Star Girl Page 5

  “There it is then Lieutenant. Now you are officially qualified on the T one. Well see if we can get you qualified officially on some other birds, if we have time before your orders come down. It might happen quickly although.”

  “Excuse me sir, do you mean that I have graduated flight school.”

  “Yes.”

  “But don’t I need more than two flight hours on my record?”

  “Your father took care of that Lieutenant. He signed and verified your previous hours, which he had meticulous records of. From what you just demonstrated Romero, I have no doubt that you were born to fly.”

  “I was born to fly jets sir, and I want to request combat duty, or as close as they will let me get.”

  “Let the old man know.” He chuckles

  My orders come down quick, in three days. I am to report to Eglin Air Force base in Florida for Tactical Air Warfare School. There I am to report to the forty four, forty fist Tactical Training Group. I barely have time to say goodbye to Debbie as I have to catch a MAC flight to Florida leaving in an hour. I give her my folks’ address, and number telling her that she can find out how to get a hold of me through them. Then I am off.

  The big C one forty one delivers me to my next station in the dark of night. I am escorted to the BOQ and given my own small room. After I unpack my duffle bag, I hit the rack, tired from the long day. In the morning I am taken to report to the CO of the school. He welcomes me, telling me he knows my father. It’s kind of nice having my name precede me everywhere.

  The school is heavy on classroom instruction at first, and I pay close attention to these veteran combat pilots teaching us things that will save our lives. It isn’t long though before we are up in the trainers actually having mock combat scenarios to perform. I do pretty well, as my instructors all tell me. Seldom being shot down, simulated of course, by anyone; and then it is always by one of the veteran instructors. Afterwards they debrief us with instruction how to avoid such tactics being used against us. Each time, the instructor tells me that they had to pull out all stops to get me, and that it wasn’t easy.

  I graduate with honors again, and am given orders to report to the four hundred and fifth Tactical Training Wing at Bergstrom Air Force base in Texas. I catch a MAC flight out, and am taken to report to the Wing Commander right away. He knows my father too, he tells, and again I know I am welcome like family. Then he makes my day, telling me that I am to qualify on the F twenty two Raptor right away.

  The ground school for the bird comes first, and I eat it up. I want to know everything about the Raptor. This takes a full two work weeks, and then we are introduced to the model B trainers. Again I impress my instructor by being able to take right to the beautiful bird. I qualify pretty darn quickly, and then they just let me rack up a bunch of hours for the next several weeks, getting intimate with the Raptor. I love it more than anything, except my family that is.

  I am transferred to the forty ninth Tactical Fighter Wing headquartered there on Bergstrom, and then flown out to the Seventh Tactical Fighter Squadron stationed at Holloman Air Force base in Alamogordo, New Mexico. This is my semi-permanent duty assignment, for the time being. As I report to the squadron Commander he is the first CO in a while that doesn’t say he knows my dad.

  “We are going to have you logging some flight hours for the next couple of weeks Romero, then you’ll be sent TAD to Nellis for live weapons school. Your training record is impressive, I hope you live up to it.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “I understand that you requested combat duty.”

  “Yes sir, I do.”

  “You will get your wish Romero. We are being rotated into Iraq in three months.”

  “Yes sir!”

  At Nellis Air Force base I get to do live fire exercises, dropping bombs on things, yea. I like the smart bombs the best, as they just don’t miss, but I get pretty good at the freefall munitions too. Soon I am back in New Mexico, and logging many hours with my flight leader teaching me how he specifically wants me to have his wing. Just before we ship out I am finally given furlough to go visit my family.

  Dad picks me up in the Eagle again, and I’m home in minutes. I wait to tell both mom and dad at the same time.

  “I’m shipping out to Iraq when I get back.”

  Mom draws a sharp breath in. Dad just nods, and looks down.

  “You can’t let them send her there George!”

  “It’s her career. All I did was help her get into the Academy, she did the rest.”

  “And you taught me to fly jets dad, thank you so much for that. I’ll always love flying.”

