| Subject: ...For Meritorious Service, Chapter 27 - conclusion |
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TxJAG_b
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Date Posted: 08:32:48 07/19/10 Mon
In reply to:
TxJAG_b
's message, "...For Meritorious Service, Chapter 27 - continued" on 10:56:42 07/07/10 Wed
PREVIOUSLY:
*******************
Mac gazed in horror at the unreal scene as her dream replayed in reality. Both men, on wildly different trajectories, sailed up and back away from the burning plane, but not before it disintegrated into a glowing fireball which sent debris hurtling toward the two men.
Just like her premonition, the debris did not reach them, but she could see they were injured. Both hung limply from their chutes.
The burning shattered remains of the F-14D arced downward and augured into the damaged Gaskin missile launching vehicle. The resulting explosion obliterated both vehicles, sending an ominous fireball into the afternoon sky.
********************
Over Objective India
Nicole almost didn’t hear Rhino as she numbly watched what was left of Harm’s Tomcat plow into and destroy the Gaskin SAM launcher. “Eagle 31 to Eagle 22, I repeat…did Hammer and Clyde make it out okay?”
“I can see two chutes,” she finally responded, as she focused on the two parachutes drifting toward the earth. “But I can’t tell if they look hurt 31….”
Rhino knew that Nicole had become attached to their temporary squadron commander. Truth was, they all had.
“Stay with them 22,” Joseph ‘Rhino’ Wayne said tersely, “I’ll lead the rest of the squadron back over our target….” Without waiting for her to respond, Rhino switched to the squadron net as he threw his ‘Cat into an Immelmann turn.
“Eagle 31 to Eagle squadron; follow my lead…we’re going plowing!”
Flying Cloud voiced what they all felt. “Eagle 32 to 31; we’re on your six, 31.” One by one each F-14D Tomcat executed the exact same maneuver and headed back towards the battered battalion defensive position.
*~*
On the ground, Sahood’s combat team stopped their vehicles and rejoiced as they watched Hammer’s damaged F-14 fighter bomber spiral downwards. Many of the armored vehicle crews jumped down out of their tanks raising their fists into the air.
“Kerim Allah!”
“Allah akbar!!”
Even the normally sour Faheem was getting into the spirit of the moment. “God willing!//
In-sa allah! Now we will destroy those American Marines!”
Hosan al Bazz observed al Sahood’s men and these ‘festivities’ with detached coolness while he pretended he was enjoying ‘the kill’ as much as they were. But as he faked his smile, Hosan knew this ‘victory’ would be short lived. They had only shot down one American plane. There were thirteen others still airborne, each carrying a full load of ordnance.
“Yes, Faheem,” he said dryly. “God willing…”
It was time to get out of here. Hosan set his transmitter on the floor board of the Land Rover.
“Faheem,” he said leaning close to the older turbaned man, “I hate to be the wet blanket, but we need to get the crews back in their vehicles and move the missile trucks into their launch positions…”
Faheem nodded, realizing that these premature victory dances were simply wasting time. “Yes, yes, you are right, Captain…”
“I’ll get out and get them back to their vehicles,” Hosan offered generously as he opened his passenger side door and waded into the crowd of celebrating soldiers.
“Gih! Gih!!”
“Yalla! yalla!!”
It was difficult, but Ra’id al Bazz seemed to be making some headway with the vehicle crews and they were slowly, reluctantly conceding there was more work to be done before the real celebrations could begin.
But some were less disciplined than others and were not moving back to their tanks and personnel carriers. Hosan saw his opportunity and strode over to one particularly boisterous group.
“Here!//Ahu! Here!!//Ahu!!”
“How are you, sir?//Izzay hadrit-ak?” One of the younger men in the group asked happily.
“Stop your celebrating! We still have many things to do!//yand-ina lissa wara-na miswar tawil!”
Hosan knew that these inexperienced Fedayeen volunteers would not end their celebrating easily, in fact, that’s what he was counting on. When they started to question why he was singling them out, he barked at them hoping it would provoke the appropriate response.
“Don’t speak!//Ma-t-kallim-s!”
It did; their toothy grins disappeared, replaced by angry looks. Hosan moved into their personal space and that was all that it took…
A brawl suddenly erupted. No one could tell who had thrown the first punch. It didn’t matter, the fight had the desired effect. All vehicles near the confrontation emptied as their crews quickly chose sides.
“Oh Lord!//Ayuzu billah!” Faheem said as he climbed from the Range Rover. “Stop this you unprincipled savages!!”
He waded into the brawling group.
“Where is Captain al-Bazz?!//Ra’id al-Bazz fen?!” Faheem demanded of the young insurgents. Before they could answer a shouted warning floated across the group.
“Wait!//Istanna!”
“What’s the matter?//Fi-h eh?” Faheem said turning toward the sound of the voice.
“American Planes!!// Amrik-ani Tayyar-at!!”
“Americans//Amrikan!!”
