The Last Flight

by Liefer, Gregory P. ; Liefer, G P;

  Connor smiled. He missed Reno’s company but knew the dog was in better hands with Mayo’s family. “How have you been? Other than this morning, I haven’t seen you in a while.”

  “Maintenance is keeping me busy.” Mayo stretched back against the chair. “We’re still short-handed but staying on schedule. Once the last helicopter is turned in, I’ll be joining the battalion or be reassigned to another aviation unit.”

  Connor nodded. “You have any orders yet?”

  “Nope. I’m pretty sure the Army won’t move me for a while. Even if I’m deployed, the family can stay here until my oldest kid graduates from high school next year. What about you? You’ve been here for three years already, right?”

  “Almost,” Connor sighed. “I’m not sure what the Army has planned for me. Not that it matters. I don’t plan on leaving Alaska.”

  “You mean you’re actually going to retire? I don’t believe it.” Mayo laughed good-naturedly.

  Connor held back a grimace and turned away before speaking. “I’ve thought about retiring, but at my age and in my condition there aren’t many jobs out there. Sitting around doing nothing could get boring real quick.”

  “The last time we discussed retirement, you said you couldn’t survive without getting another job. Maybe you should find a rich widow instead.” Mayo was referencing a prior conversation concerning Connor’s ex-wives and stiff alimony payments.

  Since Connor could only collect half his retirement upon leaving the military, the rest going to the ex-wives, there would be little left to live on. Two of the three exes never remarried, remaining eligible for portions of his retirement.

  “Nothing’s changed.” Connor ignored Mayo’s attempt at humor. His ex-wives weren’t a happy subject. “Not unless the two collecting alimony find different sugar daddies, which is unlikely with the monthly allotment they’re getting. I’m sure a large chunk of my retirement would be icing on the cake.”

  “I suppose.” Mayo became serious. He could tell something was bothering Connor. “I’d think with your experience, a civilian helicopter company would pay good money to hire you. You’ll do fine.”

  Connor started to speak and then hesitated, almost giving his secret away. “Maybe. A civilian life isn’t what I have in mind though.”

  Mayo was unsure of what Connor meant. He was about to inquire further when another figure entered the office.

  Anthony Sanchez was an athletic, mid-career warrant officer who had a penchant for racquetball and poker. A disregard of fraternization rules had already delayed one promotion after he received a mediocre officer evaluation. Several enlisted soldiers took offense and complained when they lost big in an all-night card game. Aside from his personal indiscretions, he was a good maintenance officer, taking great pride in the condition of his aircraft.

  “Good morning,” Sanchez said, noticing Connor. “Sorry about the helicopter. I didn’t know you were available to fly until after we started the inspection.”

  “Not a problem.” Connor kept a neutral expression. “The idea was just a spur of the moment thing when I heard there was an aircraft available.”

  “Well, at least you’re back on flight status. Both helicopters should be flyable for tomorrow. Hell, you can even have my slot this afternoon and fly the commander if he doesn’t postpone again.”

  Connor shook his head. “It’s okay. I’ve got other things planned. You go ahead. Enjoy flying the old Hueys while you can. They’ll be gone for good before long.”

  Sanchez nodded and turned his attention to Mayo. “I’d like to pull one of the mechanics off two-six-nine for an inspection on nine-three-four. It needs to be finished by this afternoon.”

  “I would prefer not to.” Mayo sighed. “But if you really need another mechanic, go ahead. I need him back on two-six-nine as soon as possible though. We only have another week to get the engine up to specs for turn-in. Besides, once Lieutenant Hovan and Mister Thompson return, their aircraft is done for the day. The crew chief is new and could use some help on the daily inspection.”

  Connor shifted in his chair, realizing the mission helicopter wouldn’t be available as planned. His options were quickly disappearing. He’d hoped to fly under the guise of a training flight without revealing his true intentions, at least until well after takeoff. Now he had little choice in the matter.

