A few weeks later at an in-country Army Airport
Sergeant First Class Ashe and his assistant Specialist Boyle were just finishing the paper work for the eight enlisted soldiers that were waiting for air transportation to their various firebases, Forward Operating Bases and duty stations scattered throughout the country. Some were returning from leave, others returning from the hospital where various minor wounds had been treated so they could return to duty. One of the soldiers had his arm in a sling, another was using a crutch, and one man had several bandages on his neck and face plus his left arm in a sling. These soldiers would be on light duty at their unit until they were physically fit for normal duty. Two of the remaining eight were in the process of going on leave and the remaining three coming from leave, going back to there duty station.
They themselves were still on light duty status from the IED they had taken just weeks before. Ashe still had a slight limp to go along with a reddish scar along his left cheek. Boyle’s own wounds, though superficial, were incapacitating for an infantryman.
“Sergeant, it is important that I get to the Ghazni as soon as possible.” A rather out of shape officer was saying as he approached the desk.
“Yes Sir, this is the flight that will get you there.” Looking at the nametag on the uniform, Sergeant Ashe inquired. “Colonel Housley, could I see your orders, sir?”
”I am to attend a briefing and it is imperative that I am not delayed.” The colonel said as he handed the SFC his orders. “I have to be there no later than five o’clock today.”
Eying the colonel’s ill-fitting uniform, his unit patch and more importantly, the lack of any combat patch, he said “Sir, I know you are a reserve officer, but we really prefer the twenty four hour clock around here, it saves a lot of embarrassing moments since, as you know, we are on a twenty four hours a day schedule. So, you need to be there no later than seventeen hundred hours today?”
“Right! That’s what I said.” The colonel blustered.
“Sir, not to be disrespectful, but how many jets do you see sitting out there.”
“I don’t see any.”
“That is correct sir; our Army deemed it was unnecessary for us to have any jet aircraft, not even the small business jets. We have a couple of single engine aircraft capable of about one hundred knots, and a couple of C12 series Beech twin turbos capable of about two hundred and seventy five knots.” Looking at his Timex digital watch, he said. “It is fourteen thirteen hours now. There is no way you are going to make your deadline. Perhaps, if we were Air Force there would be a jet for your disposal, but alas, we are not, so we have not. I am sincerely sorry Colonel.”
“That is not acceptable sergeant, it is only two hundred miles from here” He said in a condescending tone. “If the turbo prop can fly two hundred and fifty knots, then I can make it in plenty of time."
With all his professional composure, Sergeant Ashe replied, “Yes sir, everything you just said is true, but at this time we have one pilot at this station and he is scheduled to transport the eight soldiers ahead of you. Would it suit you that we just leave them here, so you can make your meeting. In addition, looking at your orders, you were supposed to be here yesterday. I am trying to get you on a flight just to be a good soldier, not because I have to.”
“Well, uh, I… I decided to lay over in Germany a day to do some shopping.”
“Yes sir, I understand, but to paraphrase ‘Piss poor prior planning on your part, does not constitute an emergency on mine.’ This plane will be departing here in a few minutes and will drop three of these soldiers off at Herat, a distance of about 280 miles; it will then proceed to Kabul, a distance of about 400 miles. After dropping off two soldiers, it will continue on to Jalalabad, a distance of about 75 miles, and leave three soldiers. Then and only then will it proceed to Ghazni, a distance of about 135 miles, where it will land on the worst landing strip in the middle east and maybe the entire world. Then drop you so you can attend your meeting, and the pilot where he will spend the night with his unit and get the aircraft ready for another run tomorrow. Now sir, is there any part of the itinerary that you do not understand?”
All the time the conversation between the colonel and the sergeant was taking place, the waiting men, though appearing busy reading magazines, books or letters, were listening with great interest to the discussion just a few feet from them. When SFC Ashe explained to Col. Housley how the flight would be, they all had big smiles on their face. Not so much as to the dialog itself, but at a NCO willing to standup for them.
“Do you have a phone where I can call the unit at Ghazni?” the heavy officer finally asked.
“Yes sir, right over there. I can give you the airport’s number, but I don’t have the various units’ phone number.”
About the time the Colonel left the desk, a young Captain came through a door behind the sergeant’s desk just in time to see the colonel head for the telephone and see the grinning faces of the other soldiers. “Sergeant Ashe, it is fourteen fifteen hours, got everything ready to go? The C12 is checked, fueled and raring to bust dust from the dunes and hillsides.” He said, looking at the Breitling Chronomat watch on his wrist then out the window at the C12V sitting on the tarmac, its body bristling with antennas of various sizes.
Captain Eugene ‘Gene’ Poole, age 28, 5’10”, 165 pounds, military cut blondish brown hair, entered the Army after graduating college where he had enrolled in the Army ROTC program. He attended Officer’s basic and because of some flight time in college, and his test scores were high enough that he attended rotary wing school at Fort Rucker, Alabama. After they had pinned on his rotary wings, he sought to get some fixed wing time in both single and twin-engine aircraft. Now he was living his dream, flying, logging all the hours he wanted, which would look good once he left the service and applied with one of airlines or charter services. A little known fact about Captain Poole, was he had an appointment to the Service Academy, and turned it down. The reason he gave, he wanted to do something on his own. His Father wanted Gene to enter politics and run for public office, of which the son was having none of. He enjoyed the Army and at this stage of the game was considering making a career of it.
