by Julie Tizard
*****
They decided to try a different place for dinner and drinks after their winning day. Casey wanted to go back to the Museum Club for more slow dancing with Kathryn, but maybe this place would have dancing too. The place they ended up had decent food but only a tiny dance floor and a woman was playing guitar as the entertainment. Kathryn intentionally sat next to her and she kept touching Casey’s hand or her arm. She noticed every tiny gesture and felt herself becoming increasingly warm at this closeness. Her face was hot and flushed, and she felt like everyone could see right through her. I need to get out of here for a minute or I’m going to burst. “I’ll be right back,” she told Kathryn.
Stepping outside the bar into the cool night air, Casey tried to collect herself. She walked around the block trying to decide what to do. She knew what she wanted to do. She wanted to kiss Kathryn. Every time she looked at Kathryn’s full mouth, she felt butterflies in her stomach. She was dying to feel those luscious lips with her own. She wanted to kiss them for a very long time. She stopped walking. She sensed Kathryn standing behind her. Casey turned to look at her. “Are you okay, Casey? I was starting to worry about you.”
“You were?”
“Yes, I was. Is anything the matter? Please tell me.” Kathryn took Casey’s hands in hers and looked deep into her eyes.
Casey’s pulse pounded in her ears. Her eyes locked on to Kathryn’s. She loosened her hands from Kathryn’s and moved them to gently hold her face. She leaned in to kiss those irresistible lips. Kathryn looked a little surprised but didn’t move to stop her. Their lips touched lightly at first, then again, then more fervently. Her lips feel like warm velvet. I have to have more.
Casey pulled Kathryn’s body close to hers and pressed her mouth more firmly to Kathryn’s. She heard a little moan emerge from Kathryn’s throat as she deepened their kiss. Kathryn’s arms slid around Casey’s back, and she pressed her breasts into Casey’s belly. Casey’s heart was soaring as she devoured Kathryn’s lips. She wanted to kiss her for forever. Kathryn started to pull away. Her lips looked a little swollen and she was breathing hard. “Casey, we have to stop.”
“Why? I want you so much right now.” Casey was confused. Kathryn had kissed her back with the same fervor and now she’d abruptly ended it.
“This can’t happen because you’re a student and I’m an IP. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have led you on. I have to go.” With that finality, Kathryn turned and left Casey standing there dumbfounded.
*****
Kathryn got into the other SUV for the ride back to the motel. She couldn’t face Casey right now. Oh, my God. What have I done? She was a complete jumble of emotions. It was so amazing to kiss Casey like that. She tasted Casey on her lips and craved more. But this was disaster looming, and she couldn’t even explain it to her.
She remembered the incident when she was a flight commander and one of her IPs, a married man with a baby at home, got into a relationship with a female student pilot. She’d just gotten him promoted to be a squadron check pilot, and the woman student had moved on to the T-38 squadron when the scandal broke. He was fired from check section, shipped off to another training base, and given official disciplinary action in his permanent records.
They couldn’t kick the woman student pilot out of training because she had passed all her check rides, but they made her life a living hell and gave her the worst assignment in the class when she graduated. Her flying career was effectively over before it had even started.
Kathryn caught the wrath of the wing commander when he had her standing in a brace position before his desk screaming at her because she hadn’t known anything about it at the time. Thankfully, he was gone now or she’d never have been promoted to chief of flight safety. No, she could never endanger Casey or her future flying career with a forbidden romantic liaison. She cared about her too much to risk it. Not to mention the fact that they’d both be dishonorably discharged, never fly again, and have both their lives ruined by the Air Force for being gay.
When they got back to the motel, Kathryn avoided contact with Casey and immediately went to bed. Her mind was spinning as she remembered the taste of Casey on her lips and the feel of Casey’s strong body pressed into hers. Why had she let Casey kiss her? She’d never felt any kind of attraction to any woman student pilot before. What was it about Casey that she couldn’t resist? It was those eyes. Those piercing blue eyes from the first time she’d seen them. Eyes filled with intelligence, intensity, and a hunger to learn to fly that Kathryn had never seen before.
