Read Online Dragon Sim-13 by 1959- Bob Mayer - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: 1959- Bob Mayer
Ads: Link
sure the flow of aircraft went smoothly. Her company, D Company, 309th Aviation, was responsible for fixing all the helicopters in the battalion—a total of almost fifty aircraft.
Lassiter shook his head at Mitchell. "Captain Long working late again, sir?"
Mitchell nodded glumly. "She was supposed to be here at eight."
Lassiter ordered them both a beer. "I'm sure glad she's in command here. Things have gotten a lot better since she took over. We used to be totally screwed up. Now we're only half screwed up."
Mitchell was relieved to see Jean walk into the bar, still in uniform. She smiled as she saw him and strode over. "Hey, babe. Sorry I'm late."
He was still irritated. "Yeah, sure. Want a beer?"
She looked at her watch. "No, I've got to fly tomorrow morning." She turned to the warrant officer. "Keeping my husband out of trouble, Colin?"
"Yes, ma'am. You know me."
She laughed. "Yeah, I do. That's why I asked." She turned back to her husband. "I'm starved. Let's eat."
Mitchell slid off his bar stool and, saying good night to Lassiter, followed his wife to the other end of the club where the dining room was located. It was five minutes before the kitchen closed but the Korean waitress was more than happy to persuade the cook to scrape together something for her favorite captain and her husband. Mitchell was always impressed by how his wife could make people like her. A sense of humor was a valuable tool, he knew, but one he didn't have a good handle on. His wife was usually smiling and could laugh at anything. In the army this sometimes irritated people, who thought she might be laughing at them. It was the same mistake he had made when he'd first met her at Fort Bragg.
As they waited for the meal, they filled each other in on events of the past week. Mitchell let his wife do most of the talking, because he could sense she was upset about something. It took her a few minutes, but she finally got around to it. She reached into one of the numerous pockets on her flight suit, pulled out a photograph, and passed it across the table. "Someone in my company found that posted on the bulletin board at flight operations."
Mitchell checked out the picture. It showed his wife drinking out of a large tankard in front of a bunch of men. Someone had scrawled across the bottom: MUST BE HARD TRYING TO BE A MAN. "When was this taken?" he asked.
"During my hail to the battalion six weeks ago. They fill that tankard with beer and you have to drink all of it."
Mitchell looked at his wife. "You drank all of it?"
She nodded. "It was only four beers. I had to do it. It's the tradition for a new officer."
Mitchell didn't think much of the tradition. "That's a real professional unit you're in."
"Hey, it was only in fun. I thought it was kind of humorous."
Mitchell stabbed his finger at the printing. "Who the hell wrote this at the bottom?"
She shook her head. "I don't know. Someone from my company saw it on the board at flight ops and took it down and brought it to me."
Mitchell was pissed. The resentment that was continually directed toward his wife for being in the army grated on his nerves. He hated it when someone tried to hurt her. It made him want to find whoever had done it and hurt them. Not a very mature reaction, he knew. Jean could, and wanted to, fight her own battles. And she was good at it. She'd held her own for nine years. All she wanted from him was comfort and support.
"What are you going to do about it?"
She put the picture away. "I'm going to talk to the captain in charge over at flight ops. Even if he doesn't know who put it up, if he saw it there he should have taken it down. Then I'm going to talk to my colonel and show it to him."
"Why do people do things like that?"
Jean shook her head. "I'm the only female pilot in this battalion. I think it threatens the men to have me here. They think they're less of a man because a woman can do the same job." She slumped back in her chair exhausted. "I don't
Lassiter shook his head at Mitchell. "Captain Long working late again, sir?"
Mitchell nodded glumly. "She was supposed to be here at eight."
Lassiter ordered them both a beer. "I'm sure glad she's in command here. Things have gotten a lot better since she took over. We used to be totally screwed up. Now we're only half screwed up."
Mitchell was relieved to see Jean walk into the bar, still in uniform. She smiled as she saw him and strode over. "Hey, babe. Sorry I'm late."
He was still irritated. "Yeah, sure. Want a beer?"
She looked at her watch. "No, I've got to fly tomorrow morning." She turned to the warrant officer. "Keeping my husband out of trouble, Colin?"
"Yes, ma'am. You know me."
She laughed. "Yeah, I do. That's why I asked." She turned back to her husband. "I'm starved. Let's eat."
Mitchell slid off his bar stool and, saying good night to Lassiter, followed his wife to the other end of the club where the dining room was located. It was five minutes before the kitchen closed but the Korean waitress was more than happy to persuade the cook to scrape together something for her favorite captain and her husband. Mitchell was always impressed by how his wife could make people like her. A sense of humor was a valuable tool, he knew, but one he didn't have a good handle on. His wife was usually smiling and could laugh at anything. In the army this sometimes irritated people, who thought she might be laughing at them. It was the same mistake he had made when he'd first met her at Fort Bragg.
As they waited for the meal, they filled each other in on events of the past week. Mitchell let his wife do most of the talking, because he could sense she was upset about something. It took her a few minutes, but she finally got around to it. She reached into one of the numerous pockets on her flight suit, pulled out a photograph, and passed it across the table. "Someone in my company found that posted on the bulletin board at flight operations."
Mitchell checked out the picture. It showed his wife drinking out of a large tankard in front of a bunch of men. Someone had scrawled across the bottom: MUST BE HARD TRYING TO BE A MAN. "When was this taken?" he asked.
"During my hail to the battalion six weeks ago. They fill that tankard with beer and you have to drink all of it."
Mitchell looked at his wife. "You drank all of it?"
She nodded. "It was only four beers. I had to do it. It's the tradition for a new officer."
Mitchell didn't think much of the tradition. "That's a real professional unit you're in."
"Hey, it was only in fun. I thought it was kind of humorous."
Mitchell stabbed his finger at the printing. "Who the hell wrote this at the bottom?"
She shook her head. "I don't know. Someone from my company saw it on the board at flight ops and took it down and brought it to me."
Mitchell was pissed. The resentment that was continually directed toward his wife for being in the army grated on his nerves. He hated it when someone tried to hurt her. It made him want to find whoever had done it and hurt them. Not a very mature reaction, he knew. Jean could, and wanted to, fight her own battles. And she was good at it. She'd held her own for nine years. All she wanted from him was comfort and support.
"What are you going to do about it?"
She put the picture away. "I'm going to talk to the captain in charge over at flight ops. Even if he doesn't know who put it up, if he saw it there he should have taken it down. Then I'm going to talk to my colonel and show it to him."
"Why do people do things like that?"
Jean shook her head. "I'm the only female pilot in this battalion. I think it threatens the men to have me here. They think they're less of a man because a woman can do the same job." She slumped back in her chair exhausted. "I don't
Similar Books
