At 25,000 feet my mind drifts back to the last six months. My deployment to Operation Baltic Hammer is over. 147 combat missions and I'm still alive. My plane and body are still in one peace and I'm coming home. I scan the inside of my cockpit as I have done a million times before. The heads up display tells me I am on course at 25,000 feet and the final waypoint marches to the center. I scan outside of my plane. Yup. Razor is right where he should be. A steady 36 inches and to the right of my wing tip. Razor. What a character. He will be off to Nellis in a few weeks to begin the flight phase of selection to the Thunderbird team. When he found out he had been selected for trials, he started hanging his helmet upside down in the classic number five opposing solo position. He swears he is going to make it onto the team. Ah youth. Hell, he is only twenty-seven. Not much younger than I am.
The sunlight shines through my canopy in a bright glow. It is good to see the sunlight after six months of clouds and rain. The mountains of Arizona are barren compared to the mountains in the Baltic States. I'm almost home now. "Strike Eagle Lead, this is Luke tower. We have you on radar showing 25,000, heading 112 degrees, range 45 nautical miles. Air traffic is commercial at 31, 050, heading 270 degrees, range 22 nautical miles. You are cleared into military air space and is free of other traffic. Winds are 2 miles per hour south by southwest. Visibility 75 miles, ceiling is unlimited. Cleared for landing, runway two one north, over. Roger Luke tower, this is Strike Eagle Lead. Thank you and requesting missing man formation flyby for squadron. "Roger, Strike Eagle Lead. Permission granted. Luke tower out."
The squadron forms up on my wings. I look out my canopy and see Razor looking at me. I know what he is thinking. The same thing we all are. The missing man formation is for Spade. Shot down in the Balkans. His body was never recovered. Spade was Razors roommate in the academy and flight school. He was also Razors best man when he and Samantha got married.
We see the base up ahead as we drop our altitude to three hundred feet. Lined up on the runway. Air speed 180 knots. I can see the people on the ramp. Ten miles and closing. Five miles. One mile. Center ramp and Digger pulls hard on the stick as the crowd passes under us. We all separate now heading back to the south end of the runway. Razor kicks it up to the afterburners and rolls inverted as a signal to Samantha that they are going to Nellis. Eight ball is next in the flyby. It looks like he is going to drop out of the sky he is moving so slow. The nose is up forty-five degrees and the speed breaks are out. I Kick the afterburners and am greeted by the slam into the ejection seat. The crowd passes in a blur and I kick the rudder hard left. Grunting hard now. 9 G's now. G-suit is tightening around me. One turn, level and pull hard on the stick and kick the rudder. Strait up and roll. Watch the altimeter. 25,000. 30,000. Roll it over. Level out. Head back to the end and land this thing now. Wheels down. Steady on the nose gear. Down.