Forget Me Not (Love in the Fleet)

by Ashby, Heather

  And Daisy could barely believe what a tender and devoted lover Sky turned out to be. Considerate and attentive, and could he ever turn her on. Well, he’d probably had lots of practice. But maybe he truly was thinking of growing up and settling down. And the idea of taking him seriously wasn’t sounding quite so outrageous to her lately.

  Daisy had taken his advice and started talking with a therapist. She’d decided to rejoin the human race and was rapidly moving away from uptight and joyless. She smiled at work. No, she glowed. Both her staff and her clients commented on it. And she certainly smiled at home now, with Sky spending every night except duty nights with her.

  She’d cut back on most of her volunteer work and late hours at the clinics so she could arrive home early to make a lovely dinner most nights. Sky grilled or picked up dinner on the way home the rest of the time.

  And then they’d have more great sex.

  He was still funny about his cat, however. Strange that a grown man should be so attached to a cat. Although Daisy Mae had finished her medicine, after only one night back at his place, he’d brought her here to sleep with them again.

  He’d explained, “I don’t trust my roommate to give her the attention she needs.” Then he’d nuzzle Daisy’s neck affectionately and whisper in her ear, “Besides, if I should move in here permanently, Daisy Mae is part of the bargain, remember?”

  “But she hates me.”

  “You’re her vet. What do you expect? Would you be best friends with someone who shoved a thermometer up your butt?”

  One morning, Sky grabbed a piece of toast, kissed her, and headed to the door. “Hey, gotta run, sweetheart. Time and tide wait for no man. I’ll probably be late for dinner.”

  “Don’t worry about it. It’s Wednesday. We’re eating at Portside tonight.”

  “Don’t know if I’ll be back in time. Getting ready for the mission next week. We’re headed downriver for AUF training today.”

  “Speak English.”

  “Airborne Use of Force. Gotta practice all that drug interdiction stuff. Mikey’s first time with go-fasts.”

  “And in English, they would be…?”

  “Go-fasts? Speed boats designed to haul drugs, usually cocaine, that, um, go fast. The three hundred thousand dollar outboard motors let us know they’re probably not out for a Sunday pleasure cruise. Usually every square inch of available topside space is crammed with gasoline, water, and blue tarps. See, they stop running during the day and cover up with the tarps so they’re camouflaged with the ocean. Then they run at night because it’s hard for us to see their wakes in the dark.”

  Daisy’s heart skipped a beat.

  Why couldn’t he just fly up and down the coastline looking for swimmers to rescue?

  “Today we get to practice asking them pretty please to cease and desist running their drugs and if that doesn’t work, we get to play laser tag with their engines.” Sky grinned. “In the real world we get to blow up their engines with a .50-cal sniper rifle and stand guard with a machine gun while our Coast Guard boarding team arrests them. Then we shoot the crap out of their boat until it resembles a Viking funeral pyre. It’s more fun than a grown man should be allowed to have.”

  Sky’s enthusiasm reminded Daisy how much of a big kid he could be sometimes.

  “And if the weather holds and Mikey’s a quick study—which I know he will be—we’ll get to shoot the squadron’s remaining allocation of Hellfire missiles on the way home. One for Mikey and one for me.” His face lit up at the thought.

  Daisy’s pulse quickened. Way too much information. “Thanks, but I don’t really want to know the details. Remember, I prefer thinking you just cruise up and down the beach looking for non-existent submarines and rescuing the occasional swimmer in distress. I still can’t believe they’re sending you on a mission right before Thanksgiving. Couldn’t they wait until after New Years?”

  “Somebody’s got to patrol. We miss Thanksgiving this year, but at least we get to be home for Christmas.” Sky wrapped his arms around Daisy and buried his face in her neck. “Some other poor sucker will be out there flying around looking for bad guys, while I get to stay home and make love to my honey under the Christmas tree.”

  “Mmmmm. And if you keep that up, you’ll be late for work.” She kissed him while reaching down to stroke him through his flight suit. “Don’t forget to save a Hellfire missile for me, okay, Romeo?”

