Stormwatch - A Blizzard in Buffalo

by Duleigh

©Copyright 2025 by Duleigh

Chapter 1

Josh and Veronica loved to camp back in the woods. It was something that Veronica had only dreamed about, but with Josh, it became a reality. Slowly, they made their own campsite atop the rise on the north end of his property. The scout lean-to became a woodshed, and they made a clean level area with drainage to pitch a nice cabin tent. Together they built a firepit ringed with rocks collected from down in Zoar Valley and built a new picnic table. Josh insisted on putting an umbrella over the table, so he drilled a hole in the middle of the table so he could erect the umbrella.

As they sat eating their first breakfast together at their new campsite, Veronica asked. “Why the umbrella? We’re under a thick covering of pine and maple trees; sunlight will not touch this forest floor for a couple of months.”

Just then something struck the umbrella, an acorn? Tree branch? Maybe a leaf or a few needles from the tamarack tree above them hit. “It’s like this all spring, summer, and fall,” said Josh. “Trees rain bits and pieces, not to mention tree sap.”

Veronica was feeling especially naughty. As they worked in the woods yesterday, she had gone topless all day, like Josh. “Tell me a story,” she said as Josh served her breakfast. Two eggs basted in bacon fat, home fries and bacon. They had a long day of work ahead of them and Josh believed in a big breakfast. They were going to put up a new outhouse here on the hill.

“I don’t know any stories. I have to borrow a book every time I go watch Paul and Andi’s girls.”

“Then tell me about your last year,” said Veronica. They sat topless, leaning close to each other.

“Why do you want to know about that? I got out of the hospital, went to Hurlburt Field, went to Korea, went to the hospital, came back and got discharged, then went back into the hospital. Woo hoo. Fun.”

“No, I’m serious. You’ll occasionally say something like ‘this is as bad as my last year.’ I want to know.”

Josh looked at Veronica and sighed. He didn’t want to tell her; he was sure he’d get that pitying look that he had to endure in the hospitals. “Actually, it was closer to two years,” said Josh. “After I got banged up and got my call sign Bounce Two Seven, I ended up in Wilford Hall Air Force Hospital getting glued back together before they mailed me home to Hurlburt Field in Florida. That’s when shit really fell apart.” He thought for a moment, then said, “and came back together, and fell apart, and came back together… I wasn’t the Ephie you know. I was in pain all the time, and life kept slapping me down.”

“Tell me,” she said as she leaned over and gnawed on his bare shoulder.

“Ok, but don’t look at me like Marjory Friedman does when I tell you.” She knew what he meant by that. Marjory Friedman, their boss’s wife, gushes pity over sad stories.

“Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye.”

“Ok, but it’s mostly boring…”

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Chapter 2

Technical Sergeant Ephraim J. Gravely rode in silence as his first sergeant, Master Sergeant John Terry, picked Josh up at the Fort Walton Beach Airport. Ephraim, or Josh as he’s known to his friends, was still shaking and sweating from the flight. The flight from Wilford Hall Aeromedical Institute was worse than he expected and when he had to change flights at St. Louis, he almost didn’t get on the plane. His nerves were jangling, and he felt a panic rise as he neared his gate.

Luckily, he had devised a plan. He stopped at every bar he passed in Lambert-St. Louis International Airport and ordered a gin and tonic. He downed the drink and pressed on to the next airport bar. That way, he was well lubricated when he got on the flight to Fort Walton Beach. It kept most of the horrors away. Not all of them. He also had a travel mug full of ice and he paid far too much for two bottles of water. He didn’t know why, possibly because of the dry, dusty life he led for eight months, but having water at hand comforted him.

“When am I going to get my new crew?” asked Josh. He said it mostly for something to say. The first sergeant had nothing to do with assigning gun crews, but Josh felt he had to go back up and to go back up, he needed a crew. He was a damn good gunner, one of the best. He trained and evaluated the best gunners in Special Operations. Guns always work when Josh was on the plane.

“You need to pass a flight physical first big guy,” said John, who at five foot six was shorter than most men in the USAF, so almost everyone was ‘big guy’ to him.

“That’s going to be a while Johnny,” said Josh. “I busted myself up pretty good. I just wanna go home and lay down on the couch and watch a ball game.”

“Well, we will have that dream come true for you in a few minutes,” said the first sergeant as he wove through base housing. Being on a flight crew, Josh had a pretty nice apartment in a duplex. He couldn’t wait to get home. He missed Yesenia even though she only wrote five letters in the nine months he was gone. She wasn’t what you would consider the literate type, but she was affectionate.

They pulled up to his apartment, and there was a staff car waiting. Two men in flight suits stepped out of the staff car. One was his squadron commander, Lieutenant Colonel Gabriel Marriner, the other was Colonel Ryker Ash, the wing commander of the 57th Special Operations Wing. In his rumpled dress blues, on crutches and wearing an eye patch, Josh looked like a battered survivor. An optometrist had discovered sand burn in his right eye from his final mission and bandaged that eye so it would heal. Josh covered the bandage with a black eye patch because it looked cool.

“Sergeant Gravely, welcome back,” said Colonel Ash. “Major Hancock and Captain Jackson are still singing your praises for your actions over Eil Geradi.”

Josh saluted, then shook the hands of the commanders. He didn’t want to talk about Eil Geradi; he didn’t want to talk about what he did there, he just wanted a cold beer and a bath. “We’ve declassified Eil Geradi?” Eil Geradi was a highly classified Neolithic shithole filled with Houthi terrorists, ISIS terrorists, Al Qaeda terrorists, and Taliban terrorists armed to the teeth with crap that some moron abandoned in Afghanistan. They were shooting up shipping and the new CINC ordered it stopped. Josh and his team shot the living fuck out of Eil Geradi, but someone down there shot back, which started the worst night in Sergeant Gravely’s life.

“We thought you might like to know that Eil Geradi doesn’t exist anymore,” said Colonel Marriner. “Our friends in Minot… let’s say they leveled the playing field.”

Josh nodded to the colonel. The expression Friends in Minot was a euphemism for B-52 bombers, or any heavy bombers in general. Josh tightened his fists until his fingernails dug into his hands. “Yes sir. Shall…”

“Before we go inside, sergeant, let me be the first to shake your hand,” said Colonel Ash. “Master Sergeant Gravely,” he said with a grin as they shook hands.

“I made it?” Josh tested for Master Sergeant just before deploying to the gulf region.

“You sure did,” said the wing commander, and he handed Josh a letter that informed him of his selection for promotion and his line number. Everyone in the USAF who is promoted past Senior Airman receives a line number which is based on your time in service. Folks who have been in the longest have the lowest number, and after that, so many people per month officially put on their new rank based on their line number. Josh’s line number was 3520, which meant he had months to wait before he could wear the Master Sergeant stripes. That didn’t stop wise commanders from putting promotion selectees in positions their future rank would demand.

“Thank you sir. God, this helps.” Josh almost cried. It’s been bad news every day, one day after another, for weeks and weeks. Now, some good news! Josh felt like his life was finally turning around. “Shall we go inside?”

The colonels smiled and nodded, so Josh set his crutches and crutched his way up the driveway. “Nice cars,” said Master Sergeant Terry

There was a new Dodge Charger and a new Corvette in the driveway. “I own a 2020 Jeep Renegade and my wife has a 2014 Fusion, but I don’t see them anywhere,” said Josh.

He walked up to the front door and flung it open wide. He was going to cheerfully announce, “I’m home!” but what he saw froze him solid. There in the living room was his wife, Yesenia, stripped to the waist, big tits and a big pregnant belly. Her once fair skin was covered with tattoos. She was on her knees, sucking the cock of some greasy-looking piece of trash as he sat on Josh’s couch. Finally, Josh shrieked, “GET THE FUCK OUT!” He took a crutch and brought it up to throw like a javelin.

It was bedlam. Yesenia was shrieking in Spanish. The guy she was blowing was shouting in Spanish as well. Josh was shouting, “Get out of my house you WHORE! You SLUT!” John Terry pulled the crutch out of Josh’s hands so he couldn’t kill the screaming pregnant woman. However, the greasy-looking piece of trash got up to run and completely forgot his pants were around his ankles and fell on his face. Josh had another crutch to use, and he brought it up like an axe. “Puta! (Whore)” he shouted.

Josh brought the crutch down like a sledgehammer, but the greasy piece of shit on the floor scrambled out of the way. That’s when Colonel Ash and Lieutenant Colonel Marriner grabbed Josh by the arms and hauled him away from the house. Colonel Marriner pushed Josh into the staff car and said, “Calm down. Sergeant Terry and Colonel Ash are dealing with them. I need you Josh. Let’s put you up for the night while we straighten this shit out.”

“Just let me wound her,” begged Josh. “Nothing fatal or debilitating, a few ugly scars here and there. She’ll cover them with ugly fucking tattoos anyhow.”

They stopped at the base hotel, a facility for personnel that are on base temporarily, or waiting for their housing unit to open. As Josh got his crutches set, his commander grabbed his duffle bag and led him into the hotel. “Get him a nice room for a few days,” Colonel Marriner told the desk clerk. The clerk checked Josh’s ID card, then ran his debit card.

“This was rejected,” said the clerk.

“Here, try this one,” and Josh handed the clerk a card that was just for official travel.

“That was rejected too,” said the clerk.

“That fucking whore! How did she get access to that card?”

“Put it on my card,” said Colonel Marriner. He handed the desk clerk his card and said, “He’s going to need a week.”

It was obvious Josh was trying not to cry. His entire world was gone. In one month, he was shot out of the air, his crew was injured, his best friend dead, and the incident with Ellie still made him wake up screaming. His body was broken, his crew in shambles, and he had to come home to that horror show. “I can’t pay you back sir,” said Josh.

“You already have sergeant. Just relax and let me take care of it,” said Colonel Marriner as they entered his room. Josh sat down in a chair. He wasn’t sure if he should, but nobody stopped him. Colonel Marriner was talking, but Josh didn’t hear a word. He watched the commander walk out of the door and someone entered and was speaking words that didn’t register with Josh.

“Ephraim? Are you with us?”

Josh shook his head and noticed that there was a well-dressed man standing in front of him. “Colonel Ash asked me to do a little work for you. Have you had any sleep?”

“I don’t know… I just don’t know anything…”

Bob Mosgrove has never seen someone so busted up in his life, and as a divorce attorney, he’s seen some seriously shredded people. “Ephraim, when’s the last time you ate?”

“I… I don’t know…” He looked in a corner of the room and said, “Craig? Did we eat?”