“Yes Sir, Captain Poole, Sir, here is your flight plan, you will have nine souls on board, eight NCO’s and one Officer, 1200 pounds of fuel, that’s enough for your roughly 900 miles plus 45 minutes reserve. If you think you are running low, you can add to it at any stop, as usual.”
Looking at the small waiting area, he saw the soldiers sitting. “Sergeant, as usual, you’ve done most of my work for me, thank you. Do you know where my Officer is? Was he the one headed toward the phone?” He asked.
“Yes Sir, he’s on the phone telling his receiving unit why he will be late for their meeting at seventeen hundred hours today. You can rest assured, what ever the reason he’s telling them, it will be our fault.”
Looking at Colonel Housley orders, he inquired of SFC Ashe. “Why didn’t he get here yesterday like his orders said?”
“Told me he decided to take the day off and go shopping while he had a layover in Germany.” Sergeant Ashe said with a chuckle.
“OK Sergeant, make the announcement, we’re heading out into the wild blue yonder, and if he doesn’t get here in about one zero mikes, he’ll have a layover in Kandahar for a couple of days. He can go shopping here while he is waiting.”
As the men stood, they began to collect their gear, which included rucksacks, Kevlar helmets, AWOL bags, assault packs and weapons. “Make sure the weapons have been cleared. We have enough holes in the airplane as it is.” SFC Ashe noticed the wounded soldiers were trying to secure their luggage and the difficulty they were having. “You wounded go ahead and board, we will get your bags.” Motioning to his assistant, he was surprised to see Captain Poole pick up one man’s bags and start toward the door, with all left over luggage distributed between the able bodied soldier’s. “Sir, thank you for you help. It is really appreciated.” Ashe said. All luggage was quickl
y stowed aboard and secured, the remaining soldiers entered the aircraft and took a seat. As the last man was entering the aircraft, the colonel came out of the building waddling as rapidly as his bulk would allow and breathing so hard that he sounded like an steam locomotive.
“Captain, send one of the soldiers back to get my luggage!” He demanded belligerently.
Captain Poole looked directly at the plus sized officer, ensuring that eye to eye contact was made so there would be no misunderstandings and coolly replied. “Colonel, if your aide is traveling with you, then you get your baggage loaded, if not, you have 5 mikes to get it, have it stowed and get aboard. These are U.S. soldiers, not baggage handlers. Sir. If you hurry, you have time.
As the Colonel hurried off, the Captain Poole remarked to Sergeant Ashe. “I love Reservists, they are so humble.”
Moments later, breathing harder than ever, Colonel Housley handed his bags to Specialist Boyle, then boarded the aircraft and found a seat, after some minor adjustments to the harness, he was soon fastened in. Outside the aircraft, Boyle and SFC Ashe finished stowing and securing the luggage. Boyle returned to the building, leaving Ashe standing in the door of the aircraft.
On board one two Victor, the engines were warming up Captain Poole was running through the take off checklist. Once complete, he turned in his seat, looking at his new charges. Looking at his manifest attached to a clipboard, he began his usual spiel. “Gentlemen, this flight will last about four to five hours depending on weather, and other traffic. Who’s going to Herat?”
Three men raised their hands. “We will drop you first.” Looking at his clipboard, how about Kabul?” Two more hands went up.
“Whose’s going to Jalalabad?” Three more hands
“I guess that means on the last leg of the flight it will be just you and me, Colonel. Today we will be flying the Beechcraft Charlie 12 Victor aircraft. For your information, it is a twin-engine turbo prop capable on a good day of about two hundred and eighty knots. This particular aircraft has about one hundred hours on it, so it is for all practical purposes a new one. Army doesn’t allow anyone to smoke on board, but I have no heart burn about chewing or dipping. However, the first yahoo that spits on the floor, I will personally kick your butt off the plane and we may not be on the ground when I do it. Comprehend! Anyone need a spit bottle? Sergeant Ashe, can you get a couple of bottles of water for these soldiers? For today’s flight, we will be flying low to the ground in known trouble spots. If, in the event we take ground fire, those of you with weapons, please don’t return fire. It is really hard on the windows and the bang is loud enough to deafen you. Any questions? Fair enough, buckle up and hang on to your jock strap, we’re going flying. You know the best part of this job, I love doing it and they pay me to do it! One last thing, you will note, we do not have a co-pilot. Since we don’t, I sincerely hope you say a little prayer for our safety and mine in particular.”
Ashe, pulling three bottles of water from the cargo pockets of his Multi-cams and tossed them to the men who wanted them. “Captain, your good to go, have a safe trip, see you in a couple of days.”
“Thank you and thank Specialist Boyle for me, I hate to lose you guys, but I know your light duty is coming to an end. I just wanted to let you and Boyle to know, things have run so smooth since you got here. Wish there was some way I could keep you.”
“Captain, I’ll tell Boyle, it has been good duty, but we really miss our units and you know us grunts, we’re not happy unless we’re miserable.” Ashe shut and locked the cabin door and returned to his waiting room domain and the next set of situations he and Boyle would have to contend with.
Chapter 3