Page 19 of Confessions of an Apache Pilot

“Really? Seems like reviewing last night is more important than trading war stories.” It came off more callous than I had intended, but I was annoyed. It was quickly becoming my constant state of mind where Sheppard was concerned.

Brady looked at me with narrowed eyes, which was something to see. He walked around here with an intensity I’d rarely seen before, but the glare he was giving me made my breath catch in my throat. His eyes were uber focused, like he was trying to read my soul. “You don’t know too much about men do you, Captain?”

Laura snorted. “She doesn’t know a damn thing. She barely knows which end goes where.”

I snapped my head toward her and glared. There were times I wondered whose side she was on. It wasn’t an easy position for her, though. I was her friend, but these were her crew. The men she worked with, and I was sure they were her friends as well.

“You’d better listen to the man, Hun. The Army never prepared you for reality.”

I wasn’t sure what she meant, but stamped down the anger trying to rise. If they were going to help me understand what was going on, who was I to interrupt? I turned back to Brady.

He was looking in my direction, but it was as though he no longer saw me standing there. “We’re not born with all the talking and feelings and shit. We don’t really know how to communicate the bad stuff. Sometimes, shit happens. Bad shit. You get attacked. You’re in the middle of a fight and shit’s getting real. Savage shit. And it freaks you out ‘cause you ain’t seen fuck all like it before.

It’s scary ‘cause it turns out you’re the one doing the savage shit. You don’t want to be like that, but, if you’re not, your friends die. It has a way of winding a man up. And then…and then, you find yourself wound too tight, with no idea how you got that way or how to safely undo it. Then you start to get nervous, like...real nervous. ‘Cause you see it every day. You see yourself and that feeling starts creeping in. And you don’t know how to stop it. And you really need to stop it because who knows what you’ll do if you can’t.”

I didn’t say anything. Mostly I was confused, but I didn’t interrupt. This was the most serious I had seen Brady, or any of the Apache guys act. Laura and Artie were silent, but their silence screamed that they agreed one-hundred percent with what Brady was saying. He was always intense—doing everything at one-hundred-and-fifty percent, but he was usually laughing and joking around. Not this time. He was watching me with a calm, steady gaze. This was important.

He continued, “Then, maybe you get lucky. You get a chance. You see someone with the same expression. And believe me, you know that look. You see him, and you recognize him right away. ‘Cause he’s just like you. Only, he’s smiling. He’s sitting with his friends and talking. He’s not wound tight like you, but he was at some point. Once you get like that, you recognize it.

So, you sit with him. And you just say something stupid. Something easy like, ‘Man, what a shitty day’. Then, when he looks at you, and he doesn’t one up you, you know he recognizes what you’re feeling. That little light of hope grows when he just says, ‘Yeah?’ And you don’t know what to do really, ‘cause he’s listening, and no one has ever listened before. So, you casually mention that something shitty happened. That someone got killed, or hurt, or something.”

Brady had stopped walking now, so we stopped with him. “What you say doesn’t matter, cause this dude is just listening. Not interrupting, not talking over you, just listening. Before you know it, an hour has passed by and you’re not wound so tight. You’re relaxed for once. Then you realize that maybe I should do this more often. The talking thing. ‘Cause this guy, he even mentioned that from time to time he talks with the Chaplin, or someone professional and that sounds like maybe it could help. Like something that could relieve the pressure and the pain. And then maybe this guy that was wound so tight that he might snap, doesn’t. He doesn’t lose it and do something he can never take back.”

Brady stopped staring off into the distance and focused on me again. I didn’t say anything, hanging onto every word he spoke. “Anyway, that dude in there, he’s close. Real close. Shep has an eye for that type. You can bet your ass he’s not going anywhere until that dude is settled down. Who the fuck cares about some meeting when you have something that’s actually important? The Colonel won’t even ask. He knows what's important. Rare trait among officers these days.”

Actually important. My heart sank. Here I was shooting my mouth off, pissy about Sheppard and my screw up last night. I was so focused on myself that I couldn't see what was going on around me. Sheppard was right, I did have a chip on my shoulder, and it was blinding me to reality.