  Sky’s response ensured they’d both be late for work.

  “Range Master Control, Cat Scratch Four-Seven-Five, five mikes out,” Sky called into his lip mic to the Afloat Training Group responsible for the exercise.

  “Cat Scratch Four-Seven-Five, Range Master, copy. All your mission systems are up and running. You are Cleared Hot onto the range. See you in five minutes,” hummed back through their headsets.

  “Roger, Range Control, Cat Scratch Four-Seven-Five, Cleared Hot,” Sky replied, then turned to his co-pilot. “Okay, Studley, from here on out, this is your rodeo. I’m going to steer, while you run the mission. I’ll pimp you if you don’t stay ahead of the game, but otherwise it’s your show. Where do we stand on Combat Checklist?”

  “Combat Checklist all complete. All set in the back?”

  “All set aft, sir,” replied Petty Officer Quinn from the cabin. He was accompanied today by a Coast Guard marksman who added his thumbs-up.

  During actual Counter Narco-Terrorist missions, a second Coast Guardsman would serve as observer, helping to ensure they complied with the often complicated Rules of Engagement. Today they’d each have to pitch in and do his job.

  In just under five minutes they found themselves on the range in an unpopulated sector of the St. Johns River, south of Jacksonville. Since the sniper would be using live ammo today, the mock-up go-fast was operated by remote control.

  The radio squawked, “Crank on engines,” and the go-fast did its thing. It went fast. With all three engines cranked up, it climbed to thirty knots in no time at all. The boat zigzagged across the river as it performed its level best to evade the helo with not just speed, but also dexterity.

  Mikey took charge. “Quinn, you got the FLIR. Keep it locked on the target. I’ll handle the tactical comms. Maintain an updated track of our target and back up Sky on the gauges and altitude.”

  “Aye, sir,” the aircrewman replied.

  As they flew over the mock-up, Sky ordered, “Mark on top!” Mikey did just that via an electronic marker on the Range Master’s computer keyset.

  While keeping a visual by day was not a difficult task, they were practicing for night, when losing a go-fast could happen in an instant. Since the fiberglass go-fasts were nearly impervious to radar, it was critical for Petty Officer Quinn to keep the infrared camera on the boat below.

  “Turning right, slowing from one-twenty to sixty knots, and descending from two thousand to two hundred feet,” Sky called out. The turn maximized visual opportunities through the open cargo door for the Coast Guard sniper. “Level at two hundred, Studley. Sixty knots. Altitude Hold engages. We’ll come up behind them to remain covert for as long as possible.”

  Despite the roar of their Romeo, the aircrew knew the noise from the boat’s three monster engines would drown out the sound of the helo. Approaching a running go-fast from behind would minimize the chances of being seen, until it was too late for the boat crew to toss their cargo without being videotaped by the FLIR.

  Quinn zoomed it in, utilizing the heat seeker to determine how many simulated, warm bodies were aboard—four. And ascertain the flag—none. And registration number—bogus. While Quinn observed all this on his Sensor Operator screen, Mikey ran through their “dance card,” ensuring they jumped through all the wickets required by the Rules of Engagement.

  As the Romeo approached the go-fast, literally following the boat’s wake to the target, Mikey
hailed the occupants over the VHF radio: “Halt your vessel! Halt your vessel!” When he received no response, he alerted the Afloat Training Group’s simulated mother ship, the USS Neversail. Permission was granted to go completely overt, which would reveal their position.

  Sky called out, “Stand by to engage Automatic Approach, leaving two hundred and sixty for one hundred and thirty.”

  “One hundred feet, thirty knots,” Mikey responded as he selected the desired altitude and airspeed on the Hover Control Panel.

  “Studley, engage Auto Approach.”

  Mike pressed the Auto Approach button and the helicopter automatically began to descend. “Little Girl is responding as desired.” He chuckled and muttered “Aw, hell, Sky, I’m starting to sound like you.” Then called out as they slowed and descended, “One forty and fifty...one twenty and forty...one hundred and thirty. Altitude Hold engaged.”

