Kevin Miller - Raven One

“Also, we need to follow the standard routes into Iraq, and those are basically along the al-Faw Peninsula with altitude deconfliction. They are not over Iran. If you are going to be off, be off to the west.” Wilson stomped his foot to emphasize the importance of the point, and several pilots nodded. He changed to the next slide.

“The action right now is in Diyala, north and east of Baghdad, southeast of Baghdad around Salman Pak, and in Mosul. The Marines out of al-Asad have Anbar. Chances are you won’t go there this cruise — but you may — so be ready. Get ready to be strapped into the seat for eight hours at a time, and the hours are going to accumulate. The guys on Enterprise were getting 70–80 hours a month. If you want to bag flight time and traps, you’ve come to the right place. For those of you who haven’t experienced it, 80 hours a month kicks your ass.

“You heard the CO. Get ready.

“We are loaded for bear each hop,” said Wilson, as he shifted gears, “but we have to adopt the mindset that we do not want to drop. Our job is to support the guys on the ground who are in a battle for the hearts and minds. When we drop, even if we’re on target and are killing bad guys, it doesn’t help us with the populace if we break windows and make babies cry. We have got to determine through our own assessment of the tactical situation — through the voice inflection of the JTAC and through the passdown of the flights ahead of you — whether it’s right to drop. Remember, the bad guys want you to drop, that’s why they are holed up next to mosques and in the middle of neighborhoods. Ask the JTACs to declare troops in contact , and if they report TIC, support ‘em with fire. If the JTAC can get the bad guys to hole up or to cease fire by calling you in to make some noise, that’s mission success. So, we have to assess the situation and assess when it’s smart to release, and it’s going to be you knuckleheads who are gonna make this call on the spot. Remember, you do not want to be on CNN by making the wrong call.

“So, triple-check the coordinates, use a run-in that minimizes collateral damage and your exposure to the threat, listen to the JTAC. If he wants you to hit something in the middle of a city, question him. Have him declare TIC, see if he’s taking fire. Like the CO said, if you need to drop or strafe to support these guys, do it. But there should be no doubt. We cannot make a mistake.”

Wilson reminded them to make area divert charts and to study the terrain around Diyala and along the Tigris to Mosul. When he finished, Cajun looked over his shoulder at the group, pointed toward Wilson and cracked, “What he said!”

“QUOTH THE RAVEN!” boomed the pilots inside Ready 7.

After dinner, Wilson went down to the “clean-shirt” wardroom and was grateful there was no one using the satellite phone to call home. It was early afternoon in Virginia Beach, and Wilson hoped Mary was home and in the mood to talk. She had been distraught when she wrote the e-mail, and he knew the stress of facing another holiday season alone was what was really bothering her. He dialed the number and took a deep breath. After two rings she answered.

“Hey, baby,” Wilson said softly.

“James?”

“Yeah… anybody else callin’ you baby?” he chuckled.

She giggled. “No! No one else! How are you? I’m glad you called!”

“Doin’ good. Just finished dinner.” Wilson sensed by her voice she was having a good day.

“Did you get my e-mail from last night?” she asked. Wilson didn’t expect it to come up so soon in the conversation. He paused and answered flatly.

“Yeah.”

Wilson could also sense, from thousands of miles away, the wave of emotion that swept over Mary as she broke down.

“Oh, James, I’m so very sorry! Please forgive me!” In an instant she was sobbing.

“Baby, don’t cry, it’s okay.”

“As soon as I sent, it I wanted it back!” He heard her sniff. “It’s just that with you gone another Christmas and the disposal broken…”

“The disposal’s broken?”

“Yes, but I handled it. It’s okay, but, James, I don’t want you to worry about that or the kids or me.”

“Well, I always worry ,” he replied.

“I know you love us and worry about us, but you are over there flying that airplane, and I want you to concentrate on that.” She gasped a little for breath. “I don’t want to distract you from your job.”

“I can…” The short delay in the satellite transmission made the conversation stilted.

“I don’t want you to crash…” Mary blurted. Wilson imagined her shoulders heaving as she spoke.

“I’m not gonna crash. Have I crashed yet?” he joked weakly. Mary ignored it and passed her message to him in a stream of consciousness.

“I need you to come home to me after this cruise is over, not before. You are in my prayers every day, and I know you are a good pilot. Billie tells me Steve thinks the world of you. The new guys need you to get them home safely. But right now, I know why you are there, because those Army and Marine kids on the ground need you. You are my knight in shining armor!”

“We’ll be okay. We’re ready.” He sensed she had regained some of her composure, but he needed to find out more. “What’s wrong, Mary?”

“James, nothing is wrong. We’re okay. Please concentrate on your flying. I’m okay, really, and I don’t want you to be distracted. We’ll talk when you return home.”

“I won’t be distracted. We’re prepared, and we have the best equipment and best training. Bob did a great job flying his airplane; everyone involved did a good job to get him aboard. We’ll fix the airplane.”

“Is the airplane broken?”

“It’s fine. Just needs some minor repairs,” Wilson lied.

Mary exhaled. “I miss you already. Five more months?”

“No, only four months and three weeks.”

“Oh, great.”

Now that he knew the emotional storm had passed, Wilson desperately wanted to hear her laugh. “Did you say we’ll talk when I get back?”

“Yes.”

“ First thing?”

“Well,” Mary coyly replied, “maybe not the first thing!”

They continued to talk about the kids and her holiday plans until Wilson noticed one of the marine pilots waiting to use the phone.

“I gotta go, baby. I know you support me out here, and it’s okay to blow off steam. I can take it.”

“I promise I won’t do that again, James. We’re fine here, surrounded by friends and family. Get another medal, will ya.”

“Medal of Honor this time?”

“If it will keep you home, yes.”

“Okay, I’ll work on it,” Wilson said, smiling.

“I love you very much.”

“I love you, too.”

“Bye, baby.”

“Bye.”

Wilson looked over at his wingman, Smoke, inside his Hornet in tension on Cat 1. Seconds prior to launch, Smoke’s head was back against the headrest, left arm locked against the throttles at full power. All around Smoke’s aircraft, Raven 410 , the troubleshooters and catapult crewmen held thumbs up aloft to signify ready. The catapult officer, topside on this clear blue day, had returned Smoke’s salute seconds earlier and was in a crouch pointing toward the bow. The green-shirted crewman in the catwalk looked left and right, arms raised, and then dropped his arms and depressed the FIRE button on the console in front of him.