He wanted to scream, "This isn't me!" but he just cuddled with her until the incoming tide splashed them and they got up and washed the sand off, then headed back to Grandpa.

"Look, I don't want to be a downer but who is Yesenia?"

<><><><><>

Josh sat at his desk, hating himself and hating his job. He was doing an "A-Page" on a maintenance technical order. That was to take the list of changes and updates and go through the 600-page technical order, page by page, to ensure every change was added to the T. O. according to the list. He had seven copies of that T. O. to do before he could call the job done and move on to the next series of technical orders. Then he heard a familiar voice.

Josh, what the hell are you doing?

It was Craig Zigler, his top 105 loader. "Mind your own damn business," said Josh. "You're dead."

Seriously Josh, what the hell are you doing?

"I'm doing a fucking A-Page on the dash thirteen if you must fucking know!"

Not that Josh, the girls! Christy was bawling her eyes out when you dumped her on the beach.

"Was that her name?"

You hurt her Josh. You treated her like a piece of meat.

"Mind your own fucking business."

Josh, what if you knock one of them up?

"DAMN IT CRAIG LEAVE ME..."

"Yes sergeant Gravely?" asked the shop lieutenant, who leaned in Josh's office door.

"Nothing sir, just rehashing a family argument in my mind."

"You should save that for after duty, sergeant."

"Yes sir," said a chastised Josh. When the lieutenant left, he muttered, "trying to make me crazy for picking up chicks on Fort Walton Beach. Everyone does it."

You're not picking up chicks, you're hate fucking Yesenia by proxy.

Josh snarled. He wanted to shout, "SO WHAT?" but the book he was checking was missing a page. Fuck! He opened another copy of that T. O. and removed the page that was missing, made a copy, both sides, then put the copied page in the book that was missing the page. "Don't these fuckers know what paper assholes are for?" he muttered as he reinforced the perforation for the loose-leaf binder with adhesive circles known as paper assholes.

He was still muttering and fuming when Lieutenant Colonel Marriner stepped into his office. The colonel stood silently watching Josh checking each page and each update in the huge T. O. against the listed updates on the A-Page. He flew several times with Josh. Several sorties were training missions where Josh was training a new crew, but a few were hairy combat sorties and Josh had every gun on that ship shooting hot and accurate.

Colonel Marriner cleared his throat. Josh heard him and looked up, then leapt to his feet and snapped to attention. "Sir!"

"As you were sergeant," said the squadron commander. Josh slowly sat down and tried to hide his emotions. He was sure he knew why the commander was here. "I got the results of your physical, Josh."

"Yes sir," but it came out in a hoarse whisper. Josh? The colonel never called him Josh. This didn't bode well.

"You've been returned to worldwide status," said the commander. "This is good, this is what you wanted, right?"

"Yes sir," said Josh. If the doctor had said he was no longer worldwide qualified, he would be put out of the service. "I hear a 'but' coming. Is this a delta briefing?"

Colonel Marriner sighed and said, "There's no other way to say it but to say it. You didn't pass your flight physical. This is a delta briefing."

"What? How could I not... is it my eye?"

"No, your eye healed perfectly, it is your hearing and your hip," the commander looked awful. It wasn't often that a flier was permanently disqualified from flight for a medical, and in Josh's case, this was painful because there's talk of disqualifying him from active duty.

"They're going to put me out, aren't they?"

"I won't lie to you Josh, I believe they are considering it."

Josh's entire world imploded. This was worse than catching Yesenia with some other guy's balls on her chin and a bastard in her gut. This was the end of his life. "You can't let them do that sir," said Josh.

"Come on Josh. You can go home! No more PT, no more deployments, no more getting your ass shot off."

"I have no family there, sir. PT, deployments, and getting shot are all I have." Everything started to get dim for Josh. Colonel Marriner looked like he was in a long, dark tunnel, far, far away. Josh was sweating and shaking and he put his hands in his lap to hide them from the colonel.

"Look, Josh, I can't keep you here, I need fliers and sitting here maintaining books that you are not allowed to use is going to kill you. If I hide you somewhere, you may get two more years in the Air Force.

"Hide me? Hide me where?"

"Ever been to Korea?"

<><><><><>

Rod Daniels was headed home from work when he passed the cemetery and saw Grandpa parked half off the road on the lawn. He knew the cemetery keeper would have a fit over that. Off among the rows of small headstones, he saw someone in a battle dress uniform kneeling and leaning over a small tomb stone. It had to be Josh.

He approached the crouched soldier and he could see that the fellow was Josh. There was blood all over the tombstone, along with Josh's hands and face. Rod crouched next to Josh and whispered, "Josh? What's wrong Josh?"

Josh turned and looked at Rod. They had been singing together every Wednesday night for two months, and often going out for coffee and a burger after, but Josh looked at him like he was a stranger. "I can't leave him behind again," said Josh.

"Leave who? What do you mean leave him behind?"

"Not again..." said Josh sadly, and he turned away from Rod and muttered, "You can't help me father. Go find a redeemable sinner."

Rod looked at the tombstone. It marked the final resting place of Staff Sergeant Craig Zigler. USAF. KIA. "He was yours?"

"His blood... I felt his last breath... I watched him die... his... blood..."

"Come on Josh." Rod led him back to Grandpa, and he pushed Josh into the passenger seat, then he went to his car and got a cloth diaper out of the back and ripped it to strips then bound the gashes in Josh's hands. "What happened? Did you slip with a knife?"

Josh slowly turned to Rod and said, "You're a priest?" Rod was wearing black trousers and a black clerical shirt with a Roman collar. "Is Deanna a nun?"

"Yes, we were priest and nun when we met," said Rod as he bound Josh's wounds. "I'm a Lutheran minister now."

"You never told me you're a priest."

"You never told me you were suicidal," said Rod.

"There's nothing left. I even failed at that." Josh went completely silent.

Rod took him to an emergency clinic. The cuts weren't deep and needed nothing more than cleaning and butterfly bandages. Josh still wasn't talking, so Rod just assumed that it was a knife accident. "To both hands?" asked the nurse.

Rod just shrugged. "If he told me more, I couldn't, you know..."

"Right, sorry Father," and the nurse finished binding Josh's wounds. "Should I call the police, father?"

"No, I'm sure this was just a one-time accident," said Rod. After a lot of paperwork, Rod led Josh out of the clinic and drove him home. On the way, he called Deanna and explained a little bit about what happened and asked her to come pick him up at Josh's house on her way home from work.

As they pulled in the driveway and parked behind the beautiful Jeep Gladiator that Josh had parked in the drive, Josh turned to Rod and said, "You lied to that Nurse."

"Did I?" asked Rod.

"Yes. Several times. You let her think you were a priest without correcting her."

"You're right, It's called a lie by implication. I should have corrected her, but the results are the same," said Rod. "If you tell me something, I cannot be compelled to reveal that to anyone else without your permission."

"At least I won't be alone in hell," groaned Josh. He opened the door to his two-bedroom apartment and Rod followed him in. It was almost completely empty. "There was a couch there, but I took it out in the swamp and burned it. It was a nice couch." He unfolded an umbrella style lawn chair for Rod. "What would you like to drink? I have water, and..." He looked confused for a second, then he went into the kitchen and Rod heard him call out, "I have water and lemon juice." He walked into the living room with a half-liter bottle of water in one hand and a quart of lemon juice in the other.

"I'll take the water," said Rod.

Josh handed him the water, then said, "I'm going to go wash up and change."

As he disappeared into the back, Rod got up and explored the apartment. It was completely empty. The only furniture he saw was the chair that Josh unfolded for him. Every closet was bare; the garage was completely empty except for what appeared to be the canvas roof for Grandpa. In the kitchen there were paper plates, plastic silverware, plastic cups. In the fridge, there was a case of drinking water bottles and a bottle of lemon juice. In the freezer were frozen burritos. "It looks like you're ready to move out," said Rod.

"Yes, I'm ready for the inevitable," said Josh. "As soon as the papers are signed, I'm not authorized to be here anymore, so..." Josh chuckled sadly and continued, "I'll be homeless on active duty. Ain't that a kick in the head?" he came out of the bathroom singing, "Like a sailor said quote, 'ain't that a hole in the boat?'"

"You should be hunting for a new apartment," said Rod.

"With my credit rating? I can't afford to sleep on the beach."

"What about your wife?" asked Rod. All Rod knew was that you had to be married to live in base housing and that Josh was wearing a wedding ring.

"The last time I saw Yesenia, I had just come back from a nine month deployment. As I walked in the door eager to tell her all about my promotion I saw her kneeling right there blowing her old boyfriend."

"Oh God," groaned Rod.

"She was six months pregnant."

"Oh my sweet God," groaned Rod.

"She didn't pay a single bill while I was gone. She forged my signature on the title to both of our cars and traded them in for a new Dodge Charger. Did Sister Deanna tell you about a salesman that was fired and charged with fraud several weeks back? That's my darling wife's doing. But what I've done is far worse."

Rod had an inkling that Josh was having problems, but he didn't realize how deep the problems went. He quickly sent a few texts to Deanna, then turned back to Josh. "Josh we all make mistakes."

"What would you know? You've been protected by seminary or divinity school or whatever, what would you know about real life?"

"Like maybe a pregnant nun?" asked Rod. Josh was quiet for a long time. "Well?" asked Rod.

"That's actually kinda cool."

"I'm glad that I finally amused you."

"I don't know why but for the past six weeks I've been a predator."

"What do you mean, Rod?"

"Forgive me father for I have sinned... a whole fucking lot." He told Rod how he prowled Santa Rosa Island for drunk college girls and took his anger and frustration out on them with rough sex that included choking, hair pulling, and spanking.

"Be honest," said Rod. "How does that make you feel?"

"Confused," said Josh after a few moments.

"Confused?"

"Some of them hated it, I scared them and they hated me for it."

"That's to be expected," said Rod.

"The rest liked it."

"That's distressing."

"Yes it is. I wanted them to hate me; I wanted them to cry. I wanted a reason to feel this miserable. You can't do that when she's screaming 'more!'" Their discussion was interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Knock knock!" called the former nun Deanna Daniels through the screen door.

Rod got up and opened the door. "Come on in," he said, and Deanna entered with their two children, five-year-old Lana and three-year-old Connor. She brought with three pizzas and two two-liter bottles of Pepsi. For some reason, Connor took an interest in Josh and was showing him the pictures he drew in pre-school. Rod took the blanket off of Josh's bed and spread it out on the floor and Deanna served pizza and they had a picnic in the big empty living room.

"Where's your TV?" asked Connor.

"I don't watch TV," said Josh.

"Not even Power Rangers?"

"Nope, not even Power Rangers," said Josh.

"How come your house is empty!" demanded Lana.

"I'm moving," said Josh.

"Where to?" said Deanna cheerfully.

"Korea." Josh replied like he announced the gates of hell were opened.

"Ooo, isn't that exciting! Lana, where is Korea?" said Deanna.

"It's between China and Japan." The little girl said that like it was everyday knowledge and she was annoyed that she had to recite it.

"When are you leaving?" Deanna asked Josh.

"I don't know, my commander is putting me in for orders. I just lost flight status, my wife is gone, my plane is sitting crashed in a desert somewhere, my best friend is dead, my crew is disbanded, I cost my loadmaster her leg, I'm completely broke, I have no home..."

Connor felt sorry for Josh, so he fed Josh a piece of pepperoni as they sat on his living room floor. Music played on Josh's little portable radio and a cooling gulf breeze came through the curtainless front windows and Connor sat in Josh's lap, playing with Rod's phone. Deanna looked at Josh and said, "You are at the start of an entirely new life. I know it hurts, believe me, I know how much it hurts to lose everything, and I'm sure things are going to continue to change, but this is the start of an entirely new life. If you just relax and let life happen, you're going to find out how wonderful it is."

Josh was going to demand 'how would you know,' when Connor held Rod's phone in front of Josh's face. "Look! Mommy's a brack ghost!" The little guy mispronounced black.

There on Rod's phone was a picture of a young nun, so pretty, so excited about her future in the service of the lord she glowed in her traditional habit. The next picture was of Rod and Deanna together. Rod was still wearing the robes from saying mass, and Deanna was in her black habit. They were gazing into each other's eyes. "I'll never forget saying that mass. That's the Sunday we met," said Rod.

"I thought my father was going to kill you when you asked for his blessing on our marriage," said Deanna.

"How many men get a priest asking them for their daughter the nun's hand in marriage?" asked Josh. He was starting to see that he wasn't alone in being terrified of the future.

"There's not as many as you would think," said Rod with a chuckle.

The conversation for the rest of the evening was cheerful. Josh had a new friend in Conner, but the thought broke his heart. That child in Yesenia's womb should have been his. "Then have it tested," said Rod.

"Did I say that out loud?"

"Yes you did," said Deanna.

"Have it tested," said Rod. "If the child isn't yours, forgive her and walk away. If it is yours, by some miracle, beg her forgiveness and raise that child as yours."

<><><><><>֍<><><><><>

Josh wrote the last check, slipped it in an envelope and put a stamp on it, then headed down to the mailbox in the lobby of the VNCOQ building and mailed it. The last check to end this nightmare that Yesenia caused. He agreed with her father. If the baby was his, he would agree to her demands and pay the child support as long as he was able to have visitation rights. If it wasn't his, he would get the annulment and walk away.

Yesenia's father, Mariano Ochoa, was a rich man. He owned a chain of Mexican restaurants and between deployments, he was grooming Josh to manage one of his restaurants. Mariano was holding his new grandson when Josh entered his office. Mariano was normally snappy and arrogant to Josh, and he seemed to take great joy in reminding Josh that he wasn't Mexican, but today was different. Josh stood in front of his desk at attention, like he always did. Mariano was a rude, abrasive, arrogant pain in the ass, but Josh respected him. Mariano grew up dirt poor in Laredo, Texas, and created a chain of restaurants called Mariano's Real Tex-Mex.

"I'm sure you know the results of the test," said Mariano, as he sat behind his desk, holding a tiny bundle. Every now and then, the bundle wriggled in its sleep. "You will get your annulment as promised."

"Thank you Señor Ochoa," said Josh. He always called Mariano 'Señor Ochoa.' He took off his wedding band and laid in on Mariano's desk.

Mariano Ochoa looked at the ring sadly, then said, "You could have been a rich man, Ephraim Gravely. You could have inherited my entire company had you remained married to my daughter."

"I know Señor Ochoa," said Josh, who nodded sadly. "Had she remained faithful, or at least showed me some respect and used discretion, we would still be married. It's not that I don't love her, it's that I can't look at her without the pain of that morning."

"Ah yes, respect," said Mariano wistfully. "We can live without it, but what kind of life would that be, eh?" He actually smiled. "I will admit, you were patient with my Yesenia. Maybe too patient. And you hate me, but you always showed me respect!"

"No señor, I never hated you," said Josh. "I was jealous. You are everything to Yesenia that my father never was to me. You are stern, but loving, abrasive but wise. My father was a selfish alcoholic that drank himself to death, and my mother did the same thing, leaving me alone for my last year in high school."

"You never told me," said Mariano, rising from behind his desk. "Here, hold the boy."

Josh carefully took the tiny child, just days old, and looked at him. He was beautiful. The baby squirmed and made a couple of noises that sounded like a cry but drifted off to sleep. "He's beautiful," gasped Josh. "What's his name?"

"She left it to me to name the boy," said Mariano. "I give that honor to you. It's the least I can do for the hell that she put you through."

Josh looked at the tiny baby. It broke his heart that this would be the only contact he would have with the child. "Back when my wife loved me, we had long talks about our future children. We planned on four, and I was going to teach them to cook so they could join me in Abuelito Mariano's business. We settled on Mateo Ezequiel."

"Mateo was my father's name," said Mariano, as he sat down behind his desk. "Why Ezequiel?"

"It was a tradition in my family to give names from the old testament," said Josh.

"How large is your family?"

Josh shrugged. "There's just my sister and me. She's following in our parents footsteps, working at the paper mill in the day and drinking all night. She'll be dead soon."

Mariano closed his ledger and said, "Mateo Ezequiel it is. Adela!" When he called out, Yesenia's mom Adela bustled into the room and gently took the baby from Josh. "I let Josh pick his name."

"Mateo Ezequiel?" asked Adela.

"Yes abuela," said Josh.

"I know, I used to listen to you and Yazi talking about having babies." She rose up on tiptoes and gave Josh a kiss. "Be safe mi hijo," and trying not to weep, she bustled out of the room with the baby.

"There is one more thing I must do, Señor Ochoa," said Josh and they followed Adela through the house to Yesenia's room, where the beautiful Mexican woman lay with the baby. Yesenia looked up at Josh with a mix of confusion and terror.

"Josh!" she gasped "I..."

"Shh. Let me say this first. I just want to say, and I say this from my heart," said Josh. "I forgive you and I wish you all the best with Mateo. He's a beautiful child, love your little boy." Then he turned and left without saying another word. The sound of Yesenia's crying followed him out.

Mariano escorted Josh to the door of their enormous house and handed him a check. "When you settle down on your farm I am going to come and visit and talk and watch your crops grow, no?"

"I would be honored, Señor Ochoa. But I didn't ask for this."

"I owe it to you, mi hijo. And thank you for forgiving our Yazi. Be safe in Korea."

"Thank you papa," said Josh as they shook hands. He walked down to the driveway where Grandpa was waiting for him. This would be their last trip together for over a year, and he enjoyed the ride out to the Ochoa mansion through the cypress swamps. Grandpa would be in long-term storage, so Josh was out to enjoy the ride. As he cruised along, he wondered how Mariano knew about Korea. He hasn't told many people. The only civilians that knew for sure were Rod and Deanna.

He deposited the check in his farm savings account and transferred a few thousand dollars over to checking to cover expenses on the trip. As he came out of the credit union, he wandered to the beach and sat down on a bench to watch the ocean waves. Under the shade of the swaying palm trees, Josh sadly remembered the wonder of holding a newborn boy in his arms, a baby that should have been his. A tear crept down his cheek as he remembered his last words to Yesenia, the woman he once loved so much.

Then he noticed he wasn't alone. He looked and there on the other end of the bench was a familiar-looking woman. Then, with a jolt, he remembered who it was. It was Christy, whom he last saw crying in the sand. Josh could have slipped away and disappeared in the early afternoon sunshine, but that thought never crossed his mind. Well aware he was still in a suit and tie, his usual attire for talking to Mariano Ochoa, he stood in front of the woman who was reading a book. "Christy." He said in a soft voice.

