Shaking his head, the doctor took the debridement sponge and squirted iodine into the wound cavity. “Sorry, Captain Jackson, I won’t authorize that. Your wound is too deep. You’re lucky it didn’t go into your muscles. Take the three weeks of medical R & R and go to Kabul and chill out.”
That was the last thing Gavin wanted. He felt no pain or discomfort from the debridement as the doctor meticulously scrubbed out every bit of the open wound. “Look, Doc,” he pleaded, “I don’t want my men going out there without me. They’re safer under my leadership.”
“Can’t do it. Sorry.” The nurse handed him the needle and thread and he began to close the wound one stitch at a time.
“How about you give my entire team a three-week R & R? Then we can go into Kabul together. They need a break.”
Hartman’s mouth curved slightly. “You’re a pretty creative type, Captain Jackson.”
“Look, my men need updated vaccinations. Couldn’t you authorize my team off-line for that extra week because of that?” Gavin was giving the doctor the excuse he needed to authorize such a ploy. However, it was the veteran doctors who had spent a year in either Iraq or Afghanistan that understood what he was really asking for. Gavin had hope that if Hartman was a vet of the war, he’d do it.
“You know, Dr. Hartman,” the nurse medic spoke up, “we are way behind on vaccination checkups for all the teams. I can accommodate their needs and rotate them through here.” She smiled over at Jackson. “We’ve got forty-nine A teams in here. Maybe if you authorize Captain Jackson’s team to stand down, I’ll put them at the end of this roster. It would take a week to get around to vaccinating them. And as you know,” she added, giving the young doctor a serious look, “we can’t send these teams out there in summer without updated vaccinations.”
Hartman nodded and considered the medic’s request. “So, we’re behind on vaccinations?”
Gavin couldn’t believe his good luck. The woman was an officer like himself, a registered nurse, and had to be in her forties. He guessed she’d seen more than one tour at the front and was wise to the ways of getting things done for the troops when necessary. He gave her a nod of thanks, and she grinned back.
“Yes, sir, we are. Now, I could arrange this with your approval. The army isn’t going to take notice of such things. One A team out of forty-nine that stands down for a week isn’t a burp on the Pentagon’s radar.”
Hartman finished the knot, seeming pleased with his work. He put the needle and thread on the tray. Snapping off his latex gloves and tossing them on top, he told the nurse, “Do the footwork and I’ll sign it.”
Gavin watched the doctor quickly walk away to the next patient. “Thanks for catching on,” he said to the nurse.
The woman set the tray on the gurney and began to place the dressing over the stitched wound. “Don’t worry about it, Captain Jackson. He’s green.”
“Yeah,” Gavin said grumpily, “I knew that.”
She quickly bandaged his wound. “There. You’re all set.” She pulled off her gloves and dropped them on the tray. “I’m due for a break, so I’ll go back to our office and get the orders created for you and your men.”
Giving her a warm look, Gavin said, “You’re a real angel.” He read her name tag, G. Edwards. “Thank you, Lieutenant Edwards.”
“My name is Gwen. And don’t worry about it.”
“Truthfully,” Gavin told her in a quiet tone, “none of us really need any updated vaccinations.”
Chuckling, Gwen took the tray and gave him a merry look. “Oh, I knew that, Captain Jackson, but Dr. Hartman doesn’t. He arrived here two weeks ago and doesn’t have a clue yet. I’ll make sure your team is sent to Kabul for an extra week, and, of course, by the time I get around to your vaccination records, your wound should be plenty healed up. That way, we can release you and you can go back into action as a team.”
“I owe you,” Gavin said. “Thank you.”
She winked. “Not to worry, Captain. You and your A teams are incredible and I’ll do what I can within my duties to assist you when and where you need help. Enjoy Kabul for me.”
Gavin felt like yelling triumphantly. Of course, he couldn’t. As he watched Gwen move away and thread through the fifty or so gurneys and medical teams, he grinned. He slid off the gurney, realizing he must look funny with one pant leg gone and the other still on. He’d go back to his tent, tell his men what had transpired and change into a new set of trousers. After that, he’d go to the medical-unit headquarters to get his team’s temporary orders for Kabul.
