On Wings of Passion (10 page)

He caressed her cheek. “Why afraid?” he asked gently. “We need time, that’s all. There’s nothing to be afraid of, darlin’.”

“But don’t you see?” she cried, her voice strained. “The article.”

“What about it?”

She sniffed and, accepting the handkerchief he offered, dabbed her eyes. “At first I was ready to write a blistering commentary on SAC and why we should get rid of the bombers. But as I got to know you, talk with you, I saw the other side of the story. The more facts I gathered, the more convinced I became that I couldn’t write against the bombers. And then, Ty, these last few days. These men and their families put up with so much to defend our country. I’d feel like a traitor if I capitulated to Bruce’s demands and wrote something I didn’t believe in.”

Ty held her. He spoke in soothing, hushed tones and stroked her hair. “Erin, you have to separate feelings from facts, you know that. You’re a damn good reporter. If the facts don’t back up what your editor wants, then don’t write the article.”

She raised her head and stared at him. “I got a phone call last night, too,” she admitted, her voice barely audible. “From Bruce.”

“And?”

She twisted the handkerchief in her fingers. “He wasn’t at all happy with my analysis of the situation.”

“Facts are facts,” Ty reiterated. “What does he want if the facts don’t fit the story he’s after?”

“He—accused me…” She shut her eyes tightly. “Oh, damn, I did it to myself,” she whispered.

“You’re not making sense,” Ty growled. “What did he accuse you of, Erin?”

She gestured helplessly. “At first it was all business. Then Bruce said he noticed that every time I mentioned your name, my voice changed. He asked if you meant something more to me than just an escort. I couldn’t lie,” she admitted, “so he accused me of being persuaded by a decoy to write a different article on SAC.”

“Damn him!” Ty’s eyes blazed. “You know that isn’t true, Erin.”

“I know. But he’s prepared to write an article accusing me of being brainwashed if I don’t take the slant he wants!”

Ty gave her a guarded look. “Blackmail?” he demanded, his voice a dangerous whisper. “He’s blackmailing you into writing it or he’ll mention your name in print?”

“Mine? I don’t care about mine!” she cried. “It’s your name, Ty! Now that I know how important your career is to you, I can’t jeopardize it. An article on
me
would embarrass you and all of SAC. I can’t risk that.”

He leaned against the seat and stared angrily out at the rain. His mouth became a thin, hard line, but he remained silent. Finally, he turned to her and said, “What do you want to do? How can I help?”

Her heart opened with love for him. He wasn’t going to abandon her! She felt a new protectiveness toward him; she wanted to shield him from public embarrassment. “Nothing, Ty,” she whispered faintly. “This is something I have to do on my own.”

“No, it isn’t, damn it!”

Erin jerked her chin up, startled by his outburst. He gripped her hand. “That’s part of your problem,” he said earnestly. “You’re so used to surviving by yourself that you’ve forgotten how to work as part of a team. Well, this issue involves
both
of us. Even if I didn’t care for you the way I do, I’d still try and help you solve it. What he’s trying to do is wrong.”

Her lower lip trembled. “He’s got me boxed in on all sides, Ty.”

“I could alert SAC headquarters to his tactics. Maybe I could wangle some leave to fly to New York and meet him on his own turf.”

In that moment Erin loved him fully. She could no longer deny what she had felt for him all along. He was proving himself to her as no one ever had before. He was willing to risk his career to protect her.

“No,” she whispered. “Just let me handle it in my own way. Maybe, just maybe, I can convince him to change his mind.”

Ty gave her a skeptical look and released her hand reluctantly. He glanced at his watch. “We’ve got to get over to the squadron, Erin. We won’t have a chance to talk about this during the mission. After debriefing I’ll have a few minutes alone with you. Maybe then we can come up with a satisfactory answer to this dilemma.”

Erin gratefully drank a cup of hot coffee as Ty picked up the crew members and drove them slowly through the wind and rain to C ramp. The gloomy weather lowered Erin’s spirits still further as she stared out the fogged-up window to see great gusts of rain flung into distorted shapes by heavy winds. Guns sat in the seat behind her and supplied her with information about the base and the Buff they would soon be flying. He seemed the most lighthearted member of the crew; the others were unusually quiet and serious.