  “George!” Mel insists.

  “Relax, she’s a Raptor driver. She’ll be up at fifty thousand feet, and the rebels don’t have SAMs.”

  “I’ll be fine mom, I know what I’m doing.”

  “So did all those kids who get shipped home in those damn aluminum boxes.” She starts crying, so both dad and I go and hug her.

  My folks tell me that Debbie had called and left a number she would be at for a while, but she called two weeks ago, so I am told by her mother that I just missed her by three days. She then tells me that Debbie is currently in Florida taking War School, as best as she understands it. That’s a good sign for her, as only fighter pilots go to train at the Air Warfare School. She’s making her dream come true just like I am, and I’m happy for her. I tell her mom that I will try again when I can.

  Next I try to get a hold of Carly, but there is still no answer, so I leave another message. I spend the precious time with my family, and mom has relaxed a bit finally, though I still see the worry in her eyes when she looks at me. It bothers me that I am hurting her, but it is what I have to do.

  It goes by so quickly, and before I know it mom is crying a deep sobbing fit as dad and I leave for the base. I fly back to New Mexico, and then dad flies back alone. The very next day we are briefed on our deployment, and told our flight plan. In the morning the squadron takes off for Iraq. The ground crew and all their gear have been loaded onto C five Galaxies for the long journey. They will join us shortly after we land.

  We fly in wedge formation across the US to the east, and we refuel in the air over Florida, before heading across the Atlantic. Each of our birds has two external fuel tanks in the weapon’s bay, and fast packs as well, giving us a range of almost thirty five hundred miles. Our next destination is to rendezvous with another two tankers near the southern tip of Spain, and from there we fly right on into Bagdad, via Turkish airspace.

  Chapter 4

  First thing in country we are taken to our quarters, which is part of the old Iraqi air force’s base on the international airport grounds. We are shown the bunkers that we will evacuate to if there is an attack. It is explained that we are in the expanded green zone, but sometimes mortar attacks still occur. Then we are told to get some shut eye as we will be mustered for indoctrination at oh ten hundred. The predawn gray is just beginning, so that doesn’t give us long to sleep.

  Indoctrination is eye opening to say the least.

  “Welcome to Iraq. As you were told earlier, you are inside the green zone. If you have to leave the base for some reason, stay in the green zone. Don’t worry, if you are about the leave the green zone the guards at the check points will need to see proper authorization to allow you to do so. It won’t just happen accidentally. Next, we have faced random, but consistent attacks ever since we liberated this fine country. If the alarms go off, immediately proceed to the nearest bunker. You will all memorize the locations of all these emergency shelters ASAP, keep them in mind at all times. Next, do not impair your hearing of the alarms by wearing headphones, always leave one earpiece off. Also report anything, or anyone suspicious immediately. Be alert of any of the locals that you may see contracting for us here on base. Do not trust them. That goes for any contact you have with the indigenous population. Now, we are at war, and you are all officers of the United States, therefore you are all targets, prime targets for our v
ery sneaky enemy. You will all be armed with side arms at all waking hours, is that understood?”

  “Yes sir.” Comes the chorus.

  “Outstanding. Lastly if you see suspicious activity, or an attack take place, and you do not hear the alarms, then you need to activate the alarm on one of the many loudspeaker towers around the base, learn where these all are as well. Now Lieutenant Tomas will show you around the base, and all the amenities we have provided for your entertainment.”

  I almost scoff at that. I didn’t come here to be entertained, I came here to fight a damn war.

  We are shown the recreation lounges with large screen TVs, pool tables, fooze-ball tables, dart boards, all kinds of fun stuff. Then there is an officer’s club, a bar basically, with a big sign behind the bar reading, ‘Twenty four hours between the bottle and the throttle!’ The chow hall is next on the tour, and our guide tells us that we will not get tired of the food as it is exceptional. We are told to have some lunch if we would like, and we are all starving by then. The food is delicious just as the Lieutenant promised, and the whole squadron seems to approve. With me being the rookie of the bunch, and the youngest by far it seems; I am just really getting to know some of the guys. There is one other woman as well, Captain Hanford, and she has taken a liking to me, seeing that she had been the sole female of the squadron before I showed up. I can tell it is a motherly thing with her, and I don’t mind if she takes me under her wing.