“There’s no Craig here, Sergeant Gravely. It’s just you and me.”

“Craig?” Josh nodded, then turned to Bob. In a small, tired voice, he said, “He doesn’t know either.” Then Josh closed his eyes and everything went slack.

“Ephraim? Are you ok?” Bob snapped his fingers in front of Josh’s face, but there was no response. He pinched Josh here and there, then swore. “Shit!” Bob checked Josh’s pulse. It was there, but it was weak and fluttering. Bob Mosgrove was a lawyer. Lawyers don’t lose patients. He called 911 and said, “I have a GI returning from combat, he… I don’t know, it seemed like he had a psychotic break. Then he lost consciousness and is nonresponsive. Respirating? Yes, shallow breaths, his pulse is 50 and fluttery. Drinking? I don’t think so. He was just released from Willford hall. Hurlburt Field, base hotel, room 101…

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Josh opened his eyes and saw the room was full of medical equipment. An EMT was shining a tiny flashlight in his eye. “Follow the light please,” and he moved it side to side.

“What are you doing here?”

“Your lawyer called us and said you needed help,” said the EMT.

“I don’t have a lawyer… I don’t have anything…” Josh desperately tried to get back to the pleasant nothing that he was in, but people kept bothering him.

“When is the last time you ate?” asked the EMT.

Josh squinted at his watch, then said, “Seven hours ago.”

“What did you eat?”

“Gin.”

The EMT sighed and said, “When was the last time you ate solid food?”

“What day is this? The last meal I ate was… Sunday. I had an open face roast chicken sandwich. The nurse wouldn’t let me watch the game unless I ate.”

“That was two days ago,” said the EMT. “Look, sergeant. All this trauma on a diet of gin will kill you.”

Josh looked the EMT in the eye and said, “What’s the downside of that?”

The EMT turned to Colonel Ash and said, “He should be in a hospital.”

“He just got released from a hospital,” said the commander.

“That’s just my opinion,” said the EMT. “Emotional trauma, physical trauma, all on top of a diet of gin…”

“I had it with tonic,” insisted Josh. The EMT closed his eyes and pretended he didn’t hear that. “It was diet tonic,” continued Josh. “I’m trying to lose weight.”

“It’s not surprising he shut down like that,” said the EMT as he packed his bags up.

“Please leave me alone. I’m fine,” said Josh, who was desperately trying to go back to sleep.

“Gunner, I need you,” said a familiar voice. Josh opened his eyes and saw that it was Major Emory Hancock. His pilot. The young major leaned in close and whispered, “I know what that cunt did to you, but you can’t do anything or she’ll take everything you own.”

“She already did.”

“Gunner, do you trust me?”

“You got me home sir… but thanks to Yesenia my levels of gratitude are wavering.”

Major Hancock chuckled. “At least your cynicism is still intact. This fellow here he’s Bob Mosgrove, he’s a lawyer. If you want payback, you go through him.”

“I just want my jeep and my credit rating back and that cunt and her spawn out of my life.”

“Good, that’s a start. Just listen to Bob, he’ll steer you straight.”

“Yes sir.”

“Tonight. O-club. My treat. It’s steak and lobster night.”

“I don’t know,” said Josh. “Over at the NCO club it’s Spaghetti-O’s and garlic toast night. That’s the top spread at the Bent Barrel.” The Bent Barrel was the nickname of the NCO club.

Major Hancock chuckled and said, “If you want, I can have the chef at the O club warm up a can of Ravioli-O’s for you.”

“Sold,” said Josh, a half-smile creeping up on his face.

“I know I said this before, I’m sorry about Craig, he was a good man and we all miss him. But thank you for saving Ellie. She was the best loadmaster I ever had.”

Tears filled Josh’s eyes, and he groaned, “Her leg…”

“You saved her life Ephraim,” said the Major forcefully. “Don’t you ever diminish that. I put you in for a Medal of Honor.”

Josh looked at his flight crew commander like he was crazy. “It will never happen, but thank you sir.”

“You may be right, but whatever happens, you’ve earned it as far as we’re all concerned.” Then the Major gestured to the lawyer who sat down next to Josh.

“Ephraim, my name is Bob Mosgrove.”

They shook hands and Josh said, “Call me Josh.”

“Ok, Josh. Have you heard of Do Ab?”

Anyone who has flown gunships after 2011 knows about Do Ab. A scout platoon from the 133rd Infantry Regiment, along with 20 Afghan soldiers, were ambushed by an estimated 500 Taliban fighters. Close air support by F-16s, F-15s, F-18s, AH-64s, and AC-130s protected the coalition forces. Then, as night fell, two AC-130s using infrared targeting systems hunted down the retreating Taliban and almost got them all. “Yeah, I know Do Ab,” said Josh.

“I was in the first of the one thirty third and the Specters saved my ass,” said Bob. “If there’s a Specter that needs help, I’m there to give them anything they need. Pro bono.”

Josh looked at Bob and tried to make up his mind. He wasn’t in a trusting mood. Yeah, he was pissed at Yesenia, but his unit should have been checking up on her to make sure that she didn’t get into trouble. He wanted to think that something happened and she couldn’t find help from the US Air Force, so she turned to… shit. Josh just realized who was on the couch with his cock down Yesenia’s throat. It was Alfonso Romerez, her old boyfriend.

He nodded to Bob and said, “I need help. Lots of help.”

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Chapter 3

Josh and Bob Musgrove strolled into Fort Walton Beach Chrysler Jeep Chevy. Well, Bob strolled. Josh was on crutches and in his dress blues and was wearing sunglasses. “Can I help you sir?”

“I would like to speak to the sales manager please.”

“Regarding what?”

“My Jeep,” said Josh. He took off his sunglasses, revealing the eye patch he was wearing. His blues were cleaned, pressed, and Bob insisted he wear all of his badges, wings, and ribbons, even the ones he earned on classified missions that were not supposed to be displayed. ‘What are they going to do?’ asked Bob Mosgrove. ‘Send you back to East Africa?’

This was the first step in getting Josh his life back. Bob hoped it would get Josh his pride and self-esteem back too. Yesenia took all that away, including his jeep, most of his possessions, and his money. Luckily, Josh had done a masterful job at hiding his life savings from her. A hefty percentage of each paycheck went into savings because Josh was planning on buying a farm when he got bored with the Air Force. When he woke up in the base hotel with no home, no food, no car, and no cash, he didn’t dream of touching his savings. That was for his farm.

“Your Jeep?” asked the salesman. He clearly didn’t understand Josh’s request.

“Yes. I’d like it back now please.”

“Your jeep is here for maintenance?” asked the confused salesman.

“Uh, no. It was stolen while I was overseas serving my country. It was used as a trade-in here for a new Charger without my consent, permission, or my signature on the title.”

“I don’t see how that’s possible,” the salesman said with a fake smile.

“Of course not, you’re a floor salesman. The sales manager or the franchise owner would understand,” said Josh. “Fraud? Theft? One wonders what the state would think about it.”

Sid Davis, the sales manager, stepped up to find out what was going on as the salesman snarled, “You better have some evidence and a lawyer handy if you’re going to be using language like that around here.”

“I just happen to have both,” said Josh with a smile. “Bob? Would you like to talk with Mister Davis about my jeep?”

“I’d be happy to, sergeant. Why don’t you see if your jeep is still on the lot,” said Bob Musgrove. “Mister Davis, you’re the sales manager? Why don’t we talk in your office while Sergeant Graves reevaluates his feelings about the civil suit he would like to bring.”

As they walked off into the manager’s office, Josh looked around the show room, then stepped outside and looked around the lot. The sun was intense, but the breeze off the nearby gulf was cool and refreshing. Josh started across the lot, making his way over to the area where the Jeeps were. “Can I help you find something?” came a female voice from behind him.

He turned and saw a beautiful blond saleswoman approaching him. “Is there something you’re looking for sergeant?”

“Yeah, something about five foot six, blond, brown eyes, loves baseball, fishing and long walks on the beach.”

She smiled and said, “Hard top or convertible?” and she took off her straw sunhat.

“Either will do, I’m Josh Gravely.” He shook hands with her and said, “I come back from deployment and my jeep was gone. I’m looking to see if you have a suitable substitute.”

“I’m Deanna, it’s nice to meet you. Now… a jeep? We’re having a big sale on Dodge Ram right now.”

“Grandpa wouldn’t like that,” said Josh.

“Grandpa doesn’t like pickup trucks?”

“Jeep pickup trucks are ok. A classic Jeep Commando would rock, but a Gladiator would be much better.”

“Grandpa insists on a jeep?”

Josh gave her an odd look then said, “Grandpa IS a jeep.”

Deanna smiled and said, “Grandpa IS a jeep?”

“Grandpa is what my mother named my jeep. It was the first vehicle I ever owned. A 1951 CJ3A and I’ve had it with me since I was in high school. The last time I saw it; it was in great condition. My mom said, ‘that damn thing is as ugly as your grandpa’. She didn’t like Grandpa Gravely. She said, ‘if I had a dog that ugly I’d shave it’s ass and make it walk backwards.’”

Deanna laughed and said, “I take it your mom doesn’t like jeeps?”

“Nah, she just didn’t like me. Ah was a surprise baby and she and pa were never happy with the surprise. Of course I didn’t help none. I parked that jeep right where she would see it when she had her morning cup of bourbon. We were hillbillys that couldn’t afford a hill.”

“And you still have the Grandpa?”

“I think I do. My lawyer says it’s still in the garage, probably because my soon to be ex can’t drive a stick.”

“Come on, that’s cold.”

“Cold nothing, I was stationed at Minot North Dakota, I know cold. I get my dream assignment and go on a nine month deployment. I came back and she’s six months pregnant. I caught her and her old boyfriend when I got back.”

“You caught them? They were…” Deanna’s eyes rolled. “They were um… busy?”

“When I walked in the house if I had kicked her in the ass, he would be singing soprano with the Vienna Boys Choir right now.”

As Deanna stifled her laughter, they strolled among the cars and Josh told her about the injuries he suffered without telling her everything that had happened on the mission. That became a habit, blaming his injuries on a ‘rough landing’ rather than the non-stop horror he experienced for over two hours in the sky. He mentioned a few times about his singing, silly remarks like “this isn’t going to boost my singing career” and “It’s getting hard to sing in church, it keeps coming out ‘Goddamnit.’”

“You like to sing?” she asked.

“I actually love to sing; I just don’t do it much anymore. Just a few tunes in the shower and the occasional drunken stab at karaoke.”