There was something else about her, and now Kathryn knew what it was. Casey always carried herself with confidence and poise in the flight room, but she was also friendly and outgoing with the women on the softball team. The quality that Kathryn had discovered tonight was Casey’s passion—her passion for life, for flying, and for love. It was as if Kathryn had touched a live electrical wire when her lips touched Casey’s and now she wanted more, but it could never happen. Kathryn drifted off into fitful sleep mourning a loss that could never be.
*****
The next morning they were all sore and sluggish from the previous two days of nonstop softball and partying. They barely won their first game, then lost in the semifinals of the tournament. Casey’s hitting was off and Kathryn missed an easy out. They were subdued on the drive back to Phoenix. Casey rode in the Mormon Assault Vehicle while Kathryn and Barb rode in her SUV. Kathryn wanted to talk to Barb about what had happened with Casey, but she couldn’t bring it up with other people in the car. Maybe she could talk to Barb when they got home. Barb was her closest friend and they had been through a lot together, including Marie’s death. Kathryn worried that Barb would give her hell for letting it go as far as it had with Casey. What a giant mess.
Chapter Twenty-five
September 1992
Casey couldn’t permit herself to think about the events of the weekend in Flagstaff with Kathryn. She was starting the T-38 phase of pilot training in two days, and she had to focus her attention and energy on preparing for that.
Flying the supersonic T-38, the “White Rocket,” had been her life’s dream for as long as she could remember. Studying her flight manual, Casey continued to be impressed at what this jet could do. It was twice the size of a T-37 and twice as fast. It had afterburners on the engines and cruised at over four hundred knots. It was newer than the T-37 and had more advanced instruments. Casey couldn’t wait to get her hands on this plane. She could not lose sight of the goal of her life for an attraction to a woman, any woman, even if that woman was Kathryn.
Despite her efforts to not think about her, Casey kept hearing Kathryn’s voice in her head. As she was making her flash cards to learn the T-38 emergency procedures and operations limits, she heard Kathryn saying, “All knowledge can be divided into three areas: either need to know, nice to know, or nits.” Kathryn had taught her how to study, to prioritize, and to learn a new airplane.
She wanted to talk to Trish and Rhonda about everything that had happened with Kathryn in Flagstaff, but she couldn’t bear recounting the story of Kathryn’s rejection. It was too sad and pathetic.
*****
Casey arrived early to the T-38 squadron building. There were eight flights instead of the six in the T-37 squadron, and the building looked similar but slightly different from the Tweet squadron. The main hallway was darker and it smelled a little like a men’s locker room. The pilots returning from their flights wore G-suits, also known as “go fast pants.” They were olive drab, worn over the legs of the flight suit like cowboy chaps, and the guys loved to swagger in them. Casey wondered what they felt like when you were wearing them in the plane.
She glanced into the flight room of Tipper Flight. Their flight patch was a Playboy bunny drinking out of a champagne glass, and there was a giant mural of a naked woman’s silhouette along an entire wall. Casey found it tasteless and offensive and was grateful she wasn’t in that flight. The overall impression of the T-38 squadron was
one of macho men, wannabe fighter pilots strutting about like roosters with excess testosterone. It didn’t matter. Casey would do whatever it took to pass this phase of training, and she would not be intimidated by anyone.
Casey was assigned to Gombey Flight and looked for her name on the big schedule board to see who her IP would be. She said a silent prayer that she would get a good instructor this time. Her IPs last name was Pruitt and she looked for his table in the room but didn’t find it. “Tompkins?” the head scheduler asked her.
“Yes, sir,” Casey answered.
“Your instructor is a guest help IP, Major Pruitt, and you can sit at my table.”
“Thanks,” she replied. Her tablemate was Tom Jenkins, a guy she didn’t know very well, but he was a captain like her and a former navigator.
“Hi, Casey, good to see you again,” Tom said as he extended his hand.
“Hi, Tom, good to see you.”