Walking out of the huge tent, Gavin saw the turbid gray clouds roiling overhead. In the summer, sudden thunderstorms could pop up and they were the only rain the desertlike area would receive. Some thunder rumbled far away and he walked carefully through the mud and puddles toward the row of tents where the A teams were housed.
As he did, he received some strange looks, but that was okay with him. His mind turned to Nike. How was she? Where was she? He’d been on the hill for two days acquainting the new A team with everything they needed to know. Gavin could have opted out of that role because of his wound, but he didn’t. The medic on the other A team had kept him supplied with antibiotics, ensuring his wound would not become even more infected. Of course, Doc Hartman didn’t know that and Gavin wasn’t about to tell him, either. And certainly, no A team would push him off the hill, either. So many times, men who were cut, scratched or even suffering from flesh wounds like himself would not seek immediate medical treatment. They just didn’t have the time or place to be picked up by a helicopter to get that sort of help.
Sloshing through the muddy ruts and divots made by men’s boots, Gavin reached tent city. In no time, he told his team what was up, and there was a shout of triumph about going to Kabul for three weeks instead of the usual two. It was a well-earned rest for them, Gavin knew. Inside his tent, he got out of the destroyed pants and put on a new pair. As always, he’d remain in Afghan garb even in Kabul. Kabul wasn’t safe for any American. And blending in with beards and Afghan clothes was a little insurance. Still, Kabul was considered barely stable and they would all carry weapons for protection. The Taliban was making a major push to take back the region.
Gavin headed off toward the BJS 60 squadron area. He knew where their HQ was and wanted to find Nike. He wondered if she was out on a flight or here at the base. Wherever she was, he had to know how she was. It didn’t take him long to find the tent that housed the all-woman Apache team.
Each tent had a door. He opened the ops door and stepped inside. Removing his Afghan cap, he walked over to the red-haired woman at the desk.
“Excuse me, I’m looking for Captain Alexander.”
The woman’s huge gray eyes regarded him with a disconcerted look. He glanced down at the name tag on her green flight suit: E. Trayhern-Cantrell.
“Oh…and who are you?”
“I’m Captain Gavin Jackson. Nike and I know one another.” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “I just arrived off a mission and I wanted to catch up with her. Can you tell me where she is?”
Grimacing, Emma looked around. Lucky for them everyone was over at the chow hall for breakfast. “Er, Captain,” she began, her voice lowered, “there’s been a problem.”
Alarm swept through Gavin. “Is Nike all right?” He had visions of her being blown out of the air by a Taliban missile or her Apache burning and crashing.
Holding up her hand, Emma said, “No, no, nothing like that. Nike told me about you. So, I’m going to give you the straight scoop.” She leaned forward and said, “Nike has been transferred out of here.”
His brows shot up. “Why?”
“Captain, when we flew that mission to your hilltop and Nike gave up her seat so that Berkie could get the medical help he needed, we broke every rule in the book. We weren’t supposed to do that, but we did.”
“I don’t understand. You saved his life by doing that,” Gavin said, instantly flustered.
Emma stood and
came around the desk. She didn’t want anyone to hear this. “Captain, Nike and I took the fall for that decision. I lost my position as XO and she got transferred to the CH-47 squadron here at the camp.”
Disbelief swept through him. “You mean…her CO got rid of her? She can’t fly the Apache anymore?” Gavin was horrified.
“Captain, Nike came close to being court-martialed for what she did. Fortunately for both of us, the CO doesn’t want to give the squadron a black eye by letting that happen. So, she sent Nike off to a transport squadron. She can fly an Apache once every seven days to keep up her skills, but that’s all.”
Gavin shook his head, reeling from the information. “But she did nothing wrong. She saved a man’s life, for God’s sake!”
Emma held up her hand. “I agree with you, Captain, but there’s nothing we can do about it. Nike could have been sent home to the U.S. or back to Greece. Her CO could have done a lot of things and didn’t. This was the least slap on the hand that Nike could receive.”
