FIRE ON HIGH
“Fire On High” is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental. All characters and settings © Tigermark 2003-2005 unless otherwise noted. Request permission before using them, please.
The characters of Anatol Altaisokova and Melinda Altaisokova are my names for characters © Max Blackrabbit. They appear in this story with his permission. The characters of Brandy, Maxwell, and Tonya are also © Max Blackrabbit and appear here with his permission. Events and information relating to Tonya, Anatol, and their family are presented here, but are not to be considered canon to those characters or any other story but this one. Matt Barstock and Intermountain Charter © Silver Coyote. See their story HERE. Capt. Jonathan “Icestar” Foertsch is © his player.
CHAPTER 16
HIGHS and LOWS
Anatol sat on the edge of the bed, preparing for sleep. It had been a good day, except for his chest hurting quite a bit. His arthritis had eased off enough for him to fix a stool for Ron Deason, the lawyer who handled his legal affairs. The bloodhound would be by in the morning to pick it up.
“Ahh,” the old tiger said softly as the pain intensified, and then eased a bit.
“Ack, Dear Lord in Heaven, I think I’m about done,” he muttered to himself. His thoughts turned to his grandchildren. He’d taken care of everything he wanted them to have. Anton, or perhaps his son, would deliver the box and his letter to Tonya. He had the rest of his affairs settled or arranged with the lawyer. All that was left was the waiting. He longed to see Lindi, and his brother Alexi again.
“Soon, make it soon,” Anatol said as he lay down and pulled the covers up. He closed his eyes and began to drift off to sleep. Suddenly, the pain in his chest intensified sharply, but only for a few seconds. He then found himself standing in darkness. Slowly a suffused glow of light brightened, seeming to come from all around him. He thought he could hear Lindi’s voice, calling to him as though from a great distance. He noticed a brighter area ahead of him in the glow in the direction her voice seemed to be coming from.
“Yes, it is time to move on,” he said to himself contentedly. He stepped forward and walked toward the light.
# # #
Anton sat on the couch. The chemo treatment yesterday had left him sicker than ever before. He felt weak, and so nauseous it didn’t matter if he sat up or lay down. He had hoped to feel better today, but the morning was well on and he was still too sick to move much. Talia was at the library for this week’s poetry reading, and there wasn’t much on TV. He was thinking of taking a nap when the phone rang. He clicked on the cordless pawset and answered.
“Hello.”
“Hello, is this Anton O’Whitt?” said a voice Anton didn’t recognize.
“Yes. Who is this and what can I do for you?” Anton replied. He suspected the caller was a telemarketer, and he prepared to give his best “no” answer.
“Mr. O’Whitt, my name is Ronald Deason. I’m Anatol Altaisokova’s attorney. I’m afraid I have some bad news for you.”
Anton swallowed, his stomach turning over, but not from the chemo this time.
“Is he—?”
“Yes sir, I’m afraid so. He apparently had a heart attack last evening in bed. I found him this morning when I stopped by,” the lawyer said in a sympathetic voice.
Anton was silent a few seconds, giving a prayer for his uncle and the grandchildren. He knew it would hit them hard. He thought briefly of the package for Tonya, but realized the lawyer was still on the phone. When he spoke again, his voice was strained, but calm.
“All right. Thank you for calling, Mr. Deason. Who else has been notified?”
“I’m going down a list of contacts right now. Everyone up here that he knew has already been called. I just got off the phone with his granddaughter, Brandy. She was quite upset, so I said I’d call the rest of the folks on the list. She was going to contact her brother and sister, and I’m expecting a call from her sister to work out arrangements for the funeral. Anatol left a very good set of instructions, and his finances were in order and taken care of. I think he knew this was coming,” the lawyer stated.
“Yes, that sounds like Anatol,” Anton said fondly. He felt tears stinging his eyes, so he quickly went on. “Uh, can you give me a call back when the arrangements are made? I’m in ill health, and I doubt I’ll make the trip, but my sister can probably be there.”
“All right, sir. I’ll make a note of it. I’m sorry to have to call with such bad news. Anatol was an amazing fur. All here will miss him very much,” Ronald said, his jowls waving as he shook his head sadly.
“Yes, he was. Please pass my condolences to his friends there.”
“I will. Good bye, Mr. O’Whitt,”
“Bye,” Anton replied, and pushed the button on the pawset to end the call. He pushed the button again, and as soon as he heard the dial tone, punched the number to speed-dial Jenna’s home in Winchester.
“Hello,” she answered on the third ring.
“Well, the cubs must be outside if you got to answer,” Anton said, delaying the bad news he had to deliver.
“Oh hello, Dad. What brings you to call in the middle of the day?” the tigress asked. He had caught her in the middle of making lunch.