Finally, the bus pulled to a halt in front of one of several Buffs painted in camouflage. Everyone scurried toward the dropped hatch door beneath the belly of the bomber.

“Go on up, Erin,” Guns shouted into the wind.

Soaking wet from the brief jog to the plane, Erin climbed shakily up a narrow ladder. After clambering onto the metal grating of the lower deck, she hesitated. It was dark, and a chilling cold invaded her body. Groping blindly, she found the rung of the second ladder, which led up into the small, cramped cabin area. Bending over, she walked to the bunk, which was located on the port side of the Buff and sat down, trying to stay out of the way of the crewmen who were boarding.

During the next five minutes gear of various sizes and shapes was lifted up the ladders. Erin helped Guns stuff bags containing helmets and oxygen masks on the bunk.

Other equipment was stowed in odd nooks and crannies between huge panels of instruments, which were located on either side of the narrow passageway leading to the cockpit. The light was dim within the main cabin area and everyone’s breath formed moist, white clouds, giving the interior an alien atmosphere. Finally the co climbed aboard, took the right seat and switched on the heat.

Ty was the last person to board, after having made a final check of the outer surfaces of the aircraft. He was soaked. His face glistened and water dripped from his jaw and chin as he edged past Erin. He turned his head slightly, as if to make sure she was all right. She noticed that his eyes looked different; they seemed to hold a new intensity.

She felt a subtle unspoken excitement building within the cabin. An indefinable but palpable sensation throbbed throughout the plane, as if a slow drumbeat were increasing in tempo. Each man knew his job. Each shouted directions and cracked jokes. Erin returned to the bunk and waited until Guns had stowed away the last box lunch.

“Okay, let’s get you checked out,” he said, rising.

The instructor pilot’s seat, called the IP seat, was located directly behind the pilot and copilot’s seats. There was just enough room to wedge it between the two other positions. Erin’s knees would be within inches of the throttles at Ty’s right.

Guns crawled forward and gave the sturdy metal chair a sideways yank. It slid into the center of the deck on a set of specially designed skids so that it was directly behind the throttles between the pilot’s and copilot’s seats. He motioned for her to sit down.

Erin made herself comfortable on the metal seat, while Guns checked out her parachute, which doubled as a cushion for her back. She struggled into the shoulder harness and adjusted the straps around her thighs. Satisfied, Guns gave her a thumbs-up, meaning everything was okay. She was sitting on her pack, which consisted of a radio, survival items and a small inflatable life raft. It also acted as a cushion, and it was attached to her chute so that, if she had to jump, the pack would automatically come, too.

Guns then showed her the seat belt and shoulder straps to be used in heavy turbulence during the flight. “On takeoff, landing and during low-level runs you have to wear the helmet and gloves, and be completely strapped into your chute and seat belt,” he told her. She nodded. “I understand.”

“Great. Now, let’s get you hooked up to the intercom so you can hear all the dirty jokes these guys are trading back and forth.” She put on lightweight earphones with large muff-like cushions. Guns showed her where the radio jack was located and switched it to the “on” position. “If you want to talk to someone, switch to private. That way everybody else can go about their business and they won’t be listening in on your conversations.”

He showed her several other channels, including those that allowed aircraft-to-aircraft or intercabin communication. Another channel broadcast hard-rock music. Guns grinned. “Hey, all the comforts of home.” He laughed. “We can even pick up radio stations while we’re flying at high altitudes. Kinda takes the edge off the boredom when things are quiet,” he explained.

Erin shook her head, feeling as if she had stepped into a whole new world. She understood even better than before what Ty meant when he said the crew was a substitute family to the men. Her spirits lifted simply because she was sharing a part of their world.

She watched Ty working through a thick book along with the co. They were going through a standard pre-flight checklist. She was struck by his expression of intense concentration.

The number of instruments in front of her was mind-boggling. The entire console was a myriad of gauges and dials. Of special interest to her were the small television like screens in front of each pilot’s seat. She watched as Ty turned one on. As it warmed up, a picture congealed, showing the ramp in front of the B-52. Erin was dumbfounded. They actually had a camera that could see beyond the small cockpit windows that embraced them on three sides.