  She makes sure to sit at the table with me while we all scarf down the chow.

  “So how old are you anyhow Romero? You look awfully young to me.” She shakes her head.

  “I’ll turn twenty one in November.”

  She stops chewing and her jaw drops. “It’s not possible, is it?”

  I nod. “I entered the Academy when I just turned seventeen, and I breezed through my qualification on the T one.”

  “How did you do that?”

  “I already had well over a thousand hours on it before I even signed up.”

  “Same question Romero.”

  “My dad is an Air Force General, he is the CO of SAC HQ. He had me flying jets since I was thirteen.”

  She just blinks, and shakes her head. “Lucky girl.”

  I nod with a grin.

  “Oh, Romero. Remind me to be nice to you, since your dad’s a General.” She smiles.

  I laugh.

  We are told that we are on stand down for the rest of the day, and the next day as well. On the way back to my quarters I see the giant Galaxies have arrived, and our ground crew are busily unloading all of their gear. Good, I want to get flying instead of sitting around here. I go unpack my duffle bag and get settled into my private room, with a full bathroom in it. This must have been for the Iraqi squadron commander or something I figure. Then I’m bored, so I wander over to the rec lounge, and find it busy with pilots.

  Our squadron Commander, Colonel Hall, waves me over to a pool table he is alone at.

  “Care for a game Lieutenant?”

  “Yes sir.”

  He racks the balls up, and invites me to break.

  “So you are all of twenty years old, and you are a Raptor driver. I looked it up Romero, you are officially the youngest in history to do that.”

  “Really… sir?”

  He nods with a grin. “But don’t expect a prize, other than being sent here to beautiful, bleak Iraq.”

  “This is all I could ever ask for sir.” I am dead pan, and it draws a chuckle from him.

  “Captain Hanford sure has taken a shine to you. She’s a damn good pilot, and a fine officer, follow her lead, this isn’t her first deployment over here.”

  “Yes sir. I’m glad for her help Colonel.”

  “Good, now expect to be assigned to close support strike missions mostly. You don’t have any problems dropping bombs on people do you Romero?”

  “No sir, anything for my Country sir.”

  “That’s what I needed to hear you say Lieutenant.” He pauses to line up a shot.

  I speak up with a question, “Colonel, has the squadron lost any pilots over here?”

  “No, and I plan on keeping it that way Romero. Don’t you go being the first, and that’s a direct order!”

  “I won’t sir. Thank you.”

  “Look, pretty much all the guys have mentioned that you are like their kid sister to them already, myself included. So if we ever seem a little over protective, that’s why.”

  I nod. “Colonel, may I ask you a personal question?”

  “Sure, fire away.”

  “Have you ever had to fight Air to Air sir?”

  “Yes. At the very beginning of operation Desert Storm, during the campaign to establish air space superiority. I got two Fulcrums on the same day, and six other support birds later.”

  “You are a bona-fide ace then sir.” I say with awe. I want that so badly, to be the first female ace in history. It won’t happen here, not now though, as the enemy has no aircraft.

  He grins and nods.

  “Two Mig twenty nines in one day. I’d love to hear the details some time sir.”

  “That will require you to buy me a drink first.” He chuckles.

  I wind up watching some satellite television for a while, and then I am hungry again, so I head to the chow hall. This time through the buffet line I get roast beef with mashed potatoes and brown gravy, along with green beans. Though it kind of sounds plain, it sure isn’t. Everything is done perfectly, and seasoned to make my mouth water.