“Bad news, I’m afraid,” Anton replied, his voice taking on a serious tone. “Uncle Anni passed away last night. I just got a call from his lawyer in Findlay.”
There were several seconds of silence, and then Jenna said, “I’m sorry to hear that, Dad. I know you and he were close. Jason spoke of him often, but we only visited him a few times.” She shook her head sadly to herself, and then continued, “Dad, I don’t think I can handle another funeral right now.”
“I wasn’t going to ask you to, Daughter. I’m going to ask Talia to go, but she’ll fuss if there’s not someone here with me. This last treatment really put me down hard. Could you and the cubs come and visit? I know you had talked about getting a job, but—.”
“Of course we can, Dad. The cubs would like a break from the same old place, I think. Well, Tia would, anyway, and Andrew’s fun is portable. I’m sure Tia can bring her flying books and enjoy the getaway, too. I haven’t started job-hunting in earnest yet, maybe I’ll start when we get back. How soon do we need to be there?”
“Probably if you come tomorrow, that will be fine. The arrangements aren’t made yet, but I imagine the funeral will be Thursday or Friday. Go ahead and plan to stay the weekend,” Anton said.
“Okay Dad,” Jenna replied. “Oh, has anyone called Alex?”
“Ah! No, I’ll call the Red Cross to let him know. That’s the best way in times like this. With him just getting there, though, I doubt if he’ll be able to go.” Anton had a note of sadness in his voice. Alex hadn’t been able to come home when Su-Lin died, either.
“Oh, all right then. I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon,” Jenna said, her mind already starting on a packing list.
“Good. Drive carefully, Daughter. Bye,” Anton said as he prepared to hang up.
“I will. Bye,” Jenna replied as she closed the connection.
Anton put the pawset down, and then let his grief go. He’d expected his uncle would pass away before long, but it still came as a bit of a shock for it to be so soon. Tears leaked down his muzzle as he remembered the times he’d spent with Anatol. They had fished and hiked in the woods a lot, along with Anton’s father Alexi. He could still remember the two brothers talking about times in “The Old Country.” Anton and Su-Lin, Alex, and Jason had visited often with Anatol and Melinda when the cubs were young. Uncle Anni had been there for him when Alexi passed away, and again when his mother Tiana died.
Just then, he saw Talia’s car pass by on her way home from her poetry reading. He gave her another five minutes, and then clicked the pawset on and dialed her number. On the fifth ring she answered, sounding a bit cross.
“Hello, Talia O’Whitt speaking.”
“Well, Sister, was the poetry not to your liking today?” Anton asked. He was a bit cross himself, he supposed, but his sister usually didn’t answer the phone so gruffly.
“Oh, Anton. I’m sorry, but I’ve been getting a lot of telemarketer calls. I guess you saw me go by coming home. Are you all right?” she asked in a more even tone.
“So-so, but I’m sorry to say I have some bad news. Uncle Anni passed away last night.”
The tigress was silent for several seconds, and then she spoke in a shaky voice.
“Y-yes, you said his heart was bad. Uh, wha, when is the funeral?”
“Either Thursday or Friday, they’re still working out the arrangements. Talia, I’m too weak from yesterday’s chemo. I can’t go. I’ve called Jenna, and she and the cubs are coming up tomorrow. Will you go for this side of the family?” Anton asked.
“Ah, yes. Sure I’ll go. It would be good to see some of the extended family. Melinda’s sisters and some of Mother’s cousins are still around. Hopefully they’ll be able to come,” Talia replied, her mind already planning the trip.
“Yes, and I’m sure Tonya, Brandy, and Maxwell will be there,” Anton said.
“Well, it should be a large gathering. I should be able to avoid her, if she shows up at all,” Talia said disdainfully.
“Talia,” Anton said wearily, “I’m quite tired of that.”
“What,” she replied, more as a statement than a question. They had argued the merits of Anatol’s eldest granddaughter several times before.
“Your attitude, that’s what. How can you be so harsh toward Tonya? Especially after knowing what she went through,” Anton stated. He didn’t feel like arguing, but he was tired of letting the matter pass, too.
“Many furs have had difficult childhoods without ending up like her! It’s disgraceful! I would think she’d have gone the opposite way,” Talia replied, quietly but emphatically.
“Well, she didn’t! She is our cousin! Where is the love in your heart, Sister? You look down your nose at her, but you never tried to help her, never tried to reach out to her. Ach! Nevermind, I know I won’t change your mind or attitude. Just be civil to her if you encounter her. She’s Anni’s granddaughter, and has every right to be there. Promise me that, Talia.”