"Hmm? What... you!"

"I want to apologize."

"What do you want?" she said over his words, then realizing what he said, she said, "Apologize?"

"Yes, ma'am. I treated you horribly. I took out personal anger on you and I never should have, and I'm very, very, sorry."

"And I suppose if I say I accept your apology you can walk away and say you're the good guy!" she was nearly screaming.

"No ma'am, I was puredee wrong. There is no forgiveness for what I did. If you want to press charges..." he swallowed and said, "If you want to press charges I'll wait for the police."

She looked at him, then said, "Puredee wrong? Where are you from?"

"Georgia coast, Saint Mary's."

She thought and frowned and said, "I've had worse dates. You at least got me to quit drinking."

"I quit myself too. Unless there's a ball game on then it's two beers, no more."

The pretty blond looked at him and said, "You are the strangest man I have ever met. If you were really sorry, you'd buy me dinner."

"If you were going to consider accepting my apology you would tell me where you would like to eat."

Christy looked at Josh. He was striking in his suit and tie, way overdressed for a Florida panhandle beach. She remembered those panty soaking kisses of his, and she would not let his lips get near hers again. The last time he ended up spanking her and calling her a bitch, Yamila. "You know if I allow you to take me to dinner, there will be conversation, and that's it."

"Yes ma'am. That's more than generous of you."

She took out her phone and opened a website and made reservations. "For your sins you will take me to the Bay Café Restaurant. We have reservations for six thirty. Don't disappoint me."

"Yes ma'am."

"And dress a little more casual, you look like you came from a funeral."

"Yes ma'am.

<><><><><>

Josh showed up in Spartacus, a name he decided would be a good name for a Jeep Gladiator. He took off his tie and changed his shirt for an Aloha shirt, but kept the jacket and slacks, which ended up looking pretty nice.

Christy was waiting eagerly, and when they met at the restaurant entrance she said, "I haven't eaten all day, I hope you brought the gold card."

"I haven't eaten all day either, and I've been dying to try this place," said Josh.

They were led to an intimate table out on the patio overlooking the beautiful Choctawhatchee Bay. Large cabin cruisers and sail boats slipped past and occasionally a passenger on the boat was topless, but this was Fort Walton Beach and Christy did the same thing herself in Josh's jeep a few weeks ago. "Ah would love to learn to sail," said Josh.

"This is the place to do it," said Christy.

"Ah spent my whole time flying," said Josh. "Flying and getting shot up," he added softly.

Trying to keep the mood light, Christy said, "Let's eat. What do you like for an app?"

"Ah don't know what most of this stuff is... well, ah know whut it is, pate just doesn't sound appetizing."

"It isn't. It's for pretentious eaters. Let me order, I think you'll like this." For appetizers, they had the spicy stuffed jumbo shrimp, huge shrimp stuffed with crab and breadcrumbs covered with Old Bay based seasoning. For the main course, Christy had the Scampi Marinara, which was blackened shrimp in marinara sauce on angel hair pasta. Josh had the grilled veal chops with rosemary and mushrooms. "All this great seafood and you're eating cow?" asked Christy.

"I'm moving soon and I'm not sure how much cow is available in Korea. 'sides, I've never had a veal chop before."

"Korea! Nice. Osan?"

"No, Kunsan. I take it you're familiar with Korea?" Josh asked.

"Oh yes, I was actually born there. My folks were stationed at Osan and we went back once or twice. I was stationed at Kunsan a few years ago. Which unit are you going to?"

"The uh eightieth?" Josh took a copy of his orders from his inside pocket and looked. "Yes, eightieth fighter squadron."

"The Headhunters, a lot of pride in that unit. I was the OIC of the AMU."

"Oh, when did you get out?"

"I didn't get out sergeant." She laughed as Josh turned pale and looked like he was going to cry. The woman he raped was an officer.

Shit. Well, it's too late to pretend it didn't happen. "Hell, then you probably know my story, ma'am."

"What story is that?"

"Shot up in Bumfuk, Africa, spend weeks in Wilford Hall, return home to find my wife pregnant and going down on her old boyfriend, with my first sergeant, commander and my wing commander right there with me."

Christy grinned at him and said, "No wonder why you were so angry. I take it her name is Yazmila?"

"Yesenia. I just came from her dad's house where I met her son." Suddenly dinner didn't taste very good anymore. He slammed back the rest of his raspberry iced tea and waved for the waiter to bring more. "I'm still learning how to behave in the new, single me."

"Well, you got nowhere to go but up." She winked and patted his hand. "Relax, I'm not pressing charges, you've been through enough. I'm mostly mad at you for the way you said goodbye... and calling me Yolanda."

"Yesenia."

"Whatever." Christy shrugged. "We were drunk and I was hoping things would turn out differently. Just take it easy with that thing, you can hurt a girl with that weapon."

The rest of the dinner was relaxed. She wanted to know more about his singing and he explained the Barbershop Harmony Society and some of the songs they were singing. "I'll have to check them out," said Christy.

"If you come to one of our practices, most of the women waiting are wives or girlfriends, you probably wouldn't want to be confused with that crowd."

"No, definitely not," said Christy with a laugh. He wanted to know more about Kunsan and she said, "as a gunner you'll probably love it. They're perpetually on war footing at Kunsan."

"Sounds like my kind of place." They chatted about life in Korea, then Josh said, "I got a sponsor letter, he said they closed the Steam and Cream, what's that?"

Christy looked at him in shock. He was serious! This guy is a babe in the woods. She gestured him to lean closer, and she whispered, "I gave you one a few weeks ago," then laughed as he blushed. He actually blushed! "Are you sure you're a gunner?"

"I'm not anymore, ma'am."

"I like this Josh Gravely, is this the real Josh?"

"Mostly. I had a tough morning, I said goodbye forever to several people that I love, including a little guy that should have been my son. My defrocked nun is giving me pointers on how to get back to normal over there."

"Defrocked nun, that's funny," chuckled Christy, who was now wishing that she had met this Josh Gravely first.

Later in the parking lot they parted with a quick friendly kiss, and Christy said, "Get better while you're over there, I can't wait to meet the real Josh Gravely when you come back."

<><><><><>֍<><><><><>

The going away party they put together for Josh was far beyond what he wanted for a going away party. He had hoped for a small keg of beer where the gang could get together and chat, but Colonel Ash wanted more. It's not often that an actual god damn hero departs the unit. An official awards ceremony was set up, meaning that Josh had to wear his dress blues to his own going away kegger.

His wing commander, Colonel Ash, presented him with the Air Achievement Medal (with C (Combat) and R (Remote) devices) for a series of missions he set up in the AC-130J in Yemen. Most of them are still classified. After him, Lieutenant Colonel Marriner presented him with the USAF Meritorious Service Medal second oak leaf cluster. After that, his aircrew commander, Major Emory Hancock, presented him with his stripe for master sergeant.

It was a squadron party on a Friday and everyone was in a good mood. Josh walked around with two new medals clipped to his uniform pocket flap and, being a wise ass, Major Emory glued a badge clip to the back of the ceremonial set of stripes and clipped them to his uniform pocket flap like the colonels clipped his medals. Josh left them there. It was silly, and he enjoyed that. Someone plugged in a stereo and the hangar rang with country music. Almost everyone was wearing flight suits, only the commanders, office staff, and Josh were wearing blue.

An Alan Jackson song came on the stereo and he felt a tap on his shoulder. It was a major he had never seen in uniform before. Her name tag showed that her last name was Schuler. "You never told me you were a major, Christy."

"You never told me you were a war hero. I was going through your Medal of Honor paperwork, and I was thinking, damn! If I could just dance with a hero like that. Do you dance Sergeant?"

He chuckled and said, "Just a good ol' two step and a proper country waltz. After that I get lost."

"Let's show these kids what a couple of Georgia crackers can do with a piece of music."

"Lets," said Josh with his first actual smile of the day. They were soon dancing to the hoots and cheers of the assembled crew members and other squadron members. "You dance quite well for a Korean," kidded Josh. Her sun tanned skin and her blond hair screamed 'Florida Girl' from a mile away and Josh knew she had no tan lines at all.

"I was born in Korea but I grew up in Valdosta," said Christy.

"That rightly makes us neighbors," said Josh as the song switched to a country waltz. "Ah grew up forty miles away."

"Thank you for dinner the other night, you didn't have to do that," said Christy.

"I couldn't have lived with myself if I had let that opportunity get past me."

"I think that's what the Real Josh Gravely is all about."

"Stop trying to cheer me up ma'am. I'm happy in my misery."

Finally, the song ended and switched to something and the younger red necks started a line dance so Josh and Christy stepped to the side and chatted about his new assignment.

"Do I see some fraternizing going on here?" asked Major Hancock, putting his arms around Josh's and Christy's shoulders.

"I prefer to think of it as mingling," said Josh.

"Collaborating," said Christy.

"Associating," said Josh.

"Definitely not fraternizing, we're not dressed appropriately for that," teased Christy.

"Oh? And what would it take to get some fraternizing going?" asked Emory. He clearly realized that Christy and Josh's relationship was more than two dances.

"A jeep on a beach on a moonless night," said Christy. "That would be fraternizing." She was hoping to get a reaction out of Josh.

"She means a proper jeep, not the air conditioned station wagon you drive," said Josh, referring to Major Hancock's SUV. "Something you can let the top down. The best fraternization happens with the top down." That was a reference to Christy's topless ride through Fort Walton Beach. The ball was back in her court.

"And lower the windshield to get the ocean breeze," said Christy as she smiled at Josh. "You can feel the wind blowing here..." and she ran a finger from her chin down her neck.

There wasn't much left after that other than to give Emory a blow by blow description of the best blow job Josh had all year. Instead, Josh chose introductions. "Major Schuler, this is my chauffeur, Major Emory Hancock. His job is to get a dozen folks to where we tell him to take us so we can make him look good. Major Hancock, this is Major Christy Schuler, we met over dinner the other night. She works at the wing HQ."

"I suspect there's more to the story," said Emory.

"Of course," said Christy. "Is it your mission to find out? Or is it your mission to write your own story?"

Josh stepped back a little and winked at Christy and gave her a thumbs up, and she walked off with Emory.

Someone wrapped herself around Josh's arm and he looked to find his favorite nun/car salesman. "Who was that?" asked Deanna.

"That's one of the girls I... uh..." Josh let his voice trail off.

"She's one of the ones that liked it?"

"No, she liked it the least. I apologized to her, and she let me make it up to her over dinner and we got to know each other as we talked. I just found out 40 minutes ago that she's a major here on base."

"How did you make it up to her?"

"I took her to dinner at the Bay Café and explained what happened to my brain."

"Ooo! The Bay Café, nice!" gushed Deanna. It was expensive, but it was her favorite restaurant.

"And how about Yolanda?" asked Rod as he approached. "Did you talk to her?"

"Yesenia. Yes." Josh looked pained. "I spoke with her father and got the annulment then I got to hold the baby and they let me name him." He looked pained as he remembered holding the most precious thing on earth. "Then I forgave Yesenia, and left."

"That's it?" asked Rod.

"On my way out the door her dad gave me a check to pay for the bills I had to cover."

"I wonder how much it cost him to keep her out of prison," muttered Deanna.

"Honey," said Rod, with a warning note in his voice. He would brook no contemplation of the sins of others.

"Let me introduce you to some souls that could use some saving," said Josh. "This is my First Sergeant John Terry. John, this is the Reverend Rodney Davis and his wife Deanna..."

<><><><><>֍<><><><><>

The flight to Korea was easier than Josh expected. Ever since he returned from Willford Hall he had problems sleeping, so at a follow up doctor's appointment he complained about his sleeping problems and his doc gave him 30 days' worth of Restoril. It knocked him out cold and Josh slept, but it didn't feel like actual sleep. It felt like his brain was turned off. He worried about becoming addicted to the stuff, so he took half pills for a few days and soon was able to sleep properly.

He realized that if Restoril knocked him out on the ground, it should work in an airplane, and who is going to stop him from carrying a prescription onto a plane? He packed his two bags and a carry-on backpack with a brand new tablet loaded with books to read and checked out of the VNCOQ, the Visiting Noncommissioned Officer's Quarters. First Sergeant John Terry was waiting for him in a pickup truck and he tossed Josh's bags in the back. "Are you sure you want to go this way? It's going to take a couple of days."

"Four days. I ain't seen nothing west of San Antonio. The Big Easy seems to stop me whenever I try to travel so I take the bus to NOLA and take the city of New Orleans to Chicago, then the Empire Builder west to Seattle and I get to see America."

"Lots of America," said John, but Josh wasn't paying attention. They were driving past the Long Term storage lot on base and in there were Spartacus and Grandpa. The old CJ3A was on a transport trailer and covered with a tarp, his windshield was folded down, making the tarp looked like it was covering a large rectangular crate instead of a jeep. Spartacus was covered with a custom made cover that cost quite a bit, and both trucks were jacked up with their wheels off the ground and a belly full of Stabil to keep the gasoline in the tank from turning into turpentine.

John dropped Josh off at the Fort Walton Beach bus terminal, where Josh took the Greyhound bus to New Orleans. From there, he rode the City of New Orleans train from the Big Easy to Chicago. There he got on the Empire Builder and rode that train all the way to Seattle, where he arrived in time for his flight to Incheon International Airport.

Josh climbed into the 747 and found the aisle seat he had selected. He didn't want to tell anyone, but if there was a problem on the flight; he felt safer in an aisle seat. He was sure he could be the first to get to an exit. He took a pill, washed it down with water he had brought on board, and buckled in. He was asleep before they moved out on to the runway. When he awoke, he felt confused and dizzy. It took him a long time to realize where he was. He looked up and saw that the seat belt light was off, so he got up and moved through the darkened fuselage. Most of the passengers were asleep. Some were reading, playing games, or watching videos on tablets, phones, or laptops.

He found the toilet and went in and relieved himself, then stepped out and as he did, the plane bounced a bit. He was still woozy from the pill and he nearly fell. He caught himself and a flight attendant helped him straighten up. "It's ok, many people aren't used to flying," she said.

"Oh, I'm used to flying, I'm used to people shooting at me while it happens. How much longer do we have?"

"About four more hours."

Without saying a word, he walked off, thinking. Four hours, that's the maximum time mission BG-102 was scheduled to be on station. The mission was a gun and run. Support naval operations by converting Houthi terrorists at Eil Geradi into greasy stains in the sand. They were protecting the passage of two enormous ships, the MV Rantanplan, a super container ship and the 1250 foot long supertanker Burge Empress. They were to remain on station until they ran out of ammo or until they were on station four hours, when they'd be replaced by Ghostrider Zero Five.

They were on station for fifty minutes.

"Sir, could you sit down?" a cute Asian flight attendant asked.

"Pardon? Oh... sorry." He looked around and saw he was far from his seat.

"You've been walking laps around the plane for almost an hour."

"Sorry... I like to write and walking helps shake the story loose." It was a lie. He hasn't written since creative writing class in community college a few years ago... but maybe he should write a book about his last mission. He'll call it Ghost Rider Zero Four.

"We'll be landing soon," she said. "Maybe we can talk about your stories when we land?"

"That would be great, but I have to report to my base as soon as possible."

"Oh," said the flight attendant with an angry look on her face. She was upset to find out that this cool-looking guy with the nicely trimmed beard was military. She didn't know that Josh has been traveling non-stop for five days and this happens when he doesn't shave for a week. He returned to his seat. The older Asian lady next to him was knitting baby booties.

"For your child?" he asked, not expecting an answer.

"Grandson," she said with a Brooklyn accent.

"My goodness, your son or daughter must have been born when you were in grade school!"

"Flattery will get you anywhere," she smiled and adjusted her glasses. "Where are you stationed?"

"Kunsan."

She nodded and said, "You look to be the type that will enjoy it."

"Master Sergeant Josh Gravely," he said as he shook hands with her. "Eightieth Fighter Squadron."

"Colonel Stacie Babcock, commander 70th Brigade Support Battalion, Camp Casey. What's so funny?"

"I'm just amusing myself ma'am. I met a woman that I thought was a Fort Walton beach bunny and she turned out to be a major in the headquarters squadron. I took you to be a Korean civilian. I'm batting zero for the month."

"Did the Brooklyn accent give me away?" she smiled as she returned to knitting. "You ok? You're turning green. There's a bag in the seat ahead of you."

"Sorry ma'am. I used to enjoy turbulence... until we got our asses blown out of the sky."

"What happened?" she asked.

"AC-130J Ghost Rider out hunting Houthi terrorists. We found some that could shoot back."

"Oh no, is everyone ok?"

"No ma'am. My... Staff Sergeant Zigler was killed, everyone else on our team was injured, and our load master, Sergeant Stadelmeyer lost her leg. I've had a tough time flying ever since. Thank god the boys up front were ok and they got us down in one piece."

"How about you sergeant. Are you ok?"

"I don't know, ma'am, but this is the most I've talked about it since it happened."

"It's not going to be easy Sergeant," the tiny Asian grandmother said as she continued knitting. "You have to suck it up and go get some goddamn help." She turned and smiled at Josh. "That's an order. You will hear it from your commander too, just getting you ready."

"I'm sure he already knows. Damn. He's probably going to stick me in the base library or something. He won't let me touch an airplane."

"You're an E7, sergeant. You don't touch airplanes anyhow. You don't fix them, you don't fly them, you have people to do that for you."

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you. I'm kinda new at being a master sergeant."

<><><><><>֍<><><><><>

Josh was in Korea. He had a few tough moments during the landing approach but Colonel Stacy grasped his hand and whispered, "You're never alone sergeant. We're all here for each other."

Josh didn't need a passport, a set of orders and his ID card was enough to get him in the country via the Status of Forces agreement, but he had a passport which he presented along with his ID card so he could get another stamp. It was 4:30 AM by the time he got his baggage and he joined a line of people at the Military Transportation office. He was told that the bus to Kunsan left at 6:30 and will arrive at 1300 hours. He made a quick call to his sponsor, who didn't answer, so he called the first sergeant. "Sergeant Schaeffer, this better be good."

"I'm Sergeant Gravely, I just landed and..."

