Chapter 89

"Rumor has it, you have your own AD-2Q," said the flight line officer seated at his desk.

"We do, but there's something wrong here and I can't quite put my finger it," Grace said.

I snapped my fingers, "I know. He is a Lieutenant and we are Lieutenant Commanders."

"He is seated," said Grace. "He has not saluted nor has he offered his superior officers chairs."

"Oh, come on now, you're kids. You don't expect me to believe that?" He rocked back on two legs and stretched his arms over his head and behind his neck. He rocked back and forth on the two rear legs.

"Ah. A lesson is in order. David? Find me a chair. I rather fancy that one."

That one was the chair the Lieutenant was precariously balanced upon.

"Yes, Sir." I slipped behind the desk, grabbed the front leg and twisted. The Lieutenant was spilled on the floor. I took the chair and offered to Grace. She seated herself as decorously as a short person could.

"David, find yourself a chair."

"Yes, Sir." I found a chair. The Lieutenant boiled up off the floor. "Lieutenant," I barked. "Before you do anything stupid ... I suggest you read our orders." I nodded at Grace. "She may be tiny but she'll put your ass in the hospital."

So, he stood there, our orders in hand, and went from bright red to sheet white and back several times. He snapped to, saluted, we saluted, I first, and Grace that tiny bit later that superior officers have to let you know they know.

"Where is your aircraft, Sir." The idiot ... didn't get the difference.

I motioned him closer, read his name tag, and said, "Jim, I'm not the one to ask. Commander Grace Austin ranks me."

"Ma'am? Where is your aircraft?"

"We didn't know where to keep it, so we rented a hangar at Crissy, in San Francisco," Grace explained, "When it's all said and done, as long as we," she made move that included me, "Are in the Navy, so is she. We might bring her here but we were informed that the carrier would supply the aircraft."

"Yes, Ma'am." He said. He took a breath to continue.

"Lieutenant?" Grace interrupted, "You should find yourself a chair. I'm sure we would be more comfortable if we were all seated. Here," she stood, "Have mine, I'll take Commander Austin's, and he can fetch another."

Remember when Grace said she would get even? Revenge is sweeter cold, but lukewarm works, too. I fetched another chair.

"We have a deck painted on the runway ... standard angled deck Midway class length and width. Arrestor gear but no catapult. The Skyraider doesn't need that. We only have SNJ's available at this time. It is suggested that young pilots practice before Quals. Ma'am?"

"We have our own SNJ but the Skyraider is a two seater. I suppose we could use her and I suggest Commander Austin obtain a car and driver and fetch her.

"Flight deck?" she asked, "Why don't you show me?"

Until you see Grace in sexy mode ... well ... you ain't seen nothing yet.

Damn her hide!

So, I went to the secretary, told her a needed a car and driver to San Francisco, and had a seat while she gave me that look. Mothers do it so well. Down the nose but over the top of the glasses.

"Yeoman ... just do it. Do it out of respect for the uniform if not the person inside it. I really am exactly what you see ... a little boy in a sailor suit ... for all I am six foot 3 and hung like a Missouri mule ... but the sailor suit is real and I need a car and driver to San Francisco," I added, "My sister outranks me by one day and If I'm still here and our aircraft isn't when she gets back from schmoosing your flight lieutenant it will become the very worst day of your life."

I got my car ... my driver was cute. There were two and they looked like they were just out of boot ... and probably were. The atmosphere was chilly on the trip from Alameda to Crissy but warmed right up when I went to the desk, signed in, obtained my keys and they drove me out to the hangar.