Chapter 13

Don had signed off last night’s letter with a few words on what he wanted to do with Lanh once they were reunited. He had to keep that part of the letter as non-explicit as possible, for his sake, not hers. There’s not much you can do for an erection in an open bay dorm full of young men in their underwear. Privacy doesn’t exist.

Now, 18 hours after sending off that letter, an hour before evening chow, the flight normally took part in some in-dorm training or cleaning activities. Excitement was running through the guys. Rumor had it Saturday they may get their first base liberty, which means they may get to call home.

Don was adjusting his locker for inspection for the millionth time when he heard the TI bellow, “Campbell, my office! NOW.” Don checked his uniform, then said to Dom, “Check me for ropes.” Dom looked over Don’s uniform quickly, looking for any of those tiny loose threads that turn up on new uniforms commonly known as “ropes.”

“Ok, you’re good, let us know where to send the body when he’s done with you.”

“Thanks,” gasped Don, then he scrambled for the TI’s office. There he knocked on the door once, as hard as he could, and waited at the position of attention until he heard the command, “Enter!”

He took his position in front of the TI’s desk, snapped to attention, held the best salute he could muster, fixed his eyes on a point above the TI’s head and said, “Sergeant, Airman Campbell reports!”

Miserable old TSgt Blankenship made him hold the salute for a good 10 seconds, which felt like a half hour to Don, then returned the salute, allowing Don to lower his salute and stand at attention. “Stand at ease Campbell.” Don snapped to parade rest, feet shoulder width apart, hands clasped behind the back, eyes focused on the wall above the TI’s head; it’s a form of attention, it just appears to be more restful. “You did quite well in the PAST test, you’re the first airman I’ve had to pass the PAST in a year.”

“Thank you, sergeant.”

SSgt Romano stood off to the side all smiles. It’s obvious that TSgt Blankenship wanted to impress on his trainee how to congratulate an airman that excelled. The grouchy old TI continued, “Not just passed, you stomped that test Airman, you must have been an athlete in high school.”

“Yes sir. I set the state record for two-hundred-meter freestyle in Minnesota two months ago, sergeant.” This guy didn’t call Don in to discuss high school athletics. Don was suspicious. He just wanted to get through basic training, making no waves so he could be reunited with his bride and go to his technical school.

TSgt Blankenship slid a form across the desk and said, “You don’t need to read, it’s all filled out, just sign and date the bottom line, year, month, day using blue, black, or blue black ink,” and he pointed to the line at the bottom. The cadence of his voice had the cadence of a man who has repeated this sentence a thousand times.

After a week of dealing with publishers, Don learned the hard way to read everything. This was drilled into his head over and over by his legal representative, Huy. Don didn’t need to read this paper; it was a statement volunteering to join the USAF para-rescue career. “Thank you for the opportunity, Sergeant Blankenship, but I have settled on my chosen career. I intend to be an aircraft maintenance...”

“Airman, there is no greater opportunity to serve your country than to rescue downed airmen in their time of need.” TSgt Blankenship sounded angry.

“Sergeant, I believe those airmen are better served by flying the most serviceable aircraft on earth, and that’s what I intend to do. I intend to...”