"Find Sergeant Dawson, I gave her everything you need to know..." and he hung up. Josh looked around at the crowd. Nobody was in uniform. Some of the Army guys were easy to spot because the Army has the coolest backpacks but other than that, everyone had normal luggage.

"Air Force Sergeant Dawson!" called Josh.

A short, and exquisite black woman with long raven locks, a tiny nose and a shapely figure emerged from the crowd. She was perfect in every way, from her dancing dark brown eyes to her slender legs. Josh was thinking of scooping her up and running off with her when in a southern accent she said, "what do you need?" This wasn't a 'ghetto' or 'street' accent. This was pure south. A voice and a smile that took him home.

"I just got off the phone with Sergeant Schaeffer, he told me that he gave you the information and then he hung up."

"You in the 80th AMU?" she asked.

"Yes, ma'am. Weapons flight."

"Team chief?"

"Assistant NCOIC."

Sergeant Dawson chuckled and said, "Bullshit. You a child!"

Josh shrugged. "I put on Staff first time I tested, I put on Tech the first time I tested and I just put on master the first time I tested."

"So you're... twenty eight?"

"I will be, next August."

"How the hell did you make Master Sergeant in eight years?"

"I've been on gunships for the past five years, ma'am. You gain a lot of points toward promotion on the gunships."

"If you're a master sergeant, why do you keep calling me ma'am?" demanded Sergeant Dawson.

Josh told her about Major Christy and Colonel Stacie. "The way my luck has been running, you're probably the senior enlisted advisor." The senior enlisted advisor was the highest ranking enlisted person on base.

Sergeant Dawson's laugh was pure and honest, a sweet sound, like a distant church bell on a warm, sunny Sunday morning. She laughed as they climbed on the bus. "Call me Roxie."

He shook her small, slim, chocolate brown hand. "Call me Josh." They sat down next to each other on the crowded bus. Most riders were revelers from Kunsan, that spent a few days in Seoul and were catching the bus back. Josh and Roxie talked about their previous assignments and Josh discovered Roxie was a couple of years older than him. "Is there a Mister Roxie Dawson?"

"Almost, but I got a Dear Jane letter in basic training, and he ran off with a bitch from Jacksonville. Is there a missus too damn young Master Sergeant Gravely?"

"No. There was but it's over now... wait, Jacksonville? Why Jacksonville?"

"I grew up not far from there."

"DOOO-Val!" said Josh with a grin. Jacksonville, Florida is Duval county and they shout DOOO-Val! at the Jaguars games. Most of all, it's close to home.

"Hell no, I'm a Georgia girl. Saint Felix!"

Josh chuckled and said, "There's sixteen people in Saint Felix."

"Fifteen now that I'm gone. Where are you from that you know Saint Felix?" demanded Roxie.

"The only other saint in the area," said Josh with a grin.

"Saint Mary?" asked Roxie, and when he nodded, they fist bumped. Saint Mary's Georgia and Saint Felix Georgia are on the Saint Mary's River, which is the border between Florida and Georgia. Where Roxie lived, the river ran North/South, but north of her it made a turn and ran East/West and met the ocean at St. Mary's Georgia. "Hell, you live in a big ol' town!"

"Just because we had a Walmart don't mean it isn't small town Georgia.

They talked about living in the south, and where they went after they joined up. Roxie became an aircraft electrician and worked on F-16s since day one. Josh wasn't tied to a specific aircraft. He worked on A-10s, and B-52s, until he joined the AC-130s.

"Was it scary up there?" she asked. Like every enlisted member of the Air Force, she knew the horrors of the gunship and was drilled on the exploits of John Levitow, the first enlisted USAF recipient of the Medal of Honor. Airman First Class Levitow earned his Medal of Honor for his bravery on a shot up AC-47 Spooky gunship in Vietnam.

"It could get hairy up there."

"Were you hit?"

Josh wanted to be a macho wise guy and say something cool and heroic sounding, like, 'just a little bit' or 'not as hard as we hit them' but nothing came out. He withdrew into himself like he did for weeks after returning home to Yesenia's betrayal.

Roxie wasn't dumb. She realized she hit a nerve and tried to change the subject. "So why Kunsan? Why not Osan where you could bring the wife?"

"No wife," he held up his left hand to show that he wasn't wearing a ring. "I'm in hiding."

"Hiding, from what?"

"My flight surgeon. They want to put me out on a medical. My commander fast tracked a remote isolated tour knowing that the commander wasn't going to let me go for something as frivolous as flat feet. I have a year to research and catalog all my aches and pains so if they put me out, they're going to have to pay. I'm shooting for 150% disability."

"A hundred and fifty percent? How do you do that?"

"VA math. They have their own system of math. One hundred percent isn't the limit. They just keep adding as they find things. I know a fellow that's two hundred and forty percent disabled."

"Two forty? What's the guy do?" Roxie could only picture some fellow living in an iron lung for the rest of his life.

"He's my lawyer. He said he'd help me when I get back. He helped me with the mess my ex created while I was deployed."

As they talked, the bus rode through the Korean countryside. Roxie and Josh saw sights that they never dreamed of seeing. Tiny Asian villages surrounded by tall stone walls, men fishing with nets in small ponds, vegetables growing right on the edge of the road, and amazing terraced rice paddies. Eventually, they rolled through a small village of concrete buildings and up to the main gate. A security policeman climbed on the bus and came through requesting to see everyone's ID card before the bus could move and soon Roxie and Josh were on Kunsan Air Base. The bus rolled through the small air base and a little bit of the flightline was visible. They were able to see a couple of generation one Tab-Vees, the concrete structures that fighter aircraft are sheltered in. Eventually they stopped at the NCO club where they were met as they got off the bus by their new first sergeant, Mike Schaeffer.

"Welcome to the Kun," he said with a smile. "We have two major rotations a year," he explained as they entered the NCO club for lunch. "Everyone goes home after twelve months, half in the spring, half in the fall. You guys fall in between the big rotations to insure continuity. Our squadron commander is Lieutenant Colonel Bruce Walker, we call him Juvat One. The wing commander is Colonel Derreck Getz, he's simply called Wolf. After lunch I'll drop you off at your rooms and pick you up again at three for a meeting with Juvat One. I suggest you wear your dress blues."

"Dress blues?" gasped Roxie. She packed them, of course, but she was told she'd probably never wear them on Kunsan.

"Hang them up in the bathroom while you take a hot shower, the steam will fix them," said Josh as he dug into a taco salad. "This tastes weird."

"How weird?" asked Roxie, and she tasted a bit of his salad. "You're right, the vegetables taste odd." She broke off a piece of the tortilla bowl and ate that. "This tastes odd too. Probably the oil they fried it in"

"Would you like a margarita to go with my salad madam?"

"Yes please suh!" she said in a deep southern accent. "Strawberry if y'all please." She tugged Josh's salad in front of her.

"No, there's no way I can order a strawberry margarita. It goes against my training. It goes against my morals!" he tugged his salad back.

"Be that way!" Roxie demanded and stuck her tongue out at him.

"I will!" and Josh stuck his tongue out at Roxie.

"I mourn for the future of the country," groaned the first sergeant, as the two fast friends began jabbing each other with their elbows.

After lunch, he took them to their rooms. Roxie got a room of her own in building 1522, the newest dorm on base. It housed technical sergeants only. She had a single room with a small counter area at the doorway with a sink, and her room shared a shower and toilet with the room next door. Mike and Josh carried her bags to her room, and then Mike gave Roxie a list of pointers for living in the dorms. "Buy a bike?"

"Yeah, at the BX. You're not going to be in country long enough to get a drivers license and insurance costs a fortune, so get a bike to tool around the base. I'll be back for you at three."

Then he took Josh to building 1102, an older two story building. "This building is for top three, it's got a day room with pool table, if you want a stick buy your own at the BX." He led Josh to his suite. There was a bedroom, a living room, and a kitchenette. No stove, but he had a full-size refrigerator and plenty of counter space.

"Damn, I've lived in smaller houses," said Josh as he took his blues from his garment bag and hung them up in the bathroom, then he tossed the suitcase on the full size bed. "This is livin' in high cotton," said Josh.

"Roxie said the same thing when she saw her room."

"We come from the same neighborhood almost, she grew up on the black water Saint Mary's, I grew up on the tide water Saint Mary's."

"What's the difference?" asked Mike as he opened the fridge to reveal a half dozen bottles of beer.

"About forty miles," said Josh as he and Mike sat down in the two easy chairs and opened a beer. "Roxie was upriver, where the Okefenokee Swamp drains into the river. I lived where the Saint Mary's flowed into the sea, then twelve hours later the sea flowed into the Saint Mary's." Josh sipped his beer and said, "Why does the commander want to see us?"

"He's doing that with all his new senior NCOs and expediters. You're in a tough luck squadron. The 80th has failed every evaluation in the past five years. Wolf ordered Colonel Walker to fix it or get the fuck out. Juvat One is making sure the message gets down to the NCOs."

"Sounds like I have my work cut out for me."

"You have your expeditors and team chiefs to do the work for you, you need to keep on them, keep them on task."

"I need to know the task. I ain't never touched an airplane this tiny. Hell, one cruise missile pylon that I'd hang on a B-52 weighs more than a loaded F-16. I ain't touched a Sidewinder missile since tech school and now we're flying every mission with two. I need to know when they're fuckin' up and slackin' off so I can nip it in the bud."

"Don't you trust your expediters?" asked Mike Schaeffer.

"They can have my trust when they earn it." Josh looked at his watch, then looked around the empty room. "I best get ready to meet the big guy."

He pulled off his t-shirt and Mike gasped, "What the fuck did you do to yourself?"

"It's a scratch from a chunk of jagged metal," said Josh. "I can't give any details other than that."

"That's more than a scratch; did you lay down on a table saw?" but Josh closed the bathroom door. As far as Josh knew, the mission over Eil Geradi was still classified as Top Secret, which is why he was so shocked that Colonel Ash and Colonel Marriner mentioned it by name. Since before they took off on that day and went on the hunt for Houthi terrorists, it was simply called "the mission."

Ten minutes later, he was tying on his shoes and getting ready to go. He pulled on his jacket and Senior Master Sergeant Mike Schaeffer's eyes popped open wide. He said nothing, but he was impressed. Josh was in the military for just over ten years, half as long as Mike was in, but easily had twice as many ribbons as Mike does. His eyes instinctively went to the top of his ribbon rack and near the top was a purple heart, indicating he was injured in combat. Mentally, Mike counted the promotion points Josh's medals were worth and eventually gave up counting when he reached "more than enough."

"Ya just going to stand there and drool or do I have a date for tonight?" taunted Josh.

"Let's go get Roxanne," said Mike, and he led Josh out to his first meeting with Juvat One.

<><><><><>֍<><><><><>

"SIR! Sergeants Gravely and Dawson report as ordered." Josh and Roxanne stood before the commander's desk at attention, holding salutes. Finally, Lieutenant Colonel Bruce Walker looked up and returned the salute.

"At ease," he snarled, and Josh and Roxie snapped to parade rest. Parade Rest is not the position of 'at ease' it's just a more comfortable looking position of attention.

Colonel Walker invited the two sergeants to sit down, and he spoke to them about his plans for the 80th fighter squadron. "I hope you like exercising, because we're going to do it a lot. I've requested special attention from the Exercise Evaluation Team. I don't want the Juvats to get any slack at all. Let the 35th take it easy, the Headhunters are going to war."

He stood up and walked around the desk and leaned back against the desk as he spoke. "Gold Super runs my flightline, under him are five expediters, Gold one through five. Gold one is the organizational expeditor; his job is to get the planes up on time. Gold two and three are specialists, radar, communications/navigation, electricians. Gold four and five are weapons. I want all of you to work together, assisting each other with spare bodies any time it's called for."

"Sir, I have no problem with this, my guys can fire guard, and a dozen other things you may need, but nobody can touch a weapon without certification. I'm all on board with you, but it may start to look like weapons is just a pool of unskilled labor. Do I need to tell you what that does to morale?"

"I want a list of anything in the weapons field that a specialist or a crew chief could help with, bring that to me and I'll make sure Gold 1 is more than aware of it."

"Yes sir. I will go to the load barn to get some training and familiarization with your little, tiny airplanes, and I'll verify everything I find with the trainers."

"Little tiny airplanes?" The colonel picked up a folder from his desk and glanced through a few pages. "Another gunner," he muttered, then chuckled. "We have a lot of good folk inbound and I think you both understand what I am demanding. I don't want to be the best in the Wolfpack, I don't want to be the best in the Pacific Air Forces, I want the Juvats to be the best. Period. Any questions?"

"No sir!"

"Ok, everyone who isn't wearing wings is dismissed."

As Roxie got up to leave, Josh said, "Dinner at the club tonight? We can go over our in-processing checklists."

"Yeah, you owe me a salad," she said with a wink, and exited the office.

As she left Colonel turned to Josh and said softly, "how are you doing Gunner?"

"Fine, I guess, why do you ask?"

"I got several emails over the past week, Master Sergeant John Terry, First sergeant of the 22nd Special Operations squadron, Lieutenant Colonel Gabriel Marriner, Commander of the twenty second, Colonel Ryker Ash... Master Sergeant Jim Ochoa... need I go on Sergeant?"

"Warning you not to sneak up on me in the dark, sir?"

"No, mostly telling me all the wonderful things you're going to do for me. I got an especially moving letter from Major Emory Hancock, who doesn't want to fly an airplane without you in the back... he also said to tell you 'thanks for the hook-up' whatever that means."

"It means I introduced him to a hot..."

"I got that sergeant." He looked at the papers again. "They put you in for a medal of honor..."

"It's not going to happen sir. We were on a classified mission in a country we shouldn't have been in shooting at people we weren't allowed to shoot and we were shot down with a piece of United States Army ordnance. Nobody is going to be able to read that citation for fifty years. I'll get an achievement medal and a pat on the head as they kick my happy ass out the door."

"It says here that you saved three lives, isn't that enough?"

"NO!" Josh actually looked shocked that he shouted that. "I'm sorry sir, I don't know where that came from. I lost one sir, my best friend, my best man at my wedding."

"I need you to know that if you're going to be 100% here for me on the flight line, I'll be there for you any time you need me."

"They're putting me out sir." Josh was on the verge of tears. "I have no home, no family, nowhere to go. Nobody back there is waiting for me. My only skills are loading bombs and killing people..."

"You let me worry about that, Ephriam. If you give me the best tiny airplanes you can piece together, I will hook you up with what you need."

"Not meaning to be a skeptic sir, but how?"

"Would you object to changing your career path, spend some time in college?"

"I don't want to break into my farm fund."

"They told me about that too, hopefully we can leave that in long term savings. I want you to meet with my flight surgeon this week, I want every nick and cut documented so when the VA comes knocking they're going to have to write you some checks. Then we'll talk about a career change at my alma mater."

"Yes sir," said Josh and he glanced at the wall. There was a pennant that simply said, "Buff State." His first thought was, 'they named a college after the B-52?'

<><><><><>֍<><><><><>

Josh studied his proposed crew lineup. Over sixty percent of their people were new to the F-16 and Josh was forming up the new crews. This rotation cleared out a lot of experienced bodies, but Josh hoped it cleared away a lot of bad habits. As he worked at his crew lineup, the ajumma bustled around his room dusting and straightening up. Actually, ajumma is a bad term for her. Ajumma is the Korean word for a middle-aged woman. An Ajumma in this context is a housekeeper. They come in your room, straighten up, vacuum, wash any dishes and if you have clothes that need to be washed, they'll wash them. Each ajumma had six rooms to care for and they were paid for their work by the residents and were tipped well.

Josh's ajumma, Hani, was anything but middle age. She was in her mid to late twenties, but she was so cute she looked like she was sixteen. Josh came back to his room and found her taking a shower in his bathroom. She begged him for an hour to not turn her in, and he finally got her to believe that he would not turn her in if she would be his friend.

If she was being honest with Josh, Hani had a horrible home life. Her parents abused her; her brothers hate her and often they locked her out of the house. "There's no special man in Hani's life?" Josh asked.

"No, my father drives them away, all I have is my friend Josh."

She was sweet and very pretty, and Josh was very attracted to her, but he couldn't see dating seriously after the nightmare back in Florida. He needed to concentrate on what was happening on the flightline. But he couldn't just let Hani sleep at the bus stop. He showed her something he had just discovered. He grabbed the front of the couch in his living room and lifted and the couch folded flat to a single bed. "If you need a place to stay, you can sleep here whenever you want." She threw herself at Josh and wept in gratitude. Ever since then, they were good friends and often Josh would wake to find her sleeping on the futon.

He got up early to get some work done before heading out to his office at the AMU (Aircraft Maintenance Unit is a term left over from the non-stop maniacal re-organizations that plagued the Air Force from Desert Storm to the fall of Afghanistan) He turned on his work light on his 'kitchen table' and saw Hani on the futon. She was wearing a blue and pink floral pattern night gown that Josh found for her in the BX and he encouraged her to store clothes she might need in his wardrobe.

"No fly today mister Josh?" asked the cute ajumma.

"Our first go is in three hours, I have time." Josh's work schedule was based on the flying schedule. He started his day two hours before the first planes took off.

"Michi said no fly today." Michi was the head ajumma. What Michi said goes, but she learned fast not to get between Josh and Hani. Michi seems to know when anything happens on base, from special missions to exercises.

"Oh she did?" chuckled Josh. "Why did Michi say..." He was interrupted by the sound of explosions from several locations on base. Even before the echo of the first explosion stopped, the sound of sirens filled the air and all exterior lights went off all over base. "How did Michi know this?" asked Josh, but Hani just shrugged as she closed the heavy blackout curtains.

Josh leapt into his uniform, then dug a huge duffle bag out of his wardrobe, pulled on a flack vest, strapped a canteen and gasmask to his waist and plopped a Kevlar helmet on his head. "If you get hungry there is food in the refrigerator. Don't be shy," said Josh as he headed for the door, lugging the enormous bag with him.

"Mister Josh!" cried Hani. She dashed across the room and met him at the door, then suddenly became shy. "Please be..." then frustrated that she couldn't find the words, she gave him a kiss and dashed back to the living room.

Outside, it was darker than anything Josh had ever seen before. There was no light anywhere except for the soft green, red, and blue glow sticks that men and women hung from their flack vests or tucked in the elastic strap on their helmet. Everyone had an L shaped angle head flashlight and everyone's flashlight had a filter to dim the light. The 80th Fighter Squadron all used the Red filter and the 35th Fighter Squadron used the blue filter.

