William Johnstone - Phoenix Rising

“Is there any reason why we shouldn’t?”

“I don’t know,” Karin admitted. “I know I tease you about watching George Gregoire all the time, and about listening to all the right-wing radio shows. But, what if they are right? What if the country has made a big mistake in electing Ohmshidi?”

“There is no what-if,” Jake said. “We did make a big mistake. Well, we didn’t. I’m not a part of the we , because I didn’t vote for him.”

“I didn’t either.”

Jake raised his head and looked down at her. “What? You, Miss Liberal Incarnate? You didn’t vote for him?”

“I couldn’t bring myself to vote for him,” she said. “Not knowing the way you felt about it.”

Jake kissed her on the forehead. “Maybe there is some hope for you yet,” he said.

“But you didn’t answer my question. Will we always have this?”

A sudden gust of wind caused the shutters to moan.

When there was an uncomfortable gap in the conversation that stretched so long that Karin knew Jake wasn’t going to answer, she changed the subject.

“I wonder if it is going to snow.”

“Don’t be silly,” he said. “It never snows in Ozark, Alabama.”

There were three inches of snow on the ground the next morning as Jake drove the ten miles into Fort Rucker. Because snow was so rare here—it had been fifteen years since the last snow—neither Ozark nor Dale County had the equipment to clean the roads. As a result, Jake drove slowly through the ruts that had been cut in the snow by earlier cars. He returned the salute of the MP at the Ozark gate, then drove down Anderson Road, which, like the streets in Ozark, was still covered with snow.

As chief of Environmental Flight Tactics, Jake had his own marked parking slot, though the sign was covered with snow. He exchanged salutes with a couple of warrant officer pilots as he covered the distance between his car and the front door of the building which held not only the offices of the faculty, but also classrooms for the ground school.

“Major, I thought you told me that it never snowed in Southern Alabama,” Clay Matthews said. Sergeant Major Matthews was Jake’s right-hand man, the non-commissioned officer in charge of EFT

“It doesn’t,” Jake said. “Disabuse yourself of any idea that this white stuff you see on the ground is snow. It’s just a little global warming, that’s all.”

“Right,” Clay said with a little chuckle. “Oh, Lieutenant Patterson called from General von Cairns’s office. The general wants you to drop by sometime this morning.”

“What’s my schedule?”

“You don’t have anything until thirteen hundred.”

“All right, maybe I’ll drop by his office now. I’m not surprised he wants to see me. I told him, he wouldn’t be able to run this post without my help.”

“Yes, sir, that’s what I tell everyone about Environmental, too,” Clay said. “You couldn’t run the place without me.”

Jake chuckled. “Yeah, well, the difference is, I’m just shooting off my mouth when I say that about the general. But when you say that about me, you are right.”

Like Ozark, Fort Rucker had no snowplow equipment. But it did have a ready supply of man power and there were several enlisted men, under the direction of a sergeant, clearing off the parking lot and shoveling the sidewalks at the post headquarters. Because of that, Jake was able to walk from his car to the building without getting his boots wet.

Lieutenant Phil Patterson was on the phone when Jake stepped into the outer office, but he hung up quickly, and stood.

“Good morning, Major,” he said. “Just a moment and I’ll tell the general you are here.”

“Thanks.”

First Lieutenant Phil Patterson was a West Point graduate who had recently completed flight school. Jake remembered him when he was a student going through the Environmental Flight Tactics phase of his training. He was a bright, eager, and well-coordinated young man. Patterson had wanted an overseas assignment out of flight school, and was disappointed when he was chosen to stay at Fort Rucker as the general’s aide-de-camp. But, he was a first lieutenant in a captain’s slot, so the assignment wasn’t hurting his career any.

Patterson stepped back out of the general’s office a moment later. “The general will see you, sir.”

Jake nodded his thanks, and stepped into the general’s office. Major General Clifton von Cairns was pouring two cups of coffee.

“Have a seat there on the sofa, Jake,” the general said. Jake had served in Iraq with von Cairns when he had been a captain and von Cairns had been a colonel. That was von Cairns’s second time in Iraq—he had also been there during Operation Desert Storm.

“As I recall, you like a little bit of coffee with your cream and sugar,” von Cairns said as he prepared the coffee.

“Yes, sir, thank you.”

Carrying the two cups with him, von Cairns handed the one that was liberally dosed with cream to Jake. “I’m sorry I don’t have any root beer,” von Cairns said. “That is your drink, isn’t it?”

“I like a root beer now and then,” Jake said.

“Yes, I remember your ‘beer’ run when we were in Iraq,” von Cairns said.

Jake’s preference for root beer was well known by everyone who had ever worked with him. What the general was referring to was the time Jake had made a run to Joint Base Balad for beer and soft drinks. Beer wasn’t actually authorized due to cultural concerns and was officially banned by the military; however the civilian contractors were not constrained by such rules and they were a ready source of supply for the Army. But Jake had come back with only one case of beer and nineteen cases of root beer in the helicopter. He was never asked to make a beer run again.

“How many students do you have in your cycle right now?” the general asked.

“I have twelve.”

“Can you expedite them through? Double up on the flight hours?”

“Yes, sir, I suppose I could. It would mean rescheduling some of the ground schooling.”

“I want you to do that,” von Cairns said. He took a swallow of his coffee before he spoke again.

“Jake, I’m not much for politics—I’ve always thought that as a professional soldier I should leave the politics to others. But I don’t mind telling you, this new man we’re about to swear in scares the hell out of me. I’ve heard some disturbing talk from some of my friends at DA. They are afraid he is going to start cutting our budget with a hatchet. If we don’t get this cycle through quickly, we may not get them through at all.”

“Surely he wouldn’t halt flight training, would he?” Jake asked. “So much of the Army is now oriented around aviation.”

“Did you watch George Gregoire last night?” von Cairns asked.

“I rarely miss it.”

“You might remember when Gregoire showed Ohmshidi speaking to the OWG group, he said, and I quote, ‘the evil of so-called honorable military service . ’ This man doesn’t just distrust the military, he hates the military. And he is about to become our commander in chief.”

“I understand, General,” Jake said. “I’ll get the schedules revamped as quickly as I can.”

“You are a good officer, Jake. Would that I had a hundred just like you. It is a pleasure to have you in my command.”

“And I am honored to serve under you, General.”

General von Cairns stood up then, a signal that the meeting was over. Jake stood as well, and started to leave.

“Jake, are you still seeing that nurse? What is her name?”

“Karin Dawes, sir. Captain Karin Dawes.”

“Yes, she is the one I pinned the Bronze Star on last month, isn’t she? She’s a good woman. You could do worse.”