Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82341 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82341 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
But out in the field, flying above the hot wet jungle to rescue injured soldiers and civilians, we were all the same in a way, joined in a common purpose regardless of our rank. The lines were hazier in the soup. Sometimes I wondered if that made me so eager to leave the base, to put myself in harm’s way, because maybe then I’d feel like I belonged somewhere.
I watched him, that new medic. Watched him walk through base like he owned the damned place. Maybe it was because he hadn’t seen the shit I’d seen or even had his combat cherry popped yet and didn’t realize that at any minute fire could rain down from above or blast through the sandbag walls around us. And I wanted that to be the case, to remain the case. I didn’t want any of the horror of battle to touch this golden boy with the easy smile.
I became a stealth intelligence seeker. My ears swiveled around anytime I heard his name or even the generic moniker of “Doc.”
And from this I learned he was a married man with babies back home in Texas. The news gutted me like shot pellets in a wide spray. He’d leaned across the small group of men one night to show off a tiny square photograph of “Billy, Gina, and Brenda,” who were, I imagined, absolute perfect replicas of himself and whatever Texas beauty he’d left behind.
So the Liam in my dreams became even more of a fantasy man, someone absolutely unattainable in real life, but someone I held fast to nonetheless, as it was some of the only comfort to be had in those dark days and darker nights. In my head he wasn’t a twenty-two-year-old married straight man, but a thirty-two-year-old single man with certain tastes like myself and eyes as blue as the South China Sea. I dreamed about sharing leave time and flying away to a private beach somewhere no one would see us. In my dreams we spent every one of our five days naked and touching each other without the fear of sudden gunfire, of falling out of a burning helicopter, of any other damned thing that would ruin our time in the sun.
But the first time I actually flew with him was the day Moline and I were assigned to Doc’s Huey for a mission. In the dustoff crew of a medevac mission, there were two pilots, a medic, and a crew chief. Doc Wilde and Specialist Rusnak had already gotten a reputation as a dynamic duo, mostly because they both had outgoing personalities and talked the pilots’ ears off on every flight, so when we were assigned to their Huey, Moline turned to me with a wink. “Got your earplugs, Major?”
I laughed back, but the truth of it was, Doc could talk all day long and I wouldn’t mind listening. Doc Wilde was the smiliest man I’d ever seen while stationed in Vietnam, and just looking at his sunny face was enough to lighten anyone’s load. He was a ray of sunshine to everyone around him—I’d already heard plenty of stories of him and his crew chief Rusnak keeping calm while under fire and managing to distract the patients from the horrors of their injuries. I’d been looking forward to working with him and glad to finally have the chance.
“Welcome aboard, Major,” he said with a crooked grin as I hoisted myself up into the chopper. “I hear you know your elbow from your asshole which I’ve learned is a good trait in a flight commander. Just let us know what you need from us in the back.”
My heart rocketed up under his direct attention. “Stay sharp,” I grunted. “Don’t want you hurt.” I moved around him and into the fuselage to begin the final preflight checks while trying not to notice his furrowed brow.
My pilot was already on board in the starboard seat. “We ready?” I asked. Moline nodded and held out my flight helmet. “Let’s get this bird in the air.”
As we took off, I heard Wilde and Rusnak chattering on about what they’d had for chow that morning, a letter from home someone had gotten the day before, and other nonsense. When I updated them two klicks out from our retrieval, suddenly they were all business. They seemed to read each other’s minds and prepped the cabin for the injured men with utmost efficiency.
Once we landed in the LZ, they were out the bay door in a flash, racing to the cluster of soldiers surrounding a man on the ground. Their movements were synchronized, their communication firm and clear. Within moments, they were safely on board with one injured man on a stretcher and another riding the jump seat holding a blood-soaked bandage around his arm.
As we tipped into the air, I continued to listen to the medic and crew chief methodically treat both patients in a manner that was meant to keep the injured men calm and reassured. It was impressive considering how cherry both Wilde and Rusnak were to the dustoff unit.