Confused by Hani's kiss, Josh headed outside and stepped out to the bike rack where he secured his bicycle yesterday. The rack was filled with identical black mountain bikes, the only type of bike that they sold at the BX, so people adorn their bikes differently. Josh put a series of stripes made of yellow reflective tape on the frame, making the bike easy to spot. He unlocked the bike, perched his bag on the seat and rear basket and walked his bike to the gate to get on the flightline.

He was not alone in using his bike to transport his bag; it was near universal. The bag was heavy and awkward; it contained his MOPP gear: real world gas mask filters (his mask currently had a training filter) his Nuclear/Biological/Chemical (NBC) protective suit, gloves, over-boots, detection kits, and Josh added first aid kid and several MREs and an extra canteen.

As the sun came up, Josh arrived at the AMU, a huge concrete cube that contained offices, workspace for the aircraft maintainers, and a full decontamination facility. "What do we have?" asked Josh.

His boss, Master Sergeant Dan Baker, another former gunner, and the OIC, 1st Lieutenant Bridgeman, were looking over the paperwork that was handed out. "We have a jog," said Dan. "I was hoping for my last exercise to have a walk."

"There's not going to be any walks," said Josh. "Colonel Walker said this squadron hasn't earned that privilege." Aircraft generation exercises are run at different levels: walk, jog, run, sprint. Each one has a different level of difficulty.

"I'd rather you spent your time generating a crew line-up instead of spreading rumors," snapped Lieutenant Bridgeman. He was clearly expecting Josh to be spending the next hour on a crew lineup.

"Your line-up sir," said Josh and he took the lineup he generated the night before and handed a copy to the lieutenant and Sergeant Dan Baker.

"This line-up is all wrong," said Lieutenant Baker.

"But still, that's the lineup we're going with," said Josh. "This is my show to run, and when your replacement arrives I will train him to properly run a weapons flight." Josh was tiring of this ignorant, self-absorbed waste of a commission.

"What do you mean by that, Sergeant Gravely?" demanded Lieutenant Bridgeman.

A crowd of people were gathered outside of the AMU and they were waiting for Josh's next words. They all knew that Josh didn't fuck around when it came to weapons. Only Lieutenant Bridgeman was ignorant of that fact. "What I meant by that, lieutenant, is that this is my show to run, and when your replacement arrives I will train him to properly run a weapons flight." The lieutenant glared at him in anger, but Josh couldn't stop. He was on a roll. "I can repeat that en Espanol if that would help sir."

"Sergeant! My office!"

"Sir, we have an exercise to run here. Let me get my load crews deployed and then we'll talk." He snapped a salute, which the lieutenant realized was a sign of disrespect in a combat situation (it tells the snipers who to shoot). Then Josh turned around and saw Juvat One, Colonel Walker, arriving in his pickup truck. As the colonel got out of his truck, Josh turned to his four expediters to give them their assignments.

As he started to talk, somebody grabbed him by the shoulder and whirled him around. All Josh really saw was a fist heading towards him and he reacted the way he was trained.

"Sergeant Gravely! Put my lieutenant down!" shouted the Squadron Commander.

"What? Oh shit! I mean sorry sir," and he dropped the lieutenant that he held in a choke hold.

"I saw it sir," said Sergeant Dan Baker, the outgoing NCOIC of the weapons flight. "The lieutenant grabbed Sergeant Gravely and..."

"I saw it too," groaned the commander. "You! Get in my truck," he directed the lieutenant. "You! Get your ass to work," he snapped at Josh. "And stop fucking with my lieutenants!"

"Yes sir!" Josh turned to his expediters and shouted, "Night shift, get out of here, be back at eighteen thirty." Then he turned to his night shift expediters. "Let's put the newest crews forward. I want to get them experience and boost their confidence. I want to weed out slackers and see who we can depend on. And if we have any dumb dead, I will bone them." He said that last phrase with an intensity that scared a couple of the NCOs. "Ok, Jimmy Scholes, get the high end, Doc, get the low end, you have your crews, go get it. Night shift, go away!"

Dan took Josh aside and said, "Holy shit, you took down that lieutenant in front of everyone!"

"I did not realize that it was the lieutenant, and I will state that at my court martial. All I saw was a fist heading at me."

"It looked like you pushed him into throwing a punch," said Dan.

Josh shrugged. "It's not his job to run the flightline, it's our job. It's his job to back us up and hand out box lunches."

"Don't get your ass in a crack, man," said Dan.

Josh grinned as he stepped in a metro van full of bomb loaders. "What are they going to do? Take away my birthday and send me to Kunsan?"

<><><><><>

"Keep your bomb loaders out of my stuff," demanded Roxie as Josh poured her a cup of coffee from a thermos.

"No problem... what stuff?"

"Oh, sorry... I got a new suite mate and he's..." she shook her head and frowned.

"Come on," chided Josh. "We've been through hell and high water together, don't hold back."

"We took a bus ride together!" squawked Roxie.

"And lunch at the club, don't forget lunch with the first sergeant. We're practically siblings. What's chaffing your ass?" One month at the Kun made the two sergeants veterans. They've been through two exercise wars together and now they have to replace over 50% of their people. They have a lot of work ahead of them.

"He used my shampoo!" she squawked. "And that's not the worst part!"

"What's the worst part?"

"He's hot," she said in a tiny voice.

An F-16 taxied past them and the pilot raised his fists above his head, giving Roxie the "Juvat' salute," which she dutifully returned. The F-16 pilots love Roxie. She turned to Josh and said, "Would it be wrong to have a special friend, just to keep the hounds away and carry my shopping bags?"

"Nothing wrong with that. But if that friend was me?" asked Josh. "It would be horrible. A pretty girl like you with a busted up ol' nag like me as your pack mule? You'd be carrying me and your groceries home."

"You'd like that, wouldn't ya?" said Roxie with an angry glare, which became a smile and a laugh. She was just kidding. She and Josh had become good friends, and he was her confidant. She could bring any problem to him and he would always have an ear and a cup of coffee for her.

They got out of the truck and watched the parade. This was the "fun" part of an exercise. The F-16s were cruising past them, heading for the runway. There they would take off, fly a mission profile, then land and quickly as possible the plane would be cared for. Any errors corrected, fuel topped off, then the weapons guys would load half of the needed weapons, stop, then take the weapons off. The half upload and half download simulated a complete upload. The planes would then be ready for another sortie. If this was an actual war, the weapons guys would just load all the bombs, missiles, or whatever was required.

As the final F-16 roared by on its way to the runway, Roxie's radio crackled to life. "Gold two AMU."

"Go ahead AMU," said Roxie into her radio.

"Do you have Bounce Two Seven with you?"

Roxie looked at Josh and began to laugh. "Bounce Two Seven?"

"Shut up," groaned Josh.

"Roger, Bounce Two Seven is right here."

"Can you expedite Gunny back to the AMU? We have a live one for him."

"Roger," they climbed back in the truck and Josh finished up his paperwork for the first series of launches, ignoring Roxie's taunts the entire way back. They were attempting to fly 34 missions with only fourteen mission capable planes throughout the day. It was going to be tough on Roxie's troops to fix the writeups as the planes come back. Roxie parked at the AMU and she walked inside with Josh, who opened his flack vest and pushed back his helmet.

"What's up?" he asked Dan Baker.

"Your new expediter is here, Mike Schaeffer has him and will drop him off in a few minutes.

"Roger." Josh got behind his desk and got the incoming briefing out and ready when the new guy showed up. A few minutes later, the new guy walked to his duty section, the AMU, which was a large bomb-proof block structure. He looked around the large open area filled with tables and chairs and small offices lining the walls until he saw the door marked Weapons Flight. He knocked on the door of the weapons flight. "Ah! You're here!" said Josh in his deep southern accent. "Josh Gravely," and he extended his hand. Josh was shocked. This guy was huge! He was easily six foot four and a solid two hundred thirty pounds. He almost crushed Josh's hand as they shook hands.

"Mike Donovan, folks call me Wedge."

"Why do they call you wedge?" asked Dan Baker.

"Because I tell them to," said Wedge.

"Good answer!" laughed Dan.

"That's the NCOIC of the weapons flight, Dan Baker," said Josh. "Ignore him, he's short, I'm the assistant NCOIC and you are my new weapons expediter." When Josh called Dan short, he wasn't merely commenting on his diminutive height. Dan had less than a month before he returned stateside, which meant that he was a 'short timer.'

"Expediter? Sounds like fun," said Wedge. "That's not something I've tried yet. At least not on fighters"

"What's your background?" asked Dan Baker, suddenly extremely serious.

"Back when I was a baby, I cut my teeth loading weapons on F-111's," said Wedge and he listed off the bases he's been to and the jobs he did as he moved about the military. Most recently, he was at Minot Air Force Base expediting the loading and maintenance of B-52s.

"You like to keep on the move," said Josh. "No woman to tie you down?"

"Uhhh, no. She married my best friend while I was in basic training."

"No shit?"

Wedge shrugged. "He joined the Navy the next year and she ran off on him on his first deployment."

Josh went silent, but Dan was suddenly gregarious. "Sounds like you've dodged the bullet. And it sounds like you've done everything a bomb loader can do," said Dan as he leaned back in his chair.

"Hardly. I'm the only one in this room without wings," said Wedge, pointing to their uniforms. Underneath their flack vests, both Dan and Josh were wearing flight crew wings showing that they were gun crews on AC-130 gunships.

"Well... that's not as much fun as it sounds," said Josh as he looked at a large desk calendar and Wedges in-processing schedule. The schedule was filled with appointments and in-country briefings. "We will see you back here on Monday for your oh eight hundred welcome to the Juvats Weapons briefing."

"Juvats?" asked Wedge. "I thought the eightieth was the Headhunters."

"We are," answered Josh. "The squadron picked that name during World War Two to honor the tribesmen in New Guiney who rescued our shot down airmen. During the Vietnam war the motto of the squadron was Fortunas Audentes Juvat, fortune favors the bold. They took the name "Juvats" from that conflict."

As Josh led Wedge out of the office, Wedge saw a small black girl in her combat gear. She wasn't tiny, but she was small enough to make the flack vest and Kevlar look like they belonged to her older brother. "Hey Roxie."

"Mister Donovan," she said. He couldn't tell if she was smiling or not.

"You know my Roxie?" asked Josh as he put an arm around Roxanne's shoulders. " Don't be messing with her. Roxie and I go way back."

She rolled her eyes and said, "All the way back a month maybe."

"Has it been that long homegirl?" asked Josh as he patted her Kevlar helmet.

"I swear, all you southern boys are crazy." Her glare included Wedge.

Josh leaned over and whispered in her ear, "tough talk coming from a crazy southern girl." She snorted, trying to hold back the laughter.

"I'm from Coudersport PA," said Wedge defensively.

"Then I'd expect you to be normal. It must be the bombs what make you guys crazy," she said as she stormed out of the office.

Josh shrugged. "She's a Com/Nav troop. They get kind of flakey on the F-16."

"And keep your hands off my product!" she shouted from the other side of the heavy entry door.

"Oh?" Josh and Dan stood grinning at Wedge. "Keep your hands off her product? Please enlighten us," Josh said with a huge grin. So this was the one that used her shampoo!

"Product? Is that what you kids are calling it now?" said Dan Baker.

"I have in processing to do," said Wedge, leaving their jokes and questions unanswered. He picked up his heavy duffel bag that was full of his MOPP and dragged the bag outside, where he saw Roxie sitting in the driver's seat of a big metro van marked Juvat Two. He stepped up to the door and said, "Ma'am, can you give me a lift to the gate please?"

"Get in," she said with an all-suffering sigh. "You need to get a bike."

"I can't carry this heavy crap and ride a bicycle."

"Newbee," she muttered and pointed to the path that heads toward the gate. There were airmen heading in both directions walking their bikes, their heavy MOPP bag perched on the bicycle seat as they walked next to the bicycle, holding it up. "I hope you're not in a hurry; I have people to drop off," and she turned away from the gate and drove up to an F-16 that just landed.

"That poor boy," said Josh with a chuckle as Roxie headed away from the gate.

<><><><><>֍<><><><><>

"Gravely, what the hell am I going to do with you?" demanded Colonel Walker.

"Anything you want sir; I am yours to command."

"Why do I spend more time with you and Donovan than anyone else in this squadron?"

It had been two months since Wedge Donovan joined the squadron and showed an aptitude for running the flight line. He was smart, organized, and he worked well with the specialists, which is what Josh wanted, so Josh gave Wedge free rein to run the weapons side of the flightline any way he saw fit. Recently Josh "fired" Doc Johnson, Wedge's co-expediter. Doc was ROAD, Retired On Active Duty, and he did everything he could to avoid doing anything. Doc spent more time off the flightline than on the flightline, leaving Wedge alone to do the job of two expediters. It was a daunting task, but he did it well and Josh made it official to show that Wedge was damn good and he wanted everyone to see it. During a recent exercise, Wedge was 'killed' and spent the rest of the exercise with Roxie watching movies in his dorm room while a couple of lower ranking Staff Sergeants filled in for Wedge. Thanks to the training Wedge gave them, (with some guidance from Josh) they did an outstanding job.

"I can only speak for myself sir. Which Donovan would you be referring to? There's Donovan Campbell in Com/Nav..."

"You know damn well who I am talking about, Sergeant! Your partner in crime, Technical Sergeant Michael Donovan. In the two months since the three of you teamed up, you, Donovan and Dawson, my flightline has been in an uproar!"

"Your on-time performance for maintenance is 99%, it's the highest of any F-16 unit in the air force sir," said Josh, remaining at attention. Not only was Wedge pushing the weapons troops to higher levels of productivity, his full charging style of running the flight line was prompting everyone else with a wrench in their hands to work harder.

"Through unconventional means, sergeant Gravely."

"Sir, your Fully Mission Capable rate is steady at ninety percent, a rate this unit hasn't seen in years. Your weapons evals are perfect at 100% and..."

"You know what I'm talking about. You let a single expediter run the entire squadron during day shift when the job takes at least two expediters!" Colonel Walker was nose to nose with Josh.

"Sir, Sergeant Johnson was utterly useless, a waste of skin. You asked me to separate the chaff from the wheat, Wedge is my threshing machine. Sergeant Donovan has been running the entire flightline since he started while Sergeant Johnson was on ROAD status. We just made it official and I salute Lieutenant Stone for making a gutsy call and letting Wedge give it a try."

"How long have you been practicing that speech, sergeant?" demanded Colonel Walker.

"Couple days, sir."

Lieutenant Colonel Walker sighed. These guys were dragging him, kicking and screaming, to a promotion to Full Bird Colonel, and officially he's got to tell them to knock off the shenanigans. "No more, Ephraim. Thou shalt always have two expediters at all times... EXCEPT third shift!" He knew Josh was going to be a pain in the ass and bring up third shift, which traditionally has one expediter because there are only two crews on the shift.

"Yes sir. I have Sergeant Donovan training Sergeant Johnson's replacement in Gold 4. While that happens, Lieutenant Stone will be training Senior Master Sergeant Johns in Gold 5."

"YOU HAVE A SECOND LIEUTENANT RUNNING MY FLIGHT LINE?"

"Oh yes sir, the kid loves it. I'm usually with him but I was called here."

"You're killing me Josh, you truly are." Juvat One turned back to his desk and opened the humidor and fished out a Cuban. He tossed the cigar to Josh. "Thank you Josh. And congratulations."

"For what?"

"Just wear your blues to commanders call tomorrow."

Josh realized that the awards that he earned over the Gulf of Hormuz were catching up with him. "Please don't," said Josh. "Can't we do something here in your office?" Up until that point, it was two brothers in arms taunting each other and 'busting each other's chops,' but suddenly, it became deadly serious.

"I'm sorry Josh, commanders are not allowed that kind of leeway, only reenlistment ceremonies can be conducted in private." Colonel Walker was shocked when all the color drained from Josh's face and he didn't have the heart to tell Josh that tomorrow, the Wolf was invited to speak at Commander's Call. He knew he had struck a nerve when Josh simply nodded and left without a word.

<><><><><>

The base auditorium was packed with the men and women of the 80th Fighter Squadron. After the honor guard posted the colors, Colonel Walker said, "First Sergeant, lead the squadron in the pledge of allegiance!"

"Yes sir!" and in a loud, booming voice, Mike Schaeffer led the Juvats in the pledge of allegiance.

"Thank you first sergeant. As you were." When all men and women in the audience sat, Colonel Walker spoke of the glowing record of the 80th Fighter Squadron, their flying records, their bombing scores, their exercise evaluations from the multiple full bore exercises they practiced their war skills in. He introduced the new enlisted and officers that were there for their first commander's call. Then came everybody's favorite part of Commander's Call. "Who is here for their last commanders call?" asked Colonel Walker with a huge grin.

"SHORT!" came the ringing cry of several dozen men, women, enlisted, and officers who had leapt to their feet. Once the laughter died down, came the awards portion of the event. First came the promotions, a couple of second lieutenants became first lieutenants, and everybody's favorite pilot, Lieutenant Spooner, became Captain Spooner. They loved him because he used to be enlisted and was a Juvat as a senior airman.

The first sergeant called out the promoted individuals up on stage one by one and each one had the honor of receiving their next badge of rank from the commander. After the bars were awarded to the young officers, and stripes awarded to the enlisted, several people were called up and presented with a plaque for their work at 'The Kun.'

After the last plaque was handed out, the First Sergeant, Mike Schaeffer, paused for a long time, then said, "Sergeant Ephraim Gravely, front and center." Very few people realized he was calling Josh on stage because his first name was rarely used, and even more rarely was it ever pronounced correctly. Josh was sitting in the very front-row, center seat, where all the people that got promoted or were awarded plaques for their efforts were seated so the vast multitude of Juvats didn't realize he was there.

Slowly Josh got up and walked to the side of the stage, ascended the six steps to the stage itself, then walked out to where Colonel Walker was standing. He stopped an arm's length from his commander and they stood facing each other. Very softly Colonel Walker said, "relax Josh," but Josh didn't react. He just stood at rock solid attention.