For an hour the crew went through the mandatory pre-flight checklist. Then Erin sensed mounting excitement as the ground crew outside started each of the eight jet engines on the bomber. The plane shivered like a live creature as each of the seventeen-thousand-pound-thrust engines caught and roared to life. A buffeting wind slammed against the aircraft as it sat out on the ramp, adding to the vibration. Finally, all eight engines were operating and Erin replaced her headset with her helmet.

Ty glanced at her briefly. It seemed he missed nothing as his eyes covered her from helmet to feet. “Don’t forget your Nomex gloves,” he warned her.

She nodded, fumbling for the button that had to be pressed in order for him to hear her. “I won’t. Thanks.”

He gave her a thumbs-up sign and went back to work. The radio chatter between the ground crew, the individual stations in the Buff and the tower became intense just before they rolled forward. The bomber trundled heavily off the ramp, heading for an area known as the “hammerhead.” Once they were on the warm-up ramp, which lay directly off the runway, Ty would run up each engine to verify its maximum working order. A vehicle called “foxtrot” would circle the plane, making one last visual inspection of the wing and tail surfaces before the bomber actually took off. The weather had turned ugly, and Erin could see that the rain had reduced visibility.

“Pilot to IP. Ready for takeoff?”

Erin jerked her head up, startled by Ty’s voice. She was the IP! Fumbling for the button, she stammered, “Ready!”

“Get that oxygen mask strapped on,” he commanded.

She snapped the mask across her face and rested her hands tensely in her lap as Ty guided the huge bomber off the hammerhead, aiming the nose down a long strip of runway. Setting the brakes, his fingers closed’ gently over the eight throttles and worked them forward to the thrust gate. The bomber engines rose with a new high-pitched whine and the entire aircraft shivered. After making several last-minute checks with the tower, the co gave Ty a thumbs-up signal.

He released the brakes and the bomber crept forward. Erin had expected to be slammed back in her seat from the thrust. Instead, the plane slowly gathered speed, the growling of the engines deepening as Ty kept his hand on the throttles. The aircraft shuddered each time it hit a depression or bump on the runway. The gray landscape became a blur.

“Seventy knots,” he said. “Ready, ready—now!”

“Twenty seconds,” Nav returned quickly. There was a pregnant pause, tension strung as tight as a taut wire. “Committed,” Ty called, placing both gloved hands on the yoke. The co immediately placed his hands against the throttles, making sure they remained against the thrust gate.

The bomber hurtled down the runway, gathering speed. “Coming up on unstick,” Co announced tensely. “Ready, ready—now!”

Ty pulled back on the yoke. Immediately, the jolting sensations ceased and she realized with an incredible surge of excitement that they were airborne! The Buff nosed up into the thick, swirling clouds.

Soon they broke through the last layer of clouds into a brilliant, blue sky. Guns, who had been sitting in a sling-type seat just behind the IP, crawled around the corner and tapped her arm. “You can take the helmet off now.”

Removing the helmet was like getting rid of an impending headache. She placed it on the bunk and gladly put on the lightweight earphones, hooking back into the intercom. For the next fifteen minutes everyone relaxed. Ty turned, giving her a brief, warming smile.

“What do you think so far?”

Her pulse raced at the intimate glance he shared with her. “It’s breathtaking.”

He winked. “You look like a kid at Christmas.”

Soon they flew out over the Great Lakes where they were met by a KC-135 refueling tanker. Once again Erin had to put on the helmet, mask and gloves. Her breath caught in her throat as she watched Ty deftly maneuver the huge bomber to within thirty feet of the tanker, which flew just above them. The tail boom from the tanker contained a large, retractable hose with a nozzle on the end. Erin’s heart pounded as Ty inched the bomber closer and closer until they were flying directly beneath the tanker. His left hand gripped the flying yoke, his right hand constantly monitoring the throttles as he urged the Buff the last few feet. She saw the pipe extending beyond the upper windows and then heard a distinct
clunk
.