  “I understand Sergeant Mayo,” Sanchez said. “If the turn-in is delayed, and it won’t be, I’ll be the one taking the heat.”

  Mayo wasn’t trying to be impertinent and only stated the obvious. He was irritated at Sanchez’s attitude and considered reminding him, had he stuck to the previous schedule, there wouldn’t be a need to shuffle mechanics now. Not to mention, should the scheduled turn-in be delayed, they would both be equally responsible.

  Instead, Mayo held his comment. “Yes, sir. Thank you for the heads up.”

  Sanchez marched out the door. Mayo shook his head in response, displaying a look of fatherly resignation.

  Connor noticed Mayo’s frustration and waited until Sanchez was gone. “Give him a break. He’s a good maintenance officer even if he’s a little overzealous at times. We’ve both been in his shoes.”

  “Yeah, you’re right,” Mayo stated. “Sometimes dealing with officers is worse than raising kids. Neither listens very well. Present company excluded of course.”

  Connor almost smiled, in spite of his plan falling apart. He contemplated being honest with Mayo about his medical condition and desire for a last flight. Mayo would probably help but could end up being reprimanded or even court-martialed. Altering the schedule to allow another flight, especially once Connor’s medical condition and real intentions were exposed, would have serious consequences.

  Connor couldn’t allow someone else to take the blame. Instead, he decided to lie and, if necessary, just steal the damn thing before anyone could stop him.

  Mayo leaned forward in his chair, cupping his hands together. “And when did you get back on flight status? The way you were moping around here the last few weeks, I thought your flying days were over.”

  The truth of the statement, although spoken in jest, caught Connor by surprise. A pained look crossed his face before being masked with a look of indifference. “The flight surgeon cleared me this morning. I was hoping to get back up today on a refresher flight.”

  Mayo had no reason to doubt him. “Well, I’m glad you’re back flying, but there won’t be any time left when the helicopter returns from the mission. The pilots were told to log no more than three hours, otherwise they would be in deep shit with Captain Hiroldi.”

  “Why, what’s the problem?”

  “I forgot you missed the last staff briefing. The commander limited our flights to ten hours a week. Otherwise, we exceed the allotted budget. You know things are tight with the battalion deployed overseas. Those guys are the priority, as they should be.”

  “I remember now,” Connor answered. “Sergeant Jackson briefed me last week after the meeting. He’s been doing the flight schedule while I’ve been bouncing between medical appointments. The change slipped my mind.”

  Mayo understood his desire to fly. “Too bad we don’t have more flight hours and the maintenance wasn’t keeping me so busy. I’d go up with you if I could. Flying with your crazy ass again would be a nice distraction. Just like the old days.”

  Mayo waited for a response, noticing a sparkle return to Connor’s eyes. Out of all the pilots Mayo had flown with, Connor was the best. They had flown together many times after their encounter at the MP Station in Germany, through a diversity of demanding missions. He was young and fearless then, and Connor was at the peak of his flying ability.

  He wasn’t fearless anymore. Time had a way of changing an individual’s perspective. The sense of invincibility when you’re young always ends. Experience ultimately reveals a person’s vulnerability, and having family and friends alters selfish priorities.

  Over the years, Mayo noticed the change in his own attitude. He
became more responsible as his vitality was slowed by age and wisdom. The change in others was even more apparent, especially his elders. Flying was a perfect example.

  Young pilots reflected strength and energy but were unrefined, possessing limited experience. Eventually, as knowledge and skill increased, physical and mental aptitude combined to make a better pilot. Later on, as physical attributes began to decline, wisdom and judgment maintained an effective balance, at least for a while. Over time, there was a change in direction. Experience no longer remained the deciding factor. The continued deterioration of mind and body became the predominate influence, making a pilot less and less effective.

  Mayo realized the same changes were occurring in Connor. He didn’t like what he saw. The transformation reminded him of his own mortality.

  “We had some great times flying together.” A flash of sorrow crossed Mayo’s face. “Seems like only yesterday. Hard to believe, but a lot has changed over the years. We’re both growing old. Soon our memories will be all we have left.”