The tigress was silent for a few moments. Anton had not fussed at her like that in a long time, and she could tell it had cost him, weak as he was.
“All right, Anton, all right. I’ll avoid any confrontation, and if I find myself face to face with her, I’ll be civil. For Uncle Anni, and you.”
Anton was feeling like he might pass out, but he breathed deeply and tried to calm down.
“Thank you. I’ll let you go get packed. Call me before you’re ready to go. Anni’s lawyer is supposed to call me back when the arrangements are made,” Anton said, a bit weakly.
“I will, and I’ll come by later to check on you. Goodbye,” Talia said distantly.
“Bye,” Anton said as he closed the connection. He tried to clear his mind, but one thought kept repeating itself.
“Whatever I do, I will not let Alex get an attitude toward his cousin like that!”
# # #
Alex eased the big full-sized, crew-cab pickup he’d bought a few days before into a parking spot in front of the ubiquitous brick squadron headquarters building marked with the large “412th FS” sign above the door. He’d needed a vehicle, and had opted for the big diesel four wheel drive as the best choice for the vagaries of Stateside weather and use around his property after his retirement. Bart Higgins had called him and said it would be a good idea for him to cut his leave even shorter than he’d planned. His dad had a chemo treatment yesterday, but the older tiger had insisted that Alex go on. He had driven over from Lexington the day before, and had already stopped by and done his in-processing at Base HQ. He’d registered the truck on base, as evidenced by the fresh DOD (Department Of Defense) sticker on the windshield. He’d even stopped by the flight surgeon and dropped off his medical records, and had the doctor give him his check-up and flight clearance. He’d had lunch, and stopped in at the BOQ office to get a room assigned. They’d put him in the building with the Senior Officer’s quarters, so he’d dropped his bags and his computer off there. His firearms and a few other things he’d shipped back would arrive in a couple of days. The pistol he always carried had ridden back in a locked storage case in his checked baggage.
Now, his last stop for the day was here at his new squadron. Given the circumstances, there would be no official change of command ceremony. Alex was hoping that his few months here would be fairly routine. He wasn’t quite sure how the squadron would react if something came up that required close teamwork. They would still be grieving for their old CO, and Alex didn’t want to step on their tails by having to come on too strong, as he might if a sudden deployment or alert came up.
Alex walked into the building and down the hall to the door with the ADMIN sign above it, his tail waving in a relaxed way behind him. He stepped in that door to find three enlisted furs working at desks behind a counter. They all looked up, and the senior ranked one, an orange tabby Technical Sergeant with the name Gangrey on the dark blue badge on his light blue uniform shirt, stood up and came to the counter.
“Yes sir, may I—. Oh! Excuse me, Colonel. I would’ve called attention if I’d known our new commander was here.”
“No need, Sgt. Gangrey. I’m not one that needs to be saluted and sir’d to death. I need to in-process with you and start getting acquainted with everyone.” Alex smiled as he spoke, putting the other feline at ease as he offered his paw to shake.
“Thanks sir,” TSgt. Gangrey replied as he shook paws. “Let me have a copy of your orders, and I’ll have all the paperwork for you to sign in about an hour. Ah, I’m supposed to give you this as soon as you arrive.” The tabby handed Alex a large manila envelope with a letter attached to it. He rather reluctantly took it, remembering the last surprise envelope like it he’d received. He slit open the small envelope, unfolded the paper in it, and read:
Ice,
Sorry to spring this on you, but the tasking just came in. You know how these short-notice things go. I have every confidence that you and the Tigerkahts will do a good job.
Scatcat.
“Great,” Alex thought, “So much for a quiet few months. Wonder what it is?” He opened the large envelope and pulled out a cover letter, sets of orders, and a mission package. He quickly scanned them with a practiced eye, and then looked up at TSgt. Gangrey.
“Where is the XO right now?”
“Back in the Commander’s office, I think sir. He was back with Capt. Roncevert and Capt. Foertsch a little while ago,” the NCO answered.
“Thanks. I’ll let you get back to work. I’ll sign the inprocessing stuff when you get it done,” Alex said as he headed toward the door with “CO” on a placard above it.
As he reached the door and prepared from long habit to knock, Alex realized he could hear voices raised on the other side. He listened a moment as one fur yelled at another over some maintenance not being done. The reply, also in a raised voice, said that he was being stone-walled by an NCO in Supply who was slow in getting parts for them.
Alex shook his head slightly and rapped loudly on the door. The voices inside went silent for a moment, and then a very cross-sounding “Come” sounded through the door. Alex opened it and stepped into the office. A dark-furred panther was at the Commander’s desk, stabbing a finger with a half-extended claw at the telephone buttons. A serval cat and a spotted hybrid feline with an orange-reddish base coat color were standing facing the desk. None of them looked his direction for several seconds as he approached them.
