Lucy Jac

[Notes]

This is a work of fiction, the characters are creations of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to any actual person. living or dead, is purely accidental and unintentional. Nothing here is intended to dismiss the sacrifices of, or in any way disrespect the brave men and women of the United States Armed Forces. Any mistakes in descriptions of military terms and/or tactics are solely the responsibility of the author. ©2023, ALL Rights Reserved.

This is longer story in several chapters, although there will be scenes of a sexual nature, including group sex, any erotica will take place in later chapters, please be patient.

[Chapter 2]

Training to become one the Air Force's Elite Para-Rescue Jumpers takes nearly 2 years, one of the longest 'schools' in the Military. Actually, it is a series of schools. After Basic Training, prospective P.J.s must pass at least 7 different schools, any one of which can disqualify the prospect from their chosen career. Before they are fully qualified P.J.s, they must pass the Army's Airborne Infantry School, the Navy's Rescue Swimmer Class, the Air Force's Emergency Medical Tech & Combat Medic schools, Army Special Forces Advanced Weapons Training, S.E.R.E. the Military's Combat Survival, Resistance & Escape Course, and finally either Jungle, Arctic, or Mountain Warfare School.

Although this training teaches us to fight and survive under virtually any conditions found on Earth, they were not being trained to fight the wars, P.J.s were the U.S. Military's First Responders. Field Medics extraordinaire. U.S. Air Force Para-Rescue exists 'That Others May Live'. This is what drew me into this world. Anyone can kill people during a war, I and my fellow P.J.s signed up to save lives.

Para-Rescue started during Viet Nam, as a team sent to rescue downed Pilots before they could be captured by the enemy, and kept as POWs. By the time I completed training & was a fully qualified P.J. we had evolved into the Air Forces Special Ops Force. In Iraq & Afghanistan, P.J.s were fully integrated with Navy SEALs, Green Berets, Recon Marines, and British & Australian SAS units.

Before any of that happened, I died 1000 times. I had just completed 8 weeks of Basic Training, and had only one week off before starting the P.J. Initial Combat Assessment Course. The Initial Assessment was also at Lackland, and I knew it was a bad idea to try to go back home to Hawaii in such a short time, between classes. So a couple of the other guys from Basic who were also headed into the P.J. pipeline decided to head to Padre Island for a few days of R&R.

We got back to San Antonio on Friday Afternoon & checked in to the Radisson -- might as well get some quality rest now -- we knew we wouldn't be getting any more anytime soon. Friday night we got good steaks & fine whiskey at the hotel bar, then we headed to our rooms. Most people would expect us to be out all night trying to meet girls, and we did plenty of that down at the shore... but we all knew we would only get one shot at this and none of us was going to fail. So it was that on this particular Friday night, we were all in our racks (what civilian's call a 'bed') by 22:30 (aka: 10:30pm civilian time in Texas).

Sometime after 01:00 (One in the morning) my phone rang, I woke up in a haze to Michelle, my oldest sister. She was barely coherent, and I could hardly make out what she was saying. After a minute, I was more awake & Michelle was making a little more sense... There was a car accident, Patti, my 2nd older sister, was driving and Martina my fiancé was in the passenger seat. Both of them had been taken to the Hospital. The police are saying the other driver crossed the center-line, and Patti swerved to miss hitting them head-on. The other driver left the scene without stopping...

I could not hear the rest, as I dropped the phone & stopped breathing for I'm not sure how long. Eventually, I snapped out of it long enough to thank my sister for calling, and told her I would call mom and dad in the morning (Hawaii Time) for an update.

When I got the first update on Saturday, was the first time I learned my Marti was 2 months pregnant with our child. I also learned that my sister Patti was out of surgery and in recovery, but Marti was still in intensive care in a medically induced coma, meant to reduce the swelling on her brain. The next time we talked, Saturday night Texas-time was when I learned from my dad that the baby did not make it. On Sunday morning, I spoke to Martina's mom & she told me that they were preparing to harvest her daughter's organs for donation. Because we were not yet married and our child was unborn, the Air Force did not consider me eligible for Bereavement/Hardship Leave. In hindsight, this is probably for the best, as I'm not sure I would have done anything but try to drink myself to death if they had sent me back home.

