Chapter 15: Space Available

17 December 1988 – Pope Air Force Base, North Carolina

Jeff stood in the Space-Available waiting area at Pope Air Force Base, which borders Fort Bragg. The crew of a C-5 cargo plane on the ramp loaded a plastic-wrapped pallet through the maw under the aircraft’s nose as he watched. Jeff wore his Class-A uniform today, which was unusual for him when visiting Pope; his usual uniform on flights out of Pope was BDUs. Of course, he jumped out of those aircraft.

“Private,” someone asked from behind him, “are you the soldier looking to fly to Westover Air Force Base this morning?”

Jeff turned from the windows. An attractive blonde in a flight suit stood there, looking at him. Her flight suit bore silver oak leaves on the shoulders, and her nameplate read ‘Lt. Col. DONNELLY.’

“Yes, Ma’am!” he barked, coming to attention.

“At ease, trooper,” she replied with a smile. “Grab your gear and come with me.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he repeated, this time at a lower volume. He hustled to collect his duffel bag.

Colonel Donnelly led Jeff onto the tarmac and toward the C-5. He fought the urge to put his beret back on because you don’t wear covers on the flight line. Loose objects get sucked into engine intakes. This generates much hate and discontent among the aircraft mechanics and is not a good way to get noticed.

The colonel showed him where to drop his gear when they stepped onto the plane. She walked over to her crew chief. He nodded at whatever she told him, and then came over to grab Jeff’s duffel.

“I’ll stow this for you, Private,” he told Jeff. “You follow the Colonel.”

“Yes, Sergeant!”

Jeff hustled so the colonel wouldn’t have to wait for him. She motioned for him to follow her. It was hard work climbing a ladder while trying NOT to look at the colonel’s backside in her flight suit. He soon stood on the plane’s flight deck.

“You’re our only passenger, Private, so it doesn’t make sense to have you sit in the aft seating area all by yourself. You’ll have a headset to listen to things and someone else to talk to, sitting up here.” She smiled at him again.

“Thank you, Ma’am. I appreciate it.”

“We’ve got about fifteen minutes of pre-flight, and then we’ll be off. Hang your uniform blouse in that corner there with our jackets. You’ll be warm enough up here without it, and it won’t get wrinkled that way. We’ll get you on comms before we lift, so get yourself strapped in at the navigator’s station,” She motioned to the station behind him. “There’s no navigator on this flight.”

“Yes, Ma’am. Thank you.”

Jeff noticed another headset like the flight crew wore hanging from a strap on the console. He figured out how and where to plug in. Jeff heard the flight crew going through their checklists; he remained quiet so he wouldn’t annoy the officers doing their jobs. Someone tapped him on the shoulder, snapping him out of a daydream. He pulled off the headset and turned.

“You got yourself on comms already?” the co-pilot asked. The captain double-checked the radio interface Jeff connected to was set to the inter-crew communications channel and for voice activation.

“Yes, Sir. It seemed straightforward.”

“Good deal, Private. We get trainee pilots who can’t figure it out, so it’s nice to get a problem-solver once in a while.” The captain turned back to the colonel. “Ready to go, Ma’am.”

“Roger.” Colonel Donnelly put her headset back on. “Pope Tower, Victor Zero-Three requesting permission to taxi.”

“Victor Zero-Three, take Taxiway Alpha to Runway Two-Three and hold short of the active,” came the reply from the tower.

“Roger, Tower. Alpha to Two-Three and hold short. Victor Zero-Three is rolling.”

Five minutes later, they were in the dark, early morning air heading northeast. Jeff felt the flight deck relax after another five minutes of climbing and course adjustments.

“So, Private First Class Knox comma Jeffrey Andrew?” Colonel Donnelly’s voice asked through the headset. “What gets you to the Space-A waiting area at zero-dark-thirty in hopes of catching a ride on a cargo flight headed to an Air Force Base in western Massachusetts two and a half hours later?”

“My family’s annual Christmas party is this afternoon, Ma’am. I’m trying to surprise them. No one knows I’m coming home.”

