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 copyright Tigermark 2003 unless otherwise noted. Request permission before using them, please.
The character Anatol Altaisokova is my name for a character copyright Max Blackrabbit, and appears in this story with his permission.
Chapter 3
“Sad Homecoming”
Alex blinked as he looked at the expression on his CO’s face, reflected on the other fur’s face as well. He sat back down at his desk without a word. The other fur, a spaniel with Captain’s bars and a Chaplain’s cross, stepped around beside Col. Higgins. Alex’s heart was in his throat. With the Chaplain there, it must be bad news indeed. Alex briefly wondered which of his squadron mates something might have happened to, but he’d just seen them all a short time ago. He looked levelly at the two officers and awaited their word.
“Alex,” Col. Higgins began, and then gave a sad sigh, “I hate this part of command, but it comes with the job, as you know. I’ve seen you deliver bad news before, so I know you appreciate how difficult it is. Best just to come out and say it.” The Colonel looked steadily into Alex’s eyes and said, “At about 1800Z this afternoon, your brother Jason’s F-16 crashed shortly after takeoff at Ft. Campbell, Kentucky. He did not eject, and did not survive the crash. Word came in a short time ago.”
Alex’s jaw dropped. He suddenly felt as though someone had slammed a fist into his gut.
“Jason?” he managed to say.
“Yes, Colonel O’Whitt, I’m very sorry,” the Chaplain, a Capt. Freelander, said.
Alex looked from one to the other, trying to make sense of what they’d said.
“How could it be Jason?” he thought, “Somebody from the squadron, or even Uncle Anni or maybe even Aunt Talia or Dad, but . . .”
Alex could feel his eyes starting to burn with tears, but he wouldn’t allow himself that right now. There was much to be done.
Taking a deep breath, he said, “OK, I have to get stateside. Dad has to be told, and arrangements taken care of. Have they told Jenna yet?”
“Possibly, I don’t know,” Col. Higgins said, “The rest of his squadron just got back to Shaw about an hour ago. They had been to Nellis on a training exercise. The Red Cross didn’t have any more information than that.”
“There’s a C-141 leaving at 2 AM for McGuire, Col. O’Whitt. We can get you on it if you’ll be ready,” Capt. Freelander said.
Alex did a quick mental calculation, and then said, “Yes, I can be ready. I’ll call Dad and Jenna, and then go pack some things.”
“Don’t fret about anything here, Alex,” Col. Higgins said, his voice full of reassurance, “We’ll handle things fine. I want you gone at least 15 days, understand?”
“Uh, yes sir,” Alex said, his mind already trying to compose what to say to his family.
“Col. O’Whitt, I don’t know your feelings about this, your records only say you’re Protestant. Would you like to have prayer before we leave you to your calls?” the Chaplain said.
Alex blinked. He had been a Christian for many years, as had Jason, Jenna, their father Anton, and most of the folks he ended up hanging out with, but Alex wasn’t one for long-winded prayers or public displays. Nevertheless, he felt a nudge from his heart that prayer now would be the right thing to do.
“Yes, I think I would,” Alex said quietly.
The Chaplain stepped over and placed a gentle paw on Alex’s shoulder, saying, “Then let us pray.” He bowed his head, and Alex and Col. Higgins did likewise.
“Dear Heavenly Father,” the spaniel began, “we come now at this sad time to say thank you for Jason, for all he was and all he did. Thank you, too, for Col. O’Whitt, for his strength and wisdom as he goes to help his family through this loss. Give him a safe journey, and comfort his heart, that he may comfort others, Amen.”
“Amen,” Alex said softly, and then looked up into the kind, brown eyes of the Chaplain.
“He’s in God’s hands now. May His comfort and strength be there for you,” the spaniel said.
“Thank you,” Alex said.
“Do you want either of us to stay with you, Alex?” Col. Higgins said.
“No, I want to make my calls in private, if you don’t mind,” Alex replied flatly.
“Alright. I’ll have your leave papers ready in an hour. Stop by my office and pick them up,” Col. Higgins said as he turned to leave. Capt. Freelander gave Alex’s shoulder a final, light squeeze and said, “Stop by the chapel anytime you’d like to talk, Colonel.” He then turned and followed Col. Higgins out.