Lieutenant Colonel Bruce Walker was surveying Josh's medals... An aerial achievement medal, a rare achievement. There atop his purple heart was a bronze star with a V device for valor. Clearly there was a lot that he didn't know about his Weapons Flight sergeant.

Suddenly the first sergeant shouted, "SQUADRON! TEN-HUT!"

Everyone snapped to attention as Wolf, Colonel Derreck Getz, marched forcefully down the aisle. He mounted the steps and walked up to Josh and took the spot that Colonel Walker vacated. Colonel Walker stepped to the microphone and began to read. "Citation to Accompany The Award: While protecting international shipping through the Straits of Hormuz, AC-130J call sign Ghost Rider Zero Four was hit by a terrorist launched missile. The missile blew an enormous hole in the fuselage and knocked the 105mm howitzer off its mount. It knocked out power at the aft end of the craft. Though injured himself, Sergeant Ephraim J. Gravely saw to the injuries of his crew members..."

Josh worked hard to keep his eyes open and fixed on Colonel Getz's forehead. He knew if he closed his eyes, he would see the horrors that Colonel Walker was reading. As it was, he could smell the burning circuitry and the blood, blood everywhere, not just his own blood but blood from Wayne Engler and Wyatt Grady, the blood gushing from Ellie Stadelmeyer's slashed leg, and the cold coagulating blood from Craig Zigler's open gut. Josh knew he shouldn't have had lunch earlier; it was trying to make a comeback.

Colonel Walker vividly described the broken bones and lacerations he received when he was tossed around the cabin of the crashing aircraft like a rag doll. Finally, he said, "... for injuries sustained by the act of a hostile terrorist force while protecting US flagged ships, Sergeant Ephraim Joshua Gravely is awarded the purple heart, first oak leaf cluster."

"Are you ok? You don't look so good," said the Wing Commander quietly, as he pinned the medal on Josh's uniform.

"No sir... I... can't... I have to..."

"Keep it together until we salute, then you can leave," ordered the wing commander quietly.

He didn't know how he did it, but Josh held his lunch down. He took the framed certificate and box containing the medal, shook the wing commander's hand, paused for the base photographer to snap a photo of the occasion, then he saluted the commander, did an about face and walked off the stage.

The wing commander took the microphone and walked out to the edge of the stage while Josh disappeared backstage. "I've always heard pilots whining at the O club that the enlisted folks don't know what they go through," said Colonel Getz, wisely moving forward on stage with the microphone to draw attention away from Josh's fast exit. "Men like Master Sergeant Gravely know. With nine thousand hours under his belt, much of it spent in Iraq, Afghanistan and over a dozen other hot spots... I dare any one of you pilots to say that now! Come to me and complain after you fly all night over enemy territory, then spend the next day repairing your own aircraft! I read the after action report on Ghost Rider Zero Four. What Sergeant Gravely went through was barely covered here in this briefing and years from now when it is declassified, I hope you read it and tell your grandchildren, I served with that man."

Roxy and Wedge slipped out of the theater while the commander was pontificating and found Josh kneeling next to the emergency exit he used to get outside. He was shaking and panting, his face covered in sweat, his lunch laying in the grass. "Josh? Are you OK?" asked Roxie.

Before he could answer, Captain McLeish, call sign Gold Super, arrived in his pickup truck. He got out of the truck and walked over to Josh. "Can you get up or do you need help?"

"I'm fine," insisted Josh. "I guess the kimchi I had for lunch..." Wedge helped him up and he walked on shaky legs to the pickup. "I'm fine," he insisted several times.

"When do you see the flight surgeon next?" asked Captain McLeish as they drove to the senior NCO dorm, often called the Top Three Palace.

"You're not supposed to know that sir. Only the commander and I know of my appointments with the flight surgeon."

Captain McLeish grinned. "The colonel talks in his sleep."

Josh snorted in laughter then finally said, "Tuesday after next."

"You will talk to the flight surgeon about this episode. You will be honest and give him all the details. I'm sure the boss is going to ask him about your visit."

They pulled up to the dorm and Josh whispered, "The blood... it freaks me out sometimes. I can still smell the blood..."

"What blood?" asked the Captain as he guided Josh up the steps to the dorm.

"Everybody's blood, mine, Wyatt, Wayne, Ellie's, but mostly Craig. It was everywhere and even though there was a hole in the fuselage the size of your front door, wide open wind roaring, dust and smoke everywhere while we were doing a hundred knots, I could smell it. I was thinking crazy shit like if I could get all that blood back inside Craig he'd be ok." They got to Josh's room and he gave the door a hard knock before unlocking the lock.

"Chasing the ghosts away?" asked Captain McLeish.

"Nah. There might have been a juicy girl or two left over from last night, so I give them a chance to hide." Juicy girls were cocktail waitresses/companions at the local off base Go-Go bars. "Coffee sir? I'm going to have a cup of tea but I can make you a coffee."

"Tea would be great, if you don't mind."

Josh boiled some water in a tea kettle and placed a couple of pyramid shaped bags in a pair of mugs. "I'm out of Pu-erh tea, but I have some PG Tips left from my last trip to Osan."

They chatted until Josh settled down, then finishing his tea, the flightline supervisor rose to leave. "Is there anything else you need or want to say Ephraim?"

"Tell the boss he wastes too much time on me."

"He won't agree and neither do I. We think of it as an investment. I'm going to go over to the Wing HQ and read that report on your mission, I'm sure I'll see Colonel Walker there." Josh frowned and nodded. He knew he couldn't stop anyone with the clearance from reviewing that report. "Is there a problem?"

Josh sighed and said, "Everyone who reads that report looks at me differently. They think I was some kind of superman. I was anything but. I was scared shitless and I just did stuff to kill the time before I died. I barely remember what I did."

"I'll try to withhold my judgement," said Captain McLeish as he pulled the door closed behind him.

Josh leaned back in his easy chair and drifted off to sleep. What is it about emotional shock that makes you so tired? As his eyes closed, the door of his wardrobe opened slowly and Hani quietly slipped out of the wardrobe and curled up in Josh's lap. She was so warm and soft... Josh wrapped his arms around the little Korean woman and instantly felt safe.

<><><><><>֍<><><><><>

Winter slowly edged its way into South Korea. Occasionally snow would flutter down from the sky, but nothing slowed the Wolfpack. Exercises grew more and more intense, but the men and women of the 80th Fighter Squadron Headhunters pressed on with pride. Each one earned the squadron nickname Juvat through their actions and their determination.

As they neared the holiday season, Josh pulled the third shift to give the expediter a break. At the end of third shift, he would head back to the dorm, where Hani would have a hot breakfast and a back rub ready for him. After breakfast, she would head out to work, and Josh would sleep. When he woke up, his mail would be at his work desk. She would check his mailbox every day. He would get up and Hani would start a shower for him.

She was becoming a large part of Josh's life, but he implored her to find a man that she could be happy with forever. "They are going to send me home soon, and I won't be able to support myself; there's no way I could subject you to a life like that. I want to see you happy with a good man before I go."

"I am happy with good man," said Hani. "I can help!" She would sink into his lap, her tiny warm butt pressing against his groin. She wriggled and smiled, then gave him one of those sexy little kisses that almost convinced Josh to make other plans. He would not go back stateside. Nothing but homelessness and humiliation waited for him there. He would not go back to the mold and moss-covered ancient trailer at the edge of a swamp that he grew up in. He would not become an alcoholic wasting his life at the paper mill. What better way to end it than here in the country that was so warm and welcoming to him? He would drag the Juvats to records of production and maintenance so high that following rotations could only gasp in wonder at how he did it. Then, on the bus ride to Inchon Airport for the trip home, when they stop for a break at a truck stop at the halfway point, he would wander off into the mountains where they would never find his body.

His last hurrah.

His last evening on third shift was over, and Josh couldn't wait to get back to Hani. He knew he had to chase her away, but it's hard to do that when all you want to do was hold her. He gave his morning briefing, then before turning it over to Wedge he said, "One more thing, anyone in building 1522, Sergeant Schaeffer will be doing a room inspection today." He handed the clip board to Wedge and said, "Take it from here short stuff."

As the man who stood a full six inches taller than him finished the morning briefing, Josh stepped back to his office, where he stood next to Senior Master Sergeant Sammy Johns, a short barrel-chested black guy with a laugh that rang through the AMU and an iron will that couldn't be bent. Sammy replaced Dan Baker. Dan was a good man, but Sammy and Josh made a good team. They were both driven for excellence and they believed in giving their subordinates a free hand to run the show.

As Wedge briefed the weapons load crews, Roxie came up to Josh with her best com/nav troop, Technical Sergeant Don Campbell. Josh liked Don. He, like Josh, was a fast burner, getting promoted quickly. Don was going to be a Chief Master Sergeant before he hits fifteen years. Josh made rank due to points earned by medals and being a good guesser on Multiple Guess tests. (At least that's what he told anyone who asked) "Ask him," Roxie urged Don. The young specialist looked terrified.

"I have something in my room the First Sergeant shouldn't see," said Don nervously.

"Ah don't wanna hear nunna this!" said Sammy, and he disappeared into the office.

"What is it?" asked Josh.

Don didn't say a word, but Roxie said, "You'll know it when you see it." Don gave Josh his room key and Josh just shrugged.

"I don't have a choice in this, do I?" he asked.

"Hell no," said Roxie forcefully, so it was clear to Josh that Roxie knew what was up, but Don looked completely terrified.

"Ok. I'm headed out to glory. Pick up your keys in my room when you get off, I'm in the Top Three dorm, room 202." Josh pulled on his field jacket and 'mad bomber' hat, snatched up his backpack and headed off to the gate with his third shift load crews. The seven of them peddled their bikes through the morning slush to the flightline gate. The week was over! They would go back to second shift on Monday afternoon, so it was almost like a three-day weekend.

"Sergeant Gravely! Wanna have breakfast with us?"

Josh was deflated. Before getting that damn medal, they called him Josh. Their new kid, Airman Pine, called him a demi-god. "Not this morning. I have a chore or two to take care of. Catch you guys later." The six bomb loaders veered off to the chow hall and Josh headed straight for building 1522. He looked at the room number on Don Campbell's key, 210, just a few doors down from Roxie and Wedge.

All the way up to Don's room, Josh chuckled to himself about Roxie and Wedge. Both were so madly in love with each other, but both were too proud (or too stupid) to admit it. He unlocked Don's room and stepped inside, and was greeted with a loud squeak. A tiny Asian woman stood in Don's room and stared at him in shock. She was half dressed and was holding a t-shirt in front of her to protect her modesty. Shocked himself, Josh sputtered a good 25% of his command of the Korean language. "Um... annyeonghaseyo bu-in," which means 'Hello Madam.'

The woman replied, "Xin chào."

Josh looked at the cute little thing and finally sputtered, "I only speak English, and not very well. Don sent me for something." Josh turned his back so the girl could get dressed.

"What did he send you for?" she asked, as she squeezed into a corner and pulled her shirt on.

"I don't know, but he said I would know it when I saw it. He wants it out before the first sergeant's room inspection."

"Oh. It's probably me. I'm Lanh Campbell."

"I'm Josh Gravely, I work at the AMU with Don Campbell... your husband?"

"Yes, it will be seven years in June!" she said proudly. "I came to visit him for our anniversary."

"That's awesome, look I need to get you out of here, let's go over to the club and get breakfast."

Lanh nodded in reply and pulled on a Minnesota Vikings jacket, then grabbed her purse and a couple of textbooks, then followed Josh out the door. They walked in silence to the club, Josh pushing his bicycle as they walked. He finally broke the silence and asked, "You from Minnesota?"

"Yes, originally from Minneapolis, but my family moved to a tiny town where I met Don."

"What town is that?" asked Josh.

"You've never heard of it before," said Lanh as they entered the club and were seated and handed.

"Try me," he said with a grin as he poured her a cup of coffee.

"Grant Valley."

Josh rolled his eyes up in thought then said, "about twenty miles south of Bemidji? Not far from Shevlin? About ten miles from Lake Itaska, right?"

Lanh's jaw dropped in surprise. "How did you know?"

"Let me guess," said Josh as he took her tiny hand in his. "Your parents are immigrants, and they moved to get away from the big city and big city problems. They grew up in a small village and wanted their kids to experience that so they moved to Grant Valley and opened a restaurant."

"How...?" Lanh gasped, then her eyebrows lowered in a scowl. "Don told you."

"Of course! He talks about you all the time. He told me of how you met at the high school dance."

"Did he tell you how terrified I was?" she asked as she studied the menu.

"The only Asian girl in the county? Oh yes. And I can identify with those feelings you had in high school," said Josh.

"How could that possibly be?"

"My little town became very popular with the yuppified community, especially with a nuclear submarine base nearby. I went to school with the sons and daughters of the socially privileged, and I was the sole representative of the South Georgia Redneck Po White Trash community in a school full of snotty rich kids." He looked at the waitress and ordered two over easy hash browns, sausage links, and a side of grits. Lanh ordered the same, but with a side of cream of wheat.

"Don talks about you a lot," said Lanh. "He says you're an amazing supervisor and he is watching everything you do so he can... what? What's so funny?"

Josh got his chuckling under control and said, "He wants to emulate my leadership style?"

"He says you're incredible! You're driving the squadron to greater results even though you're only running the weapons shop. You and Roxie and Wedge practically run the flightline, even Gold One is running to catch up with you guys. He's dying to know your secret."

"Ah don't have no secret," said Josh. "This is the first and last time I've ever supervised more than a single crew."

"I don't understand," said Lanh.

"It's simple. I weed out the chaff and let my hot shots do their thing. I encourage my expediters to be as much of a cheer leader as a supervisor."

"No, you said this is the last time? You just put on Master according to Don."

Josh leaned forward as the waitress set out their breakfasts. "Don't tell no one, especially Roxie, but they're going to put me out. I got busted up pretty good when my ship plowed in. My old commander fast tracked me over here to hide me from the medical evaluation board, but when I get back stateside, they're going to sink their claws in me."

"But you have so much back there, home and..."

"I ain't got no home," said Josh, stunning Lanh to silence. "Maybe I'll go to small town Minnesota and see if Mister Nguyen would hire me to sling pho. Your family sounds wonderful, and I wonder if it would rub off on me a little."

"Daddy will hire you," said Lanh. "If you need work and can get there, he'll put you to work. Or, if you can work a dairy herd, Don's dad will hire you."

Trying to change the subject, Josh asked, "How surprised was Don when you showed up out of the blue?"

"Not as surprised as Ajumma. His suite mate let me in, so I took a shower and laid down on his faux mink blanket and I fell asleep. Ajumma walks in and finds a naked Vietnamese chick on his bed and freaked out. She called me maechunbu."

"That's not nice," said Josh. Maechunbu is the Korean word for whore.

"I was not the first naked woman she's found in 1522," said Lanh as she ate. "She is Vietnamese, her name is Xuan and we talk. She was telling me all about Kunsan when Don came back to his room and found me sitting on the floor talking with her."

They talked for a long time about life in Minnesota. Josh had been assigned to the 5th Bombardment Wing in North Dakota, and he loved the hunting and fishing but he hated the teeth shattering cold. "I grew up with it," said Lanh as they finished their last cup of coffee. "I can't wait to go back, but Don is doing so good, and we're getting our education completed here. We're going to do a back-to-back tour at Osan before returning stateside, and as soon as we hit the US we're applying to adopt a baby."

Lanh's face practically glowed when she mentioned adoption. "I'm happy for you and I hope it works," said Josh, tactfully avoiding the question of why she wants to adopt. She's a tiny girl. Maybe that had something to do with it. They walked over to the Top Three Palace, with Josh walking his bike. "Don told me that you were incredibly shy and reserved."

Lanh smiled and gave a tiny, squeaky giggle. "He told me you could get a stone to talk about its deepest desires. You are easy to talk to, your wife must be anxious for you to return."

"There's no family. No missus. No girlfriend. Ah almost kinda found a girlfriend, but it was at my going away party so ah introduced her to my pilot. I hear that they're doing real good." After that Josh was silent until they got to his room. He led Lanh to his living room/kitchenette and said, "there's food in the fridge, ajumma will drop in later, her name is Hani. Please don't scare her off." Then Josh went to his bed, drew the curtain that sealed it off from the rest of the suite and fell asleep, still in his uniform.

<><><><><>֍<><><><><>

Sammy Johns, Lieutenant Kenosha, and Roopy joined the weapons flight during the same week. They all arrived as Dan Baker was heading home. Sammy was a Senior Master Sergeant with a great sense of humor and was a fantastic supervisor. He was smart enough to know that you don't fix what isn't broken. Lieutenant Kenosha, on the other hand, had no clue what that meant, and Airman Rupert "Roopy" Pines just had no clue.

Roopy was a 3-level two stripe airman first class, he got a stripe early for enlisting for six years but the 3-level meant he was an apprentice and needed training on everything and was not skilled enough to do little more than sweep floors without direct supervision. By Pacific Air Forces rules, he should not have been assigned to the Wolfpack. They don't have the time or manpower to babysit a 3-level. He never should have been sent overseas, but if there was a need for him overseas, he should have gone to Misawa Airbase in Japan, or Kadena Air Base on Okinawa, not an isolated remote assignment in a war zone like Kunsan. Like any 3-level without constant supervision, Roopy got into trouble. Nothing serious, showing up late for work, losing bits of his MOPP gear, getting "knee walking drunk" off base.

And Lieutenant Keith Kenosha, being a self-absorbed, rank obsessed asshole, thought that the movie Patton was great training about human interaction on the flightline. Late one evening, an exercise kicked off. This was going to be a sprint, a hard charging full bore war skills exercise. After Wedge Donovan briefed his crews at the start of an exercise, Wedge took Roopy off to the side for a talk. It was nothing serious; the kid was a few minutes late for roll call. Wedge had an affinity for that kid and Roopy looked up to the big line expediter as a father figure. "I found a girl," Roopy told Wedge.

Wedge grinned. Wedge wasn't a highly skilled counselor in the matter of love. God knows he screwed up enough and now he's friends with Roxie, who told him she was a lesbian and just wanted someone to carry her shopping bags. As Wedge got Roopy to open up, Second Lieutenant Kenosha stepped in and said, "I will handle this sergeant." Wedge argued that this was his duty but Kenosha shouted, "You were relieved Sergeant!"

"Aye aye, sir!" Aye aye was not meant respectfully in any form. It's a polite way to tell an officer, "You should be in the Navy getting your anus reamed by a lonely sailor."

