Authors: Adrianne Byrd
Blue Skies
By
Adrianne Byrd
This book is dedicated to my military fathers: Robert Saulsbery and Charles Byrd
I miss you both.
Prologue
Sunday August 18, 1982-1300 hours...
“Daddy’s not coming home.”
Seven-year old Sydney Garrett lost count how many times she spoke the words, but she was determined to keep saying them until the girl in the mirror believed it. Really, it didn’t make sense. Her father promised he would come back and everyone knew Lieutenant Colonel Devin Garrett
always
kept his promises.
“Daddy’s not coming home.”
A knock sounded at the door. When Sydney turned, her twelve-year old brother, Steven, poked his head into the room. He, too, was dressed in his best church clothes and looking as sad as everyone else in the house. Since they heard the news, Steven took it in his head to start pretending to be the man of the house. Honestly, he wasn’t all that good at it, but she would never tell him. Plus, she suspected he already knew.
“You ready?” he asked.
She was and she wasn’t. Yet, instead of answering, she dropped her gaze to her shiny black shoes.
Her brother sighed and entered the room. “Uncle Billy says the limousine is on the way and we need to be downstairs when it arrives.”
Tears swelled in Sydney’s eyes and she quickly blinked them dry. She was big girl and big girls don’t cry. At least that’s what her father told her; but her mother cried all the time now, and she was definitely a big girl.
But soldiers don’t cry.
Steven looped his arm around her shoulders, but she shoved it off and raced from her room.
“Syd,” he shouted after her.
She ignored him and raced down the hall to her father’s private study. Once inside, she locked the door and backed away. Maybe if she stayed here, she wouldn’t have to go. Sydney kept her eyes on the doorknob as she continued to back away it, her chest heaved as though she’d ran the entire backyard a bazillion times.
She bumped into something hard and swiveled around to stare through tear-glazed eyes up at her father’s work desk. There, an old, grainy brown and white photo of her grandfather, Tuskegee Airman Lieutenant Anthony Garrett. More tears leaked from her eyes and she drew no comfort from the knowledge her father and grandfather were now together in heaven.
Anger rushed through her body, but she couldn’t bring herself to sweep all her father’s beloved War World II model planes to the floor. Instead she took pride in the fact she knew the differences between the American fighters Grumman F4F Wildcat to the P-51 Mustang and even the American bombers SB2C to the B-29 Super fortress-the one that dropped the atomic bomb.
She knew them all by heart because her father knew them.
She loved them because her father loved them.
A soft knock sounded at the door.
“Sydney?” her mother’s voice trembled from the other side. “Honey, it’s time to go.”
I don’t want to go.
She turned, dropped to her knees and crawled beneath her father’s desk. From there she inhaled the strong wood scent of her father’s homemade furniture while the carpet held the smoking fragrance of his evening cigars.
“Sydney, open the door,” her mother coaxed patiently, and then added, “I miss him, too. We all do.”
Sydney’s tears poured like a waterfall. No one missed him more than she did. No one.
“You know, sweetie.” Her mother sniffed. “Your father would want you...us to be strong right now. We have a duty...”
Duty.
Her father spoke the word often along with others like: honor, courage, and integrity.
Sydney made another wipe at her tears. Next, she heard a key rattle in the lock. She pulled her knees up and tucked them beneath her chin. When the door inched open, she wrapped her small arms around herself and transformed into a tight ball-a tight trembling ball.
Her mother’s smooth legs, thin ankles, and black shoes entered the room.
Sydney shook her head but no longer made an attempt to silence her sobs. They couldn’t make her go if she didn’t want to. They couldn’t.
Those long legs folded slowly until both knees kissed the carpet. Her mother’s head appeared as well as her soft, sad brown eyes.
“Sydney, baby. Please come out.”
Despite the eyes, everything else about her mother appeared cool, calm, and collected. Her mother was beautifuleveryone said so; and today was no exception. If anything, she was more beautiful.
If her father were here he would tell her.
Sydney dropped her gaze when she thought disappointment flickered across her mother’s features.
“I can’t do this without you,” her mother confessed. “I can’t stand at that funeral and pretend to be strong.”
“P-pretend?” Sydney eyed her mother wearily.
Her mother nodded, a part of her cool composure thawed before Syd’s eyes.
“I want so very much to get undress and crawl back into bed and cry forever, but I know in my heart your father wouldn’t want that.” She smiled as though she remembered something. “Your father used to say my tears broke his heart.”
“H-he told me that, too.” Sydney sniffed and this time succeeded in drying her face. She didn’t want to break her father’s heart, but she still didn’t want to go to the funeral.
When Syd made no move to crawl out from under her father’s desk, her mother’s composure continued to thaw. “Sometimes, honey,” she began. “We have to do things we don’t want to, but we always have to the
right
thing.”
Mother and daughter’s gazes locked.
“Do you remember what your father used to tell you about doing the right thing?”
Sydney nodded. Her father was a solider twenty-four hours a day. He lived by the code and died by the...