“Yes, Sgt. Gangrey, what is it? It’d better be good, whatever it is, to cause an interruption,” the panther said in an impatient tone.
Just as Alex started to reply, the spotted feline turned his head and caught sight of who had entered the office. He drew in a breath to call the room to attention, but Alex quickly put a finger up to his muzzle, and then spoke.
“Well, I’m not Sgt. Gangrey, but I think I’ll do. As to the reason, let me ask you what all this is about, first.”
The panther and the serval cat jumped straight up almost as high as the waste can beside the desk.
“Oh! Excuse me, Colonel, I thought you were—,” Major Thomas said quickly.
“I know, Sgt. Gangrey. Never mind, Major, I’ve been mistaken for a lot worse. What’s the problem?”
“Ah, well Colonel, Captain Roncevert is our Maintenance Officer, and Captain Foertsch’s aircraft has been non combat-ready for about a month. We’ve needed a part for his APG-63 radar but we’ve been having a –slight—problem getting the part from Supply,” The Major said, looking cross in the serval cat’s direction.
“I see,” Alex said, “and what reason is given for not filling the requisition, Capt. Ronc—, ah, heck with this! I’m Ice, pleased to meet you, gentlefurs.” He extended his paw to the Major.
Major Thomas, slightly taken aback, shook paws and said, “Uh, Blackie, Major Franklin Thomas. I’m the XO. Pleased to meet you, Ice.”
Alex turned to Capt. Roncevert and held out his paw.
“Ron-Jon, welcome, Ice,” the serval cat said as he shook paws.
“Icestar, although I guess that might change, Ice,” Capt. Foertsch said as he shook paws with Alex.
“Hmm, yes. The similar call signs could cause confusion. Do you have any ideas or should we brainstorm a new one for you?” Alex asked.
“Well, I’ve been Icestar ever since flight training. I have no clue what else might work for me, sir.”
“Let me talk it over with your peers and look at a few things, and we’ll see what might work. It’ll have to be sooner rather than later, though. I just received this package when I walked in. We’re going to Nellis for a short-notice Green Flag (Air Combat Training Exercise). We’re leaving in three days. Our mission will be to escort an F-15E unit on an attack exercise. There will be a live OPFOR consisting of a Danish Air Force F-16 unit. Ron-Jon, go get your maintenance furs and crew chiefs going on the aircraft. You’ll have your part here within a day if it’s on base, or within three if it has to be ordered. Blackie, we’ll set down in a little bit and go over the mission profile. Captain Foertsch, spread the word to the rest of the pilots. Tell them to get ready; we should be gone about five days total. Gentlefurs, I’m sorry about the loss of your previous CO. Help me to help you make him proud,” Alex said, hoping he wasn’t being too aggressive in taking charge so suddenly.
The other three stood for a second, looking at Alex. Then Capt. Roncevert let a smile spread across his muzzle.
“Yes sir, on it now,” he said, coming to attention and saluting.
“I’ll get around to the offices and the hangar and let everyone know, sir,” Capt. Foertsch said with a smile of his own as he also came to attention and raised a salute.
“Then dismissed, you two, “Alex said with a grin as he saluted them in return, “I’ll call a meeting with everyone to give out the details sometime tomorrow.”
Both Captains about-faced and left. Alex turned to Major Thomas and found the panther giving him a speculative look.
“No offense, sir, but about those parts, I’ve called the Supervisor over there several times, and everyone else on up. The NCO who’s stalling us is a big fishing buddy of the Wing Commander’s, so we haven’t been able to get anywhere. He and
“Hmm, have you talked to Col. Higgins about it?” Alex asked.
“No sir. He’s only been here a few days, and I wanted to try one last time to get things going before bothering him.”
“I see. I take it that hasn’t worked out?” Alex asked, trying to tread carefully. He didn’t want to alienate his new XO by seeming to run over his efforts at solving the problem.
“No, the old bulldog is, if anything, even more stubborn. With the new Wing CO, I think he’s guarding his territory. He’s lost his backup, so he’s trying to keep everyone intimidated so he won’t lose his little domain.” Blackie replied.
Alex nodded, mulling over the situation, and then said, “Sounds like a reasonable analysis, Blackie. Ah, I could call Col. Higgins and ask him to intervene, if you want, but I don’t want to step on your tail. Do you think it would help if you and I went to see, ah, what’s this NCO’s name?”
“Senior Master Sergeant Carruthers.”
“Bull Carruthers! He’s still here!” Alex exclaimed. “He was a Staff Sergeant in Supply when I was here almost eighteen years ago! Hmm, let’s go see the old dog, Blackie. I think I can help, if you don’t mind.”