Wedge slammed the clipboard down on Sergeant John's desk and groaned, "That lieutenant of yours is going to fuck that kid up."

"Take a deep breath," said Senior Master Sergeant Johns. "Try to relax, he'll learn." Sammy Johns was a smiling, happy black man who claimed to have armed Wilbur Wright's first airplane. He was Dan Baker's replacement; Dan had received orders and was on his way to his next assignment.

Wedge glanced through the window and saw that Roxie was waiting for him. "See you in a few hours," said Wedge.

"Take it easy," said Johns as he rolled a piece of paper into his typewriter.

"Hold on Sergeant," said Lieutenant Kenosha as he blocked Wedge's exit.

"You dismissed me sir, I am exiting the building."

The lieutenant continued to block the door. "I take it that you dislike my management style, Sergeant. Tell me what is on your mind, sergeant." He made the honorable title of sergeant sound like it was a turd laying on his tongue and was trying not to puke when he said it. However, he made the biggest mistake any young officer could make. He asked an NCO for his personal opinion. He just gave Wedge carte blanche. Nothing that Wedge said could be used against him or be accused of insubordination because the lieutenant asked for it.

"Since you asked, sir, Management Style? Sir, you usurped a noncommissioned officer in the commission of his duties and inserted yourself into a situation you know nothing about, sir, and then you proceeded to berate a confused young airman that by PACAF regulations shouldn't even be here, sir. What I would like to know is what fast-food franchise taught you that 'management style' sir?"

The lieutenant glared at Wedge and began shaking. His face went red and his nostrils flared in anger. "I could relieve you of your duties, Sergeant Donovan."

In a soft voice, Wedge said, "Sir, in my personal opinion I believe you couldn't relieve yourself after a dozen BX tacos."

"That's it!" shrieked Second Lieutenant Kenosha. "You are confined to your dormitory room until I speak with the Squadron Commander about this."

"Aye aye, sir." And Wedge brushed past the lieutenant and went looking for Roopy, but he was nowhere to be found.

Five minutes later Josh returned from a meeting with Gold Super, and he wanted to see the load crew lineup that Wedge drew up. Unfortunately, Wedge Donovan had that line up with him when Lieutenant Kenosha relieved him of duty. Josh poked around the AMU and discovered that Wedge was gone. Josh walked into his office and said, "Hey Sammy, have you seen Wedge? I need the load crew lineup from him ASAP."

"I restricted him to his quarters," said Lieutenant Kenosha from his desk in the corner.

"YOU WHAT?" thundered Josh.

"I relieved Sergeant Donovon of his duties and ordered him to remain in his room until this exercise is over."

"You are a second lieutenant!" shouted Josh. "Your job is to LEARN, that way you don't fuck up this stupidly."

The lieutenant whirled around and said, "Did you call me stupid sergeant?"

"No sir, I'm trying to prevent people from saying that. Again. Repeatedly."

Lieutenant Kenosha jumped to his feet and glared at Josh, but Sammy tried to defuse the situation. "With all due respect sir," said Sammy. "Why did you relieve Sergeant Donovan of his duties?"

"He questioned me in front of the troops," the lieutenant said smugly.

Josh turned to Sammy and said, "Let me train him. PLEASE let me train the fuck out of him."

"Relax Josh," said Sammy as he patted Josh on the shoulder.

"Sergeant Gravely!" snapped Lieutenant Kenosha. Josh turned to the young man and Kenosha snarled at him and poked Josh in the chest and said, "In here those wings mean nothing! You're just another airman in this office!"

The crowd of airmen at the door heard every word and said "Ooooooooo!" like they just saw a terrific crash at a dirt track stock car race. But Kenosha continued, "Get in Juvat 4!" As Josh walked past him, the Lieutenant swatted him in the back of the head with his clip board.

Josh whirled around and got nose to nose with the lieutenant. "That's twice you've disrespected me," said Josh in a low whisper. "The third time will be your last."

"Is that a threat sergeant?"

"I don't make threats... SIR." Josh elbowed his way past the crowd of bomb loaders who were clustered around the door of the Weapons Flight office. He went out to Juvat 4 and sat in the back of the truck, trying to keep warm. Tech Sergeant Don Davis poked his head in the truck's door and asked, "Where is everyone?"

"Don't know. Lieutenant Kenosha sent Wedge home and when I tried to straighten up his fuckup he ordered me to sit out here. Wedge had the crew line up and the plane line up and the keys to the truck."

"What are we going to do?"

"Me, I plan to let the lieutenant run the show then when Captain McLeish freaks out, I'm going to pull a miracle out of my ass. Why don't you run over to the wing command post and get a copy of the aircraft line-up."

"Will do," and Don ran off, and bumped straight into Captain McLeish.

Captain Orin McLeish was the Officer In Charge of the entire maintenance operation for the squadron, and he was not happy. "Davis, what the hell? Where are my load crews? The weapons are going to be coming out soon!"

"I don't know sir. Every time I ask what is going on, all I get for an answer is "Lieutenant Kenosha."

The snow swirled outside and slowly started to accumulate. A bang on the truck announced someone was looking for him. Josh turned to look and smiled. "What's up sir?"

"I want you to train Lieutenant Kenosha, Josh," said Captain McLeish.

"He's untrainable sir. He doesn't know how to shut up and listen."

"Just do it. I'm sure you have a trick up your sleeve."

"Oh, I sure do," grinned Josh. Finally, the night shift expediter, Tech Sergeant Leo Ross, came out of the AMU shaking his head. "You ok Leo?"

"Oh shit, the fucking lieutenant would not shut the fuck up. He's fucking clueless. He screwed everything up and went home."

"Just do what you can with your swing shift folks and we'll clean up tomorrow. I'm going to mirror the Lieutenant's shift so this should be interesting."

"I can't find Roopy," said Leo as he started the van with the spare set of keys that Wedge tossed him on his way out the door.

"If you have a busted crew, have someone look in all the usual places. I'm going to get some sleep; I have a long day ahead of me tomorrow.

<><><><><>

Josh showed up the next morning with a bright smile. He spent the night snuggling with Hani and suddenly Korea was wonderful to him. He wasn't surprised to find Roxie in a cheerful mood herself. "What's up home fries?" said Josh.

She laughed and said, "That's what I had for breakfast. Wedge made me eggs and bacon and hash browns."

"What is Wedge doing?"

"Homework, he's taking a history class, the History of the Byzantine Empire. We're racing to see who gets their master's degree first."

"Love it! Good luck to both of you." He swung himself into the driver's seat of Gold 4 and said, "Got your tools turned in night shift?"

"YEAH!" was the unanimous cry from the weapons loaders in the back of the truck.

"Alrighty then." He picked up his radio and called, "Juvat top, Gold 4, I have an issue at 1522. I may need your help."

Juvat top was the squadron's first sergeant, and he answered the radio call. "Roger Gold 4, meet you there."

Lieutenant Kenosha swung into the passenger seat and pointed forward. Josh went the other way. "Where are you going sergeant?"

"Chow hall sir. These folks need a hot meal and eight hours of uninterrupted crew rest. The sooner I get them to the dorm, the sooner the clock starts."

"I wanted you to go the other way," snarled the lieutenant.

"How the hell am I to know? You pointed at the windshield. You could have been pointing out a smudge. Nouns. Verbs. Very handy tools to use, sir." He said it loud enough for the dozen men in the back to hear. They were still laughing when he pulled up to the chow hall. "All out! You're on your own from here! Be back at nineteen hundred but you're liable for call back starting at sixteen hundred, so don't waste your time."

"Sergeant! I want to..." started the lieutenant, but he was cut off by an upraised finger.

"Lesson number one," said Josh. "Take care of your troops or they will take care of you. Your popularity is zero with these people. They wouldn't obey an order from you even if it was to inhale." Josh sped off and pulled up to 1522.

"What are we doing here?"

"I'm going to go get Wedge." Josh hopped out of the metro van, pulled the keys and dashed up the sidewalk and launched his way up the stairs. The lieutenant followed, spouting and fuming the entire time.

"What is it, Josh?" asked the first sergeant, who was waiting for him.

"Room 204, fellow didn't show up for work this morning as scheduled."

"Wedge?" gasped the first sergeant. He pulled his key and opened the door, and Wedge was sitting at his desk doing his homework. As the first sergeant went in the room to talk to Wedge, Lieutenant Kenosha spouted and fumed in the hallway.

"I ordered that man to remain in his room until I spoke with Juvat one about his attitude."

"I need him, I'm getting him. Let's not forget who the trainee is around here."

"God damn it sergeant. Those wings mean nothing around here and I..."

"Oh?" came a voice from behind Lieutenant Kenosha. "How about MY wings? What do they mean?"

Lieutenant Kenosha turned around and there was the squadron commander, Lieutenant Colonel Walker, and he didn't look happy. He had heard the radio call to the first sergeant saying there was a problem at his top expediter's room and he arrived to find a second lieutenant overstepping his bounds. "You will enter that room, you will rescind your order, then you and I will have a talk on the way back to the AMU."

"Yes sir..." said the second lieutenant, and he entered Wedge's room.

"Sergeant Gravely, what are you doing with my lieutenant?"

"Captain McLeish asked me to train him sir. I think he needs to be torn down a bit before we can build him up."

Colonel Walker glared at Josh and simply said, "Don't get blood on anything. KENOSHA! With me!" and the two officers headed off down the hall. Every time the lieutenant said something, the commander replied, "Shut up."

Wedge finally came out of his room and said, "He's going to be in my truck through this?"

"Yep," grinned Josh.

"I'm going to give him a Verizon job."

"Twenty bucks says you don't have the balls."

"You're on," said Wedge. The two sergeants shook hands as the first sergeant begged to get in on the bet.

<><><><><>

This "war" was a sprint. The exercise inputs came fast and furious. Explosions from 'blast simulators' were always followed by sirens and the flight line vehicles had to duck for cover until the all clear was sounded. When they ducked for cover, Josh stayed close to Lieutenant Kenosha and the lieutenant held his tongue, but everyone knew he wanted to tear into Wedge.

After the planes had launched for their sorties, the base sirens went off while explosions were heard. The base loudspeakers called for Alarm Black and Wedge shouted, "Alarm Black, get your gear on!" He pulled on his gas mask, a hard trick when you're driving, and he followed Gold 2 into an open shelter. Inside the truck, the load crew, lieutenant, and Josh pulled on their NBC suits and gas masks, then pulled their flack vests over the NBC suit. Two airmen waved Wedge into the shelter, then pulled the doors closed behind them.

It was pitch black except for the dimmed L head flashlights. Wedge shut off the van and leaned over to Josh and said, "You have your money ready?"

"Roxie is holding the money."

They bumped fists and Wedge hopped out. He walked up to Gold 3 and Roxie hopped out, saying, "I thought you were grounded."

"Dad sprung me." They found a dark corner and sat down on the floor and leaned against each other, whispering secrets in the dark.

"Don't think you got away with this," said a looming figure above them.

"Pardon?" said Wedge.

"I said you didn't get away with anything, sergeant," said Lieutenant Kenosha.

Wedge looked at Roxie, but she just shrugged. "I didn't understand, could you repeat that?" she asked.

"I said," Lieutenant Kenosha leaned forward and was almost shouting. "Do not think that you are out of the woods!"

"I'm sorry sir, you're all muffled. You may need to clean that voice emitter on your gasmask."

"God damn it sergeant!" Lieutenant Kenosha pulled his helmet and gasmask off. "Do not think that you got away with..." but he was interrupted by unshielded flashlights shining on him. One of the most egregious dumb things you could do was remove your helmet and gasmask during an Alarm Black.

"What's your name? Rank?" asked an Exercise Evaluator.

"Kenosha. Kenneth J. Second Lieutenant," groaned the lieutenant.

The Exercise Evaluator wrote that down on his clip board as his evaluator teammate hung a tag on the lieutenant that said in bright red letters Dead. "Grab your gear and report to the rec center and await instructions." When the lieutenant left the evaluator turned to Roxie and Wedge and said, "I do not appreciate using my team to give a Verizon to young lieutenants... that being said..." the evaluator grinned and said, "Can you hear me now?" and walked away laughing.

Later, when walking back to his room, Josh paused to take pictures of Lieutenant Kenosha along with a half dozen other 'dumb dead' people filling and stacking sandbags.

<><><><><>֍<><><><><>

The squadron's Christmas party was fun at first. Josh was sitting with Don and Lanh Campbell and talked with them about their anniversary plans. "We're going to work at the Mars shack patching phone calls home," said Lanh happily.

"We both got our HAM licenses because of the MARS calls we made during my first assignment to Germany," said Don.

"That's great," said Josh. MARS calls were a pain in the ass. They're over short-wave radio and sometimes the connection was horrible, and you have to say 'over' when you're done talking, but it's free. Long distance to the states was incredibly expensive and the internet on base couldn't handle voice calls.

As they were talking about MARS and the fun Lanh was having there, the first sergeant stepped up to Josh, bent over, and whispered in his ear. Lanh watched the life drain out of her friend. He went pale, and he took a deep, shaking breath. "You sure?" The first sergeant only nodded. "You tell Sammy, I have to be the one to tell Wedge." He got up and went in search of Wedge or Roxie. If he found Roxie, Wedge wouldn't be far.

Josh found Wedge at the bar. He was watching Roxie, who was surrounded by a half dozen black guys. She was laughing and giggling like a schoolgirl while the black guys tried to convince her to dump that "big dummy cracker," and Wedge was burning up with jealousy and self-loathing. Josh felt his heart break for the big guy. Roxie was his entire world, and it looked like she dumped him. How could she do that to him? But he still had to talk to him. "Wedge, we need to talk."

"So talk," said Wedge as he sipped a drink.

"Wedge, let's go somewhere private, we have to talk," said Josh.

"Talk or leemme alone." Wedge was slurring his words, so Josh was sure he wasn't drinking his usual ginger ale straight.

"Wedge, this isn't the place..." but a threatening glare from Wedge convinced Josh to say what he came to say. "Wedge, Roopy is gone. Suicide," said Josh softly. "Come on, I'll walk back with you."

"No. I'm fine." He downed his drink in one gulp and gestured to the bar tender. "Another. Make it a double."

"Ok, but this is it for you," said the bartender as he poured a double Jameson.

Josh left and walked back to his room, terrified of what the news would do to his loaders. In these remote isolated assignments, suicide happens too often, and it's contagious. The desire to 'go home the quick way' often spreads and shatters the cohesion of a unit. As the word of Roopy's spread through the squadron, the weapons people left the squadron party, as did a few other maintainers. Wedge wandered off in a drunken haze looking for another hooch (squadron run bar) to drown his sorrow. Josh just sat in his room alone.

The sun was above the horizon when ajumma entered the room. "Where's Hani?" asked Josh.

"She move. Inchon! Very pretty there."

"She never mentioned it to me," said Josh, and he left while the middle-aged woman vacuumed the rug.

Time didn't help. Josh just wasn't Josh anymore. The next Monday at work, he merely stood by the door to the office while Wedge briefed the troops, letting them know that Roopy's body was heading stateside for burial. "I want every one of you to make a MARS call home on Christmas!" he demanded. "I will not put up with this again! Let's make a pact that we will depend on each other. We will listen to each other's problems."

Then Lieutenant Kenosha stepped in front of the formation and started to talk about suicide prevention, but one by one, the bomb loaders turned around and faced the back wall of the AMU building and stood at parade rest. "Flight! About face!" the lieutenant called, but nobody moved. "ABOUT FACE!"

"You can't perform about face from the position of parade rest, ya stupid fuck," said Josh, and he stepped into the office.

"Sergeant Gravely! God damn it I've have just about enough out of you." He stormed into the office behind Josh; spouting threats of court martials.

"Sergeant Gravely, would you please step outside and mind the door while I have a word or two with the lieutenant?" asked Sammy Johns.

Josh just nodded and stepped outside and stood in front of the door while Sammy Johns used Lieutenant Kenosha as a punching bag. The sound of the lieutenant's body slamming into the door aroused the curiosity of the weapons troops, but Josh told them that "nothing happened, go get your tools and head out."

That afternoon, Josh walked into the flight surgeon's office as usual. He saw the flight surgeon every two weeks, as ordered by the commander, and the list of things they found wrong with his body was growing. "The VA ain't gonna know what hits them when you dump this on them," the captain said brightly. "You'll have at least 90% disability."

"They're the VA, they'll just ignore it... and me." said Josh sadly. "Doc, I think I need a shrink."

"It's just the holidays. It happens to everyone this time of year. Are you getting any sleep?"

"No," lied Josh.

"Here, take this to the pharmacy. We'll fix you up right away. He handed Josh a prescription that Josh couldn't read then cataloged the seven vials of blood he pulled and sent Josh on his way to pick up 90 tablets of Restoril.

<><><><><>

Being a master sergeant, Josh had a phone in his room, but it only rang when the sirens were blaring all over the base. The calls were always the same: "Grab your stuff and come in." However, it was almost midnight on Christmas day when the phone rang without a siren accompaniment. Josh had set up two candles on a dish and he was sitting in his chair, watching the flames on the two candles flicker. On his dining table, a tiny Christmas tree stood, the tinsel and tiny ornaments reflecting the candlelight.

It was so pretty.

He and Yesenia had pretty Christmas trees, and they talked about all the children they would be celebrating future Christmases with. That was all over. The dreams he allowed himself to have of beautiful little Asian children with Hani had evaporated, too.

Maybe it's better that way. Who wants a loser with a chest full of medals as a dad? Why would you tell such a loser goodbye anyhow?

The phone rang and Josh picked it up immediately because it was right next to him, and because it was the most annoying ring that he had ever heard. "Sergeant Gravely."

He heard Roxie on the other end of the line and she was very excited. "Josh! You have a call from stateside. It's someone named Deanna. You remember how this works, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he said. His voice sounded exhausted even to him.

"Ok, hang on... AFC6RI this is AGA8KU," said Roxie. She was talking to the MARS operator in San Diego via HF radio. "I have your number one on the line."

"Copy," said a voice from far away. "Go ahead Deanna." Then a familiar voice came on the line. "Josh? It's Deanna and Rob! Merry Christmas! How are you doing? We were thinking about you, counting the days until we see you again. Over."

