Page 42 of Confessions of an Apache Pilot

“Scowl all you want,” she said with a shrug. “I’ve seen you do it a lot over the years.” She stood and stared down at me with a soft look on her face. “I love you like a sister. I want you to be happy.” Her eyes strayed over to where Sheppard had disappeared into the dark. “He could do that for you. He could give you everything you’ve ever wanted, but you have to let him in. Think about that.”

As she strode off, leaving me sitting with a group of people, yet feeling completely alone, I thought about her words. She wasn’t wrong. I just wasn’t willing to admit it to anyone. I wasn’t sure I could forget the harsh lesson Scott had taught me, or the resulting habits I’d formed in order to protect myself.

I sighed and rested my chin in my hands, staring at the dancing flames as the others laughed around me.

CHAPTER 23

Mark

It’d taken me a few hours to get over my anger. The gall of her, to ask if I was messing around with her over here, while I had someone I loved at home, dinged my pride. I’d never do something like that. Then my inner voice had reminded me that she didn’t know me and that was likely her way of inquiring whether I was truly available, or if this was an office fling that wouldn’t go anywhere. Then I thought about the little weasel I choked a few days ago. I still didn’t know the story with him, but my guess was that I had him to thank for her…caution.

By the time I laid down in my bunk I’d calmed down and realized Jen had every right to ask that of me. She probably hadn’t meant for it to sound as insulting as it had. Hell, for most men it wouldn’t be. She’d soon know me well enough to know that I’d never do that to someone I cared about. My eyes closed and I let sleep claim me.

Even though the days had gotten busy, Jen was starting to thaw out and open up. There wasn't much time to spend together, let alone talk about what'd happened, our kiss, choking that asshole, or what was happening between us, but when we'd pass each other in the halls she'd smile at me. We were both acting like she hadn't inadvertently called my honor into question, and that I hadn't reacted badly.

I wanted a break so I could keep her from running off and closing up again, but I also needed to stay focused. Working this much I couldn’t spare the time to even think about her, about us. So I fell back into work mode. Today especially was a day that I needed to have my mind free of her. It was turning out to be a long one.

Days like this almost always happen by accident. You would be on call for an emergency, or on a standard patrol, and stumble into some drama that would turn into a long night. We did deliberate operations pretty regularly. Green Berets would want an escort into a village and we would station overhead for immediate engagements in case they needed us. Even when there was fighting, it would be over quickly. It had been planned for.

Seldom did we do multiple turns on one deliberate operation. Usually you would trade out with another team when you were low on fuel, head back to the base, refuel and rearm, then check in to see if the operation was still happening. Most days, by the time you checked back in, your replacement team was heading back and the mission was over. Most days.

Excitement buzzed through the cockpit. Today was a special day. We escorted the Green Berets, riding in two Chinooks, into a village on the south side of The Wall, the mountain range south of Mazar. When we were six kilometers out, the Chinooks started to slow down and adjust for their landings, while we pulled ahead and assumed a circular orbit overhead so that we would be in range to attack if anything started up. Artie and I were flying together. Pressing my helmet to the glass, I looked over my shoulder and found our second helicopter directly across from us. My laughter rang out as I saw a middle finger pressed to the glass.

“Leave it to Brady to keep things interesting,” Artie said with his own chuckle. “Let's be thankful that he’s not pressing anything else against the glass.”

“Brady, you keep your eyes three-hundred meters and out. We’ll keep our eyes on the Beards, three-hundred meters and in, just as we briefed,” I called on the radio as we assumed our orbit. His finger disappeared so he could answer over the radio.

It didn’t take long for shit to go sideways. Preventing it from going to hell in a handbasket was why we were here, that didn’t mean seeing trouble start didn’t have sweat rolling down my spine. We were in charge of all the lives in those helicopters. They were depending on us. The Chinooks set down in their planned landing zone and as soon as their wheels hit the ground there was an explosion.

Cursing at the bad luck, I maneuvered my helicopter into position to intercept any shitheads that thought to get a shot off at the vulnerable birds on the ground. My heartbeat drummed in my ears as we scanned for any targets.

Luckily for all of us, our Chinook pilots were smart and we all knew the insurgents’ tactics by now. When they had looked over the map of the village with the Beards, it showed a landing zone that would be close to the objective, smooth and easy to navigate, but also easy to ambush. The rest of area around the town was rocky and jagged, with one dirt road leading in and out.

The layout of the town was L shaped, though from our approach path it was an upside-down L. This left a nice, flat, open area for two large helicopters to land. It was also near the set of buildings that the Beards needed to get into. The Chinook pilots knew this type of trap. They’d convinced the Beards that they would land one-hundred meters west of the perfect landing zone, in some less than desirable rocky terrain. The Green Beret team had agreed that it was better to risk a broken ankle in rough terrain than to be an easy target.

“Holy shit,” Artie commented. “Good thing they skipped that area.”

“They mentioned it during the briefing,” I replied, keeping an eye on the two helicopters on the ground. “They figured it would leave them too exposed. That one decision just saved their lives.”

The explosion was a series of buried IEDs in the flat area. There wouldn’t have been anything we could have done to help them. The trigger man must have thought that the helicopters were close enough to damage them, or maybe he got overly excited and blew the IEDs anyway. It didn’t matter because the explosions missed their intended target. The Beards were pouring out the back of the Chinooks.

“Jaguar eight, Archer two-nine, I thought you said no one was expecting you?” This came from Brady.

“Archer, Jag, that was another tip from our favorite three letter agency. You know how their intel works, shake the magic eight ball and go back to Netflix.” He meant for his transmission not to make sense, mostly because the intel rarely ever did.

This was the Beard's way of pissing the FBI Agents off. They knew that we had an active recorder in the aircraft, and they especially knew that the Intel officers would be watching this tape later. It was a not so subtle way of telling them our opinion of them and their profession. They were never impressed with our subtlety. Of course, if we had followed their intel and recommendations then the Chinooks would have been blown apart. “That’s why we always do the opposite of their suggestions.”

Ty and his team spread out across the rocks, taking cover. The Chinooks, empty now, pulled power and screamed to the sky, getting out of the way so we could help the guys on the ground.

I started working on a plan. “Brady, get your eyes on the group of buildings where the target is supposed to be. We’ll be scanning the eastern buildings looking for movement.”

It didn't take long before I saw muzzle flashes erupting from several windows. “Jaguar eight, Archer zero-nine, we have multiple targets in the eastern quadrant. We’re preparing to engage with the cannon.” They’d make sure to stay out of the way, clearing the area for us to rain down destruction on our enemies.

“Archer, Jag we’re moving into the south western quadrant, have two-nine keep eyes on us.”

“Understood.” I switched radios, “Brady, you heard him, keep your orbit to the west. Make sure no one is able to sneak up on them. I’m climbing five-hundred feet above you and engaging the eastern hostiles.” Nerves had my muscles bunching tight. I hated to split the team like this. It was much more efficient to have your wingman observe your shots and watch for squirters. It would have been easier for us to have Jaguar and his team wait in the rocks while we cleaned the area up. Easier for us, not for them. And we were here to serve them. So, we split up the team. Relaxing would have to wait until the ground units were back on the Chinooks and we were all heading home. Until then, I had a job to do.

Pressing the button to activate the radio, I made a call back to the Ops Center. “Operations, Archer zero-nine. Launch team two and ready the refuel teams. Update brief to follow shortly.”

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