She took a business card and wrote an address on it and handed it to him. “Come meet me and my husband here. I think you’ll like it. And believe me, singing clears the soul. It helps get that anger out of your soul that I keep hearing.”

“Ya think?” sighed Josh.

“I know it will.”

Josh looked at the card, then looked up and there was a beautiful new Jeep Gladiator pickup truck. It was painted an odd olive drab green and had stencil markings like a military vehicle. “You put me in that and I’ll come to your meeting.”

“I’ll be right back with the keys,” she said, and she headed back to the office. She returned with the keys and a dealer’s plate she attached to the rear of the truck. “Take it for a ride,” she said.

Josh eased into the driver’s seat of the truck and luxuriated in that new car smell as he examined the dashboard. The truck fit him like a hand in a glove. Nothing fancy, but there was enough electronics to get him where he wanted to go. He started the engine and watched the instrument panel come to life. It was like being in command of his own gunship. Deanna leaned in the window and said, “Go on, take her for a ride.”

“Him,” corrected Josh. “All jeeps are Alpha Male.” He put it in gear and rolled out of the dealer’s lot and onto the Miracle Strip Parkway and headed west past base, then crossed the causeway to Santa Rosa Island where the famous beaches lay. He cruised past the partially crowded beaches on Gulf Boulevard and returned to the mainland across the Navarre Beach Causeway and pulled into the dealership where Bob Mosgrove waited for him. “You like it?”

“I love it. Put on a three inch lift and a set of eighteens and I’ll marry it.”

“Then come inside and sign the papers,” said Bob with a grin. “Mister Davis realized there were some, uh, mistakes made and is willing to trade this truck for a few concessions.”

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Chapter 4

By the time he had to move out of the Base Hotel, Yesenia and her clothing were gone. A volunteer from the ‘Airman’s Attic’ who was really a security policewoman, helped Yesenia pack and made sure she didn’t trash the place when she left.

When she was truly gone, Josh moved back into his apartment in base housing. They gave him three months to clean up the mess and move out. They were three of the worst months he ever experienced. He had duties to perform at the squadron; he was the TODO, the Technical Order Duty Officer. His job was to insure all technical orders (maintenance or operational manuals) were up to date, all pages were in the loose-leaf binders, and all changes were properly annotated or added. It was a dreary, mind numbing, boring job that was also one of the most important jobs in the Air Force. Attempting to perform maintenance on an aircraft with an out-of-date technical order is an invitation to disaster.

At night was the drudgery of cleaning, boxing, and selling or throwing out the last five years of his life. He was selling everything except the TV, and anything that didn’t sell would go to the Airman’s Attic where it would be given to young airmen who were broke and needed furniture.

Bob Mosgrove called or visited Josh every night to keep him updated on his activity. “We need to talk about your divorce. She wants alimony and child support,” said Bob.

“She can want in one hand and shit in the other and see which one fills up first. I don’t want a divorce. I want an annulment.”

“I don’t know if I can swing an annulment…”

“She beat me over the head with the Roman Catholic catechism for months before and after we were married, and I come home to find her sucking the altar boy’s chode? No. She doesn’t get a divorce, she doesn’t get child support, she doesn’t get alimony, and she doesn’t get my name. We cut her ass off, we determine which bills are hers and dump them on her, and I get my name back.

“That’s not how it works, Josh…”

“Go to her father, he is an old school Mexican father. He insists on saying the mass in Latin, he’s that kind of Roman Catholic. He doesn’t want the shame of a divorce staining his family. Tell him I get an annulment or I release the videos of his darling daughter and her tribe of boyfriends that I found on my laptop to Father Montoya and the entire Sacred Heart Society.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Check your mail.”

There was a long pause, then Bob said, “Holy shit…” He watched as raven haired Yesenia swallowed one of the biggest cocks he had ever seen.

“Yeah, holy shit. That’s not her loving husband, and I have a couple of hours of stuff she wouldn’t do with her loving husband on video on this laptop. The date stamp on that video is less than a month after I deployed.”

“I don’t like blackmail,” said Bob.

“It’s not blackmail, you’re trying to prevent a very angry scorned husband from doing something awful. Go to her dad and tell him that my honor has been slighted, he’ll understand that. Remind him that if I get an annulment, he gets that damn gringo out of his family. He will love that, and if you have a Mexican associate explain it to him in Spanish, he’ll sign anything.”

“I can have this divorce complete in a couple of weeks,” insisted Bob.

“Bob, look, she’s demanding more than I make in child support, and on top of that she wants alimony. If you settle for a divorce you’re putting me in prison. I will disappear before that happens, I’ll go AWOL and live on the street of some west coast city with no self-esteem.” He pulled on a nice polo shirt as he talked to Bob on a “Burner” phone. His usual cell service was suspended for failure to pay for nine months while he was gone. While Bob worked with the different utilities that Josh owed due to a lack of payment, Josh had to buy cheap burner phones from Walmart. He had a small flip phone. Its only option was speaker phone. It took pictures, but they sucked and texting was a nightmare. He couldn’t wait to get back to a proper android phone. “I have to go, I gotta go meet Deanna.”

“The car salesman?”

“Yeah, her and her husband.”

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Josh entered the large open room at a local yacht club. There were tables and chairs set up around the room like a big café, and guys were standing in small groups of four or more singing or doing voice exercises. There were several women sitting in the chairs watching and talking softly among themselves. “You made it!” said Deanna cheerfully as she appeared next to Josh. “Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

“What is this?”

“They call it wood shedding, but it’s just warmups before the director gets here.” She led Josh to a quartet that was warming up. “Honey, this is the fellow I was telling you about. This is Josh. Josh; this is my husband, Rod.”

Josh shook hands with Rod and the three guys he was singing with. “What part do you sing?” asked Rod.

“Part?” Josh looked at the four men who leaned in to hear his answer. “I sing the whole song.”

One of the men was a grumpy looking old man with a sour look about him. “He’s a wise ass,” the old fellow said. Then he broke into a huge smile, “welcome to the gang! You’ll fit right in.” They laughed and clapped him on the back and Josh was wondering what he got himself into. He thought Deanna had invited him to a church choir practice, but this was far from that.

“Do you know Let Me Call You Sweetheart?” asked another fellow.

“Yeah, it’s been a while…” and before he knew it, he was singing the old standard with four other guys in perfect four-part harmony. It was fun. For the first time in months, he was smiling. Before he knew it, Josh was singing with the quartet in four-part harmony, and each of these guys had an ear. They knew their music and if Josh was off the note by a half step, one of them would point up or down to get him back on key.

Someone said, “let’s line up!” and everyone headed to a set of risers at the far end of the room and a harried but happy looking man took position as director. “Who do we have here?”

“Gene, this is Josh Gravely, and he stopped by to check us out.”

The director stepped up to Josh and said, “Josh, I’m the director Gene Mitchell, and you’re welcome to be here.” When he said that, Josh heard a harmonica note behind him and Gene stepped back and directed the chorus in a song called “You’re as Welcome as the Flowers in May.” They sang in perfect harmony while they trooped past Josh and each man shook his hand.

As they neared the end of the song, there were still many guys in line to shake Josh’s hand, so Gene yelled “I Want a Girl!” and the chorus switched to singing “I want a girl, just like the girl, that married dear old dad…” which had Josh laughing for some reason.

When they were done singing, Gene called Josh forward and said, “What part do you sing?”

“In high school I sang bass in The Music Man, but I don’t think I could hit the bass notes y’all are hitting. A high school bass is a different kinda animal,” said Josh.

Gene smiled; The Music Man was an entry into barbershop singing for a lot of men. “Sing something for me, anything that feels comfortable.” Josh looked around and shrugged, then began singing.

{i}I want to be an Oscar Meyer wiener,

That is what I truly want to be.

‘Cause if I were an Oscar Meyer wiener,

All the girls would soon be eating…{/i}

“That’s good!” Gene called, stopping him and said, “Go over there and sing with the baritones.” The baritones in the chorus gathered around Josh and taught him how to sing the baritone part, and before he knew it, Josh was hooked.

He sang all night. He sang tunes that he thought were too modern for barbershop. He thought barbershop music was “Down By The Old Mill Stream” and “My Wild Irish Rose.” Instead, they were singing modern show tunes, hits from the 60s and 70s, they sang do-wop from the fifties and more. He reached for his phone to add Barbershop Practice to his calendar, but there’s no calendar on a twenty-dollar burner flip-phone.

<><><><><>֍<><><><><>

Chapter 5

The weeks passed, and Josh fell into a rhythm. Wednesday night was barbershop chorus practice, and Deanna was right. It was a lot of fun. But it was not a cure for the anger and humiliation of what Yesenia did to him. It helped for a few days, but by Saturday night, the degradation burned in his gut. That’s when he found himself at the tiki bars down on Santa Rosa Island. His hip was healing, and he was able to operate a clutch, so he took Grandpa when he went prowling. He didn’t want to destroy his beautiful new truck after a long night at the Tiki Bar.

The women of Santa Rosa Island were warm and inviting and were easily swayed by someone that could sing. Josh was sure if he could wear his uniform on stage with all those ribbons and medal, badges and wings, he’d have his cock in someone’s mouth before the song was over. Forget Sinatra, Dean Martin was the music that made their panties wet. Dean’s sweet Italian crooning was all new to Millennials and younger, and it was ‘pussy bait’ to Zoomers and Boomers, and Josh had the range for everything that ‘Dino’ sang. He avoided Dean’s top hits and went for the songs that slipped under the radar of history.

{i}I have but one heart, this heart I bring you

I have but one heart to share with you…{/i}

I Have But One Heart was a sweet crooner that nailed them every time, and Josh had a list of romantic sure-fire pussy traps. Before long, somebody who was in the tiki bars with her buddies was purring along Gulf Boulevard in a classic Jeep named Grandpa. It was a tropical night and the cool breeze was coming in off the beach and it felt incredible. “I’m going to get wild,” the drunk blond said.

“I dare ya,” he said.

“Woo hoo!” Josh looked over and she had taken her polo shirt off. Her breasts were small, but her nipples were rock hard as the ocean breeze caressed her skin. “I love this!” she cried as they purred along in the antique jeep. The next thing Josh knew was that she had pulled down her shorts and was sitting nude next to him. He knew right where to go.

