AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"Three Seven Nine, be advised that Eglin is closed to all but emergency traffic."
"Son, did you hear what I said about this aircraft being in government service?"
"Yes, sir. Do you wish to declare an emergency at this time?"
Castillo triggered his microphone.
"Eglin," he said, "is Cairns Army Airfield open?"
"Three Seven Nine, I believe Cairns is open, but be advised it is closed to civilian traffic."
"Thank you, Eglin," Castillo said. "Three Seven Nine is not, repeat not, declaring an emergency at this time."
He turned to Torine.
"Jake, if you'll take it and steer about thirty-five degrees, I'll see if I can find the approach charts to Cairns."
"I gather, first officer, that you have been to this place before?"
"Once or twice, pilot in command, sir," Castillo said, as he began rummaging through his Jeppesen case.
THIRTEEN YEARS EARLIER
[-I-]
Base Operations
Cairns Army Airfield
The Army Aviation Center Fort Rucker, Alabama 1145 2 February 1992 Lieutenant Colonel F. Mason Edmonds, Aviation-a starting-to-get-a-little-chubby thirty-nine-year-old who sported a bushy mustache-stood behind one of the double plateglass doors of Base Operations, looking out at the airfield.
On the wall behind him was an oil portrait of Major General Bogardus S. Cairns, for whom the airfield was named. General Cairns, a West Pointer and at the time the commanding general of Fort Rucker, had crashed to his death in an H-13 Sioux helicopter on 9 December 1958. There was an unpleasant story that the crash had been due to General Cairns's failure to turn on his aircraft's pitot heat.
True or not, Colonel Edmonds did not like the story. It tended to detract from the positive image of Army Aviation, and Colonel Edmonds considered himself to be probably the most important guardian of that image. He was the information officer of the Army Aviation Center and Fort Rucker, Alabama.
A year before, the fact that Colonel Edmonds had been granted a bachelor of fine arts degree in journalism by Temple University had come to light when personnel officers in the Pentagon were reviewing his records to see what could be done with him now that some sort of unpronounceable inner-ear malady had caused him to fail his annual flight physical examination and he could no longer be assigned to flight duty.
Finding a round peg for the round hole had pleased both the personnel officers and Colonel Edmonds. He had been afraid, now that he was grounded, that he would be assigned to some maintenance billet, or some supply billet, or wind up in some other nothing assignment, like dependent housing officer.
Being the information officer for the Army Aviation Center and Fort Rucker was a horse of an entirely different hue. He had always believed he had a flair for journalism and the written word, and had often wondered if he had made the right decision in staying in the Army after his compulsory-after-ROTC five-year initial tour. He could have gotten out and tried his hand as a journalist. Or perhaps even as a novelist.
His experience since he'd become the IO had confirmed his opinion of his ability as a journa
list. Surprising most his staff-made up of half civilian, half military-instead of just sitting behind his desk supervising things and reviewing press releases to make sure they reflected well on Army Aviation, he had gotten right down to his new profession and gotten his hands dirty.
That was to say, he took it upon himself to write some of the stories that would be published in The Army Flier, the base newspaper, or sent out as press releases. Only the important stories, of course, not the run-of-the-mill pieces.
He was on such a yarn today, one that he intended to run on page one of The Army Flier, and one he was reasonably sure would be printed in newspapers across the land. In his judgment, it had just the right mixture of human interest, military history, and a little good old-fashioned emotion. And, of course, it could not help but burnish the image of Army Aviation and indeed the Army itself.
A sergeant walked up to him.
"Sir?"
Edmonds turned to look at him and nodded.
"Colonel, that Mohawk you've been looking for just turned on final."
"And it will park on the tarmac here?"
