Baghdad or Bust (7 page)

    Almost everyone on the list was in the new quarters, so I stopped there first. On the way, I went by my room to grab something to eat. Cowboy and Chris were already asleep.

    The next couple of hours went by quickly. An hour after alerting the crew, I had to go back and pick everyone up. A few hours later I had to drive them out to the plane, and in between I had a number of other things to do. I found out Ray, my office chief from Sembach, was temporarily working the night shift also. He showed me the ropes.

    It was after 06:00 the next morning before I finally got to get some sleep—nothing like working a twelve-hour night after a twelve-hour day. By the time I reached my room, I could’ve slept standing up. Even so, upon reflection, had I the chance to do it again, I still would’ve flown. Who knows, maybe I was on that flight for a reason; if I hadn’t been there, things could have gone differently.

It was 17:45 when Charlotte pulled up in front of the barracks. I was waiting outside and she tossed me the keys. She had alerted Captain Hillman’s crew nearly an hour ago. By the time I dropped her off at the main billeting quarters, where I picked up Candid the crew’s copilot; Karen, aka Mellow Yellow; and Sandy, part of the mission crew, and then returned to the new quarters, everyone else was waiting to head down to ops.

    I checked off the names on my list as the remainder of the crew boarded: Rollin, the AMT; Darwin, the Eng; Captain Hillman, the Pilot; Beebop, the Nav; Stopwatch, the MCC; and the rest of the mission crew: Topper, Able, Max, Tommy, and Steve.

    I was sure glad I wasn’t on this crew. They looked downright glum. It was most likely due to Stopwatch’s presence. He was a definite anal-retentive SOB. He was the type of person that made flying a miserable chore just because he was in a sour mood. And since it was fairly safe to say he hadn’t gotten laid in the past four weeks unless it was by Madam and her five queens, he was surely in a fire-pissing mood.

    The drive to ops went quickly. “Cheer up!” I told Tommy and Able as they piled out of the van. “Things could be worse; you could find out you have to work MPC after flying all day.”

    The ops center was quiet when I entered. The duty officer was playing Tetris on a Gameboy. He didn’t even look up when I put the keys to the van on the key rack.

    “Get with Ray,” he said when I was about to sit down. “He’ll show you how to break out the ATO for tomorrow’s lines.”

    I shot him a hard glance. I was still a little bitter about having to work twelve full hours yesterday after a flight. He didn’t even see it. He was still playing Tetris. I asked, “Where is he?”

    “Lounge, I’d expect.”

    I glanced at the big board. “There’s a preflight crew that has to go out to the plane in thirty.”

    “Well, you got thirty minutes, don’t you?”

    I left the room and found Ray in the lounge quickly afterward. He was watching CNN. “You want to help me break out the ATO?” I asked.

    “Relax,” Ray said, “we got all evening.”

    “The LT said—”

    “Sisco’s got some problems back home; just stay out of his way. Take a break when you can get it. Daytime MPC’s hell sometimes. No reason night MPC should be unless you want it that way.”

    He’d just shown me how to wind my gears down from the high intensity and high anxiety of flying to a low gear and a calmer pace. “Hey, thanks, Ray. That’s good advice.”

    “That’s what I’m here for.”

    I sat down and tried to relax. The couch against my backside felt good when I wasn’t all tensed up waiting to go fly.

    Thirty minutes sped by and soon it was time to take the Eng and the AMT out to the plane for preflight. Rollin and Darwin gave me a better flight line orientation than I’d gotten yesterday; riding in the back was different from riding up front.

    When I returned, Ray and I broke out the Air Tasking Orders for the next day’s lines. The tasking orders contained the pertinent information for the flights, including the packages they’d be supporting. They were highly accountable items and they never left the ops center. After we finished with the ATO, we updated the mission plans, the files, and the big board.

    “That’s the routine,” Ray said. “On MPC you drive and you plan; and if we’re lucky, Sisco there’ll let one of us go early.”

    Sisco looked up from his Gameboy briefly and smirked. I frowned.

    It was time to take Captain Hillman’s crew out to the plane, so I ambled to the lounge and yelled, “Time to saddle up, boys and girls!”