  As Sky slowed the Romeo to match the go-fast’s speed, he brought the aircraft alongside the speeding boat, close enough for the crew to get a good look at it through the open cargo door. In response, the go-fast turned hard to the right and increased her speed. Never knowing which scenario would be chosen for the exercise, Sky had anticipated the boat to slow and surrender for this first run. But despite getting caught off guard, Sky banked the helo to match the boat’s maneuver. Setting the stage for the sniper to safely take out the boat’s engines was critical to mission success. Shooting from a bad angle and accidentally eliminating a suspect Narco-Terrorist was not an option. Not under the Rules of Engagement.

  Just as Sky’s instinct reported they were in the perfect position to take a warning shot, Mike called out, “Cleared for warning shots!” Not bad for his first time with a live go-fast. Looked like Mikey had already developed the sixth sense that would take him far in this job.

  The Coast Guard sniper fired three stitches across the go-fast’s bow. When it didn’t slow, Mike gave the order. “Commence firing!”

  The sniper aimed the laser-equipped Barrett recoilless .50-caliber rifle at each engine, and simulated picking them off, as Mike called out the shots to the Afloat Training Group. In response, Range Control shut down each engine, one at a time. The loss of the first engine didn’t appear to slow them down in the least. Cutting engine number two put a huge dent in their ability to flee, and naturally the death of the third engine left them DIW. Dead in the water.

  Mike reported, “Go-fast DIW, all three engines eliminated, standing by to cover the boarding party.” Sky orbited the helo to the right, ensuring the gunner’s M-240 machine gun remained trained on the bobbing vessel.

  “Go-fast dead in the water,” crackled over the radio. “Subject ready for search and seizure. USS Neversail on course for boarding. Permission granted to fall back for next scenario.”

  From the back, Petty Officer Quinn high-fived the sniper and called out, “Who-hoo! We got the sons of bitches!”

  Sky chimed in through his mic, “I can’t believe they started with scenario Charlie. Range Control always starts with Alpha, then they might mix ’em up. The bad guys always stop the first time we warn ’em in these exercises.” He socked his co-pilot lightly on the shoulder. “Holy shit, Studley! Your virgin voyage and they hit you with Charlie right off! And you fuckin’ rocked it!”

  Yup, the kid was definitely on course to becoming an outstanding Helicopter Aircraft Commander someday.

  Sky called back to the marksman. “Did that surprise you? That the druggies refused to comply with warning shots the first time?”

  But the answer came through Sky’s headset from the Range Master. “Gotta keep you boys on your toes. Don’t want you predicting how the drug runners are going to behave. All right, fall back two miles and hit it again. Who knows? Maybe you’ll luck out and get an easy Alpha this time. Or maybe not.”

  Mike responded, “Wilco, sir.” Will comply.

  Happy hour was over and the residents were moving into the dining room when Sky caught up with Daisy that evening at Portside Manor. She kissed him. She kissed him right there in public. In front of all the residents. Sky kissing her in public? Okay, he could see that. Even if it was blatant PDA in uniform. But Daisy? No way. He couldn’t get over how comfortable they’d become. Oh, yeah, things were definitely moving according to his plan.

  “How did your go-fast practice go today, Romeo?”

  “Five for five, baby. Man, it rocked.” Then he whispered in her ear, “But don’t worry, honey. I saved a Hellfire missile just for you.”

  “Only one?” Innocence personified.

  Sky gave her a smile of pure sin. “As many as you can handle, sweetheart. Hey, where’s George?”

  “I don’t know, now that you mention it. He wasn’t at happy hour. You want to go check his room? Maybe he took a nap or something.”

  Sky kissed her quickly and turned down the hall toward George’s room. But before he could knock, the door opened. He was surprised to find a gathering of people inside.

  “Can I help you?” a clean-cut man with salt and pepper hair asked.

  The guy didn’t look like he worked at Portside in his golf shirt and khaki pants. So why was he in George’s room. Sky glanced at the door number to ensure he had the right room. “Uh, yeah, is this still Captain Duncan’s room?”