  After dinner, I go to the officer’s club, and I decide to see if they will serve me even though I am under age. The bartender doesn’t bat an eye as I order a rum and coke. Hell, I don’t even know if I like the drink, as I have rarely only had a beer or two. As I ask how much I owe him, the bar keep tells me that it comes out of the squadron kitty. Just as I am about to ask him about this, he goes to the other end of the bar to fix another drink for a fellow.

  “The squadron kitty is a fund that we all contribute too, don’t worry the XO will hit you up for it soon enough.” One of our pilots tells me with a nice smile. His last name is Davidson, and he is a first Lieutenant.

  “Oh, okay. Sure… sir.” I nod.

  “No sir, in the club Romero, please. Call me Jeff.”

  “Okay Jeff, then you have to call me Stephanie, or Steph.”

  “Well, it boggles all of our minds how young you are Steph. You seem to be a fine pilot too. Just try not to let anything get to you, okay. Just go with the plan.” He sighs.

  I know he means what we will have to do, and not to let it bother me.

  “You’ve been here before, I take it.”

  “One tour. It’s a long year here Steph. Hope you have some hobbies.”

  “Hey, can I get model kits here Jeff?”

  “What, like plastic model kits?”

  “Yeah, aircraft! I love building model aircraft.”

  “I used to love that too, when I was younger. I had even built a mammoth B fifty two in one forty fifth scale. It was really neat in that you could open the top, and see all the accurate inside details.”

  “Where can I get some kits?”

  “The base PX might have some, heck I want to build one now too. Let’s go look in the morning okay?”

  “You’re on Jeff. I hope they have putty and paint if they have kits.”

  “You are really into it huh Steph?”

  I giggle like a kid.

  After breakfast Jeff walks me over to the PX, and sure enough they have a pretty good selection of kits. Most are of Air Force jets, and I pick out a detailed, expensive kit of a Raptor in one thirty second scale. Jeff gets a one forty fifth scale F fifteen Eagle kit. I get my putty and paints I’ll need, and we sign the pay deduction vouchers with the cashier. This should keep me occupied on stand down days. We head back to the rec room to eagerly get started on our kits.

  As we pour over the molded parts the other pilots in the lounge all come to see, and they also check out the kits with in
terest. It is lunch time by the time I get my first step pieces painted, dry, and glued together. Jeff goes with me to eat, and Captain Hanford joins us. Everyone seems to get along really well, and that sure makes me feel at home.

  “Are you getting settled in again, Captain?” Jeff asks her.

  “Unfortunately, yes. It’s just like we left it last time, SNAFU.”

  “Rodger that sir.” He chuckles.

  “Captain Hanford, were you with the squadron back in Desert Storm?”

  “No, I was assigned a few years after that.”

  “So is the Colonel the only one who was with the squadron then?”

  “Major Hoyt was with him then. He was his wing man.”

  “Okay.” I figure to ask him if I can’t get the Colonel to the club for a drink. I am Major Hoyt’s wingman after all, he’ll tell me. I know he likes how I listen to his instructions, as he has told me so.

  Just then the Major asks to join us.

  “Speak of the devil…sir.” Captain Hanford says with a smile.

  “That’s right Shirley, I am the Devil. Don’t forget it.” He sits down.

  “We were just talking about you Eric.” She grins.

  “I know. The Devil knows all things.” He sighs with an unaffected manner. “I also know it was bad. It’s always bad. No respect… the Devil gets no respect.”

  “Major, were you there when the Colonel shot down those two Fulcrums?” I have to know about this.

  “Yes, he actually saved my life that day.” He looks at me with his cool, calm brown eyes unblinking.

  “What happened?”

  “Well, I’ll tell you some, but you’ll have to get the rest from the Colonel, it’s his story. Anyway we were on Mig CAP over Bagdad on the opening day of the air campaign. Two Fulcrums made a pure vertical takeoff to intercept us at thirty thousand. The SEAD mission just before we arrived on station had knocked out all the SAM sites around the city, so they scrambled fighters after us. We didn’t see them, and neither did our AWACS controller until they were behind us at twenty thousand.”

  “What did you do?”