He turned off Santa Rosa Boulevard and followed a packed sand road to the beach where they ended up riding along close to the gentle surf. “I want to go skinny dipping in the moonlight,” said the blond, and she hopped out of the jeep even before the wheels stopped turning. “This feels incredible!” cried the blond as she splashed in the surf. It was the first time she had ever gone swimming in the nude. Even though she normally wears a tiny bikini bathing suit, the water touching her nipples and her unprotected vulva sent thrills through her body. Add that to riding in the old jeep and the crooning of Josh, or whatever he called himself, and she wanted a man.

“Come on!” she called. “The water’s great!” Josh was leaning against Grandpa, watching the woman splash in the gulf. “Chicken!” she called.

Josh kicked off his sandals, peeled off his Atlanta Falcons Aloha shirt and dropped his shorts, then walked slowly toward her, his erect cock swaying with every step. She watched him approach, trying to keep her eyes on his eyes, but that cock was so nice and thick, and long, and… before she realized what had happened, she was in his arms and they were kissing hungrily. His right hand held her head in place as they kissed, his left arm wrapped around her and pulled her to him. She shocked herself by grabbing his ass and pulling him to her. His hard cock pressed against her and she wanted it in her. She knew she was drunk, but this was something she wanted.

He scooped her up in his powerful arms and carried her up the beach to the damp sand that was hard as concrete and there they lay in the moonlight kissing, waiting for each other to make the first move, and eventually it was mutual. She lay on top of him, considering his cock while his tongue danced on her clit.

He was a champion pussy licker, and she began groaning as he slowly drove her out of her mind with his insistent tongue. She felt a finger ease into her pussy and involuntarily her legs spread wider for him. As he fingerfucked her pussy and tongue lashed her clit, she began suckling his big round balls, which caused him to groan. She then held his cock up and studied it, then lowered her hungry mouth over his throbbing cock.

There in the moonlight, as the waves of the gulf lapped on the sand just inches away, the couple feasted on each other, driving each other insane with desire. The blond was soon on the edge of a hard orgasm and her body tightened up as it hit. Shockwaves crashed through her body. She released his cock and sang out her pleasure to the sky as he slipped two fingers in and out of her cunt.

As she calmed down, she tried to wriggle away, but he said, “Uh uh. My turn.” She laughed and tried to crawl away on her hand and knees, but he caught her and lined up his cock and drove into her without warning.

“Gawd you’re splitting me open!” she groaned.

“Take it!”

He began a pounding fuck that drove the blond forward; She sank to her elbows and fought to keep from having her face driven into the sand. The sound of their bodies clapping together filled the night air, as did the sound of an occasional slap on her ass. It was hot, and it was driving her to another mind shattering orgasm. His cock pounded in and out of her pussy harder, deeper, faster. The slaps to her ass added hot spice to the blazing fuck, and then they both came, shouting, screaming, cumming. His sperm flooded her pussy as he drove into her hard, pounding at her pussy with a vengeance.

Then they collapsed to the sand, panting. He half expected him to roll over and leave her, but they cuddled in the sand, watching the moonlight dance along the distant waves. “This part is so nice,” she whispered.

He wanted to scream, “This isn’t me!” but he just cuddled with her until the incoming tide splashed them and they got up and washed the sand off, then headed back to Grandpa.

“Look, I don’t want to be a downer but who is Yesenia?”

<><><><><>֍<><><><><>

Chapter 6

Josh sat at his desk, hating himself and hating his job. He was doing an “A-Page” on a maintenance technical order. That was to take the list of changes and updates and go through the 600-page technical order, page by page, to ensure every change was added to the T.O. according to the list. He had seven copies of that T.O. to do before he could call the job done and move on to the next series of technical orders. Then he heard a familiar voice.

Josh, what the hell are you doing?

It was Craig Zigler, his top 105 loader. “Mind your own damn business,” said Josh. “You’re dead.”

Seriously Josh, what the hell are you doing?

“I’m doing a fucking A-Page on the dash thirteen if you must fucking know!”

Not that Josh, the girls! Christy was bawling her eyes out when you dumped her on the beach.

“Was that her name?”

You hurt her Josh. You treated her like a piece of meat.

“Mind your own fucking business.”

Josh, what if you knock one of them up?

“DAMN IT CRAIG LEAVE ME…”

“Yes sergeant Gravely?” asked the shop lieutenant, who leaned in Josh’s office door.

“Nothing sir, just rehashing a family argument in my mind.”

“You should save that for after duty, sergeant.”

“Yes sir,” said a chastised Josh. When the lieutenant left, he muttered, “trying to make me crazy for picking up chicks on Fort Walton Beach. Everyone does it.”

You’re not picking up chicks, you’re hate fucking Yesenia by proxy.

Josh snarled. He wanted to shout, “SO WHAT?” but the book he was checking was missing a page. Fuck! He opened another copy of that T.O. and removed the page that was missing, made a copy, both sides, then put the copied page in the book that was missing the page. “Don’t these fuckers know what paper assholes are for?” he muttered as he reinforced the perforation for the loose-leaf binder with adhesive circles known as paper assholes.

He was still muttering and fuming when Lieutenant Colonel Marriner stepped into his office. The colonel stood silently watching Josh checking each page and each update in the huge T.O. against the listed updates on the A-Page. He flew several times with Josh. Several sorties were training missions where Josh was training a new crew, but a few were hairy combat sorties and Josh had every gun on that ship shooting hot and accurate.

Colonel Marriner cleared his throat. Josh heard him and looked up, then leapt to his feet and snapped to attention. “Sir!”

“As you were sergeant,” said the squadron commander. Josh slowly sat down and tried to hide his emotions. He was sure he knew why the commander was here. “I got the results of your physical, Josh.”

“Yes sir,” but it came out in a hoarse whisper. Josh? The colonel never called him Josh. This didn’t bode well.

“You’ve been returned to worldwide status,” said the commander. “This is good, this is what you wanted, right?”

“Yes sir,” said Josh. If the doctor had said he was no longer worldwide qualified, he would be put out of the service. “I hear a ‘but’ coming. Is this a delta briefing?”

Colonel Marriner sighed and said, “There’s no other way to say it but to say it. You didn’t pass your flight physical. This is a delta briefing.”

“What? How could I not… is it my eye?”

“No, your eye healed perfectly, it is your hearing and your hip,” the commander looked awful. It wasn’t often that a flier was permanently disqualified from flight for a medical, and in Josh’s case, this was painful because there’s talk of disqualifying him from active duty.

“They’re going to put me out, aren’t they?”

“I won’t lie to you Josh, I believe they are considering it.”

Josh’s entire world imploded. This was worse than catching Yesenia with some other guy’s balls on her chin and a bastard in her gut. This was the end of his life. “You can’t let them do that sir,” said Josh.

“Come on Josh. You can go home! No more PT, no more deployments, no more getting your ass shot off.”

“I have no family there, sir. PT, deployments, and getting shot are all I have.” Everything started to get dim for Josh. Colonel Marriner looked like he was in a long, dark tunnel, far, far away. Josh was sweating and shaking and he put his hands in his lap to hide them from the colonel.

“Look, Josh, I can’t keep you here, I need fliers and sitting here maintaining books that you are not allowed to use is going to kill you. If I hide you somewhere, you may get two more years in the Air Force.

“Hide me? Hide me where?”

“Ever been to Korea?”

<><><><><>

Rod Daniels was headed home from work when he passed the cemetery and saw Grandpa parked half off the road on the lawn. He knew the cemetery keeper would have a fit over that. Off among the rows of small headstones, he saw someone in a battle dress uniform kneeling and leaning over a small tomb stone. It had to be Josh.

He approached the crouched soldier and he could see that the fellow was Josh. There was blood all over the tombstone, along with Josh’s hands and face. Rod crouched next to Josh and whispered, “Josh? What’s wrong Josh?”

Josh turned and looked at Rod. They had been singing together every Wednesday night for two months, and often going out for coffee and a burger after, but Josh looked at him like he was a stranger. “I can’t leave him behind again,” said Josh.

“Leave who? What do you mean leave him behind?”

“Not again…” said Josh sadly, and he turned away from Rod and muttered, “You can’t help me father. Go find a redeemable sinner.”

Rod looked at the tombstone. It marked the final resting place of Staff Sergeant Craig Zigler. USAF. KIA. “He was yours?”

“His blood… I felt his last breath… I watched him die… his… blood…”

“Come on Josh.” Rod led him back to Grandpa, and he pushed Josh into the passenger seat, then he went to his car and got a cloth diaper out of the back and ripped it to strips then bound the gashes in Josh’s hands. “What happened? Did you slip with a knife?”

Josh slowly turned to Rod and said, “You’re a priest?” Rod was wearing black trousers and a black clerical shirt with a Roman collar. “Is Deanna a nun?”

“Yes, we were priest and nun when we met,” said Rod as he bound Josh’s wounds. “I’m a Lutheran minister now.”

“You never told me you’re a priest.”

“You never told me you were suicidal,” said Rod.

“There’s nothing left. I even failed at that.” Josh went completely silent.

Rod took him to an emergency clinic. The cuts weren’t deep and needed nothing more than cleaning and butterfly bandages. Josh still wasn’t talking, so Rod just assumed that it was a knife accident. “To both hands?” asked the nurse.

Rod just shrugged. “If he told me more, I couldn’t, you know…”

“Right, sorry Father,” and the nurse finished binding Josh’s wounds. “Should I call the police, father?”

“No, I’m sure this was just a one-time accident,” said Rod. After a lot of paperwork, Rod led Josh out of the clinic and drove him home. On the way, he called Deanna and explained a little bit about what happened and asked her to come pick him up at Josh’s house on her way home from work.

As they pulled in the driveway and parked behind the beautiful Jeep Gladiator that Josh had parked in the drive, Josh turned to Rod and said, “You lied to that Nurse.”

“Did I?” asked Rod.

“Yes. Several times. You let her think you were a priest without correcting her.”

“You’re right, It’s called a lie by implication. I should have corrected her, but the results are the same,” said Rod. “If you tell me something, I cannot be compelled to reveal that to anyone else without your permission.”

“At least I won’t be alone in hell,” groaned Josh. He opened the door to his two-bedroom apartment and Rod followed him in. It was almost completely empty. “There was a couch there, but I took it out in the swamp and burned it. It was a nice couch.” He unfolded an umbrella style lawn chair for Rod. “What would you like to drink? I have water, and…” He looked confused for a second, then he went into the kitchen and Rod heard him call out, “I have water and lemon juice.” He walked into the living room with a half-liter bottle of water in one hand and a quart of lemon juice in the other.

“I’ll take the water,” said Rod.

Josh handed him the water, then said, “I’m going to go wash up and change.”