The panther looked thoughtful for a moment. His new boss was definitely a go-getter, but he appreciated the way the Lt. Colonel was trying not to put down his efforts at resolving the problem.
“Ah, why fuss over nothing. I sure haven’t gotten anywhere with the old bulldog,” Blackie thought.
“All right, Ice. Let’s go see what we can do,” he said.
“Great, write down the part number you need on a 3x5 card for me, please.”
The two felines walked out of the office and Major Thomas called the Maintenance shop for the part number. Before they could leave, though, TSgt Gangrey called out to Alex.
“Col. O’Whitt, phone call for you sir. It’s the Red Cross.”
Alex stopped, a sinking feeling in his stomach. He turned to Major Thomas and said, “Wait one while I take this, Blackie.”
The Major nodded, and Alex stepped back into the office. He went to the desk and picked up the pawset on the phone, his tail hanging low.
Punching the flashing button for the line that was on hold, Alex said, “Lt. Col. O’Whitt, may I help you?”
“Colonel, this is Dan Spelford with the Red Cross. I have some bad news for you sir.”
Alex’s first thought was, “Not Dad, not so soon,” followed by, “at least it’s not one of my furs.” He sighed and said, “Yes Dan, go on.”
“We just received word that your great uncle Anatol Altaisokova passed away last night. Your father called the office in West Virginia to report it. Apparently it was a heart attack. Funeral arrangements are to be completed by his granddaughter, and are incomplete at this time. I’m very sorry Colonel.” The Red Cross representative sounded as though he had to deliver news like that all too often.
Alex closed his eyes and bowed his head, several emotions running through him as he said a silent prayer for his Uncle Anni and that side of their family. His father had said the elderly tiger was in ill health. He was reminded of his mother. He was overseas on a classified mission when she was killed, and hadn’t been able to come home for her funeral.
“Ach, maybe it is time I retire, before I miss all my time with Dad,” he thought.
“Sir, are you all right?” the voice of the Red Cross rep sounded in the phone’s earpiece.
“Uh, yes, I’m fine. Thank you, Dan. I’ll call home shortly,” Alex replied.
“Again, I’m sorry for your loss. Should I have someone from the Chaplain’s office contact you?”
“No, that won’t be necessary, thank you. Goodbye, Dan.”
“Goodbye, Colonel,”
Alex put the pawset back in its cradle. His thoughts swirled a few seconds, but his course was clear. Just arrived, with a short-notice exercise tasking and supply problems, he couldn’t possibly take any time off. He’d call home after work to see how his father was doing and see if there was anything he could do from there. He thought of Anatol, his “Uncle Anni,” remembering the strong, quiet, gentle fur who he’d learned to fish with. Alex’s grandfather, Anatol’s brother Alexi, had passed away several years ago, but he could still picture the two good-naturedly debating with each other while fishing lines lay slack.
With another sigh, Alex squared his shoulders and went out to his XO. Blackie looked at him carefully when he walked out.
“Bad news, Col-, ah, Ice?”
“Yes, a death in my family, but duty calls, so let’s go,” Alex replied, clearly not wanting to discuss it.
“Are you sure? I think we can manage,” the panther said in a concerned voice.
Alex smiled ruefully, saying, “Major, one of the downsides of rank and command. The needs of your unit, and your duty, always outweigh your personal needs. Let’s go see a dog about a part.”
The Major shrugged and led the way outside to a powder blue staff car. He unlocked the door for Alex and walked around to get in on the driver’s side. They buckled their seatbelts and Major Thomas started the car and drove out of the parking lot. Several turns later, they pulled up in front of a large warehouse building with a sign on top that said “Maintenance Supply.” They parked and walked inside.
Upon entering, they found themselves in front of a long counter with several computer terminals spaced along it. Several maintenance furs were standing along the counter requesting parts from the supply furs. Ice and Blackie walked up to an open terminal. The muskrat A1C working there had his back to them, sorting through a bin of small parts. Alex quietly cleared his throat, and the airfur turned around.
“Yeah, what can I—, uh, do for you sirs?” He had suddenly gone a bit slack-jawed at the rank before him. The officers rarely did the supply runs for the squadrons.
“Relax Airfur. I need to talk to SMSgt. Carruthers, is he in?” Alex asked pleasantly.
“Y-yes sir! He’s down in his office. I’ll get him,” the muskrat replied, and started to turn away.
“No need, Airfur, ah, Daniels, I’ll get him,” Alex said.
There was a slight pause, and then everyone in the building, including Blackie, jumped at least a foot straight up as Alex suddenly bellowed.
“BULL CARRUTHERS!! Get your mangy hide out here, you sonovacur!”