  There were more than memories to look forward to, of course. But Mayo didn’t tell Connor what he was thinking. Mayo had a wife, children, and future grandchildren to share his life. Connor was alone. There was plenty of female companionship and a few friends but no family. At least none he spoke about. For whatever reason, Connor‘s life had taken a solitary turn years ago.

  “I always enjoyed flying with you,” Mayo said. “Looks like you’ll have to wait awhile to get back in the air, unless you reconsider Sanchez’s offer.”

  “No, I don’t think so. I’ve got other issues to take care of.”

  “Sure, I understand. So what did the doctor say about the aches and pains you’ve been having lately? Just old age or what?”

  “Pretty much,” Connor answered, prepared for the question. “Arthritis mostly, but some disc problems in my back. And just tired bones, I guess. He also said I have a mild ulcer. Apparently nothing a few pills and a bottle of Maalox can’t help. Truthfully though, I think it’s my overactive sex life.”

  Mayo laughed and flexed his hands together. “Good to hear. I guess we don’t have to commit you just yet.”

  “Yeah, at least not for a while.” Connor became more serious, deciding to test Mayo’s reaction. “To tell you the truth, I was worried about my back problems being something far more serious.”

  “You mean cancer?”

  “Damn right. Both my parents had cancer. My dad died when I was a teenager and my mom when she was about my age. Both were smokers. I remember when tobacco and caffeine were staples during long days in Vietnam. They helped keep us alert on long missions. Smoking didn’t seem like much of a threat when we were dodging bullets every day. Part of the indifference of our youth, I guess. Good thing I quit a long time ago.”

  Mayo nodded, leaning back with his hands behind his head. “You should have told me, Gil. Not that I could do anything, but I can listen, especially over a few beers.”

  “I appreciate it,” Connor said. “You know, if I was diagnosed with cancer, I wasn’t sure how I was going to react. Lying in a hospital with tubes and wires barely keeping me alive is not the way I want to die. A nice quick death would be much better, don’t you think?”

  Mayo had thought about his own mortality. Death was something everyone considered at one time or another, especially in their line of work. “Some say dying in your sleep would be best or while making love to a beautiful woman. I sure can’t think of a better way to go.”

  “That might be a little traumatic for your wife,” Connor stated.

  Mayo chuckled agreeably. “I suppose, especially if she wasn’t the one I was making love with at the time.”

  Connor smirked. “I’m sure Maria will make up for your passing with plenty of male companionship.”

  There was a pause in the conversation. Connor looked at Mayo before continuing, studying his reaction. “If passing away in your sleep wasn’t an option, dying suddenly in an accident would be preferable. Flying would be my choice.”

  The laughter faded from Mayo’s face as he noticed the seriousness in Connor’s expression. Just then, the phone on his desk rang, diverting his attention. He picked up the receiver on the second ring and spoke loudly into the handset.

  “Charlie Company Maintenance Office, Sergeant First Class Mayo speaking.”

  Mayo listened for a few seconds and raised his eyebrows in puzzlement. “As a matter of fact he’s right here. Hang on.”

  The phone was handed over and Connor wasn’t surprised to hear Sergeant Jackson’s voice on the other end. “Sir, a doctor Akers called here a couple minutes ago looking for you. He wanted you to call him right away.”

  “Really?” Connor answered as if unaware of the reason for the call. He assumed doctor Akers was checking on his absence from a cancer counseling session he was scheduled for. He was supposed to be there now but had no intention of showing up.

  “Did he say what the call was about?”

  “No, sir.”

  “All right, thank you, Sergeant Jackson. I’ll get a hold of him.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Connor handed the phone back to Mayo, who placed the receiver on the cradle.

  “You get yourself in trouble again?”

  “No, just forgot to pick up some paperwork this morning. Nothing important.” Connor realized his chance of commandeering a helicopter was rapidly decreasing.