  The man extended his hand to Sky. “I’m Joe Duncan, George’s son. Were you a friend of my dad’s?”

  Something shifted in Sky’s chest. “Is George okay? Is he in the hospital or something?”

  The man smiled hesitantly, his brow furrowed. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you. My dad passed away on Monday.”

  Sky reached for the doorjamb to steady himself. “Oh, my God. But I just saw him...I took him out for Veterans’...”

  “His heart gave out in his sleep. He never even woke up. We believe he went peacefully.”

  George was dead? Sky could feel the tears forming. He blinked and sniffed, yet almost didn’t care if they came. George was dead. Sky huffed out a breath of disbelief.

  Joe glanced down at Sky’s name patch and recognition dawned on his face. “You must be Sky?”

  “Yes, sir. I’m sorry. Sky Crawford.” He stuck out his hand to shake, while doing his damndest to keep from bursting into tears. He took a couple of deep breaths, but he found it difficult to breathe.

  Joe put his arm around Sky and led him into the room. “Hey, everybody, this is Sky Crawford. You know, the pilot Grandpa kept telling us about.”

  Joe introduced Sky to the group, men and women from their twenties into their fifties. George’s children and grandchildren. His legacy. The names were all a blur. George was dead?

  God rest his soul.

  “I was coming to... He usually eats dinner with us on Wednesdays. Oh, God, wait ‘til Daisy hears this. That’s my girlfriend. Oh, man, she loves your—loved—your dad.”

  “Do you have a minute, son?” Joe asked. He led Sky out into the hall and pulled the door closed behind them.

  “Sure...yeah... God, it seems... I can’t believe this.”

  “It’s hard for us too. Listen, I wanted to thank you, Sky.”

  “Me? For what?”

  “Dad talked a lot about you recently. Thanks for spending time with him. He loved talking with you about flying and other things. If I’m not mistaken, you helped him figure some stuff out. He struggled with some issues for a lot of years, but he said you helped him work through some of it. Said he’d found peace. Finally. I gotta tell you, though.” He shook his head to clear it. “I assumed you were a lot older. He made you sound like a wise old man, but you’re just a kid. Anyway, thanks.”

  “Me? I helped him? No, sir, he helped me. God, he taught me so much about...life.” That was all Sky could say. The tears were beginning to flow. And he wasn’t certain he’d be able to make them stop. He flashed to that night in
the parking lot when he couldn’t stop crying. “If it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t have Daisy.”

  “Well, we appreciate you spending time with him. He said he really enjoyed looking at old pictures with you and just talking. It was very nice of you to do that.”

  Sky thumbed away the tears, took a deep breath, and cleared his throat. “No problem, sir. It was a pleasure spending time with him. Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure. Anything.”

  “He told me about Joe, but he didn’t tell me that’s what he named his son. Is it safe to assume you’re named after his friend, his co-pilot, Joe?

  Joe smiled warmly. “I was named after my father.”

  Sky’s head snapped up. “But Joe was…”

  “Yes, Joe was my father. But George was my dad. I never knew my father. He died when I was a baby. George married my mom when I was three.”

  Sky stood there, slack jawed. “He married your…? She’s the woman he loved for the rest of his life?”

  “My parents had a love affair for forty-three years. They were two amazing people and I’m sure my father was too. They talked about him a lot to me. I mean, they moved on after his death, but my real father was always a member of the family. I’m not sure if they did that for me or for them, but I’m glad they did. Some people don’t even get one good father. I had two. I like to think that they’ve all been reunited.” He paused, looked wistful for a moment. “So thanks again, Sky, for helping my dad out with whatever was still troubling him.”

  This man standing in front of him, Joe’s son, believed that Sky had something to do with the solace George had found. No way. George had helped him. For starters, Sky’s nightmares had tapered off since Veteran’s Day when he and George talked in Little Girl’s cockpit. Plus he’d given Sky the secret to long-term relationships. Now Sky didn’t even care about the tears streaming down his face. He’d find Daisy and they’d leave. He wasn’t going to worry about a few tears. He had grown to love the old man. And now he was gone. Peacefully.