“Ambitious,” she muttered, looking over her shoulder at him. “Where’s the party?”

“Dana, Ma’am. It’s about twenty miles east of Westover.”

“I’m originally from Greenwich, trooper. I know where Dana is.” She looked back over her shoulder again, giving him a friendly smile. “Is that where you’re from?”

“Almost, Ma’am. I’m from Enfield. My cousin hosts the party at her house in Dana every year. Most people expect me to have that accent when they learn I’m from Massachusetts. It doesn’t matter that I grew up about one hundred miles from Beantown. I mean, who calls Boston that, anyway?”

He chuckled. “There ah times, ya know, when I can turn on that wicked pissah accent an’ drive people frikken crazy when I ask ‘em tah go out tah my cah an’ grab the beeahs I gaht at the packie. I sound like a wicked Masshole when I wanna.” Jeff coughed. “Um, pardon my language, Ma’am.”

The flight deck broke out in laughter. “Hell, trooper, that was perfect!”

The four-hour flight passed before Jeff knew it. The flight crew engaged Jeff in a discussion of the book he brought with him, Tom Clancy’s Red Storm Rising. The debate over the book’s accuracy and the overall premise was quite interesting. Jeff felt the officers listened to and considered his comments and opinions, and offered thoughtful counter-points. Jeff had studied military hardware and capabilities for some time, which helped him present strong arguments.

The landing at Westover was an unremarkable one. The aircraft soon taxied to its assigned spot on the ramps. Jeff shrugged into his blouse when the plane came to a stop and got himself squared away. He made his way down to the cargo deck and found his duffel. Colonel Donnelly approached him while he collected his gear.

“Come on with me, Private. I’ll escort you over to the Space-A waiting area here.”

“Thank you, Ma’am.”

“How are you getting to Dana?” she asked him as they made their across the tarmac. She waved off his offer to carry one of her bags for her.

“Since I’m apparently too young to rent a car, I’ve made arrangements with a car service, Ma’am. The service said to call from the waiting area if the car’s not already here. It’ll only be a twenty-minute wait in that case. Their drivers are cleared to come on-base.”

They entered the waiting area and Jeff immediately spotted the payphones. Colonel Donnelly appeared to be looking for something or someone, so he stuck close.

“Private, my daughter’s supposed to be meeting me here to drive us home, but she hasn’t arrived yet. Would you watch my large bag while I take this one and clean up?”

“Of course, Ma’am. I’m going over there to call the car service, and then I’ll be in those seats there. Do you want me to watch for your daughter while I wait, Ma’am? In case you’re not out before she arrives?”

“Thank you, Private,” she replied with another genuine smile. She withdrew a picture from her flight suit and showed it to Jeff. “Here’s what Heather looks like. She’s a little taller than I am.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Jeff muttered before Colonel Donnelly put the photo away. Heather Donnelly’s image burned itself into his brain. The young woman in the photo was even more beautiful than her mother.

’Wow!’

Jeff got to the phone – without hurting himself – and dialed the number of the car service. A short, disappointing conversation later, he made his way back to the seats where he dropped the bags. Heather Donnelly’s picture caused the fog he’d been in on his way to the phones. Returning to his seat, it was due to the car service canceling on him.

The driver, the service’s owner who’d been covering for another employee, wasn’t coming. He’d been in a serious accident after leaving the garage and had been taken to the trauma center in Springfield. The dispatcher – the owner’s wife – tearfully apologized to Jeff for leaving him stranded. He hung up after expressing his sympathies to the distraught woman.

Jeff dropped back into his seat. His grand scheme for today was coming undone. While Jeff looked around in disbelief, the front door opened and a beautiful, young, blonde woman entered. Heather Donnelly had arrived. Jeff pulled himself out of his seat and intercepted the young woman.

“Excuse me? Miss Donnelly?”

Heather Donnelly stopped and regarded the young soldier. The dark green of his Army uniform was out of place compared to the colors she was accustomed to on an Air Force Base. The Air Force wore uniforms of sage or blue. Most of the soldier’s dark hair was shaved off, leaving only an airborne-approved ‘high-and-tight.’ His blue eyes were fixed on her green ones, and weren’t raking up and down her body. There was no sign of the arrogant sneers she’d become accustomed to seeing around Amherst. He had a respectful tone in his voice and addressed her as someone who’d been taught proper manners.

