“I’m going to go check on Gomez, you can drop me off here if you like,” Hilton said as they reached the main road running through Bagram Air Base.

“I’ll go with you,” Carpenter replied.

Hilton nodded and the two sat in silence as they made their way to the base hospital. After talking to the charge nurse, they found Gomez in intensive care. He had just gotten out of surgery and was sleeping, clutching a picture of his girlfriend. They expected him to make a full recovery, she said.

Carpenter breathed a sigh of relief. He was thankful everyone had made it out alive.

Chloe Moss

Over the Edge

Homestead ARB, FL

15 August 2013

1300L

––––––––

“To recap, our overall objectives are to kill and survive,” she said as she stood referencing the objectives written in dry erase marker on the whiteboard behind her. “We will do this by maintaining mutual support, one hundred percent valid shots and kills, and timely and effective offensive and defensive transitions as appropriate.”

She waited as her instructor sitting at the table across from her finished taking notes. He was an older Colonel, but he looked much older than he was. His flight suit hung loosely over his thin frame. His hair was nearly completely white. A few Lieutenants had joked that he looked like a World War I fighter pilot raised from the dead, but none dared say it in front of him. He was, after all, the Operations Group Commander, and in charge of all flying operations for the 39th Operations Group and Fighter Squadron.

“Sir, any questions?” she asked. Her long, curly brown hair just barely touched her shoulders. She fidgeted as she waited for his response. Capt Chloe “Eve” Moss was briefing her 2 v 1 Air Combat Maneuvering sortie. She and her instructor would go out and practice air-to-air engagements within visual range of their adversary, another F-16. She was nervous since this was her second attempt at flying this flight lead upgrade sortie. Her first had been canceled due to weather, but the brief had not gone well, and her instructor had told her that she would have had to refly it even if the weather had been clear and a million.

After a pregnant pause, Colonel Ross “Coach” Louhan furrowed his wrinkled brow and said, “Is that your brief?”

Moss’ face turned red. She felt a panic overwhelm her. What did I forget? Is he going to no-step bust me? “Sir?”

“Are you done?” he asked, taking his reading glasses off his crooked nose.

“Yes, sir,” she responded nervously. She wasn’t sure where he was going with his questioning, but she knew he was trying to call out something she had done wrong. Flight briefings were always ended with a call for questions or clarifications. He obviously knew her briefing was complete.

“What about the AFRC Special Interest Item?” he asked, pointing to the framed piece of paper on the wall behind her. It was an additional briefing item handed down by higher headquarters generally to emphasize safety or another emerging issue among aircrew.