Down the way, a rugged, jowly, canid face appeared out of a door with one eye squinted, and the other wide open under an arched eyebrow. Spotting Alex, he thundered back.
“STRIPEY!! Is that you, you old cat? Haven’t you used up all nine lives yet?” with that, the bulldog with an arm full of stripes ambled out and down to where Alex and Blackie stood.
“I’ve got this’un, Daniels,” Bull growled. The muskrat, still shaken from the loud exchange, nodded and headed quickly elsewhere.
“Stripey, back with us again? Guess I’d better order a couple more Eagles. How long ya been back?” Bull said, just a hint of teasing in his gravelly voice.
“Just got back today,” Alex replied, “and I had to come see if it was true.”
“If whut wuz true?” the bulldog said with a glint of suspicion in his eyes.
“Well, I was briefing in at the squadron. Y’know the Tigerkahts are still around? Anyway the Maintenance Officer said there was a part we couldn’t get. I asked who the Supply NCOIC was, ‘cause I know who really runs the place. He told me it was you, and I couldn’t believe it. I said that there wasn’t a part made that Bull Carruthers couldn’t get. You slipping, Bull?”
Major Thomas almost laughed out loud at the play of emotions on the bulldog’s face. It finally settled in a look of stubborn pride.
“Ah, oh, I see you’re Colonel Stripey now, eh? Well let me tell ya sumthin’, there ain’t no part, nowhere in the U.S. Air Force inventory I can’t get. You got a part number?”
“Yep,” Alex said as he flipped the 3x5 card with the part number on it to the canid. Bull hunt-and-pecked his way through the number on the computer terminal, waited for several seconds, and then looked up and grinned.
“Got three of ‘em down in Warehouse Five. You’ll have it bah sixteen hundred.”
“Ah, I knew you’d come through, Bull. Can’t imagine what the problem could have been,” Alex replied with a very toothy smile. The NCO chuckled and shook his head, setting his jowls swaying.
“Don’t know, Stripey, but ah don’t think it’ll crop up again. Probably some o’ the younguns comin’ up just don’t know how to ask.”
“Well, I’ll try to educate them, but take it easy on them until things get settled. Thanks, Bull. I’ll give you a call and we’ll go fishing before I retire,” Alex said.
“You retirin’? My, it can’t be that long ago you came in here a brand new First Louie,” Bull said as he scrunched up his face as though thinking hard.
“Yep. You’ll be there for my ceremony, won’t you?” Alex asked, glad in part that the old bulldog was still around. Bull looked taken aback for a few seconds, and then smiled broadly.
“Ah’d be honored t’ be there, Stripey, and don’t you worry, Ah’ll make sure the Tigerkahts have anythin’ they need, s’long as ah’m here.”
“Thanks, Bull. Talk to you later,” Alex said with a smile. He and Blackie turned to go as Bull winked and turned to walk back to his office.
Outside, Major Thomas asked, “What did I just see? How’d you get through to him so quickly? I understand you knew him years ago, but . . .”
“Yep, I knew Bull,” Alex replied, “but mostly it’s knowing how to deal with different furs. I knew he would respond better to a boisterous callout than to what he used to call ‘Officerin.’ I also knew a challenge to his pride would work better than any order, plea, or threat.”
Blackie looked at Alex a few seconds, and then finally smiled.
“Well, I knew I had a lot to learn before I’d be ready to command a unit. Thanks for the help, Ice.” Blackie was now confident that the Tigerkahts would be all right with this new Commander.
“Just doing my job, Blackie,” Alex replied with a smile of his own.
# # #
Alex sat at the desk in his room at the BOQ, reading over the mission profile for their deployment to Nellis. They would leave early Friday, do the exercise on Sunday, and fly back Tuesday. He looked again at the listing for their OPFOR. The 766th Eskadrille of the Royal Danish Air Force. He had flown with the Danes, and against them, in a few exercises in
“Hmmm, wonder how I can out-think them. I’ll have to review the guy’s strengths and weaknesses,” he mused to himself.
He pulled a stack of files over and began to go down the list. Each pilot was on top of his game, or he wouldn’t be in the Tigerkahts. As he looked them over, he debated with himself about what tactics to use and which strategy would position them best to deal with their OPFOR. Alex had fought in plenty of air battles, and the one thing he knew was that after the initial pass, things could rapidly degenerate into chaos. The Tigerkahts, for the most part, appeared to be highly disciplined and professional. The rookies, and one or two of the others, might be inclined to want to mix it up too early, and let some of the OPFOR slip by them.
He came to Capt. Foertsch’s file and read it over. He chuckled at some of the notations Col. Piercy had made, but the final one made him sit up straight and laugh to himself.