    The emotions I felt as I drove up in front of the Lady were different than usual. I wasn’t all charged up, but I desperately wanted to go. Instinctively, I put the van in park, dropped the keys into my pocket, and prepared to head out, but then I remembered I was the driver today and not the flyer.

    I watched the crew go while I stayed; and as an afterthought, I yelled after them, “Have a good flight. I’ll be here to pick you up when you return.”

I used to love holidays, Christmas and New Year’s Eve, and those special days like Valentine’s Day. I’d wait for their approach, just as I had when I was a small boy. There was always a special splash of magic in a holiday. But all the magic was gone.

    The sun hadn’t even begun its slow descent in the western sky when I started the short trek to ops. Several companies of Turkish troops were marching along the side of the road. I regarded them as they passed, and they me. They eyed my flight suit the same way I eyed the weapons they shouldered. I was fairly resolved that this evening’s shift would eke by counted by seconds, minutes and hours until morning arrived. I carried with me a flight bag containing supper, lunch, and breakfast, and a manual can opener to open it all.

    Thursday had been an interesting day. I’d slept through most of it. I’d slept eight hours and was still tired. Suddenly flopping to straight nights was hell on my already-traumatized system. I still made it to the gym today, squashing my quadriceps so many times that my legs felt like lead weights. I needed the slow amble to stretch out more than I knew.

    The Turkish troops were gone now. I was alone, or at least I felt alone. When military vehicles weren’t driving by on the long straight road, it was so quiet I could hear my breath, the sound of stones beneath my feet, and the chirping of birds. Everything seemed calm and serene, almost as if I were not a part of the war effort anymore. As I walked, I imagined that it was out there somewhere beyond the mountains and that for a few more days it wasn’t going to touch me. Five more days like this was something to look forward to.

    The shift began as the previous two had. I checked when the lines would go, wrote out the lists of whom I needed to pick up when, broke out what remained of the air tasking orders—the day shift had already started them. Popcorn and Ray arrived at the top of the hour. Sisco had also been early. He was already waging his private war against Gameboy and Tetris.

    No crews needed to be picked up or alerted until 19:45, and as I’d already finished up the mission plans, there wasn’t much else to do but sit back and relax. I thought it was a good time to make supper, and so I did. I cracked open a can of refried beans, plopped them onto a paper plate, then opened a can of cream style corn and poured it on top—a gourmet dinner, as usual. I had a few wieners left from yesterday that I’d put in the fridge, so I stuck them deep into the goo. Five minutes in the microwave and it would all come out steaming.

    When the microwave dinged, I was ready to eat. I went to work shoveling food into my mouth spoonful by gooey spoonful while staring at the TV. We didn’t have much selection on channels. It was either CNN or AFN. CNN was usually on at ops. The big news of the day was still the Baghdad shelter that had been bombed yesterday. There was also a small bit on the burning oilfields in Kuwait that were mucking up the skies over the battlefield. An estimated fifty fields were churning up black smoke.

    Eventually, 19:45 arrived. I looked at Popcorn. He didn’t look like he was going to move from his relaxed crouch in front of the TV for another five or six hours. I was itching to do something anyway, so I made the run. With a hint of rain in it, the evening air was fresh and rather invigorating. I swept through the barracks rather quickly, alerting ten of the twelve crewers in about fifteen minutes. All the while I did this, the smell of barbecue chicken and beer assaulted my nostrils; a group of crew dogs were having a little get together. I carried that scent of chicken and beer along with me back to ops. Having eaten or not, I still wished I could join in.

    When I returned to ops, Popcorn was already trying to talk Sisco into letting him go early. That was Popcorn. “It’ll be a slow night. You don’t need all of us here.”

    “I know what you’re driving at; I’m not sure I should let you go again, Popcorn.”

    “He’s probably right,” I added, putting the van keys back in their place, “it does look to be a slow night.”

    “All right, all right,” Sisco finally said, “you two decide which one of you goes and which stays.”

    Popcorn pulled a quarter out of his pocket, “Heads or tails?”

    I stared Popcorn dead in the eye. He stared back unwaveringly. He had no idea that anyone other than him deserved some relief time. That was Popcorn, always thinking of himself first. “Ah hell, take off. I don’t mind staying. Isn’t tonight your last night anyway?”