“Contact!” the co called, relief in his voice.

“Now we’re taking on fuel,” Guns informed her. “Actually, we don’t need it, but in order to keep the pilot’s skills up to standard, we have to refuel on all training missions. Ty will be flying like this for about fifteen minutes.”

Erin looked at Guns in awe. “It seems like such delicate work!”

“It is. There’s only about thirty feet between us and the tanker. That isn’t much when you consider the size of these aircraft.” He grinned. “You ought to be here when the weather’s rough. Man, whoever’s flying comes out of it looking wrecked. The plane has a refueling autopilot,” he said, pointing, “but there’s a lot of physical strength involved in keeping the Buff between that twelve-to sixteen-foot extension on that boom.” He pointed at Ty. “Watch him,” he said. “You’ll see what I mean.”

To Erin, Ty looked like an alien from the very foreign world of combat. Wearing the olive-green camouflage helmet, with the dark visor drawn down across his eyes and the oxygen mask strapped on his face, he was unrecognizable. He was a combat pilot, all business. She heard his clipped tone and watched the sensitive monitoring of his fingers, which rested over all eight throttles. His left hand gripped the yoke solidly and she watched as he gently coaxed the bomber over each small air pocket. They flew an invisible oval-shaped track above the lakes. Erin’s awe increased as the tanker and bomber banked in unison to the left, the bomber maintaining contact with the boom. She shook her head in amazement at the skill these men displayed.

“Pilot to IP,” came Ty’s voice. “We’ll show you an emergency release. We’d use this maneuver if there was the chance of an air accident. Hang on.”

Erin held her breath. Ty pushed the yoke forward and the Buff dropped like a rock. Her stomach rose in her throat as it dived three thousand feet in mere seconds. When Ty leveled off the Buff, Erin saw the tanker above her retracting the boom. She shook her head as Ty glanced over his shoulder. He pushed up his dark visor and unsnapped the oxygen mask from one side of his face. His smile made her feel warm inside. “Well? What did you think of that?”

“It made me feel queasy.” She laughed. “But excited. It was fantastic!”

“Wait till you get down to low level,” the co warned. “We’re anticipating thunderstorms in the area. Might get a little turbulence.”

“Not to worry, you guys,” Guns piped up, coming around to Erin’s right. He opened a bottle and dropped two tablets in her hand. “Dramamine. Take them now so you can enjoy the low level.”

Soon a new mood pervaded the cabin. Erin enjoyed the view as they leveled off at thirty-nine thousand feet. She was aware that Guns was busy behind her, but she didn’t pay much attention. For the next ten minutes she watched and listened to Ty and Barry discussing their intended route. Then she smelled something burning! She pressed her intercom button, a note of panic in her voice.

“What’s burning!”

“My cookies!” Guns yelled, jumping up from his cramped position.

Erin unstrapped herself and twisted around. Guns jerked open a small oven across the bunk and slid out a tray of chocolate chip cookies. The distinct odor of burned cookies wafted through the cabin.

“For God’s sake, Guns, the least you could do is watch them so we could all have some decent cookies to eat,” the EWO chided.

Erin had never laughed so hard. Guns mournfully dumped the burned cookies into a garbage bag. He distributed the edible few among the crew. Ty tapped her knee to get her attention. “We don’t want to give you the idea we work hard all the time.” He grinned broadly, devilry returning to his eyes. The co was flying now, and Ty was able to give her his undivided attention. “With a long mission like this, we usually have maybe a half hour or an hour before we start working.”

“Hard,” Radar added fervently. Ty nodded. “You’ll see.”

Erin couldn’t suppress a laugh. “I didn’t know you had an oven in here. It’s almost like home!” Ty agreed and some of the tenseness left his face. “Everything but the kitchen sink. Guns is our chef on board. He brought along a roll of chocolate chip cookie dough and he’s probably got his Fritos—” “Which everybody steals,” Co interjected. “Yeah, mushrooms like them a lot,” Nav piped in, hinting.

Erin traded broad smiles with Ty, loving the feeling of closeness among the crew. Guns crawled forward and sat back on his heels as he offered them less-burned cookies from his second batch.