Chapter 20: The Inspector General

January was tough on Wedge and Roxie, Wedge got moved to second shift for the month, but Roxie stayed on day shift. They were sure that it was because Lieutenant Kenosha had a black eye and Wedge was calling him “Lt. Shiner.” Every day was a reunion and a goodbye. Even though they slept together, that was it. They were dead asleep. The only time they were able to spend waking time together was on weekends and at shift change. He would show up an hour early and catch a ride in her truck, and she would hang around for an hour after her shift and ride in his truck. Weekends they spent in each other’s arms, aching to say the obvious but daring not to.

After three weeks of near separation, they were reunited on the same shift. They spent the weekend gently touching and caressing, and as they prepared to bike to work on Monday morning, the sound of explosions were heard from all over base. With a sigh, they went back into the dorm, grabbed their MOPP gear, pulled on their flack vest and helmet, and headed to the blockhouse.

“Lady and Gentlemen, welcome to the Pacific Air Forces Inspector General,” said Wedge. His load crews groaned; they all knew what an Inspector General was. It was a chance for an inspection team of unlimited knowledge and experience to crawl up the asshole of everyone in the fighter wing and inspect every thought and every polyp. “First lines come out in two hours people; I need six volunteers. Davis crew and Johnson’s crew, thank you for volunteering.”

“Aww, crap Wedge, what did we get volunteered for?”

“C-Shop has been tasked to reprogram IFF for every bird we got. I need each of you to grab a speed handle and a number two apex and open and close panels for C-Shop. If we loan six people with speed handles to C-shop, we can be done with the squadron in thirty minutes, and you will have time to set up your tools for the HARM lines.” For some reason, his crews loved to load HARM (High-speed Anti-Radiation Missiles) it’s a big job, but it goes quick and they’re the last weapons to come out of the bomb dump giving the load crews some slack time.

“Why should we help them, they never help us,” demanded Heidi.

“You’re wrong toothpaste breath. See that pretty sergeant over there. Volunteering will make her happy. When she’s happy she likes to make me happy. When I’m happy I postpone my plans to make your lives a living hell. See?”

“We’re on it!” cried Nate Prescott.

“Why didn’t you put it that way earlier?” asked Heidi. The load crews dashed for the tool crib to get their tools when Wedge noticed that all of his bomb loaders were healthy.

“Damn, I don’t have any busted crews, who’s going to be my truck bitch?” complained Wedge when he and Bill Harkness stepped into the office to get their line-ups.

“I’ll ride with Bill and I’m taking Josh with me,” said the shop NCOIC, Sammy Johns. “Wedge, you get Master Sergeant Anna Franklin and Lieutenant Kenosha.”

“Shit. You hate me don’t you,” groaned Wedge.

“It’s what you get for relaxing on night shift,” grinned Sammy. Master Sergeant Anna Franklin was a tall, skinny black woman. She arrived right after the New Year and, being on night shift, Wedge was never able to meet her. Lieutenant Kenosha’s shiner was gone; however, no one was sure if Sammy knocked some knowledge into him. He is quieter, however, which was a plus.

Anna was positive that Wedge didn’t like her. They sat in front of the blockhouse and Wedge was transferring data to the plexiglass status board mounted on the engine hood and Anna asked, “You don’t like having a new person under your wing?”

“You’re wrong,” he said as he filled in data on the board, “I enjoy training people, that way I know they got it right.” But he was frowning as he filled in the data.

“Is it my rank?”

“No, some of my best friends are master sergeants. Actually, I have a good feeling about this last testing period, I hope to be one soon.”

That rankled Anna. Now she was sure it was her race, but she tried one more time, “is it my sex that has you annoyed?”

“Sergeant Anna, I had two very small women on my last B-52 load crew, and I requested them. They out loaded every other team on base, and we were load crew of the quarter every quarter for a year. Have you ever loaded a B-52?”

“No.”

“One cruise missile pylon weighs more than a fully loaded F-16, and you hang two of them on a Buff, along with four gravity bombs and eight SRAM missiles internal. That’s humping, and a lot of people didn’t think Mari and Janet could do it. we were able to do three loads in a twelve-hour shift, it was insane. I have no problem with anyone’s sex. I just want them to do the job.”

Just as she was about to ask if there was a problem elsewhere, another truck pulled up as close as possible, driver’s door to driver’s door. They slid their doors back and Roxie and Wedge leaned out and kissed as long as they dared. “Thank you love, we’re done!” said Roxie with a huge grin as the six bomb loaders hopped out of the back of her truck.