She knew better than to get her hopes up, but she couldn’t help feeling a twinge of excitement that the cards might finally start falling her way. After months of dead ends in her search for the
The sailor hung up the phone and cracked a smile. “My chief is on his way downstairs. Do you mind waiting?”
She took a deep breath and nodded, stepping to the side while tapping against her thigh in a metronomic tic as she waited for the noncommissioned officer to come speak with her. When the stairwell door opened a minute later, she turned and saw a tall Black man wearing a one-piece olive drab flight suit worn by aviators with a pair of gold aircrew wings embroidered on his name tag. He walked up to her and held out his hand.
“Ma’am, I’m Chief Cooper. I understand you’re in need of a ride?”
She shook his hand and felt her anxiety evaporate in his warm smile. “I am. Is there any way you can get me out to the
His smile grew wider, displaying a mouth full of brilliant white teeth. “You’re in luck. We actually have a parts run leaving in a few minutes.”
“And you have room for me?”
“Let’s go see the skipper. He’s the aircraft commander for the mission and the one who will make the call.”
Chief Cooper turned and held the door to the stairwell open, gesturing for her to lead the way. She gave him a warm smile in thanks, then started climbing the stairs. With each step, she felt her hope rise.
A short while later, Punky sat with her back to the fuselage on the port side, ignoring what she suspected was a view of San Diego retreating in the distance through the circular porthole over her left shoulder. Flying out to sea in the Osprey was unlike anything she had ever experienced before, and she swallowed hard to combat the nausea gripping her stomach.
As if feeling sick to her stomach wasn’t bad enough, she felt claustrophobic with an olive drab horse collar flotation device zipped up tight around her neck and held down by thin nylon webbing of the shoulder harnesses keeping her pinned to the seat. She wore foam hearing protection under a hard-sided cranial and a pair of bulky goggles pulled down to cover her eyes. In a way, she envied the aircrew who looked far more comfortable wearing flight helmets that allowed them to speak to one another over the intercom system.
Despite her discomfort, she kept an eye always trained on them. The aircrew would know long before her if they were about to ditch or make a crash landing, and she continually read their body language for signs that her fears were warranted. Chief Cooper saw her looking at him and gave her a thumbs-up, but even that didn’t seem to settle her nerves, and her leg bounced as if trying to keep pace with the massive proprotors.
After what seemed like an eternity, she noticed the aircrew talking to one another and gesturing animatedly at various items around the cabin. The taste of sour spit filled her mouth, and she leaned forward in her seat to focus on the men who had become her security blanket.
Chief Cooper walked up and spoke.
Punky scrunched up her face, unable to hear over the din of the engine noise and her double hearing protection.
He leaned close and put his mouth to her ear. “Ten minutes!”
She gave him a thumbs-up in reply, then tugged on the bitter ends of her harness to make sure she was cinched down good and tight.
Aside from the museum on the USS
“Five minutes!”
Her stomach knotted. She still couldn’t hear him but had learned to read his lips.
Adam watched the CMV-22B Osprey make its approach with mild fascination. The Marine Corps had been flying the Osprey from amphibious assault ships for some time, but this was a new undertaking for the Navy, and he was curious to see how it would fare. The off-white-colored paint scheme made it appear decidedly inferior to the Marine version, in his mind.