More tears blurred her eyes and then rolled down her face, but thoughts of her father’s heart breaking made her erase them. Big girls don’t cry.
Soldiers don’t cry.
How many times had she told her father she wanted to be airman just like him—and grandpa? She closed her eyes and remembered how his smile grew whenever she told him that.
“
You’ll make a great airman!” He pulled her pigtail and winked.
Sydney drew a deep breath and thrust up her chin. “I won’t cry,” she murmured, opening her eyes.
Her mother’s tears had now worn a visible track through her makeup.
Sydney forced a smile and then crawled from of her hiding place. “I’m ready to go now.”
Pride glimmered in her mother’s eyes as she pulled herself up from the floor. Before heading out of the study, her mother pulled out a compact from her black purse and fixed her makeup. Once the damage was repaired, she smiled down.
“You look beautiful, momma.”
“Thank you, baby.” She took Sydney’s hand and led her out the door. They joined the rest of the family downstairs just as the limousines arrived.
It was a beautiful day. Sydney couldn’t remember ever seeing the grass so green, the clouds so white, and the sky so blue.
Chapter 1
Tuesday July 4, 2006-0700 Hours.
Major Sydney “Serious” Garrett of the U.S. Air Force 51
st
Fighter Wing entered through the gates of Osan Air Base and flashed her badge through several check points before parking outside the squadron’s building.
A young baby-faced airman in a matching, standard issued olive green flight suit greeted her with a salute. “Morning, Major Garrett,”
She saluted blithely, wondering if the military were now recruiting straight out of junior high.
“Flying today, Serious?”
Sydney relinquished her thoughts to glance up at the base’s Vice Commander, Colonel Jeff Mickelson. With a practiced restraint, she stilled her eyes from rolling, erased every emotion from her face, and saluted. “We’re all here to do a job, sir.”
The statement only caused Mickelson’s smile to broaden while he shook his head. “It’s always about the j-o-b with you.” His lips sloped again. “You know, I don’t think the military Gods would fault you if every now and then you actually relaxed on your day off.”
She said nothing and kept her face blank.
“You know how to relax, don’t you?” He stepped closer. “It’s when you and a few of your friends-I’m sure you have a couple of those-go to the Officers Club, mix and mingle. I, for one, would like to know what you actually look like in a dress.” His gaze landed on the top of her head. “I’m even curious to see you with your hair down. I’m guessing it hangs past your shoulders.” Mickelson paused. “Am I right?”
She swallowed her irritation. “You’d be correct, sir.”
He nodded and then considered her. “You’re a damn good pilot, Garrett. I’ll give you that. And you’re
not
the only airman we have that eats, sleeps, and breathes our fine military—
but
you are the only one that I have to
order
to take a day off.”
Mickelson made sure their gazes locked. “I’ll expect to see you next Saturday at the Officer’s Club.”
She gulped down another lump of irritation. “Yes, sir.” She saluted again, hoping to end this torture with some shred of dignity.
His expression revealed he knew what she was doing, but he saluted back and stalked off.
Sydney marched in the opposite direction and signed in at the operations’ desk.
“Surprised to see you here today.” Major Brian Mohr’s voice dripped with sarcasm.
“Can it,” she snapped not ready for round two. Just because she had to take that crap from a Colonel didn’t mean she had to take it from another gold leaf airman.
How anyone could think about partying at some Officer’s Club with all the mounting tension with neighboring North Korea was beyond her. Yes, the communist country have been threatening a pre-emptive strike against the United States for nearly twenty years, but judging by the latest intelligence or ‘intel’ seeping from the Pentagon and as well as the White House, those threats were sounding more like promises.
Lessons learned from the 1950 Korean War warned that the country relied on the element of surprise. They kept on surprising the world in 1994 when they openly admitted to secretly developing nuclear weapons-a direct violation of their agreement Article IV-1 with the secretary of state.
The problem, however, with North Korea’s blatant and ballsy admission, this country was no Al-Quada. North Korean was armed with more than a million plus soldiers, making them third largest Army in the world.
The question was no longer
if
the country had nuclear weapons but
what
they were planning to do with them.
No one talked of the possibilities. The North Korean situation was like the pink elephant in the United Nation’s room.
Maj. Mohr briefed Sydney on today’s sortie-air mission-near the demilitarized zone (DMZ), which lay between North and South Korea. The DMZ was the boundary between North and South military powers where military activity was not permitted by peace treaty. Today was a standard “two-ship” formation with Sydney as lead pilot and Captain Taylor “Puck” Johnson as her wingman.
She had lost count of how many times she had flown this sortie near the DMZ, it was nothing more than a routine mission.
“Your handle today is Delta 6-6 and Puck’s Delta 6-7.”
“I’m one shy from the devil’s mark,” Sydney commented.
“It’s a good way to let the enemy know not to mess with you,” Mohr said without missing a beat. “Like the rest of us.”
The comment wrangled her first smile of the day.
Mohr looked thunderstruck.