“Yes? Private ‘Knox’ is it?” she replied, reading his last name off his Class-A nameplate.

“Yes, Miss Donnelly. Your mother asked me to watch for you while she cleans up.” Jeff motioned to the bag next to his. “Her bag is here, as you can see. Would you care to sit? I was about to get something to drink from the machines over there. Would you like something?”

Heather smiled at the earnest young man in front of her. She sensed a genuine, friendly vibe from him. Her drive from Amherst had been slow and difficult due to the snow squalls she encountered on the way.

“Yes, please. Thank you. If they have something resembling hot chocolate?”

Jeff nodded and walked off to accomplish that task. Jeff made his way back to the chairs after collecting the beverages. He managed not to spill either her hot chocolate or his coffee.

Heather Donnelly was even easier to talk to than her mother, and not just because she wasn’t a senior officer. She was one of those rare women he didn’t already know that he could talk to right away. Either that or his high school relationships with Pauline and Allison had helped get him past his lingering shyness. Heather learned that his ride to Dana fell through and that he hadn’t yet made alternate plans.

“We’re headed home to my grandparents’ place in Greenwich; we can drop you off on the way,” Heather stated with finality.

“I can’t ask you to do that, Miss Donnelly,” Jeff protested. “Your drive home is family time; I’d be intruding on that. Plus, Dana’s not really ‘on the way’ to Greenwich.”

“First off, I told you earlier that my name is ‘Heather,’ not ‘Miss Donnelly.’ I’m barely a year older than you are, thank you very much. Second, you didn’t ask, I offered. Third, it’s not negotiable. You came all this way to surprise your family and we’re going to make sure that happens.”

“You best do what she says, Private,” Jeff heard from his left. He tried to come to attention, but Colonel Donnelly waved him back into his seat. “Heather’s even more stubborn than I am at times. You mentioned your cousin’s house is just off of Route 21 in North Dana, right?” Jeff nodded. “And the party starts at thirteen-hundred?” Another nod. “Then let’s get moving!”

The colonel insisted that Jeff sit in the front of the SUV with Heather. The colonel stretched out across the back seat and was asleep before they drove through the base’s main gate.

Jeff learned Heather was studying history at UMass, and that her goal was to become a history professor. She was also minoring in Spanish.

’This girl is scary smart,’ he thought to himself, ’and beautiful, funny, sarcastic... ‘ He was intrigued.

Heather found that Jeff was able to keep up with her in a conversation about history. Most people her age she met were unable to do that. She could see that Jeff loved history as much as she did. He’d educated himself very well despite ‘just’ being a soldier. Heather frowned when he referred to himself in that way, even if it was in jest. Her Grampy Cavanaugh, her mom’s dad, served as a soldier for many years. Heather thought the world of him. Both were much more than ‘just’ soldiers.

They approached Dana and the end of their ride together. Their conversation dropped off while Jeff guided Heather to his cousin’s house. It was only minutes before the 1300 start time when they pulled in front of the house. Jeff saw his Uncle Fred’s car already in the driveway. The man was more than punctual; Jeff was sure he’d already been there thirty minutes.

“Well,” Heather said sadly when she pulled to the side of Doubleday Village Road, “here you are.”

“Yeah,” Jeff replied in the same manner. He had a thought, and his mood brightened. “Hey, do you and your mother want to come in? To stretch your legs and maybe have a quick bite before you head home?”

Heather brightened, too, and turned to look at her mother. “Can we, Mom? Can we?”

Jane Donnelly smiled as she shook her head in amusement. She didn’t see her twenty-year-old daughter asking that question, but the pig-tailed six-year-old she’d once been. Jane knew she couldn’t say no.

Monica Sellers wiped her hands on a dishtowel while she approached her front door. She was surprised that whoever it was bothered to knock; family knew just to walk in on days like this.