    “That’s what they keep telling me.” Popcorn paused, then repeated what he’d just said, “That’s what they keep telling me.”

    Popcorn stood there a moment eyeing me. “You going to give me a ride back to the barracks or what?”

    “Legs broke?”

    “Naw, just lazy,” he replied.

    “I knew that,” I said, grabbing the key ring again. When I dropped him off, I just stayed at the barracks. I saw no point in driving back to ops and then returning fifteen minutes later. The smell of chicken and beer drew me to the patio. I was itching to join in, and that’s when Tommy found me.

    “Have a beer!” he screamed out, seeing me in my flight suit looking like I’d just returned from a flight.

    “Can’t man, MPC.”

    “Have one anyway,” said Cosmo, who’d just come up behind me.

    I glanced at him. His nose and cheeks were rosy red, and his eyes weren’t focusing properly. Drunk, Cosmo looked calm as can be.

    “No, really I can’t, I’m waiting to drive a crew to ops.”

    “Which crew?” cut in Tommy.

    “Three, I think.”

    “Captain Gandis is the AC? She’s a fox. Man, what I wouldn’t give for a piece of.”

    “Wait a minute. You’re on Hillman’s crew aren’t you?”

    “Yeah.”

    “Didn’t Able tell you that you’re flying? He told me you were in the shower when I came to alert you guys.”

    “I was. Guess that means I can’t finish this beer. Good thing it’s my first.”

    He handed the mostly full bottle to Cosmo and raced into the barracks.

    “When you see Able thank him for me, will you?” I screamed after him.

    I turned back to Cosmo. “You know your alert time for tomorrow, yet?”

    “No, is it an O’dark thirty again?”

    “How’d you guess? 03:00 alert, sorry.”

    Cosmo got that look in his eyes again. “Thanks,” he said as he ambled off.

    I waited a few more minutes for the crew to start making their way out to the van, then checked their names off as they boarded.

    Ops was indeed quiet when I returned. Three hours later, I took the crew out to the Lady and longingly watched them go. “Have a good flight,” I shouted after the retreating forms, “I’ll be here when you get back!”

    It was nearly midnight when I pulled back up in front of ops, and inside the ops center, Sisco wasn’t fiddling with Gameboy anymore. We had company. Major James had arrived about five minutes before I had returned; but Sisco was safe, the major wasn’t looking for an AC.

    “I need you to do something for me,” said the major, putting his hand on my shoulder and looking me in the eye. “What I’m about to tell you stays between these four walls. And it’s not definite yet by any means.” He paused and I looked at him expectantly.

    “Who’s down there in intel?”

    “I don’t think anyone is now,” I replied, “Derrin’s probably asleep, and I don’t know where the lieutenant is.”

    “Well, here’s the scoop. There’s a major initiative tomorrow, and we need to be able to support packages striking Baghdad.”

    “Baghdad?” I replied, even though I already knew what he meant by the statement; but I wasn’t quite sure that it equated to the start of the ground war.

    “Yes, it’ll free up forces to start hitting the front lines even harder. They’re going to go after troop concentrations and the Republican Guard hard. If we get the green light, we’re going to be giving them everything we got tomorrow, and then some. Find Derrin or the lieutenant, and I’ll outline the mission on the map. I suppose you know this means some re-planning.”

    Now I knew what he meant; the ground war wasn’t going to kick off, but they were getting ready for it, or so it seemed. “I’m not doing anything else, and a little more planning won’t bother me at all.”

    I didn’t find Derrin, but I found the lieutenant. He’d been catching some shuteye, but he snapped awake when I quietly explained that the major wanted to see him. The lieutenant was a tall, lanky guy that we called Elmer Fudd. Not because he looked like him, but because he could mimic the voice fairly well.

    Major James outlined the plans and where we’d be flying on the big map. I drew the lines in with an erasable marker. The front edge of the box was right on top of a group of AAA sites.

    “See,” Major James began, “that’s why I need you two to head over to the tactical division and see exactly where the threats are currently located. I’ll be here when you get back. We can finish up. You have your badges, don’t you?”