“My pleasure, Joe. We don’t get to utilize past skills all too often these days,” he laughed. Giving a brief wave, he turned and walked to the cockpit.
Grant finally said, “Time to get my ass outta here, too.”
As he started putting a foot up on the edge of the chopper, Adler pulled him back. “Listen, Skipper,” he began, “there’s no way I would have thought something like this could’ve happened, you know, me of all people needing to be rescued.”
“Hey, it could happen to any of us, any time when we’re out there, Joe. But you know that when we’re out, at least we’re prepared. You guys were caught off guard, without defenses. Like I told Grigori, you did what you had to do to stay alive, you and your men, Joe.”
Adler reached for Grant’s hand, both men holding onto the other’s firmly. “Thanks, Skipper.”
Grant turned and got in the helo, glancing over at Edwards, signaling a go for takeoff. As the helo started its climb, Grant leaned toward the open door, and shouted to Adler, “See you Stateside, Lieutenant!”
Chapter 22
With a couple of hours left until flight time, Grant and the team agreed to find a food court and chow down while they had the chance.
Grant finished his Snickers bar and carton of milk, then excused himself, while he looked for a phone. He stood in the phone booth, hesitating. Then, he finally made the decision to call.
“Communications. Petty Officer Harmon.”
“Petty officer, this is Captain Stevens. Is Lieutenant Palmer in?”
“She just went into a meeting, sir. From what I understand, it’s expected to last a good two hours. Would you like to leave a message?” Grant remained silent. “Sir, would you like to leave a message?”
“No. No message, petty officer. Thanks.”
The team stood together, just inside the passenger waiting area. Admiral Torrinson performed his “magic” and they were assured of seats on what was to be a full flight, with a mix of dependents and transferees. When the call finally came to board, they picked up their gear, and walked onto the chartered Capitol Airlines 707.
Holding their gear in front of them, they maneuvered down the narrow aisle, with their eyes focused on the very last rows. They stored their gear in the overhead bins, and grabbed blankets and pillows, before settling into their seats.
Grant looked out the window, watching an airport worker yank piece after piece of luggage from a two-tiered cart, tossing each one on a slow-moving conveyor belt, each piece ending up in the belly of the 707. He leaned back as he pulled down the window shade, silently hoping he wouldn’t be hearing his name called again.
Fifteen minutes later, the plane was rolled back from the gate. The pilot received a final salute, then he taxied to Runway 19R. They were third in line waiting for takeoff.
A stewardess, wearing the airlines’ uniform of a red jacket and matching short skirt, with black, two-inch heels, walked slowly down the aisle, swiveling her head side to side, checking that luggage was stowed and seatbelts were fastened, asking passengers if they needed blankets or pillows.
She stopped near the last row of seats, and with a sweet smile, she looked at the face of each man. All seven men were sound asleep.
Acknowledgement
Cover design by James Junior @ jimmysportfolio.net