As he disappeared into the back, Rod got up and explored the apartment. It was completely empty. The only furniture he saw was the chair that Josh unfolded for him. Every closet was bare; the garage was completely empty except for what appeared to be the canvas roof for Grandpa. In the kitchen there were paper plates, plastic silverware, plastic cups. In the fridge, there was a case of drinking water bottles and a bottle of lemon juice. In the freezer were frozen burritos. “It looks like you’re ready to move out,” said Rod.

“Yes, I’m ready for the inevitable,” said Josh. “As soon as the papers are signed, I’m not authorized to be here anymore, so…” Josh chuckled sadly and continued, “I’ll be homeless on active duty. Ain’t that a kick in the head?” he came out of the bathroom singing, ”Like a sailor said quote, ‘ain’t that a hole in the boat?’”

“You should be hunting for a new apartment,” said Rod.

“With my credit rating? I can’t afford to sleep on the beach.”

“What about your wife?” asked Rod. All Rod knew was that you had to be married to live in base housing and that Josh was wearing a wedding ring.

“The last time I saw Yesenia, I had just come back from a nine month deployment. As I walked in the door eager to tell her all about my promotion I saw her kneeling right there blowing her old boyfriend.”

“Oh God,” groaned Rod.

“She was six months pregnant.”

“Oh my sweet God,” groaned Rod.

“She didn’t pay a single bill while I was gone. She forged my signature on the title to both of our cars and traded them in for a new Dodge Charger. Did Sister Deanna tell you about a salesman that was fired and charged with fraud several weeks back? That’s my darling wife’s doing. But what I’ve done is far worse.”

Rod had an inkling that Josh was having problems, but he didn’t realize how deep the problems went. He quickly sent a few texts to Deanna, then turned back to Josh. “Josh we all make mistakes.”

“What would you know? You’ve been protected by seminary or divinity school or whatever, what would you know about real life?”

“Like maybe a pregnant nun?” asked Rod. Josh was quiet for a long time. “Well?” asked Rod.

“That’s actually kinda cool.”

“I’m glad that I finally amused you.”

“I don’t know why but for the past six weeks I’ve been a predator.”

“What do you mean, Rod?”

“Forgive me father for I have sinned… a whole fucking lot.” He told Rod how he prowled Santa Rosa Island for drunk college girls and took his anger and frustration out on them with rough sex that included choking, hair pulling, and spanking.

“Be honest,” said Rod. “How does that make you feel?”

“Confused,” said Josh after a few moments.

“Confused?”

“Some of them hated it, I scared them and they hated me for it.”

“That’s to be expected,” said Rod.

“The rest liked it.”

“That’s distressing.”

“Yes it is. I wanted them to hate me; I wanted them to cry. I wanted a reason to feel this miserable. You can’t do that when she’s screaming ‘more!’”

Their discussion was interrupted by a knock at the door. “Knock knock!” called the former nun Deanna Daniels through the screen door.

Rod got up and opened the door. “Come on in,” he said, and Deanna entered with their two children, five-year-old Lana and three-year-old Connor. She brought with three pizzas and two two-liter bottles of Pepsi. For some reason, Connor took an interest in Josh and was showing him the pictures he drew in pre-school. Rod took the blanket off of Josh’s bed and spread it out on the floor and Deanna served pizza and they had a picnic in the big empty living room.

“Where’s your TV?” asked Connor.

“I don’t watch TV,” said Josh.

“Not even Power Rangers?”

“Nope, not even Power Rangers,” said Josh.

“How come your house is empty!” demanded Lana.

“I’m moving,” said Josh.

“Where to?” said Deanna cheerfully.

“Korea.” Josh replied like he announced the gates of hell were opened.

“Ooo, isn’t that exciting! Lana, where is Korea?” said Deanna.

“It’s between China and Japan.” The little girl said that like it was everyday knowledge and she was annoyed that she had to recite it.

“When are you leaving?” Deanna asked Josh.

“I don’t know, my commander is putting me in for orders. I just lost flight status, my wife is gone, my plane is sitting crashed in a desert somewhere, my best friend is dead, my crew is disbanded, I cost my loadmaster her leg, I’m completely broke, I have no home…”

Connor felt sorry for Josh, so he fed Josh a piece of pepperoni as they sat on his living room floor. Music played on Josh’s little portable radio and a cooling gulf breeze came through the curtainless front windows and Connor sat in Josh’s lap, playing with Rod’s phone. Deanna looked at Josh and said, “You are at the start of an entirely new life. I know it hurts, believe me, I know how much it hurts to lose everything, and I’m sure things are going to continue to change, but this is the start of an entirely new life. If you just relax and let life happen, you’re going to find out how wonderful it is.”

Josh was going to demand ‘how would you know,’ when Connor held Rod’s phone in front of Josh’s face. “Look! Mommy’s a brack ghost!” The little guy mispronounced black.

There on Rod’s phone was a picture of a young nun, so pretty, so excited about her future in the service of the lord she glowed in her traditional habit. The next picture was of Rod and Deanna together. Rod was still wearing the robes from saying mass, and Deanna was in her black habit. They were gazing into each other’s eyes. “I’ll never forget saying that mass. That’s the Sunday we met,” said Rod.

“I thought my father was going to kill you when you asked for his blessing on our marriage,” said Deanna.

“How many men get a priest asking them for their daughter the nun’s hand in marriage?” asked Josh. He was starting to see that he wasn’t alone in being terrified of the future.

“There’s not as many as you would think,” said Rod with a chuckle.

The conversation for the rest of the evening was cheerful. Josh had a new friend in Conner, but the thought broke his heart. That child in Yesenia’s womb should have been his. “Then have it tested,” said Rod.

“Did I say that out loud?”

“Yes you did,” said Deanna.

“Have it tested,” said Rod. “If the child isn’t yours, forgive her and walk away. If it is yours, by some miracle, beg her forgiveness and raise that child as yours.”

<><><><><>֍<><><><><>

Chapter 7

Josh wrote the last check, slipped it in an envelope and put a stamp on it, then headed down to the mailbox in the lobby of the VNCOQ building and mailed it. The last check to end this nightmare that Yesenia caused. He agreed with her father. If the baby was his, he would agree to her demands and pay the child support as long as he was able to have visitation rights. If it wasn’t his, he would get the annulment and walk away.

Yesenia’s father, Mariano Ochoa, was a rich man. He owned a chain of Mexican restaurants and between deployments, he was grooming Josh to manage one of his restaurants. Mariano was holding his new grandson when Josh entered his office. Mariano was normally snappy and arrogant to Josh, and he seemed to take great joy in reminding Josh that he wasn’t Mexican, but today was different. Josh stood in front of his desk at attention, like he always did. Mariano was a rude, abrasive, arrogant pain in the ass, but Josh respected him. Mariano grew up dirt poor in Laredo, Texas, and created a chain of restaurants called Mariano’s Real Tex-Mex.

“I’m sure you know the results of the test,” said Mariano, as he sat behind his desk, holding a tiny bundle. Every now and then, the bundle wriggled in its sleep. “You will get your annulment as promised.”

“Thank you Señor Ochoa,” said Josh. He always called Mariano ‘Señor Ochoa.’ He took off his wedding band and laid in on Mariano’s desk.

Mariano Ochoa looked at the ring sadly, then said, “You could have been a rich man, Ephraim Gravely. You could have inherited my entire company had you remained married to my daughter.”

“I know Señor Ochoa,” said Josh, who nodded sadly. “Had she remained faithful, or at least showed me some respect and used discretion, we would still be married. It’s not that I don’t love her, it’s that I can’t look at her without the pain of that morning.”

“Ah yes, respect,” said Mariano wistfully. “We can live without it, but what kind of life would that be, eh?” He actually smiled. “I will admit, you were patient with my Yesenia. Maybe too patient. And you hate me, but you always showed me respect!”

“No señor, I never hated you,” said Josh. “I was jealous. You are everything to Yesenia that my father never was to me. You are stern, but loving, abrasive but wise. My father was a selfish alcoholic that drank himself to death, and my mother did the same thing, leaving me alone for my last year in high school.”

“You never told me,” said Mariano, rising from behind his desk. “Here, hold the boy.”

Josh carefully took the tiny child, just days old, and looked at him. He was beautiful. The baby squirmed and made a couple of noises that sounded like a cry but drifted off to sleep. “He’s beautiful,” gasped Josh. “What’s his name?”

“She left it to me to name the boy,” said Mariano. “I give that honor to you. It’s the least I can do for the hell that she put you through.”

Josh looked at the tiny baby. It broke his heart that this would be the only contact he would have with the child. “Back when my wife loved me, we had long talks about our future children. We planned on four, and I was going to teach them to cook so they could join me in Abuelito Mariano’s business. We settled on Mateo Ezequiel.”

“Mateo was my father’s name,” said Mariano, as he sat down behind his desk. “Why Ezequiel?”

“It was a tradition in my family to give names from the old testament,” said Josh.

“How large is your family?”

Josh shrugged. “There’s just my sister and me. She’s following in our parents footsteps, working at the paper mill in the day and drinking all night. She’ll be dead soon.”

Mariano closed his ledger and said, “Mateo Ezequiel it is. Adela!” When he called out, Yesenia’s mom Adela bustled into the room and gently took the baby from Josh. “I let Josh pick his name.”

“Mateo Ezequiel?” asked Adela.

“Yes abuela,” said Josh.

“I know, I used to listen to you and Yazi talking about having babies.” She rose up on tiptoes and gave Josh a kiss. “Be safe mi hijo,” and trying not to weep, she bustled out of the room with the baby.

“There is one more thing I must do, Señor Ochoa,” said Josh and they followed Adela through the house to Yesenia’s room, where the beautiful Mexican woman lay with the baby. Yesenia looked up at Josh with a mix of confusion and terror.

“Josh!” she gasped “I…”

“Shh. Let me say this first. I just want to say, and I say this from my heart,” said Josh. “I forgive you and I wish you all the best with Mateo. He’s a beautiful child, love your little boy.” Then he turned and left without saying another word. The sound of Yesenia’s crying followed him out.

Mariano escorted Josh to the door of their enormous house and handed him a check. “When you settle down on your farm I am going to come and visit and talk and watch your crops grow, no?”

“I would be honored, Señor Ochoa. But I didn’t ask for this.”

“I owe it to you, mi hijo. And thank you for forgiving our Yazi. Be safe in Korea.”

