"Thanks, Sgt."
"No problem, Sir."
Aaron slammed the car door and looked around. It had been over 2 months since he had been on base. It hadn't changed that much. There was a Christmas tree near the flagpole now. He noticed that there were some unusual decorations on it especially the nylons. He wondered who found the female mannequin leg.
His wound was still giving some trouble but he decided it was time to get out of that hospital. He was going stir crazy. He was given a cane to help him walk but he used it as little as possible. Somehow he was going to convince those above him he was all right.
Aaron realized how lucky was. The bullet that struck him hit just outside and above his knee. It cut a deep furrow up his thigh and out. Muscles were cut and it bled like a stuck pig. It just nicked the bone causing some fragments that were still coming out. He lost a lot of blood before they could get him squared away. One of the doctors told him that any more and he wouldn't have made it.
"Is the Colonel in?" Aaron asked the clerk.
"Yes, sir," he replied. "I'll let him know."
"Aaron!" a voice called. "Welcome back."
"Frank, it's good to see you."
Major Frank Scovill was the Air Exc. on base. Aaron and he had come over together in Spring, 1944. They were part of the very few that remained. "How's the leg?"
"Good enough."
"I heard you're going to be the new Operations Exc.. Going to be flying a desk for a while?"
Before he could answer, Colonel Logan stepped out of his office. "Williams, welcome back. Come on in."
"Yes, sir."
Colonel Logan was a big man who seemed to fill the room with his presence. He was unit's first Air Exc. and now was in command. He didn't play favorites and he could be blunt when he wanted.
"Welcome back, Williams. How's the leg?"
"Fine, sir."
"Good, good." The colonel replied. "Glad to have you on my staff."
"Happy to be here, sir."
"I'll get right to the point, Williams. You shouldn't be here. You should have been sent home. You don't really believe you'll fly again, do you?"
Just like Logan, right to the point. "That's the plan, sir."
"You have flown enough. 26, 27 missions? It doesn't matter. You earned it. Did you know the boys of your ship all have flown 30 missions and went home? All except Wilson. He stayed to help with the radar units we got."
"I believe I can be a help and get back in the air, sir."
The Colonel hmrrph. "We'll see." As he did, he pick up a newspaper and then dropped it on the desk. "Have you read the article? Damn good writing. Some talk of a Pulitzer or something."
Peter Smithson was the reporter who hitched a ride on "Tantalizing Takeoff" on Aaron's last mission. He wrote a 2-article piece about it that made it into the NY Times. From there it spread to every other newspaper. Aaron's name and story splashed across the nation, something that bothered him very much. As a result, he was promoted to Major and recommended for the Bronze Star and a DFC. An Army Public Relations idea, he thought. He wonder if that was behind Logan's comment about being sent home.
How could he wear either medal as he was only doing his job, job that thousands of others were doing? A job on which 3 men died, 3 men who entrusted their lives to him.
"Yes, I've read it, sir. He tells a good story."
"Look, you came back at a good time. The weather is supposed to bad for the next couple days. Take your time learning the ropes. If you want, cut yourself a pass. You might want to unwind after being in the hospital so long."
"Yes, sir. I'll do that."
Aaron headed over to his new quarters. He now had a room to himself since he was on staff. Not much but enough room to stretch out and it included his own desk. His gear was on the cot and it was nice to see that his personal stuff had been saved. He knew how quick that got removed after an airman was gone from the unit. He began to sort through it.
He found a framed picture of "Tantalizing Takeoff" and the entire crew. He stared at it for a moment. He wished he had the men sign it but he didn't think of it at the time it was taken. He hung it on the wall. He dug out another.
It was a picture of Archer, Gilles, Martini, and him, standing together in front of their plane. It was taken the same day as the other. They looked like they didn't have a care in the world and were ready to take it on. Now 3 were dead and the other a cripple. How quickly things had changed.
Writing the letters home was the hardest part. He said all the right things but he really didn't know what to say. What he wanted to do was actually talk to them in person, to tell them how very sorry he was. He even wrote to Gilles' wife. Aaron couldn't tell her about what her husband was doing over here and he didn't let on that anyone knew about her affairs. What surprised him the most was he received a letter back from her, thanking him.
Though the letters to Gilles' wife and Martini's mother were hard, the one he wrote to Bill Archer's mom was the most difficult. How to do tell a mother that you could feel her son's life slipping away through one's fingers? That no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't save his best friend's life? Aaron felt he should have, maybe he could have done more. Like Gilles' wife, just last week he got a letter from Mrs. Archer. She said the letter was a comfort to her and she felt good knowing that such a good friend was by her son's side when he died. She also said that she saw the newspaper article but she couldn't force herself to read it. She said she pray for Aaron to make it home safely.
He knew that the letter was written to make him feel better but he still felt guilty, that somehow he let those men and their families down.
He hadn't seen Vicki in 2 months, since he was sent to a larger hospital. They wrote each other and twice they talked on the phone, only for a short while. There was a lot they needed to talk about. He wasn't sure when he was being released from the hospital so he never told her when he would be able to see her. Today was a good as ever. There was much he needed to discuss with her.
"Now you are sure you have my order?"
"Yes, Mrs. Grayson." Vicki answered. "I have it all written down here." She heard the bell ring as another customer entered the store.
"When do you think you can have it delivered?"
