“What do you mean?
“I mean if nobody is flying, there isn’t much need for flight instructors, is there?”
“I see your point.”
Greenly sighed, and ran his hand through his hair. He was a veteran of two tours in Iraq and one in Afghanistan.
“Jake, I’ve got forty-five days of leave time accrued. If you have no objections to it, I think this might be a good time to take leave.”
“Why burn your leave time?” Jake asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Why don’t you just take off? Check in with me every week or so and let me know how to get ahold of you if anything comes up.”
“You think that would be all right? I mean, to just leave without leave papers?”
“I don’t know where all this is going, Len, but I seriously doubt that the Army will even know you are gone. I’m certainly not going to tell them.”
Greenly smiled. “All right,” he said. “Maybe I’ll just do that. Drop in on the folks back in Kansas, unannounced.” Greenly started toward the door; then he stopped and looked back toward Jake. “Jake, what would you say if I told you I’ve been thinking about resigning my commission?”
“You’re a good man, Len. You’ve been a fine officer and an asset to Environmental Flight. I hate to say it, but, with the way things are, I would say that I can understand why you might.”
Greenly stepped back into the room, then reached out to shake Jake’s hand. “Good-bye, Jake,” he said.
“Good-bye, Len.”
Greenly came to attention and snapped a sharp salute. Jake returned it, then Greenly did a crisp about-face and left the room.
Jake stared at the empty doorframe for a moment; then he sat down and looked up at the wall. It was filled with photographs of Army helicopters from the H-13s and H-19s of Korea, to the Hueys, Chinooks, and Cobras of Vietnam, to the Blackhawks and Apaches of Iraq and Afghanistan. There was also a picture of a CH-47 Chinook in Afghanistan, and under it was a caption:
Yes, the Chinook is still here.
Nothing can ground this bird.
“Nothing except a dumbass president,” Jake said aloud.
CHAPTER FOUR
Raised in the Amish community, Jake had no reason to believe that he would not be a farmer like his father, grandfather, and great-grandfather. Like all Amish boys, he had learned the skills necessary to live in a world that shunned modern conveniences. He was a good carpenter, he knew farming, he understood nature and knew what wild plants could be eaten and what plants would have medicinal value.
But even as a child he used to watch airplanes pass overhead and wonder about them. One day an Army helicopter landed in a field nearby. The occupants got out, opened the engine cowl, and made few adjustments, then closed the cowl, got back in, and took off. Jake knew, on that day, that he wanted to fly a helicopter. He also knew that such an ambition was not for an Amish boy.
When he was eighteen years old, Jake, like all other eighteen-year-old Amish, went through rumspringa, a period of time in which they were exposed to the modern world. Once this coming-of-age experience was over, the Amish youth would face a stark dilemma: commit to the Amish church—or choose to leave, which meant severing all ties with their community and family forever. Jake made the gut-wrenching decision to sever those ties.
Because of that, he was excommunicated from the church. Being expelled meant being shunned by everyone, including his own family. When he went back home, in uniform, after graduating from Officer Candidate School, his mother and father turned their backs and refused to speak to him. His sister shunned him also, but he saw tears streaming down her face and he knew it was not something she wanted to do.
After OCS, Jake went to college on the Servicemen’s Opportunity College program, getting his BA degree from the College of William and Mary in two and a half years. After that, Jake attended flight school, fulfilling his ambition to be a pilot. His love for flying was not diminished even though he had three combat tours: one to Iraq and two in Afghanistan. There he flew the Apache armed helicopter and was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross as well as the Air Medal with “V” device for heroic action against the enemy. He also received a Purple Heart when a shoulder-launched missile burst just in front of the helicopter, killing his gunner/copilot and opening up gaping wounds in Jake’s face, side, and leg. He managed to return to his base, but had lost so much blood that when he landed he passed out in the helicopter, not regaining consciousness until he was in the hospital. That was where he met the nurse, Karin Dawes, who was then a first lieutenant.
Jake had never married, partly because before he met Karin, he had never met anyone he wanted to marry. He had been giving a lot of thought to asking Karin to marry him, but with the nation in turmoil, he wasn’t sure it was the right thing to do.
Lancaster, Pennsylvania—Wednesday, March 14
It was the first leave Jake had taken in almost two years and because of that he had well over fifty days of leave time accrued. He took fifteen days, convinced Karin to take leave with him, but told her that the first thing he wanted to do was look in on his family if they would receive him. They flew to Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, and there, Jake rented a car for the drive to Lancaster.
“How long since you have been home?” Karin asked as they drove east on I-78.
“Twelve years.”
“Twelve years? That’s a very long time,” Karin said.
“Yes, it is. Even longer when you realize that the last time I was home my parents wouldn’t even speak to me.”
“Oh, that’s awful,” Karin said. “What makes you think they will have anything to do with you now, if they didn’t before?”
“Over the last couple of years, my sister and I have exchanged a few letters,” Jake said. “She said that my dad has mellowed some.”
“What about your mother?”
“I’m my mother’s son,” Jake said. “I think she was as hurt by my father’s shunning of me as I was. But she must do what he says, so she had no other choice. Otherwise she would have accepted me back the very first day.”
“That brings up another question. Why are you going back now?”
Jake was silent for a long moment.
“Jake?” Karin repeated, not certain that he heard her.
“I don’t know that I can answer that question,” Jake said. “It is just something that I feel I must do. Especially now, with our nation on the brink of disaster.”
“I can understand that,” Karin said. “I hope things go well for you.”
“Karin, you understand why I can’t take you with me to meet them, don’t you? It would be . . .”
“Very awkward, I know. You don’t have to explain, Jake. I understand.” Karin reached her hand toward him and Jake moved his left hand to the steering wheel, then took her hand in his and lifted it to his lips.
They checked into a motel in Lancaster, and Jake brought their suitcases into the room. From his suitcase he removed a pair of gray, drop-front trousers, work boots, a blue shirt, a pair of suspenders, and a flat-brim hat. He stepped into the bathroom, and when he came out a moment later, the difference in his appearance was startling.
“What are you wearing?”
“Plain clothes,” Jake said.
“You look—very handsome,” Karin said.
“This is going to be hard enough without you teasing me,” Jake said.
“I’m not teasing,” Karin insisted. “You look very masculine and, I don’t know how to explain it, but, very sexy, in an earthy way.” She stepped up to him, then put her arms around his neck and pulled his lips down to hers for a deep kiss.