A Military Affair by Merline Lovelace

Author:Merline Lovelace
Format: mobi
Published: 2010-05-26T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 4

Having made the flight from Hawaii to Namuoto just yesterday, Tess knew the return trip would take sixteen hours, with a stop en route at Wake Island to refuel. Plenty of time to decompress after the wild events on the island.

Her first priority was to brief the aircraft commander and her team members on the stash of arms she’d found in the cave. Once the plane was airborne and on course to Wake, the pilot climbed out of his seat and came back to the belly of the plane to hear the details.

Pitching her voice to be heard over the roar of the four turbo-prop engines, Tess gave him and the dirt-streaked team members a brief recap of what had happened.

“Let me get this straight,” the pilot said with a grin. “You blew up the whole cache with a single Chinese Tweet?”

“Well, technically Quinn here blew it up. His hand was on the trigger. I just provided, uh, a few words of encouragement.”

The eyes of everyone on board turned to the newcomer in their midst. Tess hid a smile at their varying expressions of disbelief. In his gaudy tropical shirt and wrinkled shorts, Quinn had that effect on people.

“I’ll radio ahead to Hickam,” the pilot told her. “They’re going to want a full report when you land.”

No kidding! Tess figured she’d spend the next week filling out forms.

Still hyper from their close escape, both the recovery team and the Phoenix Raven crew wanted to hash over events on the island. First, though, they conducted a simple, heart-wrenching ceremony.

“I’ll take that,” Dr. Courtland said, relieving Tess of the gray knapsack slung over her shoulder.

Her sunburned face solemn, the anthropologist retrieved the wooden recovery box from inside the bag and passed it to the senior military representative on her team. The lieutenant stood at attention, the small wooden container in his hands, while the rest of the recovery team lined up on one side of a plain, coffin-like transfer box. The Phoenix Ravens flanked the other side.

With a nod, the lieutenant signaled for the lid to be raised. Slowly, step by deliberate step, he moved forward and placed the recovery container inside the larger box. Once it was securely nested in the foam liner, the lid came down. An American flag was unfurled with a snap and draped over the coffin.

The lieutenant stepped back. As Tess had done up on the mountain, he raised his arm in a slow, measured salute. A silent observer, Quinn was struck by the centuries of symbolism and tradition embodied in the gesture.

Sixty years separated the two warriors. One was young, black and dedicated to recovering the remains of fallen comrades. The other had died alone, consumed by a fiery crash and mourned by a family who’d never known where he rested all these years. Yet, with a simple salute, the lieutenant rendered the gratitude and respect of an entire nation.

The scene stirred emotions in Quinn’s chest he hadn’t felt for a long time. Admiration for a generation who gave everything in them in defense of their country.

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