I hadn’t picked up on the fact that the man who’d been talking to Sheppard had been desperate to be heard. To be seen. To stop what he might do to himself if he couldn’t figure out a way to release the emotions he was bottling up inside. He looked so young to be carrying such a burden. No wonder he was, in his way, screaming for help. There was so much to learn about being out here. To learn what was actually important.

Laura read my thoughts, she put a hand on my shoulder, “The Army didn’t train you for this. They barely even know it’s a problem. You wanna know why we despise staff officers so much? It’s because of this. How many mandatory feel-good trainings do we have every year, yet not once has this been mentioned? How many good men and women do we lose every year because no one knows what to look for, or how to help them when they’re at their lowest? The only class you will ever get for this is from men like Sheppard. They’re the people who understand and can help others, because they’ve been in their shoes.”

Warmth filled my chest as I followed the others into the meeting. It was impressive that Sheppard took the time to talk guys down off the ledge like that. Brady was right, you didn’t see that very often. It made me wonder what he had in his past that made him connect with these military members. That he could understand what different branches of service went through meant that this was a fundamental problem that affected everyone serving.

I itched to know more about Sheppard even while I tried to tell myself it didn’t matter, that I shouldn’t allow myself to know him, or get close to him in any way. I could tell myself that all day long. No chance I would believe it. Not when everything I learned about the man made me respect him that much more.

CHAPTER 12

Mark

Our shift had come to an end, but like most nights we stuck around after getting changed into our physical training uniform. Besides working out, there wasn’t exactly a lot to do, so we usually stayed around our office.

Artie and Santos had set up a fire pit outside. It worked out quite well, close enough to be near the radios, but still with some freedom to hang outside and bullshit. Even when off duty, you were still somewhat on duty. They might be in their work out uniform, but if something kicked off they would still rush to the radios and aircraft, helping the other crews launch as quickly as possible. Once Santos got the night shift mechanics squared away he usually joined us. Ty, the Green Beret communications guy, was out here with us as well; you could usually count on him and a few of his team hanging out when they weren't on mission.

To everyone’s surprise, and to my secret delight, the MED team decided to be social and had joined us around the fire. It had been a few days since the last mission, our first mission with Jen. Things had calmed down since then. Artie had invited them over under the pretense of everyone ‘getting to know each other’, but really he was tormenting me. Bastard. My guys were well aware of my attraction to Jen and they were getting a kick out of watching me try to keep my cool around her.

“Captain, nice to see you out of your office. Sit, join us.” I motioned to the chairs next to me. “Where’s Nathan?”

“Thanks,” she said, taking the seat next to me. Karolyn took a seat on the other side of the fire pit, directly across from me. “Nick is back in the office.”

That figured. I wouldn’t come down here if I were him either. Besides, it meant I almost had Jen all to myself. This was the first time since she had arrived that I had seen her in PT’s. The Army physical training uniform was not typically flattering. Oversized baggy shorts and a plain T-shirt. Yet I could see enough of her long, toned legs that it had me shifting in my seat to hide my growing erection.

I wanted to move closer to see if the freckles on her neck went all the way down her body. The light from the fire wasn’t bright enough to tell. I thought about grabbing her by the leg so I could move in for a closer inspection, but that would probably end badly. Her hair was in a simple ponytail, longer than I thought it would be. Whenever she turned her head the scent of her shampoo would drift toward me. It was maddeningly delicious. Even through the unflattering Army T-shirt I could see her breasts were perky. I did my best not to stare. Well, I did my best to stare without anyone noticing.

Karolyn seemed to be trying to get me to stare. Her shirt was one size too small, making her breasts appear enormous. She had managed to roll up her shorts so that more thigh showed. It was an obvious attempt for attention. I couldn’t care less, except for the fact that I knew if I ignored this for too long it would somehow become my problem. I would deal with her later. Tonight, I wanted to give my full attention to Jen.

“Do you guys do this often?” Jen asked.

“As often as we can. So long as there’s no late missions going on. Usually the night crew joins us, but they’re planning tomorrow's mission. Artie and I were just trading stories from past deployments.”

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