The first day was all briefing items and life support checks where Casey got fitted for her G-suit. It was a very tight lower body suit with air bladders against her stomach, thighs and calves. The air bladders inflated automatically when you pulled Gs to improve your G tolerance.
The life support technician told her, “This will not prevent you from blacking out. It only gives you another two Gs of resistance. The most important thing about this G-suit is that when you feel it squeeze your legs, that will tell you when you are pulling Gs, and to get on your anti-G straining maneuver and then you won’t black out.” What a revelation.
Casey saw her name on the schedule board with her new instructor pilot, Major Pruitt, for her first sim ride. Casey had learned all her prefight checklist flows and felt prepared but also nervous.
“Hi, y’all! Where’s my next victim?” The whole flight turned to see who was making the loud entrance. A short, stocky, bald-headed man with a neck as thick as his head strolled into the flight room. He had a giant grin on his face and was wearing a worn, faded flight suit. His name tag read “Pruitt.”
“Oh, no,” Casey muttered. She stood up to greet him.
“You must be Casey. Glad to meet you. Sit down, sit down,” he said with a Southern drawl as thick as molasses. He reached out to shake her hand.
“Nice to meet you, sir.” His hand was rough and sturdy like he’d just walked off the plantation.
“Oh, Jesus, don’t be calling me ‘sir.’ Just call me Bulldog. Get out your notepad and write down everything I say.”
He gave her exact pitch attitudes, airspeeds, and power settings for the initial maneuvers. It reminded her of the way Kathryn instructed, very succinct and precise.
“All right, missy, let’s get out there and slip some simulated surlies.”
“Okay, Bulldog.” How the hell did I end up with this redneck old fucker as my IP? At least he would be sitting behind her in the rear seat instead of next to her when he yelled at her.
The wall of cool air-conditioning in the sim building was a welcome escape from the Arizona summer heat. The first thing Casey noticed when she climbed into the front seat of the T-38 sim was how compact this plane felt. It was like a hot little sports car. The instruments were newer and the attitude indicator was huge compared to the meatball-sized one in the T-37.
Bulldog stood next to her on the sim platform. “Show me your preflight setup.”
Casey smoothly went through the tests and checks of the instruments.
“Well, somebody’s been practicing. Now do an engine start.”
Casey knew the engine start procedures and she announced the start parameters as the engines came to life.
“Very nice, missy.” He had a teasing, good ol’ boy tone in his voice.
“This little bugger up on top of the glare shield is the most important difference between a Tweet and a T-38. It’s the AOA indicator, and why do we care about this?”
“That’s the angle of attack display. It shows when you are flying near the stall speed.”
“Correct. But I like to call this the life-or-death-o-meter. You need to keep this bad boy in the green donut or you will stall the jet. I’ll hop in the backseat and we’re going to have some fun.”
Casey was excited but a little apprehensive as she closed the canopy and realized she was by herself in the front seat.
“Casey, can you hear me?” Bulldog said over the flight intercom.
“Yes, sir, I’ve got you loud and clear.” He had a smooth baritone voice, and hearing his disembodied words felt like God was talking to her.
“You’re loud and clear also. I’m going to show you the first takeoff, then have you try one. You have to hold the brakes hard to keep from moving during the engine run-up because this little sweetheart wants to get in the air. Push the throttles up to mil power, check the engine gauges, then push the throttles over the hump into max afterburner power, check for two good nozzle swings, this confirms the burners are lit, release brakes, and hang on.”
The sim leapt forward with a lurch as Casey watched the speed rapidly increase. “Speed one hundred thirty-five, rotate to five degrees nose up, and we lift off at one sixty. Safely airborne, gear up, flaps up immediately, and accelerate to three hundred knots.” Everything happened so fast Casey was mentally still on the runway as they climbed through ten thousand feet at four hundred knots. Crap, I’m so behind this jet!
“Casey, you take her and fly around a little. Hold your speed at four hundred knots and your altitude at fifteen thousand feet.”