“Thank you papa,” said Josh as they shook hands. He walked down to the driveway where Grandpa was waiting for him. This would be their last trip together for over a year, and he enjoyed the ride out to the Ochoa mansion through the cypress swamps. Grandpa would be in long-term storage, so Josh was out to enjoy the ride. As he cruised along, he wondered how Mariano knew about Korea. He hasn’t told many people. The only civilians that knew for sure were Rod and Deanna.

He deposited the check in his farm savings account and transferred a few thousand dollars over to checking to cover expenses on the trip. As he came out of the credit union, he wandered to the beach and sat down on a bench to watch the ocean waves. Under the shade of the swaying palm trees, Josh sadly remembered the wonder of holding a newborn boy in his arms, a baby that should have been his. A tear crept down his cheek as he remembered his last words to Yesenia, the woman he once loved so much.

Then he noticed he wasn’t alone. He looked and there on the other end of the bench was a familiar-looking woman. Then, with a jolt, he remembered who it was. It was Christy, whom he last saw crying in the sand. Josh could have slipped away and disappeared in the early afternoon sunshine, but that thought never crossed his mind. Well aware he was still in a suit and tie, his usual attire for talking to Mariano Ochoa, he stood in front of the woman who was reading a book. “Christy.” He said in a soft voice.

“Hmm? What… you!”

“Ah want to apologize.”

“What do you want?” she said over his words, then realizing what he said, she said, “Apologize?”

“Yes, ma’am. Ah treated you horribly. Ah took out personal anger on you and ah never should have, and ah’m very, very, sorry.”

“And I suppose if I say I accept your apology you can walk away and say you’re the good guy!” she was nearly screaming.

“No ma’am, ah was puredee wrong. They ain’t no forgiveness for what ah did. If you want to press charges…” he swallowed and said, “If you want to press charges ah’ll wait rat here for the police.”

She looked at him, then said, “Puredee wrong? Rat here? Where are you from?”

“Georgia coast, Saint Mary’s.”

She thought and frowned and said, “I’ve had worse dates. You at least got me to quit drinking.”

“Ah quit too. Unless there’s a ball game on then it’s two beers, no more. Well… three if the Yankees lose.”

The pretty blond looked at him and said, “You are the strangest man I have ever met. If you were really sorry, you’d buy me dinner.”

“If you were going to consider accepting my apology you would tell me where you would like to eat.”

Christy looked at Josh. He was striking in his suit and tie, way overdressed for a Florida panhandle beach. She remembered those panty soaking kisses of his, and she would not let his lips get near hers again. The last time he ended up spanking her and calling her a bitch and Yoshiko or Yolanda or something like that. “You know if I allow you to take me to dinner, there will be conversation, and that’s it.”

“Yes ma’am. That’s more than generous of you.”

She took out her phone and opened a website and made reservations. “For your sins you will take me to the Bay Café Restaurant. We have reservations for six thirty. Don’t disappoint me.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“And dress a little more casual, you look like you came from a funeral.”

“It wasn’t that cheerful, ma’am.”

“And enough of the ma’am crap,” she said, glaring at him.

“Ah’m from south Georgia, it’s ma’am or Miss Christy. Your choice.”

<><><><><>

Josh showed up in Spartacus, a name he decided would be a good name for a Jeep Gladiator. He took off his tie and changed his shirt for an Aloha shirt, but kept the jacket and slacks, which ended up looking pretty nice.

Christy was waiting eagerly, and when they met at the restaurant entrance she said, “I haven’t eaten all day, I hope you brought the gold card.”

“Ah haven’t et all day neither, and ah’ve been dying to try this place,” said Josh.

They were led to an intimate table out on the patio overlooking the beautiful Choctawhatchee Bay. Large cabin cruisers and sail boats slipped past and occasionally a passenger on the boat was topless, but this was Fort Walton Beach and Christy did the same thing herself in Josh’s jeep a few weeks ago. “Ah would love to learn to sail,” said Josh.

“This is the place to do it,” said Christy.

“Ah spent my whole time flying,” said Josh. “Flying and getting shot up,” he added softly.

Trying to keep the mood light, Christy said, “Let’s eat. What do you like for an app?”

“Ah don’t know what most of this stuff is… well, ah know whut it is, pate just doesn’t sound appetizing.”

“It isn’t. It’s for pretentious eaters. Let me order, I think you’ll like this.” For appetizers, they had the spicy stuffed jumbo shrimp, huge shrimp stuffed with crab and breadcrumbs covered with Old Bay based seasoning. For the main course, Christy had the Scampi Marinara, which was blackened shrimp in marinara sauce on angel hair pasta. Josh had the grilled veal chops with rosemary and mushrooms. “All this great seafood and you’re eating cow?” asked Christy.

“Ah’m moving soon and ah’m not sure how much cow is available in Korea. ‘sides, ah ain’t never had veal before.”

“Korea! Nice. Osan?”

“No, Kunsan. I take it you’re familiar with Korea?” Josh asked.

“Oh yes, I was actually born there. My folks were stationed at Osan and we went back once or twice. I was stationed at Kunsan a few years ago. Which unit are you going to?”

“The uh eightieth?” Josh took a copy of his orders from his inside pocket and looked. “Yes, eightieth fighter squadron.”

“The Headhunters. There’s a lot of pride in that unit. Their roots go back to the Army Air Corps in New Guinea. I was the OIC of the AMU.”

“Oh, when did you get out?”

“I didn’t get out sergeant. I’m still active duty.” She laughed as Josh turned pale and looked like he was going to cry. The woman he raped was an officer.

Shit. Well, it’s too late to pretend it didn’t happen. “Hell, then you probably know my story, ma’am.”

“What story is that?”

“Shot up in Bumfuk, Africa, spend weeks in Wilford Hall, return home to find my wife pregnant and going down on her old boyfriend, with my first sergeant, commander and my wing commander looking over my shoulder. She put on quite a show.”

Christy grinned at him and said, “No wonder why you were so angry. I take it her name is Yazmila?”

“Yesenia. I just came from her dad’s house where I met her son.” Suddenly dinner didn’t taste very good anymore. He slammed back the rest of his raspberry iced tea and waved for the waiter to bring more. “I’m still learning how to behave in the new, single me.”

“Well, you got nowhere to go but up.” She winked and patted his hand. “Relax, I’m not pressing charges, you’ve been through enough. I’m mostly mad at you for the way you said goodbye… and calling me Yolanda.”

“Yesenia.”

“Whatever.” Christy shrugged. “We were drunk and I was hoping things would turn out differently. Just take it easy with that thing, you can hurt a girl with that weapon.”

The rest of the dinner was relaxed. She wanted to know more about his singing and he explained the Barbershop Harmony Society and some of the songs they were singing. “I’ll have to check them out,” said Christy.

“If you come to one of our practices, most of the women waiting are wives or girlfriends, you probably wouldn’t want to be confused with that crowd.”

“No, definitely not,” said Christy with a laugh. He wanted to know more about Kunsan and she said, “as a gunner you’ll probably love it. They’re perpetually on war footing at Kunsan. Anyone who has been there calls it ‘the Last Refuge of the Real Air Force.”

“Sounds like my kind of place.” They chatted about life in Korea, then Josh said, “ah got a sponsor letter, he said they closed the Steam and Cream, what’s that?”

Christy looked at him in shock. He was serious! This guy is a babe in the woods. She gestured him to lean closer, and she whispered, “I gave you one a couple of weeks ago,” then laughed as he blushed. He actually blushed! “Are you sure you’re a gunner?”

“Ah’m not anymore, ma’am.”

“I like this Josh Gravely, is this the real Josh?”

“Mostly. Ah had a tough morning, Ah said goodbye forever to several people that ah love, including a little guy celebrating his third day of life, he should have been my son. A defrocked nun is giving me pointers on how to get back to normal.”

“Defrocked nun, that’s funny,” chuckled Christy, who was now wishing that she had met this Josh Gravely first.

Later in the parking lot they parted with a quick friendly kiss, and Christy said, “Get better while you’re over there, I can’t wait to meet the real Josh Gravely when you come back.”

<><><><><>֍<><><><><>

Chapter 8

The going away party they put together for Josh was far beyond what he wanted for a going away party. He had hoped for a small keg of beer where the gang could get together and chat, but Colonel Ash wanted more. It’s not often that an actual god damn hero departs the unit. An official awards ceremony was set up, meaning that Josh had to wear his dress blues to his own going away kegger.

His wing commander, Colonel Ash, presented him with the Air Achievement Medal (with C (Combat) and R (Remote) devices) for a series of missions he set up in the AC-130J in Yemen. Most of them are still classified. After him, Lieutenant Colonel Marriner presented him with the USAF Meritorious Service Medal second oak leaf cluster. After that, his aircrew commander, Major Emory Hancock, presented him with his stripe for master sergeant.

It was a squadron party on a Friday and everyone was in a good mood. Josh walked around with two new medals clipped to his uniform pocket flap and, being a wise ass, Major Emory glued a badge clip to the back of the ceremonial set of stripes and clipped them to his uniform pocket flap like the colonels clipped his medals. Josh left them there. It was silly, and he enjoyed that. Someone plugged in a stereo and the hangar rang with country music. Almost everyone was wearing flight suits, only the commanders, office staff, and Josh were wearing blue.

An Alan Jackson song came on the stereo and he felt a tap on his shoulder. It was a major he had never seen in uniform before. Her name tag showed that her last name was Schuler. “ Christy. You never told me you were a major, ma’am.”

“You never told me you were a war hero. I was going through your Medal of Honor paperwork, and I was thinking, damn! If I could just dance with a hero like that. Do you dance Sergeant?”

He chuckled and said, “Just a good ol’ two step and a proper country waltz. After that, ah get lost.”

“Let’s show these kids what a couple of Georgia crackers can do with a piece of music.”

“Let’s,” said Josh with his first actual smile of the day. They were soon dancing to the hoots and cheers of the assembled crew members and other squadron members. “You dance quite well for a Korean,” kidded Josh. Her sun tanned skin and her sun-bleached blond hair screamed ‘Florida Girl’ from a mile away and Josh knew firsthand that she had no tan lines at all.

“I was born in Korea but I grew up in Valdosta,” said Christy.

“That rightly makes us neighbors,” said Josh as the song switched to a country waltz. “Ah grew up forty miles away.”

“Thank you for dinner the other night, you didn’t have to do that,” said Christy.

“Ah couldn’t have lived with me if ah had let that opportunity slide past me.”

“I think that’s what the Real Josh Gravely is all about.”

“Stop trying to cheer me up ma’am. I’m happy in my misery.”