“All right, that will settle that!” he mused. The new call sign for the feline had just presented itself.
Alex worked his way through the rest of the files, and then shut the light off. He stretched and felt the need to work off some stress. He stripped to his shorts and then moved to the center of the room. He started slow, with stretching exercises and slow, practiced movements. Soon though, he found himself going through a full forty five minute workout.
His thoughts resolved themselves on his Uncle Anni. His father had said his great uncle was in ill health, and now he was gone. Memories surfaced of time spent in his teenage years. His family had visited Anatol and Melinda often, and Alex had enjoyed the old tiger’s company. He’d learned the first beginnings of patience at Anatol’s gentle urgings, and between his father and great uncle, and Izzy Quai, Alex had developed the self-discipline to make it through college, ROTC, and flight school.
Anatol and Melinda’s daughter and her family had come by a few times while he was there, and Alex was reminded of Anatol’s eldest grandchild. Alex had babysat the grandchildren a couple of times, but the oldest one came most readily to mind. The younger ones, a boy and girl skunk, had been too young to do much but play, but the eldest, a skunk in form but with tiger stripes, had been curious and intelligent, taking in everything her grandfather said like a sponge. She had seemed rather withdrawn, and years later, Alex’s father had told him why. Alex was ready to come home from
And now, the great old tiger was gone. Alex was again reminded of his mother’s death, and the fact he couldn’t be there for that, either. His great Aunt Melinda, or Aunt Lindi as everyone had called her, had passed away about three years earlier, and he’d been gone then, too.
“Maybe it is time I retired,” he mused to himself.
As he finished his workout, Alex found himself standing in the center of the room, tail down, with tears suddenly streaming down his muzzle.
“Goodbye, Uncle Anni,” he said softly, “I’ll see you again one day.”
# # #
It was early Thursday morning as the pilots of the 412th Tigerkahts gathered in the squadron briefing room. They were there to hear about the exercise at Nellis, and to formally meet their new Commanding Officer. They were scheduled to leave for Nevada the next morning, but most of the conversations centered on their new CO. Speculation ran the gamut. Either he was a total screw-up and they were all going to die, or he was the greatest thing since sliced bread.
The door opened and Major Franklin “Blackie” Thomas stepped in, calling out, “ROOM, Ten- HUT!”
The pilots all snapped to attention, and every eye followed the white tiger who’d walked in behind the Major as the two walked up to the podium at the front of the room. As Alex walked, he met eyes with each fur in turn. Most nodded. A couple had a distinct “deer-in-the-headlights” look.
Reaching the podium, Major Thomas stepped up and spoke first.
“Gentlefurs, allow me to introduce our new CO, Lt. Col. Alex O’Whitt,” The panther stated, and then stepped to the side.
Alex stepped up, still facing the panther, and said, “I have the squadron, you are relieved.”
“The squadron is yours, I stand relieved,” Blackie replied in the traditional change of command litany. The two then exchanged salutes. There would be no formal ceremony, so this was it. Alex now was in command of the unit. He turned to face the furs as Blackie stepped down to the seats.
“At ease, seats, gentlefurs,” Alex began. “As you all know, I am Lt. Col. Alex O’Whitt, call sign Ice. First, let me extend my condolences to you all on the loss of Colonel Piercy. He was an excellent officer and pilot, and the Air Force is poorer for his loss. Second, I want to do a roll call so that I can put a face with the names and call signs. After that, I’ll brief you on the mission we’re leaving for tomorrow. Last, I’ll take questions.”
Alex paused a few seconds to survey the group, and then continued. “All right, let’s get started. When I call your name, answer up and then give me your call sign.”
“Major Franklin Thomas.” “Here, Blackie,” the panther said.
“Major Gregory Felinis.” “Here, Fast Ball,” replied the cheetah in the second row.
“Capt. George Roncevert.” “Sir, here, Ron Jon,” said the serval cat.
“Capt. Alan Smithfield.” “Here, Smitty,” rumbled the bass voice of a Bengal tiger in the front row.
“Capt. Reginald Parker.” “Here, Stick,” said a leopard in the first row.
“Capt. Jonathan Foertsch.” “Here, ah, Icestar?” said the spotted feline tentatively.
“Capt. Foertsch’s call sign is too close to mine, so he needs a new one,” Alex explained. “Now before all the suggestions start flying, let me read you a notation I found in the margin of Col. Piercy’s notes on pilot performance from your last exercise. According to the Colonel, Capt. Foertsch has always been just that one step ahead of his peers in the air. Always able to just know what the other guy will do before he does it. Col. Piercy wrote, ‘Icestar’s uncanny ability to out-think and out-fight his opposition reminds me of a movie line, “The Force is strong in this one.” Therefore I now propose that Capt. Foertsch’s new call sign be ‘Jedi.’ What say you, Tigerkahts?”
