John O'Brien - Taken

Soon enough, the white shape of a larger business jet materializes from behind a far hangar on final for McChord. I watch it as it lowers itself toward the runway to the north; its gear hanging down as if groping for the earth. With a touch of excitement, tempered with a bit of caution, I walk toward the Kiowa that is patiently awaiting my return, jump in, and begin the start procedure. I hear the faint roar of thrust reversers just before my own turbine lights. Lifting off, I gain altitude and head north.

I hover behind a tree line with the camera focused on the jet that has taxied in next to the pair of C-130’s we parked earlier. The caution that underlies the excitement has me making sure of what actually just touched down, well, I know what but my concern is who. I see the nose gear compress as the brakes are applied on the biz jet. Still watching, I think about making a radio call to base but, if this is who I think it could be, I want it to be a surprise.

The jet door lowers. I zoom in and see a man walk down the flight of steps. He turns at the bottom and apparently says something to someone still inside. With that, he turns and heads over to the 130’s walking completely around them. Apparently either finding or not finding what he is looking for, he heads to the base operations building. I zoom in farther and see he isn’t armed; at least not that I can pick up on the camera. I lift the helicopter over the trees and the nose drops as I start forward. The man turns as the sound of the heli reaches across the ramp. He shades his eyes and, seeing me slowly approach, trots back to the jet.

This move doesn’t exactly give me warm fuzzies as I suddenly envision a large group of mercenaries lying in wait inside the aircraft. I pull back to a hover at a distance over one of the taxiways as he reaches the steps once again. I see another person come to the doorway. Zooming in again with the camera, I see an older woman wearing a large brimmed hat at the top of the stairs also shielding her eyes as she looks in my direction. Well, so far so good , I think starting the Kiowa ahead again. I don’t see anyone else and if I can’t take care of one guy and an elderly woman then my usefulness has come to an end.

I mean, granted, if there are others, then the game changes but I just don’t get that feel. The thought of a radio call strikes me again and that would be the right and safest thing to do; bring teams up here for support before contact is made. But when have I ever done the right thing. That’s another reason I am so grateful for Lynn; she keeps me real and grounded. But she isn’t here and I find the helicopter moving forward almost of its own volition. It’s not like I’ll just step out and lie down on the ground with my back to them, but I’ll set it down close and stay in with the rotors turning.

The woman climbs down the stairs and they both look over at me. We are both on the ramp staring at each other. Well, this is going nowhere , I think as I reach over and shut the helicopter down. If they were going to try something, they would have by now . The rotors wind to a stop and I exit. The sun’s rays are pounding down on the ramp warming the day up substantially. Wait, that’s my head that’s pounding. The sun’s rays are merely streaming down. I place my helmet on the seat fully expecting a greater portion of my head to still be in it. I walk over to where they are gathered by the stairs.

As I draw near and, as best as I can having to squint with the brightness of the day, I recognize Lynn’s mom under the hat. She recognizes me as well and runs over to give me a hug which I return but feel my joints and muscles squeal in protest.

“I assume you’re Jack,” the man says sticking out his hand.

“You’d be correct and I’m guessing you’re Craig,” I say returning his shake.

“The one and only,” he replies.

“Well, I have to say you’re going to make Lynn’s day,” I state.

“She’s here!” Lynn’s mom exclaims.

“She is,” I respond. Craig has to grab her arm as she almost buckles at the knees. Tears begin to stream down her cheeks.

“Where is she?” Craig asks looking around.

“We’re set up a little to the south. Getting you two there could be interesting though,” I reply.

“How so?” Craig asks confused.

“Well, I haven’t radioed in your arrival so we can do this the easy way or the hard way,” say.

“Okay, just curious, what’s the hard way?” Craig asks.

“The helicopter only holds two so I fly you down separately,” I answer. I think about us walking or flying over to pick up a vehicle but my pounding head vetoes that idea.

“And the easy way?” He asks.

“There isn’t one,” I answer.

“I guess that makes the choice a simple one then. Why don’t you take Mom down and I’ll lock up here,” Craig suggests.

“Sounds good. Are there any cats to transport?” I ask.

He laughs, “Nah, they didn’t quite make this trip.” I want to ask about their story, about the length of time it took for them to arrive, but time is pressing and I’m sure I’ll hear about it later. Right now I want to get back and get the teams north to see if my broadcasts reached any ears.

“I guess that’s a good thing because I suck at herding cats. Shall we?” I ask extending my arm for Lynn’s mom.

I crank up and turn south for the short flight to base. I can tell Lynn’s mom is eager to see Lynn but I can also tell she is very exhausted. Dark circles line puffy eyes. Part of the puffiness is due to her tears I’m sure but whatever ordeal they’ve had to endure the past months have also taken their toll. I’m just glad they made it and am eager to deliver them to Lynn as well. She needs an uplift. She hasn’t mentioned it but I know her family hasn’t been far from her mind and she’s been fretting about them. This only strengthens my resolve to search for the families the soldiers families when we can.

The scene is close to the same as I swing over the concrete perimeter walls; Lynn is with the training group. This time they aren’t too close to my landing spot having learned from the day prior. I settle the Kiowa down with a plop. I’m eager for Lynn to see her mom so I don’t exactly try to ease it in. I’m pretty sure I saw the skids level with my eyes for just a moment. I glance over with an apology for the landing.

Lynn looks over at the clang of my landing. She turns back to the group and then back again noticing I have a passenger. I leave the rotors going and tell Lynn’s mom it’s okay to step out. Well, maybe I should have shut down or maybe briefed her some about the physics of whirling blades overhead. Lynn’s mom steps out and her hat is immediately blown off her head and hurled into the grass. She looks after it sailing into the air but then spots Lynn and all thoughts of her hat are immediately forgotten. I hear her cry of joy as she runs toward Lynn.

I cringe in hope that she remembers to stay ducked and am about to lift off again when she clears the rotor’s edge. Yeah, sometimes I don’t think much. Lynn stands in shock seeing her mom running toward her. There’s not much that will shock Lynn or make her freeze. I believe this is one of the only times I’ve ever seen her do so. Well, that might not be entirely true. There was this time when a few of my buds and I returned after a particularly harrowing mission and relieved a little stress but we won’t talk about that. Let’s just say that we aren’t allowed back at that bar and it cost us a pretty penny to cover the fire damage. Yes, fire in a bar — go figure.

Lynn recovers and runs to her mom. They collide like two freight trains and envelop each other practically squeezing the breath out of each other. I feel a warm, salty droplet run down my cheek. I’m sure it’s sweat. I crank the throttle up and with a lift on the collective, I become airborne once again. With her head tilted, Lynn looks upward questioning what I’m doing. She’ll find out soon enough.