Finally, the song ended and switched to something and the younger red necks started a line dance so Josh and Christy stepped to the side and chatted about his new assignment.

“Do I see some fraternizing going on here?” asked Major Hancock, putting his arms around Josh’s and Christy’s shoulders.

“Ah prefer to think of it as mingling,” said Josh.

“Collaborating,” said Christy.

“Associating,” said Josh.

“Definitely not fraternizing, we’re not dressed appropriately for that,” teased Christy.

“Oh? And what would it take to get some fraternizing going?” asked Emory. He clearly realized that Christy and Josh’s relationship was more than two dances.

“A jeep on a beach on a moonless night,” said Christy. “That would be fraternizing.” She was hoping to get a reaction out of Josh.

“She means a proper jeep, not the air conditioned station wagon you drive,” said Josh, referring to Major Hancock’s SUV. “Something you can let the top down. The best fraternization happens with the top down.” That was a reference to Christy’s topless ride through Fort Walton Beach. The ball was back in her court.

“And lower the windshield to get the ocean breeze,” said Christy as she smiled at Josh. “You can feel the wind blowing here…” and she ran a finger from her chin down her neck.

There wasn’t much left after that other than to give Emory a blow by blow description of the best blow job Josh had all year. Instead, Josh chose introductions. “Major Schuler, this is my chauffeur, Major Emory Hancock. His job is to get a dozen folks to where we tell him to take us so we can make him look good. Major Hancock, this is Major Christy Schuler, we met over dinner the other night. She works at the wing HQ.”

“I suspect there’s more to the story,” said Emory.

“Of course,” said Christy. “Is it your mission to find out? Or is it your mission to write your own story?”

Josh stepped back a little and winked at Christy and gave her a thumbs up, and she walked off with Emory.

Someone wrapped herself around Josh’s arm and he looked to find his favorite nun/car salesman. “Who was that?” asked Deanna.

“That’s one of the girls ah… uh…” Josh let his voice trail off.

“She’s one of the ones that liked it?”

“No, she liked it the least. Ah apologized to her, and she let me make it up to her over dinner and we got to know each other as we talked. Ah just found out 40 minutes ago that she’s a major here on base.”

“How did you make it up to her?”

“Ah took her to dinner at the Bay Café and explained what happened to my brain.”

“Ooo! The Bay Café, nice!” gushed Deanna. It was expensive, but it was her favorite restaurant.

“And how about Yolanda?” asked Rod as he approached. “Did you talk to her?”

“Yesenia. Yes.” Josh looked pained. “Ah spoke with her father and got the annulment then ah got to hold the baby and they let me name him.” He looked pained as he remembered holding the most precious thing on earth. “Then ah forgave Yesenia, and ah left.”

“That’s it?” asked Rod.

“On my way out the door her dad gave me a check to pay for the bills ah had to cover.”

“I wonder how much it cost him to keep her out of prison,” muttered Deanna.

“Honey,” said Rod, with a warning note in his voice. He would brook no contemplation of the sins of others.

“Let me introduce you to some souls that could use some saving,” said Josh. “This is my First Sergeant John Terry. John, this is the Reverend Rodney Davis and his wife Deanna…”

<><><><><>֍<><><><><>

Chapter 9

The flight to Korea was easier than Josh expected. Ever since he returned from Willford Hall he had problems sleeping, so at a follow up doctor’s appointment he complained about his sleeping problems and his doc gave him 30 days’ worth of Restoril. It knocked him out cold and Josh slept, but it didn’t feel like actual sleep. It felt like his brain was turned off. He worried about becoming addicted to the stuff, so he took half pills for a few days and soon was able to sleep properly.

He realized that if Restoril knocked him out on the ground, it should work in an airplane, and who is going to stop him from carrying a prescription onto a plane? He packed his two bags and a carry-on backpack with a brand new tablet loaded with books to read and checked out of the VNCOQ, the Visiting Noncommissioned Officer’s Quarters. First Sergeant John Terry was waiting for him in a pickup truck and he tossed Josh’s bags in the back. “Are you sure you want to go this way? It’s going to take a couple of days.”

“Four days. Ah ain’t seen nothing west of San Antonio. The Big Easy seems to stop me whenever ah try to travel so ah take the bus to NOLA and take the city of New Orleans to Chicago, then the Empire Builder west to Seattle and ah get to see America.”

“Lots of America,” said John, but Josh wasn’t paying attention. They were driving past the Long Term storage lot on base and in there were Spartacus and Grandpa. The old CJ3A was on a transport trailer and covered with a tarp, his windshield was folded down, making the tarp looked like it was covering a large rectangular crate instead of a jeep. Spartacus was covered with a custom made cover that cost quite a bit, and both trucks were jacked up with their wheels off the ground and a belly full of Stabil to keep the gasoline in the tank from turning into turpentine.

John dropped Josh off at the Fort Walton Beach bus terminal, where Josh took the Greyhound bus to New Orleans. From there, he rode the City of New Orleans train from the Big Easy to Chicago. There he got on the Empire Builder and rode that train all the way to Seattle, where he arrived in time for his flight to Incheon International Airport.

Josh climbed into the 747 and found the aisle seat he had selected. He didn’t want to tell anyone, but if there was a problem on the flight; he felt safer in an aisle seat. He was sure he could be the first to get to an exit. He took a pill, washed it down with water he had brought on board, and buckled in. He was asleep before they moved out on to the runway. When he awoke, he felt confused and dizzy. It took him a long time to realize where he was. He looked up and saw that the seat belt light was off, so he got up and moved through the darkened fuselage. Most of the passengers were asleep. Some were reading, playing games, or watching videos on tablets, phones, or laptops.

He found the toilet and went in and relieved himself, then stepped out and as he did, the plane bounced a bit. He was still woozy from the pill and he nearly fell. He caught himself and a flight attendant helped him straighten up. “It’s ok, many people aren’t used to flying,” she said.

“Ah’m used to flying, but ah’m used to people shooting at me while it happens. How much longer do we have?”

“About four more hours.”

Without saying a word, he walked off, thinking. Four hours, that’s the maximum time mission BG-102 was scheduled to be on station. The mission was a gun and run. Support naval operations by converting Houthi terrorists at Eil Geradi into greasy stains in the sand. They were protecting the passage of two enormous ships, the MV Rantanplan, a super container ship and the 1250 foot long supertanker Burge Empress. They were to remain on station until they ran out of ammo or until they were on station four hours, when they’d be replaced by Ghostrider Zero Five.

They were on station for fifty minutes.

“Sir, could you sit down?” a cute Asian flight attendant asked.

“Pardon? Oh… sorry.” He looked around and saw he was far from his seat.

“You’ve been walking laps around the plane for almost an hour.”

“Sorry… ah like to write and walking helps shake the story loose.” It was a lie. He hasn’t written since creative writing class in community college a few years ago… but maybe he should write a book about his last mission. He’ll call it Ghost Rider Zero Four.

“We’ll be landing soon,” she said. “Maybe we can talk about your stories when we land?”

“That would be great, but ah have to report to my base as soon as possible.”

“Oh,” said the flight attendant with an angry look on her face. She was upset to find out that this cool-looking guy with the nicely trimmed beard was military. She didn’t know that Josh has been traveling non-stop for five days and this happens when he doesn’t shave for a week. He returned to his seat. The older Asian lady next to him was knitting baby booties.

“For your child?” he asked, not expecting an answer.

“Grandson,” she said with a Brooklyn accent.

“My goodness, your son or daughter must have been born when you were in grade school!”

“Flattery will get you anywhere,” she smiled and adjusted her glasses. “Where are you stationed?”

“Kunsan.”

She nodded and said, “You look to be the type that will enjoy it.”

“Master Sergeant Josh Gravely,” he said as he shook hands with her. “Eightieth Fighter Squadron.”

“Colonel Stacie Babcock, commander 70th Brigade Support Battalion, Camp Casey. What’s so funny?”

“Ah’m just amusing myself ma’am. Ah met a woman that ah thought was a Fort Walton beach bunny and she turned out to be a major in the headquarters squadron. Ah took you to be a Korean civilian. Ah’m batting zero for the month.”

“Did the Brooklyn accent give me away?” she smiled as she returned to knitting. “You ok? You’re turning green. There’s a bag in the seat ahead of you.”

“Sorry ma’am. I used to enjoy turbulence… until we got our asses blown out of the sky.”

“What happened?” she asked.

“AC-130W Specter Gunship out hunting Houthi terrorists. We found some that could shoot back.”

“Oh no, is everyone ok?”

“No ma’am. My… Staff Sergeant Zigler was killed, everyone else on my gun team was injured, and our load master, Sergeant Stadelmeyer lost her leg. Ah had a tough time flying ever since. Thank god the boys up front were ok and they got us down in one piece.”

“How about you sergeant. Are you ok?”

“Ah don’t know, ma’am, but this is the most Ah done talked about it since it happened.”

“It’s not going to be easy Sergeant,” the tiny Asian grandmother said as she continued knitting. “You have to suck it up and go get some goddamn help.” She turned and smiled at Josh. “That’s an order. You will hear it from your commander too, just getting you ready.”

“Ah’m sure he already knows. Damn. He’s probably going to stick me in the base library or something. He won’t let me touch an airplane.”

“You’re an E7, sergeant. You don’t touch airplanes anyhow. You don’t fix them, you don’t fly them, you have people to do that for you.”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you. Ah’m kinda new at being a master sergeant.”

<><><><><>֍<><><><><>

Chapter 10

Josh was in Korea. He had a few tough moments during the landing approach but Colonel Stacy grasped his hand and whispered, “You’re never alone sergeant. We’re all here for each other.”

Josh didn’t need a passport, a set of orders and his ID card was enough to get him in the country via the Status of Forces agreement, but he had a passport which he presented along with his ID card so he could get another stamp. It was 4:30 AM by the time he got his baggage and he joined a line of people at the Military Transportation office. He was told that the bus to Kunsan left at 6:30 and will arrive at 1300 hours. He made a quick call to his sponsor, who didn’t answer, so he called the first sergeant. “Sergeant Schaeffer, this better be good.”

“I’m Sergeant Gravely, I just landed and…”

“Find Sergeant Dawson, I gave her everything you need to know…” and he hung up. Josh looked around at the crowd. Nobody was in uniform. Some of the Army guys were easy to spot because the Army has the coolest backpacks but other than that, everyone had normal luggage.

“Air Force Sergeant Dawson!” called Josh.