The group dissolved into pandemonium as crews scrambled back to their vehicles. Anti-aircraft machine guns stuttered to life haphazardly throughout the group.
Go!//Rah! Go!!/Rah!! Faheem said with his hand firmly planted on his driver’s back, shoving him amidst the stampede of men headed back towards their vehicles.
*~*
Don slammed on the brakes, skidding to a stop on the sandy road. All eyes in the pickup were on the F-14D crew.
“Oh God…Harm!! No!!” Mac watched as her worst nightmare unfolded in front of her eyes as the Tomcat fighter jet pilot and his RIO hung limply from their chutes – it was apparent that both men were unconscious and most likely had been injured during their ejection from their doomed plane.
Without saying anything to Kayce or the others, Mac began sprinting towards Harm’s rapidly descending parachute. Her sprinting turned to running as Harm’s chute began to descend more rapidly.
She felt as if she was in one of those waking nightmares as she struggled though the soft sand toward Harm’s still airborne chute.
“Dammit Harm!” She cried out hoarsely, “Don’t do this to me!!”
The scene that had haunted her dreams for so long was now playing itself out before her. Mac quickened her pace as she pushed herself to run faster as she struggled up the sandy hill where Harm’s parachute was headed.
As she reached the crest of the hill, she saw and heard the sickening thud as Harmon Rabb, Jr’s unconscious form rolled on the sandy ground, rolling a few feet and becoming entangled in the lines. Mac could see he wasn’t moving as the billowing chute was tugged by a desert breeze.
“Damn you Flyboy! Stop playing around and get up!” She yelled as she ran to his silent form.
Following just behind her were Mark Dallas, Lucas Calapango, and Kayce Danvers.
“Harmon Rabb, Jr. this is no time to joke around…” she ground out trying to hold back her tears. Harm couldn’t do this to her…not now.
The Naval Commander was ominously quiet. Fear leapt in her as her throat tightened. “Come on, Squid, *stop* playing around.” (Please God, don’t take him from me. Not now…. ) She repeated it like a mantra as she moved closer.
Following swiftly behind Kayce were Sergeant Bradenton, and Lance Corporal Bledsoe. They stopped when they saw Mac running to the downed flier. Kayce exchanged a quick glance with the Staff Sergeant. Without saying a word, the Staff Sergeant and Lance Corporal Calapango headed for the other unconscious flier who had smacked into the ground moments after Harm.
Mac ran over to Harm’s silent form – his back was to her, but at least she could see there weren’t any pools of blood, and no visible signs of grotesque injuries.
“Harm?” She said timidly as she gingerly touched the Commander. Kayce began to spill the air out of Harm’s chute and carefully untangle his parachutes lines while Staff Sergeant Dallas and Lance Corporal Calapango did the same to Pete Gibbon’s parachute.
Mac ignored the world around her, focusing solely on Harm. She didn’t hear the Sergeant calling for a Med-Evac or the other members of her team who were just arriving, forming a defensive perimeter around the two silent airmen.
Sitting on her knees beside him, the Light Colonel carefully probed along his neckline for any sign of injury, then taking a deep breath, she moved around to where she could see his face.
This time, unlike in her visions and dreams, sightless eyes were not staring back at her – Mac felt a trickle of relief shoot through her body, but she wasn’t celebrating yet. He was still unconscious. Now she had to see just how badly he had been hurt.
She continued probing and found that his arm was definitely broken. The skin had not been penetrated, but it was still a serious injury. There was evidence his leg was injured as well. Mac could also see that his ankle was black and blue--probably injured when he ejected.
“C’mon Flyboy,” she said bravely. “Cut the act; we both know you’re not that badly hurt….”
Still no response. Her voice grew a little more strident. “C’mon Harm, you’ve been through worse than this, remember the crash in the Chaco Boreal?” In the distance the tell-tale thump of an approaching helo’s rotors could be heard.
Mac felt a finger of panic worming into her. Help was coming, but was it too late?
“Harmon Rabb, don’t you dare do this to me! Not after all we’ve just been through! Commander! Wake up!!”
The pilot of Eagle 21 still did not respond. Mac felt tears welling in her eyes. “Harm, please wake up….” She pleaded.
Kayce, Mark and the others stood silently in the background.
The whup, whup, whup, of the approaching helo was growing louder.
It had only taken a few minutes from the terse call, but to Al Bradenton it seemed like hours since he had made that call to the 36th MEU’s Battalion Aid Station. In response to the call, a lone UH-60 medical evacuation helo thundered into view, settling down a safe distance from the two downed airmen.
The helo’s side door opened and three female corpsmen jumped out and quickly sprinted toward the Force Recon men surrounding the two unmoving airmen.
Al approached and informed them of the current situation. “Tomcat crew, they ejected from a damaged plane, we’re pretty sure their ejection seats malfunctioned--”
The older of the two corpsmen was no nonsense. “Any visible injuries?” She said as she pushed her way past him.
