Horner excused himself, ran back to the VOQ, and called Shaw AFB to set up a C-21 to leave about 10:00 A.M., to get him to Andrews by 11:30. As usual, he didn’t tell his wife. He knew that if he did, she would have to keep the secret, which was very difficult for such an open, friendly person, so he decided to keep the burden away from her.

Besides, he said to himself with a laugh, she thinks I’m an insensitive lout anyway.

★ The next morning at dawn, Chuck Horner’s F-16C leapt off the ground and soared up just as the orange ball of the sun broke the horizon.

Joy!

No matter how troubled he was, no matter how fearful or anxious, flying put his mind right. He couldn’t take his troubles with him in the jet. There was no time for extra thoughts, no room for distractions as he slipped past the tumbling bright clouds and shielded his eyes from the sun, feeling the incredible union with the beautiful, sleek jet to which he was strapped.

Shaw AFB was asleep when he landed. After the transit alert crew chocked the Lady Ashley and put her covers on, he gave her a parting glance, not knowing then that he’d never fly Lady Ashley again.25 He threw his flight helmet, parachute harness, and G suit in the trunk of his staff car and left.

The drive home took him around the base golf course, where hackers were already out on the front nine. He could understand their eagerness. It was a beautiful South Carolina morning, and the course was lovely. Will I really be leaving all of this? he asked himself. And leaving Mary Jo yet one more time? He thought of the demands pilots asked of their wives: “Take care of the home, raise our children, and face the emergencies alone, while we chase around the world. And always be ready for the visit—you know the one.”

Mary Jo knows what’s going on in Kuwait, he thought. She knows I’m likely to go if a war starts. But it’s still not fair to her.