A short, and exquisite black woman with long raven locks, a tiny nose and a shapely figure emerged from the crowd. She was perfect in every way, from her dancing dark brown eyes to her slender legs. Josh was thinking of scooping her up and running off with her when in a southern accent she said, “what do you need?” This wasn’t a ‘ghetto’ or ‘street’ accent. This was pure south. A voice and a smile that took him home.

“I just got off the phone with Sergeant Schaeffer, he told me that he gave you the information and then he hung up.”

“You in the 80th AMU?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am. Weapons flight.”

“Team chief?”

“Assistant NCOIC.”

Sergeant Dawson chuckled and said, “Bullshit. You a child!”

Josh shrugged. “I put on Staff first time I tested, I put on Tech the first time I tested and I just put on master the first time I tested.”

“So you’re… twenty eight?”

“I will be, next August.”

“How the hell did you make Master Sergeant in eight years?”

“I’ve been on gunships for the past five years, ma’am. You gain a lot of points toward promotion on the gunships.”

“If you’re a master sergeant, why do you keep calling me ma’am?” demanded Sergeant Dawson.

Josh told her about Major Christy and Colonel Stacie. “The way my luck has been running, you’re probably the senior enlisted advisor.” The senior enlisted advisor was the highest ranking enlisted person on base.

Sergeant Dawson’s laugh was pure and honest, a sweet sound, like a distant church bell on a warm, sunny Sunday morning. She laughed as they climbed on the bus. “Call me Roxie.”

He shook her small, slim, chocolate brown hand. “Call me Josh.” They sat down next to each other on the crowded bus. Most riders were revelers from Kunsan, that spent a few days in Seoul and were catching the bus back. Josh and Roxie talked about their previous assignments and Josh discovered Roxie was a couple of years older than him. “Is there a Mister Roxie Dawson?”

“Almost, but I got a Dear Jane letter in basic training, and he ran off with a bitch from Jacksonville. Is there a missus too damn young Master Sergeant Gravely?”

“No. There was but it’s over now… wait, Jacksonville? Why Jacksonville?”

“I grew up not far from there.”

“DOOO-Val!” said Josh with a grin. Jacksonville, Florida is Duval county and they shout DOOO-Val! at the Jaguars games. Most of all, it’s close to home.

“Hell no, I’m a Georgia girl. Saint Felix!”

Josh chuckled and said, “There’s sixteen people in Saint Felix.”

“Fifteen now that I’m gone. Where are you from that you know Saint Felix?” demanded Roxie.

“The only other saint in the area,” said Josh happily.

“Saint Mary?” asked Roxie, and when he nodded, they fist bumped. Saint Mary’s Georgia and Saint Felix Georgia are on the Saint Mary’s River, which is the border between Florida and Georgia. Where Roxie lived, the river ran North/South, but north of her it made a turn and ran East/West and met the ocean at St. Mary’s Georgia. “Hell, you live in a big ol’ town!”

“Just because we had a Walmart don’t mean it isn’t small town Georgia.

They talked about living in the south, and where they went after they joined up. Roxie became an aircraft electrician and worked on F-16s since day one. Josh wasn’t tied to a specific aircraft. He worked on A-10s, and B-52s, until he joined the AC-130s.

“Was it scary up there?” she asked. Like every enlisted member of the Air Force, she knew the horrors of the gunship and was drilled on the exploits of John Levitow, the first enlisted USAF recipient of the Medal of Honor. Airman First Class Levitow earned his Medal of Honor for his bravery on a shot up AC-47 Spooky gunship in Vietnam.

“It could get hairy up there.”

“Were you hit?”

Josh wanted to be a macho wise guy and say something cool and heroic sounding, like, ‘just a little bit’ or ‘not as hard as we hit them’ but nothing came out. He withdrew into himself like he did for weeks after returning home to Yesenia’s betrayal.

Roxie wasn’t dumb. She realized she hit a nerve and tried to change the subject. “So why Kunsan? Why not Osan where you could bring the wife?”

“No wife,” he held up his left hand to show that he wasn’t wearing a ring. “I’m in hiding.”

“Hiding, from what?”

“My flight surgeon. They want to put me out on a medical. My commander fast tracked a remote isolated tour knowing that the commander wasn’t going to let me go for something as frivolous as flat feet. I have a year to research and catalog all my aches and pains so if they put me out, they’re going to have to pay. I’m shooting for 150% disability.”

“A hundred and fifty percent? How do you do that?”

“VA math. They have their own system of math. One hundred percent isn’t the limit. They just keep adding as they find things. I know a fellow that’s two hundred and forty percent disabled.”

“Two forty? What’s the guy do?” Roxie could only picture some fellow living in an iron lung for the rest of his life.

“He’s my lawyer. He said he’d help me when I get back. He helped me with the mess my ex created while I was deployed.”

As they talked, the bus rode through the Korean countryside. Roxie and Josh saw sights that they never dreamed of seeing. Tiny Asian villages surrounded by tall stone walls, men fishing with nets in small ponds, vegetables growing right on the edge of the road, and amazing terraced rice paddies. Eventually, they rolled through a small village of concrete buildings and up to the main gate. A security policeman climbed on the bus and came through requesting to see everyone’s ID card before the bus could move and soon Roxie and Josh were on Kunsan Air Base. The bus rolled through the small air base and a little bit of the flightline was visible. They were able to see a couple of generation one Tab-Vees, the concrete structures that fighter aircraft are sheltered in. Eventually they stopped at the NCO club where they were met as they got off the bus by their new first sergeant, Mike Schaeffer.

“Welcome to the Kun,” he said with a smile. “We have two major rotations a year,” he explained as they entered the NCO club for lunch. “Everyone goes home after twelve months, half in the spring, half in the fall. You guys fall in between the big rotations to insure continuity. Our squadron commander is Lieutenant Colonel Bruce Walker, we call him Juvat One. The wing commander is Colonel Derreck Getz, he’s simply called Wolf. After lunch I’ll drop you off at your rooms and pick you up again at three for a meeting with Juvat One. I suggest you wear your dress blues.”

“Dress blues?” gasped Roxie. She packed them, of course, but she was told she’d probably never wear them on Kunsan.

“Hang them up in the bathroom while you take a hot shower, the steam will fix them,” said Josh as he dug into a taco salad. “This tastes weird.”

“How weird?” asked Roxie, and she tasted a bit of his salad. “You’re right, the vegetables taste odd.” She broke off a piece of the tortilla bowl and ate that. “This tastes odd too. Probably the oil they fried it in”

“Would you like a margarita to go with my salad madam?”

“Yes please suh!” she said in a deep southern accent. “Strawberry if y’all please.” She tugged Josh’s salad in front of her.

“No, there’s no way I can order a strawberry margarita. It goes against my training. It goes against my morals!” he tugged his salad back.

“Be that way!” Roxie demanded and stuck her tongue out at him.

“I will!” and Josh stuck his tongue out at Roxie.

“I mourn for the future of the country,” groaned the first sergeant, as the two fast friends began jabbing each other with their elbows.

After lunch, he took them to their rooms. Roxie got a room of her own in building 1522, the newest dorm on base. It housed technical sergeants only. She had a single room with a small counter area at the doorway with a sink, and her room shared a shower and toilet with the room next door. Mike and Josh carried her bags to her room, and then Mike gave Roxie a list of pointers for living in the dorms. “Buy a bike?”

“Yeah, at the BX. You’re not going to be in country long enough to get a drivers license and insurance costs a fortune, so get a bike to tool around the base. I’ll be back for you at three.”

Then he took Josh to building 1102, an older two story building. “This building is for top three, it’s got a day room with pool table, if you want a stick buy your own at the BX.” He led Josh to his suite. There was a bedroom, a living room, and a kitchenette. No stove, but he had a full-size refrigerator and plenty of counter space.

“Damn, I’ve lived in smaller houses,” said Josh as he took his blues from his garment bag and hung them up in the bathroom, then he tossed the suitcase on the full size bed. “This is livin’ in high cotton,” said Josh.

“Roxie said the same thing when she saw her room.”

“We come from the same neighborhood almost, she grew up on the black water Saint Mary’s, I grew up on the tide water Saint Mary’s.”

“What’s the difference?” asked Mike as he opened the fridge to reveal a half dozen bottles of beer.

“About forty miles,” said Josh as he and Mike sat down in the two easy chairs and opened a beer. “Roxie was upriver, where the Okefenokee Swamp drains into the river. I lived where the Saint Mary’s flowed into the sea, then twelve hours later the sea flowed into the Saint Mary’s.” Josh sipped his beer and said, “Why does the commander want to see us?”

“He’s doing that with all his new senior NCOs and expediters. You’re in a tough luck squadron. The 80th has failed every evaluation in the past five years. Wolf ordered Colonel Walker to fix it or get the fuck out. Juvat One is making sure the message gets down to the NCOs.”

“Sounds like I have my work cut out for me.”

“You have your expeditors and team chiefs to do the work for you, you need to keep on them, keep them on task.”

“I need to know the task. I ain’t never touched an airplane this tiny. Hell, one cruise missile pylon that I’d hang on a B-52 weighs more than a loaded F-16. I ain’t touched a Sidewinder missile since tech school and now we’re flying every mission with two. I need to know when they’re fuckin’ up and slackin’ off so I can nip it in the bud.”

“Don’t you trust your expediters?” asked Mike Schaeffer.

“They can have my trust when they earn it.” Josh looked at his watch, then looked around the empty room. “Ah best get ready to meet the big guy.”

He pulled off his t-shirt and Mike gasped, “What the fuck did you do to yourself?”

“It’s a scratch from a chunk of jagged metal,” said Josh. “Ah can’t give any details other than that.”

“That’s more than a scratch; did you lay down on a table saw?” but Josh closed the bathroom door. As far as Josh knew, the mission over Eil Geradi was still classified as Top Secret, which is why he was so shocked that Colonel Ash and Colonel Marriner mentioned it by name. Since before they took off on that day and went on the hunt for Houthi terrorists, it was simply called “the mission.”

Ten minutes later, he was tying on his shoes and getting ready to go. He pulled on his jacket and Senior Master Sergeant Mike Schaeffer’s eyes popped open wide. He said nothing, but he was impressed. Josh was in the military for just over ten years, half as long as Mike was in, but easily had twice as many ribbons as Mike does. His eyes instinctively went to the top of his ribbon rack and near the top was a purple heart, indicating he was injured in combat. Mentally, Mike counted the promotion points Josh’s medals were worth and eventually gave up counting when he reached “more than enough.”

“Ya just going to stand there and drool or do ah have a date for tonight?” taunted Josh.