A resounding chorus of agreement rang out as Capt. Foertsch’s muzzle broke into a broad grin. Blackie had agreed whole-heartedly when Alex had told him the idea before the meeting. He’d told Alex that Capt. Foertsch was a huge fan of the movies that phrase had come from.
“All right then, Jedi it is. Now to continue,” Alex said, getting the briefing back on track.
“1Lt. Peter Johnston.” “Here sir, Fuzz,” an Angora in the third row responded.
“1Lt. Randall Pennington.” “Here, Six,” said the ocelot in the second row.
“1Lt. Donald Roue.” “Here, Zapper,” replied a white Persian.
“1Lt. Edward Mellows.” “Here sir, Eyes,” said the cougar at the end of the front row.
“1Lt. Jeff Brice.” “Here, Tails,” replied the younger Bengal tiger in the group.
“1Lt. Jim Wilson.” “Here, Pouncer,” said the younger of the group’s two cougars, completing the roster.
“All right, thank you gentlefurs,” Alex said, a slight smile on his muzzle. “Now for the mission. We will depart at 0630 in the morning for Nellis, with a refueling stop at Dyess AFB, Texas. It will be a long day of flying, so make sure you’re rested. We’ll keep the formation loose, and use autopilot as much as possible. Saturday is safety and range procedures briefing for all exercise aircraft. Our mission will be to provide top cover for a squadron of Mud Hens (F-15E’s) who will be simulating an attack on an unfriendly power’s chemical plant. OPFOR will be a bit different. This is a big Green Flag exercise in a short time span, and the usual Nellis OPFOR squadron will be busy with another part of the scenario. Our OPFOR will be a squadron of Danish F-16’s.”
“I thought Danish was something you ate,” a voice quipped from somewhere in the group. A smattering of laughter followed.
Alex arched an eyebrow, debating whether or not to respond. He was pretty sure he knew which fur made the comment, but he decided to say his response to the whole group.
“Gentlefurs, I flew against Flyvevåbnet a couple of times while I was stationed overseas. If you don’t watch your tails, these Danish will eat you!”
The group of pilots now looked a bit more solemn, so Alex went on.
“Don’t spend too much worry on it, though. As I said, I’ve flown against them before, and we can beat them. Sunday we fly the mission. Monday is debrief and crew rest, and Tuesday we fly back home. I want the rest of the duty day spent making sure your aircraft are ready to go. The maintenance supply issues the squadron has been having are being dealt with, so I want everyone fully operational. Now, are there any questions?”
Several paws went up. Alex picked the first one he saw.
“Stick,” he said to the leopard.
“Are the Danes really that good, Colonel?”
“Yes,” Alex replied. “They are some of the best pilots in NATO, and they do both air superiority and ground attack. They know what would disrupt an attack best, so don’t count on them leaping out to kalifight. They’ll be smart about it, but when they do come, it’ll be fast, and tenacious. Jedi?”
“How many aircraft are we talking about here?” asked the leopard/domestic hybrid.
“The full squadron is twenty aircraft. Five are usually held in reserve, so we’re probably looking at about fifteen aircraft. Zapper?”
“Colonel,” the white Persian said bluntly, “No offense or disrespect, but we’ve yet to fly with you. You’re asking a lot of trust from us. How do we know that you know what you are doing?”
Blackie and a couple of the senior captains gave the first lieutenant a hard look. Alex smiled slightly and replied.
“Good question. Obvious answer is you don’t. Please, though, we are all professionals, and circumstances have put us together in a difficult spot. My record is open for anyone to look at. If you see anything in it that makes you uneasy, come talk to me, and I’ll discuss it with you, or any or all of you. ”
This put the attention back on the lieutenant. He nodded slightly, and Alex looked out over the group. No other paws were up so he ended the briefing.
“All right then, if no one has anything else, I’ll dismiss.”
Blackie stood up and immediately called out, “Squadron, Ten-Hut!”
All immediately stood to attention. Alex stepped away from the podium and gave the traditional dismissal he remembered his CO giving when he was with the unit before.
“Tigerkahts, GO!”
An almost instinctual response of, “Tigerkahts, GO!” echoed from the group. That one action did more than an hours worth of words to put any doubts to rest for most of the group, but Blackie had the feeling as the pilots relaxed out of attention and began to disburse that some might still be uneasy about their new Commander. He also felt one or two might be unwilling to accept the tiger before he proved himself in the air.
“Only time will tell,” he said to himself as he walked out of the room.
END OF CHAPTER 16