“My jet.” Casey was all over the sky with wild speed and altitude fluctuations. The stick was super sensitive and she couldn’t get the airplane under control.
“Whoa, Nelly, my jet,” Bulldog said. “This baby is very touchy. Don’t try to move the stick, just think about putting a tiny bit of pressure on it. Try it again.”
Casey tried again by holding the stick lightly with her fingertips and got slightly better. She remembered the exercise Kathryn had her do of holding a pencil in her hand to prevent a death grip on the stick. She tried some turns.
“Just drag that big pitot tube right across the horizon to make a level turn. It’s easier than in the Tweet because you’re sitting on the centerline of the jet. Try a ninety-degree bank turn.”
Casey did more turns like he instructed, and she nailed her altitude. Sweet!
Back in the flight room, Casey wrote down everything she’d seen, and her first sim in the White Rocket hadn’t been great, but it wasn’t awful either.
“Overall grade, Good. You know your stuff, missy. Keep it up. Me and the boss are having a barbecue at the house this Saturday at 1600 hours. You will be there. This is a mandatory social event. Here’s the directions.” He handed her a scribbled note.
*****
Casey abhorred these Air Force social activities. She always felt so awkward. The men would be outside talking with their hands about flying and the wives would be in the kitchen talking about babies and spit-up. She didn’t feel particularly welcome in either group. She usually had to fortify herself with several belts of liquid courage before she could even walk through the door. She drove over to Bulldog’s house on base and saw Kathryn’s bright red Mustang convertible. Great, now it will be even more uncomfortable.
When she walked in, she was assaulted with the blaring sound of country music and she recognized both the T-37 and T-38 squadron commanders, many of the flight commanders, lots of IPs, and the wing commander. This was a who’s who of all the pilots at Willie.
“Casey, I want you to meet the Boss.” Bulldog grabbed her arm and led her into the kitchen.
“Hon, this is my new stud, Casey.”
“Hi, Casey, welcome. I’m Merrilee, you know, like in ‘roll along.’ We’re so glad you could join us.” She was the epitome of Southern charm with long, dark hair teased so high it almost touched the top of the doorway. Her Southern drawl felt like warm honey.
“Casey, this here’s our boy, Chester Junior. Chester, darling, meet Daddy’s new student,” Merrilee said.
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“Hello,” he said in a tiny voice. He was about nine with the moon face of a child with Down syndrome.
Casey felt her presence behind her before she saw her.
“Oh, Kathryn, there you are. Will you set these salads on the table, hon?” Merrilee asked.
“Sure thing, Merrilee. These look delicious,” Kathryn answered. She exchanged a hot glance with Casey as she carried the food. Casey helped with the food and brushed her elbow against Kathryn’s arm as they set them on the table.
“Hi, how are you?” Casey asked.
“I’m good. How about you?”
“I’m okay, a little overwhelmed with the T-38, but overall, good.”
“I’m glad to hear that. Everyone is overwhelmed with the T-38 at first, but Bulldog is a great IP.”
“Really? I’m not sure what to make of him. Rednecks from the South are not usually the kind of people I like to hang around with.”
“Don’t let the Southern accent fool you, Casey. He’s one of the best pilots you’ll ever fly with. Check out his office down the hall.”
Casey glanced around to make sure no one noticed her as she slipped down the hall to the office. She peeked in and saw walls covered with plaques, diplomas, certificates, and awards: Top Graduate-Fighter Weapons School, Distinguished Graduate F-16 Qualification Course, magna cum laude from MIT, T-38 Instructor Pilot of the Year, USAF Test Pilot School. This guy is no slouch.
Casey noticed Kathryn sitting with the T-37 squadron commander, two flight commanders, and Bulldog. It seemed like Kathryn was avoiding her on purpose. She also saw her former IP, Lieutenant Carter, sitting with another guy. She didn’t know who he was, but she felt an instant dislike for him. He had greasy hair, pockmarked skin, and a sneer on his face. The two of them were laughing and pointing at Kathryn. She wanted to punch him in the face. She went over to sit with some other T-38 student pilots.