  He also realized another call would eventually be placed to his acting commander, describing in detail the terminal cancer and his reaction to the news. Once that happened, the possibility of taking a last flight would be virtually eliminated.

  “At least your medical problem isn’t anything serious,” Mayo added. Something was bothering Connor, but he wasn’t sure what, exactly. “Looks like your grumpy ass will be with us for a while.”

  Connor glanced at a portrait of Mayo’s family proudly positioned on his desk, reminding him of his own family many years before. He was about to comment when the sound of a helicopter began reverberating off the hangar walls.

  The helicopter’s early return gave Connor another idea. His plan had just changed back in his favor.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The baritone voice of Warrant Officer Joe Shultz resonated off the walls as he entered the 95th Air Medical Company’s flight operations room. “What have you got?”

  His office was on the same floor at the end of the hallway, allowing him to respond quickly to any mission alert. He was one of only two pilots-in-command left in the unit.

  Shultz was short and stout with hair in need of a trim around a thin spot on the crown of his head. A baggy flight suit gave him even more of a rotund appearance. Most people mistook him for an out-of-shape clerk or salesman when he wasn’t in uniform. His appearance was deceiving. He was, in fact, well fit and could easily outrun most of the officers in the battalion. He was also an experienced and respected instructor pilot.

  Stopping at the counter, Shultz eyed the mission request log on the private’s desk. In his right hand he held a small nylon trifold enclosing a flight computer and writing pad he used for jotting down information. The black case was opened and set aside as he waited for an answer.

  “Satellites picked up an ELT signal.” Donovan pointed at the coordinates on the large wall map. “The RCC in Anchorage sent in the mission request, sir. So far, the signal is unconfirmed.”

  Shultz moved closer to inspect the map. He took the piece of paper showing the coordinates from Donovan and quickly verified the locations. “Could be the real deal this time. No landing sites I’m aware of in the area.”

  “The RCC didn’t give us much information to go on,” the soft-spoken private stated after hanging up the telephone. “He was more interested in how he could get a ride on a helicopter.”

  “Let me take a look,” Shultz said, holding out his hand for the mission sheet.

  “Yes, sir.” The private handed over the sheet and went back to his desk for the file
book.

  Quickly scanning the paper, Shultz noted most of the spaces were left blank. The times of the satellite tracks caught his attention, and he glanced at his watch.

  “The last satellite fix was less than ten minutes ago,” he announced to no one in particular. “A couple more satellite passes and we should be able to narrow the search area considerably.”

  Donovan was about to ask if he intended to delay the takeoff until more information was available when Warrant Officer Damien Ferguson, the copilot, entered the room.

  Ferguson had barely heard the mission alert over the loudspeaker. He was in the supply office with the door closed on the opposite side of the hangar. His attention was on typing a memorandum, and only the piercing squelch of static halfway through the announcement alerted him to the mission. After saving the document on the computer and locking the door, he hurried his lean, six-foot frame down the stairs and across the hangar floor.

  With only a couple of medevac missions under his belt, Ferguson was anxious. He’d been taught to have a sense of urgency without being in a hurry and hid his excitement. When you were in a hurry, you made mistakes. Mistakes made you unsafe and being unsafe caused accidents. Still, a rush of adrenaline was only human nature. He forced himself to remain focused.

  The crew medic, Sergeant Steiner, a tough, blond-haired, ex-golden glove boxer, followed Ferguson across the hangar floor. Alaska was Steiner’s third assignment as a flight medic and one he especially enjoyed after serving a tour in Afghanistan.

  Specialist Brilnesko, a slim, slick-haired crew chief, nicknamed “Bril,” caught up to Steiner as they reached the stairway. He was new to the medevac mission but previously crewed UH-60s in an air assault company.

  They entered the operations office only a few steps behind Ferguson as Bril finished telling a joke.

  His voice had a slow, rhythmic quality of someone accustomed to telling stories. The difference between fact and fiction was often well shaded. “So the blonde told the bartender she wanted a fifteen.”