"Thanks guys... merry Christmas... I'm sorry but I'm not very cordial... sorry... I... I lost another and I'm having a tough time with it... and I..." He sighed, trapped in a wordless cocoon, unable to feel the cheer they were trying to share and imprisoned by the horrible loss tearing at his soul He finally said, "Over. Out." And he hung up the phone.

"Josh? Josh!" Roxie checked her connections then said, "AFC6RI, we lost your number one..." as she made apologies over the radio while Wedge looked around the shack. "Another? Another what?"

"Airman," said Lanh. "He told me his best friend died on his last mission, and he had a problem with it."

"Roopy," said Wedge.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit, SHIT!" squawked Roxie as she mis-dialed the chaplain's number five times in a row.

"I got him," said the head of the MARS shack, Senior Master Sergeant Jim Johnsen. He had a separate phone line, and he held the phone to his ear. "Chaplain, we have a problem at the Senior NCO dorm, room two oh two."

"What happened?" asked the chaplain as he pulled on his coat. Any time a MARS call 'goes bad' Senior Master Sergeant Jim Johnsen demands that they contact the chaplain. That simple demand reduced the suicide rate on Kunsan by 30%. Kunsan Air Base has the highest suicide rate in the USAF, so the efforts by the MARS team are not insignificant.

Jim briefed the chaplain on the call as Don Campbell took over for Roxie and she went to Wedge. He held her as she got her shaking hands under control, and Don called the 80th Fighter Squadron first sergeant and told him. Finally, Jim Johnsen looked around the MARS shack. The radio was hissing, and Okinawa was patching a call through the MARS station in San Diego. "Let's go folks, it's our turn next, Don get your number one on the line." He was as bummed out as the rest of his team, but the show must go on. It's Christmas.

<><><><><>

In the senior NCO dorm, Josh didn't answer the Chaplain's knock, so the first sergeant had to open the door. In there, they found Josh in the dark, looking at a photo album by candlelight. "What are you doing Ephraim?" The chaplain made a major mistake and mispronounced his name. He said "EFrum" like most people will do.

"It's pronounced 'Josh,'" said Josh softly.

"What are we looking at?" said the chaplain.

"This is Craig and me saying goodbye," said Josh. It was a picture of Josh wearing a set of hospital pajamas sitting in a wheelchair under the tail of a C-17. He was saluting a flag-draped coffin that was being carried off the C-17 by an honor guard. "He was my top man; he was my best friend and my best man." Josh's voice tightened up. "We had over two thousand flying hours together, Afghanistan, Iraq, so many places you never heard of... sometimes I can't wash his blood off my hands."

"Do you see his blood now, Josh?"

"His blood was everywhere, his guts were spilled out on the deck, and I had to push them back in so he didn't lose them." He turned the page and there was a picture of him on a stretcher that was inside an airplane. His side was covered in bandages and blood was seeping through. Above him on a stretcher was a woman who had oxygen, IV, and ECG lines hooked up to her. "That's Ellie. She's still alive but she doesn't sound happy. She wants her leg back." He showed picture after picture of his crew in action in an AC-130, the parties they had, the fun on the beach... he even showed a picture of Yesenia.

"Josh, why are we looking at this?" asked the chaplain.

"This is all I have to leave behind."

"What are you saying, Josh?"

Josh turned to a picture of himself and his friend Craig. They were both in their dress blues, their silver wings gleaming in the Florida sunlight, glistening almost as brightly as their smiles. Josh pointed to his chest in the photo and said, "I was told that these wings mean nothing. These wings are the symbol of a loyal brotherhood, and if they mean nothing, then I mean even less."

"Josh, you don't solve anything if you kill yourself," pleaded the Chaplain.

Josh looked at the chaplain like he just woke up from a deep slumber. "Kill... myself? That's the cowards way out." He looked at the picture of Craig again and began to weep. "But it's a way out..."

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The darkness he felt over Roopy and his ignored request for help from the flight surgeon made Josh realize he was on his own. To combat the depression and self-loathing, Josh tried to spend as much time as he could with Don and Lanh Campbell. They were smart and friendly, but a little reserved. And they talked funny, saying things like "yoo betcha," and "ya sher," and "uff da."

He also tried to hang out with Wedge and Roxie as much as possible. They finally pulled their heads out of their asses and admitted their love for each other. "Gawd," groaned Josh as the three of them, plus Lieutenant Kenosha, stepped out of the AMU blockhouse into the Korean winter weather. "y'all are all lovey-dovey now? What will it be next week? They could write an anime cartoon about you two."

"Wah, bless your lil' heart," said Roxie in her deepest southern drawl.

"Fuck you too, ma'am," said Josh.

"You can't talk to her like that," hissed Lieutenant Kenosha.

"Why? She told me to fuck off first. Your problem is that you're from some snooty gated community in Connecticut, you don't know any real people," said Josh. "Get in the truck, we're heading out."

The truck was Josh's refuge. He controlled his world with a steering wheel, a radio, and a plexiglass status board. Here, the commander had laid down the law. Josh was training the lieutenant, and the lieutenant was ordered to like it. Josh was driving Gold 5, the second expeditor truck for weapons. He had two load crews and one extra airman, along with the lieutenant riding shotgun. "What's our first job lieutenant?"

The lieutenant looked at the board, trying to make sense of the numbers and symbols. "Spot thirty four... load four BDU-33 training bombs."

"Correctamundo!" said Josh cheerfully. He dropped one crew off at the airplane to load practice bombs with the admonition, "The crew show is in 30 minutes," meaning that the pilot was on his way out to the plane.

"The bombs will probably get here after the pilot does," griped the team chief. "I suppose we have to fire guard when they go."

"Roger that. You ain't been packed 'till you've been Wolf packed."

"Isn't that disrespectful?" asked the lieutenant.

"AFR six dash one states that enlisted folks get to bitch and moan all they want, as long as they get the job done. Officers must keep it to themselves, smile when boned, and drink tea with their pinkies out." With that Josh drove off and set out his other load crew to drop bomb racks off of one airplane, clean them, then hang them on the plane next door then load practice bombs when the bomb trailer gets there.

"Gold Five, Gold two. Josh, do you have a fire guard for me?" asked Roxie.

"Roger ma'am, where do you need him?"

"Spot twenty nine." Josh zipped over to a shelter where an F-16 sat being readied to launch. He stopped in front of the plane and turned around to the Airman First Class in the back of his truck. "I have a special one for you!" said Josh with a grin.

"Captain Spooner?" asked the airman eagerly. Captain Spooner liked to clown around with the airmen that worked so hard to get him ready to launch.

"Even better! Train Lieutenant Kenosha how to be a fire guard."

"You've got to be shitting me."

"I wouldn't shit ya airman, you're my favorite turd. Now go make your mom and me proud!"

Slowly, the arrogant lieutenant started to understand. The rough and tumble relationships between the enlisted equals were more than just teasing each other, they were goading each other to higher and better levels of production and safety. Josh was Papa Goose leading his goslings. The expediters like Wedge and Roxanne were there to put the right man on the right job and do anything it takes to get the planes flying. It was a community, a team, and Lieutenant Kenosha was on the outside looking in.

Josh eventually trained the lieutenant on minor maintenance tasks. His favorite was changing the argon bottle on the training AIM-9 Sidewinder missiles. The heat-seeking missile used argon gas to cool its seeker head and Lieutenant Kenosha got quite good at swapping out the baseball size bottles of argon gas. He was soon doing the expenditure report, and he was assisting load crews on larger tasks. He started with loading chaff and flare canisters, then he got to haul and actually load BDU-33 training bombs.

One day while performing fire guard, the pilot Captain Spooner came up to him and started giving him grief. "We now trust 150 pound fire extinguishers to second lieutenants?"

Before Kenosha could respond, Josh pulled up in Gold Five, slid back his door and shouted, "Hey Spoon-unit! Stop fucking with my men!"

Captain Spooner and Second Lieutenant Kenosha approached the truck. "He's yours?"

"I am training him from the ramp up to be the best damn maintenance officer I can give to the air force. Please don't fuck up my training schedule."

Captain Spooner started chuckling, then got serious. He patted Josh's shoulder and said, "I just read part of the after action report on the Gulf of Hormuz... thanks for being there."

"Just doing my job, sir."

"People do not get put in for a Medal of Honor for just doing their job."

"You and I both know that at best I'll get a three day pass and a basketball with my name on it at the base gym."

"We're writing letters to our congressmen," said Captain Spooner, who then turned to Lieutenant and said, "Did you write your congressman and senators Keith?"

"I uh, for what?" He was still shocked that a fighter pilot called him by his first name.

"Your man was put in for a medal of honor. We're writing our representatives begging them to recognize Master Sergeant Ephraim J. Gravely for his actions over the straits of Hormuz."

"Don't you have a cloud you have to go punch a hole through?" demanded Josh as he looked impatiently at his watch.

"Come on Keith, let's get back to work," and Captain Spooner led the Lieutenant back to his position as fire guard.

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Sadly, Josh's friend Squeaky had to return stateside. Lanh loved Korea and she and her husband Don had a follow on tour at Osan Air Base near Seoul. They planned to be the major importers of black market Minnesota Viking and Minnesota Twins' apparel. Lanh planned to pay off her college debt with Korean street made Minnesota Vikings quilts. They had a special Valentine's day dinner at the club for Don and Lanh, Wedge and Roxie, who went from buddies to fiancés in 3.4 seconds flat. There were two or three more couples there, and by popular demand, Josh sang for them.

His favorites by Dean and Frank were there in the karaoke machine, including his favorite.

I'm at heaven's door, Innamorata

Want you more and more, Innamorata

You're a symphony, a very beautiful sonata, my Innamorata

Say that you're my sweetheart, my love

Josh sighed. At least he's putting these songs to better use than he did before. You know you did good when your audience is kissing through the entire song.

With Lanh gone, a hole was left in his life. She was an incredible friend and one of the smartest people he had ever met. She was taking psychology classes on her way to a degree in speech pathology, so she filled in as a shrink while the flight surgeon dragged his feet sending Josh to a head shrinker. With Lanh and Hani gone, Roxie occasionally stopped by to see how he was doing and she would find him sitting in the dark with two small candles burning in a holder on the table. "What's with the candles?" she asked Josh.

The candles were for Craig and Roopy, but he couldn't bring himself to say that. "You're beautiful in candlelight," said Josh.

"All you can see are my eyeballs and teeth," she said with a grin, trying to goad him into a response... any response.

"Wedge is a lucky man, you are beautiful in candlelight. I could sit here and look at you all night."

"You know redneck, according to the stereotype you're supposed to hate us black folk. You're not holding up your end of the stereotype."

"And you're supposed to hate us crackers," replied Josh. "I guess we're both fucked up."

"Why don't you get up and do something? Come on over to the club with us and sing Karoke."

"I just sang Karoke for you."

"That was a month ago!"

"When are you and Wedge going to get married?" asked Josh.

"He hasn't asked me yet," said Roxie, shocked at the change in direction the conversation just took.

"Nothing says you can't ask him."

"You're so weird."

"I'm going to go to bed, we all have to get up early in the morning," said Josh, and he escorted Roxie to the door. At the door they hugged and Roxie was shocked at how boney he felt through his t-shirt.

"Are you ok Redneck?"

"Who you calling Redneck? You live further south than me."

"About twenty five miles." She looked into his eyes and the whites looked grayish to her. "I'm worried about you Josh."

"Nothing to worry about. I see the flight surgeon every two weeks, I'm the healthiest person on base. I just saw him on Friday."

"I just want to make sure you're ok," she said, terrified that she was hugging him too tightly.

"That's the problem with you women. You fall in love and you want everyone else to fall in love too." He kissed her forehead and said, "There's not enough love to go around, so some of us make do with friends." He swatted her on the butt and said, "Now git! We have an Oh Four Fifteen Roll Call."

She walked back to 1522, concerned about her fellow Georgian, and when she got to her room, Wedge was waiting for her. They took a slow, warm shower together and Wedge tried to get Roxie warmed up, but she was worried about Josh. "Honey, what time is first takeoff?"

Wedge was shocked. His hands were full of her succulent chocolate brown tits. He was gnawing on her neck, pinching and rolling her nipples. And she wants to talk shop? "The schedule showed eleven forty five, so we don't have to be to work before nine thirty."

"He said we have a four fifteen roll call. Let's prepare for that."

"If nothing happens we're going to have an awesome morning," Wedge grinned. They dried off and climbed naked into their shared bed and Wedge actually fell asleep quickly. She finally drifted off to sleep a couple of hours later.

They and the rest of the base were awakened at 0345, with the sound of explosions rattling the dorms, sirens blaring, and the sound of truck engines roaring as the Patriot Missile battery moved to an alternate location. The missiles move any time the readiness level changes. Roxie and Wedge dressed quickly, grabbed their duffle bag of gear, and stepped outside to find it snowing. Snowing in March? The farmers are going to want to plant their rice soon. "How did he know this?" asked Wedge.

Roxie had a sudden thought. "Maybe he's a swamp witch."

"A what?"

"Swamp witch," she said. "The Okefenokee has a bunch of them. Down by Florida we have Grandma Noah. She's a relative," Roxie added proudly. Having a real live witch in the family is a social boon in south Georgia swamp country.

"You are all crazy," said Pennsylvanian Wedge.

"No, repeat after me, 'y'all crazy.'"

"Y'all are crazy."

"Close. 'Are' is optional."

They arrived at the block house, and people were streaming into the big concrete cube. Every bomb loader in the squadron was present and ready to load by 0413. Sammy Johns took his position in front of the troops and said, "This is the big one, the Pacific Air Forces Inspector General. Y'all know what to do, just pay attention and do it right. Sergeant Gravely."

Josh stepped in front of the assembly and said, "I'm proud of every single one of you. You have the strength, the knowledge, and the will power to kick some ass out there. No dumb dead! We can't afford that or any dropped anything! Bombs, missiles, ammo, flares, chaff, pencils, checklists. Let the 35th drop their shit, we're going to kick this sucker. Be careful in the cold and keep an eye on each other. Got it?"

"Got it!" the loaders chanted.

"Wedge has Gold Four with the Lieutenant, Leo has Gold Five and I'll be riding shotgun. Night and mid shift go away, be back at sixteen thirty hours. Wedge, Leo, select your teams and get rolling." Josh stepped back to the office door as Wedge Donovan and Leo Ross selected their teams.

As that went on, Lieutenant Kenosha went up to Josh and said, "are you sure about this?"

"Lieutenant, you know what to do. Right now you are far, far ahead of any weapons flight OIC that I've ever met before. Let the men do their jobs, let Wedge run the flight line and you bring out the commissioned officer superpower only when needed by act of war. Got it?"

"Got it," said the lieutenant with a grin.

It was time to get going. Wedge was giving last-minute instructions when Roxie came up to Josh. She looked cute in her flack vest and Kevlar helmet. Josh wanted to remember that image for the rest of his life. "Are you ok?" she asked. "It's not a sign of weakness to go to sick call."

"It's not a sign of weakness to go across my knee and get a spanking before we start."

"I dare ya. You couldn't possibly embarrass me."

"Challenge accepted."

"What are you going to do?" demanded Roxie.

"Hey, ya big ape!" shouted Josh. Wedge turned to him and Josh said, "My girl wants a good luck kiss before we get started." Josh leaned over and pretended to give Roxie a kiss. Her arms flailed, and she squawked in protest.

"You better let a real man handle that, short stuff," said Wedge and he pulled a protesting Roxie into his arms and gave her a long, loving kiss that had the entire weapons flight whooping and clapping.

It was time. Everyone trooped outside to mount up in their trucks, but Sammy Johns pulled Josh to the side. "Not this time Josh. You stay warm and I'll make sure that your kids do their chores."

"Sammy please," pleaded Josh. He had a horrible feeling that this was his last chance to watch the guys in action. "I gotta do this one for Roopy."

"We're all doing it for the little guy. I gave you your orders..." Sammy stopped with a glare from Josh. An NCO cannot give orders, only officers can give someone an order. "I gave you my most heartfelt suggestion, I further suggest that you will avoid an ass kicking if you follow my suggestion."

Josh frowned and said, "Go get 'em tiger." The trucks rolled off into the predawn gloom, but Josh stayed where Sammy left him, alone in front of the AMU Blockhouse. He tried to watch the movement of the trucks as they moved about the flight line, their headlights dimmed with blackout covers.

Snow accumulated on Josh's Kevlar helmet and flack vest shoulders. He was so intent on trying to determine which load crew got set out on which aircraft that he almost didn't notice the pickup truck that nearly ran him over. The truck stopped, and the window opened and Captain Orin McLeish looked at Josh. "You look like an abandoned puppy."

"Kinda feel that way sir."

"Get in before the dog catcher sees you."

Josh got in and Captain McLeish put him right to work. He handed Josh a clip board with several documents attached. "Keep track of everything," he said as Josh studied the document by the red glow of his angle head flashlight. Between them, the captain had a plexiglass board where he was keeping track of the events as they occurred. "What time were weapons called for?" asked Josh.

"Oh five hundred."

Josh looked at his watch. It was almost oh six hundred and there was no sign of the weapons yet. His load crews had their planes prepared and there was nothing for them to do now. "Fucking ammo," muttered Josh.

"What?" asked Captain McLeish.

"Ammo, the guys that haul the weapons out to us. We have a saying. 'If you ain't Ammo, you're waiting on them.'"

Finally, the weapons arrived. Josh watched as Wedge and Leo berated the convoy personnel for being so late, and Leo had a fit that they weren't parking the weapons trailers where they were supposed to be parked. The trailers are hard to push and if they park them in the wrong spot, the aircraft may not be able to taxi out when it's time to fly. Josh explained all of this to Captain McLeish as events unfolded.

"What's that guy doing?" asked Captain McLeish.

Josh squinted in the gloom. The tow vehicle had parked the trailer, but the crew hooked back up to the trailer and were moving it. "Looks like they dropped off their trailer at the wrong spot, sir." Not all aircraft have the same weapons. The F-16 was built for dogfighting but they turned out to be the greatest little bombers ever created, so many were getting bomb loads, others were "shooters" carrying high-speed anti-radiation missiles, (HARM) or AGM-65 air-to-ground missiles.

Tired of the berating his men were receiving, the convoy commander spotted the Gold Super truck and stomped over to complain to the captain. "I'm getting damn tired of my troops being accused of unprofessionalism by these guys out here," demanded the convoy commander, an ancient master sergeant.

