Swan Song
“There is history in all men's lives.” - William Shakespeare
Published by Jim Haffner at Smashwords
Copyright 2010 by Jim Haffner
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This is the beginning section of a completed manuscript and is a TRUE STORY.
“The plane was pointed straight at the ground and was losing altitude fast. We were spinning out of control and in my headset I could hear the instructor in the back seat screaming, ‘We’re too low, candidate. Pull up!’ I was looking at the control stick but I couldn’t move my hands. The instructor pleaded, ‘Pull up the stick, candidate! PULL UP, NOW!’ but I couldn’t respond. I was pinned against the canopy watching the trees on the ground get closer and closer. I was stuck there.” I’m standing with my hands in the air as I relive the moment.
“I don’t think I want to hear this,” Denise repeats. She’s dressed in a yellow terry cloth robe and is holding the sleeve to keep it from dragging in her cereal bowl as she reaches for her glass of orange juice. She’s sitting on the far side of the red-checked Formica table with cold, metal legs in the small rectangular kitchen. In the center of the table is a dirty black plastic ashtray with its sides burned from holding a lit cigarette captive most of the day. The small white clock on the far wall with the broken second hand reads just after seven.
Dave, sitting next to me, hurriedly continues the conversation, “What kind of plane was it?”
“It was an A-4.”
“What’s an A-4? Is that a Navy plane?”
“It’s a jet trainer. I could tell from the fuel probe sticking out from the left side that it was an A-4.” They’ve stopped eating as I move around the room continuing my story. Denise is watching me but she isn’t speaking. Her spoon is resting on the side of her cereal bowl and her napkin with its perfectly creased triangular folds is sitting in her lap. She has olive skin, dark brown hair, and beautiful brown eyes that can look right through me.
“And you’re in it as it falls?” Dave asks.
“I was in the front seat and the instructor was sitting behind me. I tried to move my hand but they were pinned to my sides. The plane was in a spin and I couldn’t do anything to stop it. The dials and gauges inside the cockpit were twisting and turning in front of me. I could hear the instructor in my headset screaming at me but I couldn’t move.”
“Did he grab the stick? Could he reach over your head?” Dave asks. He’s leaning towards me as I speak as if to get his answers faster.
“No. He couldn’t reach it. The plane just kept spinning and twisting as it fell. The instructor’s voice was blaring in my headset but all I could do was close my eyes and wait to hit the ground. Then I woke up. I’m standing in the middle of the room in complete darkness trying to figure out where I am. I tried to run but I couldn’t move. My legs were stuck to the floor and my heart was pounding. I was screaming but nothing was coming out. I’ve never had a dream that real.”
Dave looks at me and shakes his head. “I can’t believe you’re going through with this.” Dave is my best friend and he convinced me to join his fraternity during my first year at Toledo. He understands why I want to join the Navy but he said he would never trade places with me. He says he wants to keep his feet on the ground and not take orders all day. He wants to be his own boss.
As I sit back down at the table Denise interrupts Dave’s rapid fire questions with a slow, deliberate voice, “I can’t believe you told me that story. Maybe it’s a sign that something bad is going to happen. Have you thought about that?” I can see a tear starting in the corner of her eye and I feel a little guilty. We haven’t talked about what will happen when I leave for Aviation Officer’s Candidate School (AOCS). I took an oath committing myself to eight years in the Navy after I was accepted to the AOCS program. I graduated from the University of Toledo three weeks ago and I’m flying to Florida and checking in at the Pensacola Naval Air Station (NAS Pensacola) to begin training. I’ve been dating Denise for two and a half years and we’ll be separated for the first time since we met on her first day at Toledo. It’s going to be a hard separation for both of us. I know my feelings for her are much more than a college fling but I can never find the way to tell her how I feel. She is the only person in my life I have ever really trusted.
“I’ll be fine. It was just a dream,” I reply trying to sound as if I don’t care. I sit back down in my chair and look away from her. I’m reluctant to tell her how I really feel about going to the Navy and leaving her. Just talking about the dream makes my heart race. She doesn’t know I’ve spent nights awake wondering if the Navy is the right move for me. She doesn’t know because I don’t tell her. I don’t tell anyone. It’s my own dark secret I keep wrapped up for myself. I was completely disoriented as I stood in the middle of the room in the dark after the dream ended. After a few minutes I laid back down but I was awake for a long time wondering --- is this my future? Am I going to die in a plane crash? Am I inviting death by getting on a plane and going to AOCS? Is this the beginning of my end?
“I don’t like it,” Denise says as she picks up her spoon and starts in on her Cheerios. “I don’t think you should go.” Her wheat toast, smothered in strawberry jelly, is sitting on a napkin next to her bowl. Her shoulder length hair is pulled back into a ponytail and she is wearing pajamas but I can’t see them with her robe tightly drawn around her waist.
“I’ll be all right.” I try to reassure her. I’m trying not to look at Denise. I know if I look at her I will have to answer for what she’s feeling right now but I can’t do that. She’s able to look right through me and see what I’m thinking. I am afraid to show her I’m scared. Damn scared.
Dave pours more milk and starts on his second bowl of cereal, “Where do you think you might get stationed when you finish this school?”
“I don’t know. Denise asked me that a few weeks ago and I said I hope it isn’t a place that gets ten feet of snow a year like here. I’m so sick of the cold. I’m assuming it’ll be some place warm and near the ocean since I think the aircraft carriers stay near the coasts. Maybe Hawaii?”
“If you’re in Hawaii you can be sure I’ll visit. What do you think you’ll fly?” He keeps talking while he works his way through his bowl. I’m too nervous to eat.
I get asked this question all the time so I have my answer rehearsed. “I want to fly the FA-18 Hornet. It’s one of the fastest planes in the world. It’s the best plane the Navy flies.” I decided before I took my oath that I wanted to fly the Hornet. The FA/18 can fly over 1,000 miles per hour and can drop a bomb on a dime. What I like best is that it’s a single seat jet. No navigator to get in my way. The pilot is in complete control of his aircraft.
“That sounds cool. They’ll let you fly that at the end of this school?”
“No. I have to qualify at the top of my class at AOCS to get selected for jet training. If I get selected for jet training then I have to get selected to fly the FA/18. It’s all based on the needs of the Navy. If I finish first in my class and there are no open slots for jet pilots I could get assigned to propeller aircraft or a slow flying helicopter. It’s a big gamble but I don’t plan on finishing second.”
“How’d your brother, Mike, do at this school?” Dave asks, still working on his cereal. I’ve answered this question from him before but I don’t mind repeating it. I’m proud of what my brother accomplished and it’s his stories that got me interested in the military. He talks about the Navy as a job that is truly an adventure. He says he is flying with the best pilots in the world. The Navy makes no guarantees whether you will complete the program. Only the best will get the opportunity to represent their country from the seat of a Navy jet. He’s living his dream. He’s flying an A-6 Intruder off the deck of the USS Roosevelt somewhere on the other side of the world. Landing on aircraft carriers is a rush that compares to nothing he has done before. When his friends ask him, ‘What about the pilots who crash and die?’ he has the perfect answer.
“They dicked up. When people make mistakes flying jets they die. There are no second chances flying 150 miles an hour onto a carrier deck.” He says he doesn’t plan on making any mistakes.