Stunned, Gavin stared at the tall, lean pilot. “I—I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry this happened to the two of you. But my man’s alive and on his way stateside now because of what you did. Doesn’t your CO see that?”
“Our CO, Major Klein, is pretty savvy, Captain. She had no choice in this. If she’d let it go and the word got out on it, that would be bad for the squadron. She had to act.”
“Dammit,” Gavin whispered, shaking his head. He looked up at Emma. “I’m really sorry about this, Captain. I didn’t think saving my man’s life would screw up both your careers.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Emma soothed, touching his slumped shoulder. “Neither of us is sorry we did it. And we didn’t apologize for our actions in front of our CO, either. We are taking our lumps for this, but that’s just part of being in the military.”
Gavin knew it meant a hell of a lot more than that. Each woman’s personnel jacket would have the reprimand in it. For the rest of their careers every time they tried to go to the next officer pay grade, that reprimand would be there. Rubbing his brow, he muttered, “This isn’t right. Are you sure I can’t do something to take those reprimands out of your jackets?”
Emma looked at him warmly. “Oh, how I wish you could, but you can’t. One person cannot undo this type of reprimand. You’re bucking one of the oldest rules in the Apache book—neither pilot ever leaves the helicopter unless for safety reasons.”
Gavin sighed. “I didn’t mean to screw your career for you, Captain. Or Nike’s. I know how much she loves flying the Apache and she’s damn good at it.”
“No disagreement there,” Emma said. “What I’m hoping is that because it’s summer and things heat up with the Taliban during this season our CO won’t be able to do without her piloting skills. Right now, the CO can’t find a replacement for her, which means one Apache is on the ground.”
The ramifications were brutal and Gavin rubbed his beard. “So, she’s officially with the transport squadron flying CH-47s? Permanently?”
“Yes, until further notice.”
Gavin ached for Nike and wanted so badly to tell her he was sorry.
“You might go over to the transport HQ and find her there. She’s still in our tent city but I don’t know if she’s home or out on a mission.”
Grunting, Gavin put on his Afghan cap. “I’ll do that, Captain. Thank you.” He lifted his hand in farewell.
Of all things! Gavin tramped angrily through the mud and glared up at the clearing sky. In two days, Nike’s whole career had been upended—by him. By his request. Even worse, he wondered if she’d be pissed off as hell at him and never want to see him again. Threading in and out between the tents, he finally found the BJS 60 group. In front of one tent was a young woman with blond hair.
“Excuse me, I’m looking for Nike Alexander’s tent. Can you point it out?”
“Sure, right next to mine,” she said, pointing to it.
“Thanks.”
“She’s not there.”
Gavin looked at the name tag on the woman’s flight suit: S. Gibson. “I’m Captain Gavin Jackson.”
“Oh, yes, the A-team leader.” She thrust out her slim hand. “I’m Sarah Gibson.”
Gavin knew that his Afghan clothes might get him mistaken for a local instead of U.S. Army. No locals were allowed on the base for fear that the Taliban might get on the base in disguise. His skin was deeply suntanned and he could pass for an Afghan-born citizen. He didn’t know how Sarah could tell his nationality except by how he spoke the English language.
“Sarah, do you know where Nike is?” His heart beat a little harder.
“No, I’m sorry, I don’t,” she said, shaking her head. “Since she got rotated out to the transport squadron, we rarely see one another. When I’m flying, she’s here. When she’s flying. I’m off duty.”
Nodding, Gavin said, “Then I’ll go to the transport HQ.”
“If you don’t learn anything, I can pass Nike a message for you. She always spoke of you in glowing terms.”
Not now she isn’t, Gavin thought grimly. “Could you tell her I’m back on base and doing fine? My team and I will be sent to Kabul for three weeks’ R & R. Probably tomorrow morning. I’d really like to see her before I go.” And tell her just how damn sorry I am that I got her into this mess. Even if Sarah gave her his message Nike might be so angry at him that she wouldn’t care.
“Of course, Captain Jackson, I will.” Sarah smiled brightly. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going on duty. Enjoy the R & R. I’m jealous.”