“Uh, the guy over there has a broken leg. The other one’s being attended to by my superior, Colonel MacKenzie--”
Chief Petty Officer Rachel Brie mentally cataloged the information and made her way over to Colonel who was sitting on her knees next to the silent airman. She motioned to her junior corpsmen to see to the pilot’s Radar Intercept Officer.
“Colonel, I’m--”
She stopped. She hadn’t expected a woman in a Force Recon unit. Much less one with the rank of Lieutenant Colonel. The pause though was only long enough for Mac to turn her head toward her. “Colonel, I’m Chief Petty Officer Brie, how is he doing?”
Mac looked up at her, not moving as a maelstrom of sand whipped and whirled around her, stirred up by the helicopter’s still turning rotors. She kept her position beside Harm, not moving.
Rachel tried again. “Colonel, ma’am? How is he?”
This time she got through to Mac. “His arm…it’s broken…and his ankle….”
“It’s broken too?” she said gently.
Mac shook her head. “No, that is…no, not that I can’t tell; but it’s black and blue…”
“Okay Colonel,” Rachel said as she moved closer. “Let me take a look….”
Mac nodded but didn’t move from his side. Rachel understood her action. It was a defensive and protective action – the kind you might see a wife take. She wondered whether they were married or not.
“Ma’am! I’ve got a broken femur over here – compound fracture!” called out the dark haired Petty Officer 3rd Class, to CPO Brie. Her blond haired partner was working on immobilizing Pete Gibbon’s injuries.
“I’ve got a broken wrist!” Rachel reported back to them.
“Broken ankle on this one!” The blond Petty Officer 2nd Class added.
“So much for Martin Baker getting them out without a scratch….” she grunted as she pulled a smelling salts ampoule from her bag. She looked over at Mac to see the Marine Light Colonel had moved even closer to the silent, prone aviator. The look on her face told Rachel that whoever this guy was to her, he was something special.
Rachel looked skyward for a moment, “Hey God...give her this one…” she said quietly. Right now even she couldn’t tell the Colonel why he wasn’t conscious by now. They may have been other injuries sustained that weren’t visible to the naked eye. She hoped that wasn’t the case. For the moment though Rachel wasn’t going to worry about that; she needed to get her patient ready for transport.
Mac was still sitting on her on her knees, looking down at Harm. A few silent tears slid down her face on her bowed head. The Corpsman continued her work, splinting the Commander’s broken arm and checking his other injuries. Next she would try to revive him with the ampoule.
When she was satisfied she had immobilized his injured limbs as best as she could, she broke the ampoule and passed it under his nose. “Commander? This is Chief Petty Officer Rachel Brie, can you hear me, sir?”
Harm’s eyes fluttered. A small groan escaped his lips...
“Ma’am?” Rachel said to Mac.
The Light Colonel, though, was in her own world silently willing Harm to wake up and talk to her. (Come on Harm, damn you Flyboy, live…don’t do this to me, don’t you dare desert me now…).
“Ma’am?” The voice was more insistent. She looked out through tear filled eyelashes to see the Corpsman. Hope within her soared when she saw the look on the woman’s face.
“He’s coming around Ma’am. He’s got a compound fracture in his left arm, and several minor wounds caused by shrapnel, but he’s going to be okay.”
Ignoring protocol, Mac leaned close to the Commander, brushing his forehead with the back of her hand. “Harm? Harm, can you hear me?” She placed her curled hand beside his face, stroking his soot covered cheek with her thumb. The Corpsman got up and faded into the background standing by a now smiling Sergeant Bradenton.
“Uh,” It seemed to take forever for his eyes to focus. He blinked twice, three times, his face clouded with confusion. “Mac? I… must be… dead…” he lapsed into a fit of coughing.
She was concerned about his coughing and tried to calm him. When he quieted down, she smiled warmly at him, “Not even close Sailor, although you did manage to scare the hell out of me again.” Those last words that tumbled out of her mouth were a little harsher than she meant them to be, but they betrayed the depth of emotion she was feeling at the moment. “Sorry, but you did scare me, Harm.”
Harm managed a weak smile. He reached for her other hand and held it in his on his chest. “Scared the hell out of you again, huh?” Harm tried to look around.
“Take it slow Flyboy, you really did a number on yourself,” she softly admonished. Her deep brown eyes held him fast. “Do you remember what happened?”
“For a moment there I thought we were in trouble,” he managed to quip, Then he became serious again. “Gaskin put one up our six…blown out of the cockpit,” he sighed. “Is that what you call giving me cover, Marine?”
“Haarm…” she began with a momentary look of irritation crossing her face.
He suddenly remembered Mac’s visions. “Pete,” He struggled like a drunk to sit upright and failed miserably, as Mac and his injuries conspired to keep him on the ground.
“Pete is just fine, thanks to you.” Harm could tell her voice was full of…admiration? He looked into her dark brown eyes again. She was smiling radiantly at him. She continued to stroke his cheek and her grip on his good hand strengthened.
Epilogue to follow…
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