"Actually, that's a pretty fair assessment so far. Next time, let's try to get out here in a reasonable time, park the trailers properly on first attempt, and try spotting the correct weapons at the correct aircraft," said Captain McLeish. "Any other questions?" The convoy commander opened his mouth to say something; he was clearly used to an aircraft maintenance officer who was utterly clueless about the ways of the ammo troops. "You're dismissed, Sergeant," said Captain McLeish, and the convoy commander stomped back off to his truck as the Captain and Josh fist bumped.

Once the first weapons got out to the aircraft, the loaders went to work and were able to make up for lost time. Day One could be the hardest day of the evaluation. All the weapons come out, you load the planes, then download all the weapons and get the planes ready to fly tomorrow. How you get the planes ready sets the tempo for the rest of the week. Every two hours, they would head into the wing command post for a status meeting with the wing commander and the two flying squadron commanders. Thanks to Josh, Captain McLeish was able to answer any questions that the commanders had for him and ten minutes later, the meeting was over and they'd be back out on the ramp.

"Are you ok, Sergeant?" asked Captain McLeish.

"I'm fine sir. I kinda missed this being on the gunships."

"What about now?" asked the captain.

"I miss the gunships," lied Josh. The gunships were great, but the idea of flying again made him nauseous.

A loud boom interrupted Josh's string of thought. The exercise evaluators kicked off another exercise. The base loudspeaker system boomed "Exercise Alert Level Black. Don appropriate protective gear and take shelter." Captain McLeish drove into an empty aircraft shelter, then he and Josh put on their NBC suits and gas masks.

They sat in the truck waiting for the alert to end and, as usual, the guys in the shelter got bored and began walking around and chatting with each other. Josh had a flashlight shined in his face and it was Don Campbell. "What are you doing in the bosses truck?" asked Don.

"I'm his truck bitch. Did Lanh make it home ok?" Truck bitch is the weapons term for 'driver's assistant.'

"Yeah, and thanks to you she wants me to learn how to sing."

Josh chuckled and said, "Remind her that some of us got it, and some of us ain't."

After Don left, the Captain asked, "What was that about?"

"I sang at the Valentines dinner for the six couples in the squadron. Don's wife is Asian she stopped by for a visit." He didn't mention that the visit lasted two months.

"I take it you sing pretty well?"

"Sir, if you can't get laid when I sing Dean Martin, you can't get laid." For some reason, that struck a chord with the captain and they became fast friends and Captain McLeish named Josh his official truck bitch.

As they talked about their hometowns (Captain McLeish was from Des Moines, Iowa) an exercise evaluator stepped up and asked, "Who's operating this vehicle?"

"That would be me, sergeant," said Captain McLeish.

The evaluator handed the captain a tag that in bright green letters read Dead. The green letters signified "smart dead" as compared to the red letters that signified "dumb dead." Dumb dead happens when someone was caught violating a safety or exercise protocol and they are sent to get 'training.' Smart dead happens when they kill off a manager or officer to see how the unit survives without him. "We regret to inform you that for the next eight hours you gave your life for your country. Proceed to the promised land at the Rec Center for a hot meal."

The captain pulled off his gasmask, turned to Josh and said, "Sorry to die and run on you. Lieutenant Hanson should be here by Nineteen hundred, hand the keys over to him."

"What should I do between now and then, sir?"

"Don't start any fights," and he handed Josh the keys to the truck and the walkie talkie and left. Josh was suddenly Gold Super, the man in charge of the men who do it all...

The job was fairly easy. When somebody called for Gold Super for a decision, Josh would drive to the location and ask, "What does the tech data say?" That solved most of his problems. He showed up to the status briefings, and the Wolf fired a few questions at him, but if he was stuck for an answer Josh would say, "I'm just the truck bitch sir."

The next day Josh was in the truck with Captain McLeish monitoring the "Turn and Burns." The planes flew almost all day long. They'd land, get fuel and the loaders would do a half weapons load, then count the download as the other half of the upload leaving the plane ready to fly. The turn and burns went smoother than Josh expected, but he noticed Gold One, the crew chief supervisor, arguing with a weapons load crew. "Shit!" swore Josh. "That bastard is trying to get the boys to pencil whip the load."

"What?" asked the astonished captain.

"Sergeant Dillard, Gold One is almost late reporting his plane 'flight ready' because they took forever pumping fuel on it, now he wants the weapons loaders to sign off the forms stating that the half load was complete without actually doing the load."

"There's an evaluator right there! That could blow the exercise."

"But he'd keep his on-time record," said Josh. "That cock sucker would kill his own grandma if it got his planes off the ground on time... wait!"

Just then, Gold Four pulled up and the shotgun side door slammed open and Lieutenant Kenosha stepped out before the truck stopped rolling. He went up to Senior Master Sergeant Dillard and began reaming him a new asshole. Josh couldn't hear what the lieutenant was saying, but the weapons load crew looked impressed and Senior Master Sergeant Dillard backed off like a whipped puppy. The lieutenant pointed at the bombs, then at the plane and the load crew got right to work.

"Damn!" gasped Captain McLeish. Sergeant Dillard NEVER backs down!

"I trained that lieutenant," said Josh.

"You sure as shit did!" They fist bumped and discussed how awesome Lieutenant Kenosha has become. Twenty minutes later, they were under Alert Black and parked in the shelter again. They were with the load crew that loaded the plane and they were telling how Lieutenant Kenosha tore into Sergeant Dillard.

"That man's embarrassed to be alive after that!" one loader said.

"He's probably going to slap his momma for giving birth to him," said Heidi.

"I thought the lieutenant was gonna shit himself when Josh came up and hugged him like that," said another loader.

"You're damn right," added Lieutenant Kenosha to everyone's amusement.

"Excuse me, who is driving that pickup?" asked an exercise evaluator.

"Again?" groaned Josh.

"Master Sergeant Ephraim Joshua Gravely is driving today," said Captain McLeish.

The evaluator handed Josh a 'smart dead' tag and said, "Where would you like your ashes sent, sarge?"

"Just sprinkle them over the chow hall food. That way I'll be buried here in Korea." Josh picked up his duffle bag, took off his gas mask, and walked back to the block house to get his bicycle. He met up with Roxie, who was wearing a smart dead tag as well. "Lunch time?" she asked.

"Yeah, I was thinking the taco salad."

"We need to get you a ride."

"I'm fine! I feel ok," lied Josh. Something was wrong, but he didn't know what it was. Something just wasn't right. The flight surgeon keeps telling him he's ok, but Josh was sure he was lying. "I have another visit with the flight surgeon on Friday. He's going to say the same damn thing that he always says."

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Friday morning was the exercise out brief. The 80th Fighter Squadron was rated Excellent, the highest rating possible and the first time in over a decade since they last received an Excellent rating. After the out brief, Lieutenant Colonel Walker entered the AMU. He wanted to give Josh the good news personally. Josh was picked as the Outstanding Contributor to the Juvat victory. When he got there, the building was almost empty. The only people present in the weapons flight were Lieutenant Kenosha and Senior Master Sergeant Johns. "Is Sergeant Gravely around?" asked the squadron commander.

Just as he asked that, his radio crackled to life. "Juvat one, this is base."

"Juvat one, go ahead."

"Sir, the flight surgeon would like you present for a Delta Briefing."

"Roger, on my way." He holstered his radio and muttered, "I hate this part of the job. I have to help the flight surgeon tell some poor soul that he's grounded. Oh well, where is Sergeant Gravely?"

"He's at the flight surgeon's office, sir," said Sammy Johns, who for the first time wasn't smiling.

At the flight surgeon's office, the flight surgeon was stalling for time until the commander got there. "Let's go over this one last time. Have your eating habits changed at all?"

"Yes, doc, I told you this several times, I have no appetite. So what? The food tastes funny here."

"Sergeant, you've lost twenty five pounds since you got here and you insist that you're not trying to lose weight."

"Believe me, drop me at any Baskin Robins and I'll find it back, every ounce."

"And you say that you're constantly fatigued."

"I'm working my ass off, of course I'm fatigued."

"You say that you have constant pain in your hip."

"Well yeah, I smashed the fuck out of it against a gun mount in a crash landing."

"That was a year ago."

Josh glared at the doctor. "My body holds grudges." He hopped off the table and started to button up his uniform blouse. "Look doc, I have another appointment. I promised to buy my expeditors a steak dinner if they aced this eval and they're going to cost me a full paycheck. Same time Friday after next?"

"Josh sit..." the doctor was going to say more but there was a knock on the door. "Enter."

Lieutenant Colonel Walker, Captain McLeish, and Lieutenant Kenosha stepped into the examination room, and each had a dour expression on their faces. Josh's heart sank. He flew for years and he knew exactly what a delta briefing was all about. Delta equals the letter D, which stands for Done. As in Done flying. But Josh isn't flying, so this can only mean Done living. "Y'all can't be here for a game of pinochle because I haven't reached that point in the lieutenant's training, so doc, let's drop the bullshit and you tell me what you haven't had the balls to mention."

"We found a tumor on your hip..." The room seemed to get darker as the doctor droned on. "You have a low grade osteosarcoma..." his words seemed to become a gentle babble in the background as Josh tried to think of something else, anything else that wasn't fatal. Happy smiling lunches with Hani and Lanh, walking through the shops downtown with Roxie and Wedge, sending packages back stateside for Rod and Deanna, Emory and Christy... then he noticed that there's no 'and' after his name. There's an and in everyone's name, but now Josh has an and...

Josh and cancer.

Fuck.

"... are there any questions Ephraim?" the doctor said for the third time.

Josh looked at him with red-rimmed eyes. "Tell me this is combat related."

"Is that important?"

"I don't want to die from using the wrong moisturizer or eating too much fruit!" Josh shouted. He fought to regain control and sat on the examination table, fist clenched, body trembling in anger.

"Of course it's important," said Lieutenant Kenosha.

"It is service related," said the doctor. "Due to burn pits and exposure to other toxic substances. You were in Saudi Arabia and Yemen during the specific times so you have a presumptive condition, the VA is required by executive order to presume that this condition is service related and you will receive the appropriate disability rating without question."

"What is that rating, doctor," asked Colonel Walker in a hushed voice.

"One hundred percent." The doctor told Josh that he will have a tax-free source of income, that the tumor was small and there's no sign that it was spreading and that with surgery, and chemo he'll be up and healthy in no time.

"No, no surgery for me," said Josh. "If I go into an Air Force or VA hospital to get a tumor removed, they'll probably cut off my balls."

"How about the Mayo Clinic in Jacksonville?"

Josh chuckled once. Jacksonville isn't far from home. Maybe he can walk off into the swamp and erase himself from this planet.

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At commander's call, Josh stood on stage and he was the number one circus monkey. They plied him with plaques, a Meritorious Service Medal, framed photographs with the commander, with his expediters, but his favorite showed him and Roxie in front of the commander's F-16. It was taken in happier days; they had an arm around each other and were laughing even though they were wearing their helmets and flack vests. Lately, she looked at him like he was dying. Contagious. Something to be pitied and avoided.

Roxie and Heidi actually started crying at commander's call because he looked so lost and alone up there on stage. Nine months ago, he arrived at the Wolfpack, eager and ready to take on any challenge. Now he looked like a used up shell of a man. Did Hani know that this was happening? Did she leave so she didn't have to watch him waste away?

Commander Walker didn't have to say that Josh had The Big C, by the time commanders call rolled around everyone knew. Finally, the circus act wound down and Josh whispered to Colonel Walker, asking to say a few words. When he got the microphone he said, "Thank you for this recognition, but ah didn' do nothin' special. Ah'm just a southern boy who grew up workin' on the shrimp boats and playin' baseball. Ah got here and found a team down on its luck and ah just asked y'all to start again with the basics, then I asked y'all to encourage each other to do a lil' bit better than ya did yesterday. An' ya did, and y'all remembered what it was like to be on a team again. An' we won!"

He sighed as the Wolfpack applauded themselves. When the applause settled down, Josh continued. "That's all it took, carin' for each other. I want to thank my expediters, my load teams, all those amazing specialists and crew chiefs who learned that we are not the enemy. Thanks guys for those flight evals and bombing scores. I know how hard that is... believe me, I know. The closest I ever got to bombing was putting a hand grenade in a mason jar and tossing it off the ramp." That was an old gunner's trick from back in Vietnam. It's doubtful that anyone has done it since then, but the rumor persists.

When the laughter died down, he continued in a soft, serious tone. "Remember this moment cause you ain't never gonna see it again. This team... this marvelous team of all you wonderful warriors is all gittin sent down to the minors back stateside where, if we're lucky, we kin apply whut we learnt here and make a new team outta what we find back there. God bless y'all and keep ya 'till we meet again in Valhalla."

<><><><><>

On Monday, the gang surrounded Josh, pulled his shirt and boots off, duct taped him to a chair and carried him outside where a crowd waited with a fire hose. It's US Air Force tradition to "Wash Down" a pilot after his last mission. It started in Vietnam and continues to this day. Pilots and grounds crews, cops, and office clerks get washed down, not because you're hated and they want to see you go, but for the opposite. It was a warm early spring day, but the water was frigid. Sammy Johns stood by Josh, insuring he got the occasional chance to "surface and breathe" as they hosed him down. Josh took it like a man. He sat quietly, freezing as the weapons loaders took their turns on the fire hose, saying goodbye the hard way.

Then the parade began.

The AMU was situated on a taxiway loop as far off the runway as possible. An east/west taxiway separated parking areas of the 80th in half and Josh noticed the commanders F-16 taxiing away from the runway on the east/west taxiway. It turned down the loop and taxied straight at Josh, followed by another aircraft, and another. All the morning fliers, all eight of them, the bright gold (actually yellow) stripe at the tip of their tails gleaming in the morning sun, their incredibly powerful engines shrieking and roaring. Engines so powerful they sucked the water up off the taxiway as they taxied by, and each pilot raised two fists in the Juvat salute as they slowly taxied past. They were followed by eight F-16s from the 35th Fighter Squadron, their blue tails high in the air above Josh. They gave Josh the Panton salute as they taxied past, the Panton salute being one fist raised with the thumb and pinky extended.

And then it was over. They cut Josh free and shook hands with him, and Lieutenant Kenosha produced a couple of bottles of Kirin, a Japanese beer that Josh developed a liking for, and Josh toasted with Sammy and Keith.

And then it was over. Josh was driven around base by Roxie or Wedge in the lieutenant's truck as he out processed from the different offices around base. He was feeling weak by the time he finished and was ready to board the bus for Seoul. The first sergeant, Mike Schaeffer, picked him up at the dorm and took his room key. "I hate having to do this," said Mike. "I know you want to finish out your tour."

"Thanks, big guy. Whenever I needed help, you were there for me or my guys."

"That's what it's all about. You stay safe and let a body know what's happening, ok?"

"Will do," and Josh got out of the First Sergeant's truck. They shook hands and Josh boarded the bus to the Inchon airport.

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The fire crackled in the fragrant forest. The smell of pines filled the air, wood smoke from the guttering fire mixed with the scent of freshly turned earth from the latrine pit Josh dug for the new outhouse. Last weekend they built a new "two holer" and Veronica hauled it up from the main cabin with their tractor, Little John. Together, they set the outhouse over the latrine pit and their campsite was complete.

The day was done, and the story was over. Somewhere a lonely owl hooted, and occasionally screeched, the crickets chirped, and the bull frogs down at the pond belched their mating songs.

"What do you mean that's it?" demanded Veronica as they snuggled under their quilts in the tent. Josh sighed. He started telling her the story at breakfast and told his story all day long and late into the night and was getting tired. Now it's well past moonrise. The only thing keeping him awake was Veronica's hand on his cock, gently stroking him to a full erection.

"Not much left to tell. l landed at Saint Louis, took a bus to Fort Walton Beach, and out processed from the Air Force. Colonel Walker had hooked me up with the IT department at Buff State, so I drove to Buffalo, went to night school while I worked as a tape monkey for XCom. I got my Cisco certification and demanded more money from XCom and they said, and I quote, 'We can't, you were listed in the new layoff, thanks for all the fish.' So I walked into the nearest tech company to give them my resume. They were interested, but so was Anthony. The Tech Shop offered more money, but I liked Anthonys HR specialist better."

"Wait. That was me that gave you the HR briefing," said Veronica. "Anthony asked me to do it."

"I know," said Josh with a grin. She had straddled his hips, and he pulled her close for a kiss.

"Wait, your cancer! What happened with your cancer?"

"Oh, that."

"Yeah! THAT!" Veronica nearly shrieked.

"After I was cut loose by Uncle Sam, Pastor Rod drove me to Jacksonville and I checked in at the Mayo clinic. I got some chemo which I hated, they operated and got the tumor off my hip, they gave me some more chemo, then Deanna and the kids came and took me home. I stayed with Rod and Deanna until I felt well enough to travel. I went to Emory and Christy's wedding and..."

"Were you the best man? You should have been, you introduced them," said Veronica as she kissed her way down to Josh's nipples.

"No, he chose someone else, but he begged me to sing for them. I sang Innamorata, it's Christy's favorite...

"I wonder how you figured that out," said Veronica slyly.

"Shh! My story. After the wedding I got my jeeps out of storage, drove to Buffalo and started classes at Buff State. I went to Roswell Park cancer center for follow up treatment. I still go once a year. It's been almost seven years and I'm still cancer free. Can I go to sleep now?"

"No! What about your medal of honor?"

"What medal of honor?"

"It's on your ribbon rack. I saw the picture of you at the White House with the president."

"Nah... you must be thinking of somebody else," said Josh as he rolled her over and climbed between her legs. Their lips met as he slowly entered the woman he loved more than life itself. Is it possible that everything he experienced in that last year led up to this very moment? Was life, or God himself training him for Veronica like he tore down and retrained Lieutenant Kenosha for the squadron?

As they sweetly made love by the light of a campfire and serenaded by owls, Josh became fully aware that there were no coincidences.

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The problems facing the men and women that secure our freedom are numerous and complex and all too often forgotten in times of peace and security. We have done our veterans an incalculable disservice by ignoring their contributions and heartaches over the past 30 years. If you have a veteran in your life facing a crisis, or you yourself are facing one, please contact:

The Veteran's CrisisLine Dial 988 the PRESS 1 or Text 838255