Gavin tried to quell his fear as he walked into the HQ of the transport squadron. It was a busy place with mostly male pilots coming and going, although he saw several female helicopter pilots. But Nike wasn’t one of them. Standing near the door, Gavin searched the area to find out who might have the daily squadron flight roster. One man in back with red hair and freckles was at a huge chalkboard containing the name of every pilot and the flights for the day.
Aiming himself in that direction, Gavin quickly perused the names, twenty of them, on the huge green board. The very last name was N. Alexander. He smiled momentarily as he approached the enlisted man, a U.S. Army tech sergeant.
“I’m Captain Gavin Jackson,” he began as an introduction.
“Yes, sir. What can I do for you?” the red-haired youth asked.
Reading the last name on his flight suit, Gavin said, “Sergeant Johnson, I need some info. You recently had Captain Nike Alexander rotated into your squadron. I’m trying to track her down. Can you help me?”
Johnson nodded. “Yes, sir.” He turned and pointed to her name. “Right now, she’s flying ammo and food to Alpha Hill in this valley.” He read the chalked assignment on the board. “She left an hour ago. Should return, if all goes well, in about an hour from now.”
Gavin realized Nike was resupplying the hill and the A team he’d just left that morning. How badly he’d wished he’d seen Nike.
“She’ll be coming back in here once the mission is complete, sir.”
Gavin nodded. “Thanks, Sergeant. After she’s done with this flight, does she have the rest of the day off?”
Laughing, Johnson said, “Oh, no, sir. In fact—” he held up a sheaf of papers “—I was just going to the next chalkboard. Each one is a mission for each transport pilot. On good days, they might fly once or twice. On bad days, we’re landing, loading up again and flying three to four times, depending upon the distance.” He peered down at a paper. “She’s slated to take an A team out to a place called Zor Barawul.”
“Any other flights after that?”
Looking through the rest of the missions for the day, Johnson said, “No, sir, I don’t see any. If all goes well, Captain Alexander should be done and out of here by chow time.”
“Good. Thanks, Sergeant.” Gavin turned on his heel and left the busy squadron headquarters.
Moving out into the muck and puddles left by earlier thunderstorms, Gavin sighed. He headed back to
his own tent city to be with his team, but the whole time he thought about seeing Nike again. What would her reaction be? Anger or pleasure? Gavin couldn’t guess and that drove him crazy. He liked to control his destiny and he couldn’t control Nike’s reaction to him.
The sky was showing blue among the white and gray shreds of cloud as the thunderstorms moved off to the east. Sun started to come out in slats here and there. The temperature rose and it looked like a good day ahead. Mind whirling, Gavin knew that flying transports was even more dangerous than flying an Apache. They were trundling workhorses, slow and unable to move quickly if targeted by the Taliban below. His heart ached with fear for her life. He’d just found her and now, dammit, through his own actions, he might have lost her.
All he could do was be at her tent when she returned. Gavin couldn’t quell the anxiety fluttering in his chest. He remembered starkly that one beautiful kiss they’d shared. He remembered Nike’s fear of ever falling in love with a military man again. There were so many mountains to climb to reach her. In his gut, Gavin sensed Nike was worth every effort. But would she receive him warmly or with scorn? All he could do was stand at her tent and wait for his fate.
Chapter 12
“Hey, Jameela,” Nike called to the woman as she approached the helicopter with her daughter. Nike had just arrived to pick up the current A team deployed to Zor Barawul. The mother was in her black burka, the crisscross oval showing only her eyes. Atefa was still on her crutches but Nike had learned that the medical facility at Bagram Air Base near Kabul was ready to fit her with a prosthetic leg.
Behind her, the load master, Sergeant Daryl Hanford, worked to unload all the medical and food supplies for the village. He got help from the new A team just arriving at the village.
“Hello,” Jameela said, reaching out to grip Nike’s extended, gloved hand.
Nike knew not to hug Jameela. That would have been against Moslem rules. Instead, she kissed each side of Jameela’s hidden face, which was a standard greeting.
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