The Initial Combat Assessment Course, is similar to the Army's Advanced Infantry Training A-School, except that the Air Force's version includes basic first aid, advanced hand to hand combat and open water rescue. Like the Army's version, ICAC also includes advanced land navigation, weapons training and small-unit tactics. To this day I can not tell you how I passed that course. Having been a lifeguard almost certainly helped, as did my wrestling and martial arts training. The fact that my dad was a Marine Corps 'lifer' and had taught me to shoot a rifle before he taught me to ride a bicycle, definitely didn't hurt either. Also, my buddies from the beach knew what I was going through I tried to keep me pointed in the right direction as much as they could... but to be honest I don't remember almost anything, its like I was just operating on auto-pilot for those 4 weeks.

After passing the Initial Assessment, really I can't tell you how, I finally got to take 30 days of leave. I flew back to Honolulu on a Military Transport Flight & slept nearly the entire flight home. My dad picked me up at the airfield, and the first place we went was to see Martina's parents. They were selling their house and moving back to the mainland, and they naturally looked like hell. I mean who wouldn't after losing their only daughter and future grandson, right? (Oh yeah, it was a boy, guess I forgot to mention that part.)

My sister had nearly fully recovered, but she was no where near her 'normal' self. Physically she was about 90% but mentally she was still a mess. She blamed herself for the accident, and tried to apologize to me at least a dozen times that first day. I knew it was not her fault, and I told her there was nothing she could have done, but she still told me she wished she had been the one to die instead of Martina. I told her not to ever think that & hugged her for what seemed like hours, but I'm not sure how much it helped her, even though I'd like to think it did.

Just before I left to return to training, the Honolulu Police arrested someone and charged him with causing, then leaving the scene of the accident. Over the next 18 Months, I completed first the Army's Air Assault School, even though the rest of my class was sent to Airborne (Parachute) Qualification, then the Coast Guard's Rescue Swimmer course, CPR/Paramedic 1, Combat Corpsman/Paramedic II, and Survival Escape Resistance & Evasion (SERE). I got another 30 days leave and went back to Hawaii after SERE.

While on leave, I attended several days of the Driver's trial. He was a typical rich-kid on vacation from the real world, driving a rental car, and almost certainly drunk according to the witnesses who saw the car drive away. But the rich-kid from Connecticut had a good lawyer, and the Prosecutor's office was overworked & understaffed... The problem was nobody could actually say that they saw him driving the car. The car was rented to him, and his driver's license had been scanned by the rental agent, but nobody could say "Yes, that man was driving at the time of the accident.". The kid's lawyer called several people who worked at the hotel where the rick-kid & his entourage were staying. The desk-clerk testified that he had seen all 5 of them come in after a day at the beach, at around 6:00pm & they went to the bar for Happy-Hour.

The Bartender testified that they had probably had a few before they came in, and they had a few more before leaving, but that they told her they were all flying home the next day and they left headed back to their rooms. Nobody saw the rich-kid or any of the people with him that day leave the hotel again that night. The next morning all 5 of them flew back to the mainland, after returning the rental car at the airport. All the Rental Agent could say was that the car was returned without any damage noted in the inspection. Witnesses to the accident were sure about the make & model of the car, one was even able to get the tag number, which matched the rental. But nobody could identify the driver, or even say how many people were in the car.

While almost everyone who heard the evidence would probably agree that circumstantial evidence pointed directly at the rich-kid from Connecticut as the driver. However, based upon the lack of evidence presented by the Prosecutor, and the excellent defense put on by the best lawyer money could buy, the Jury probably had no other choice but to find the rich-kid Not Guilty. Which is exactly what they did. After the trial I made eye contact with the accused for the first time, I silently promised myself that one day I'd see him again & I wanted to remember his face when that day came.

For the last week of my leave, I flew back and went to visit Marti's Mom in Colorado where she had moved to be closer to her family. I had heard that her parent's marriage did not survive the tragedy of losing their daughter. Her mom told me she was doing ok, but she looked like she had aged 20 years in the 2 years since I'd seen her. Before I left, her mom tried to return the Engagement Ring I'd given to Martina. I told her to please keep it, because "I'm never going to marry anyone else.".

[End Chapter 2]

Stay Tuned ~ Chapter 3 is in the works...