Alex breathed deeply, forcing himself to be calm. He should call Jenna, Jason’s wife first. She and their two cubs would be beside themselves with grief. He picked up the pawset, but reconsidered before he dialed and put it back in its cradle. Instead, he opened his cell phone and called Tasha to let her know he wouldn’t be coming to dinner. The tigress answered on the second ring.
“Hello Alex, on your way?” She purred in greeting.
“Hi Tasha, no, I’m sorry, but I can’t make it for dinner,” Alex said.
Reading the tone of his voice, Tasha said, “Alex, what’s wrong? What’s happened? Are you and your guys alright?”
“Yes, we’re alright, but something’s happened and I have to leave for the States ASAP” Alex hedged, not wanting to burden her with his problems.
“Tonight? Alright, Alex O’Whitt, what’s happened? Don’t try to be the tough guy with me, I know you well enough to tell that something's wrong,” Tasha said. The tone of her voice told Alex that she would not be put off.
“OK, no tough guy. I just received word that my brother Jason,” Alex paused to take a breath and calm himself, unsure for a moment that he could say the rest, “was killed in a crash at Ft. Campbell, Kentucky. I’ll be on a plane heading to the States in about three and a half hours.”
There was several seconds of silence on the line, then, “Oh Alex, I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you, Tasha; I’m sorry I’ll miss having dinner with you. Raincheck ‘til I get back?” Alex said, trying to keep the conversation light.
“Certainly, Alex,” Tasha replied.
There were several more seconds of silence, as neither one knew what else to say. Alex finally said, “Well, I have other calls I need to make. I’ll see you when I get back.”
“Alex, please be careful traveling. I’ll be waiting for you when you get back. Bye,” Tasha said, her voice tight.
“Bye Tash,” Alex said quietly. He closed the connection and put the cell phone away. Picking up the pawset on the phone on his desk, he spoke to the two operators he had to go through to get the call through to the States. Soon he heard Jason’s home number being dialed in.
On the second ring, a young female voice, hoarse from crying by the sound of it, answered, “Hello, O’Whitt residence.”
“Hi Tia,” Alex said gently, recognizing his 12 year old niece’s voice, “How’re you doing?”
“Oh thank the Lord, Uncle Alex. Mom’s been going nuts trying to find out if anyone’s told you about . . . Daddy.” The young tigress’ voice broke, giving way to a quick sob.
Alex could picture the girl in his mind’s eye. Jason’s wife Jenna was full Siberian Tiger, but Tia had inherited a tail like Alex’s and a spotted belly from her Snow Leopard grandmother. Normally levelheaded, she now sounded ready to burst with the grief she felt.
“It’ll be alright, tiger-girl,” Alex said, his voice still gentle, “I just got word. I’ll be on a plane stateside in a few hours. Is your Mom able to talk?”
“She’s all torn up. I’ve been answering the phone ever since . . . they told us. Everyone in his squadron has called, except his CO. They said he was called straight to Flight Safety when he landed,” Tia replied, her voice a bit stronger now. Alex filed that info away and continued.
“Let me talk to her, and I’ll see you when I get there.”
“Okay, just a minute,” Tia said. Alex heard her put her paw over the mouthpiece and yell, “MO-OM, it’s Uncle Alex!” He smiled in spite of himself. Even tragedy didn’t change some things. In a few seconds, the sad, hoarse voice of Jenna O’Whitt came on the line.
“Hello Alex, where are you?”
Alex swallowed a huge lump that suddenly developed in his throat. The sadness and grief in Jenna’s voice threatened to break the dam that he was using to hold his own grief at bay.
“I’m still in
“Oh Thank God, I don’t think I can get through this alone,” Jenna said, a great deal of relief apparent in her voice.
“Jenna, you know you’re never alone. When you married Jason, both Dad and I said we’d always be there if you needed us. Jason . . . being gone doesn't’t change that,” Alex said. He was having a hard time framing his words, both because of his own feelings, and because he didn’t want to cause Jenna any more tears than she was already going to shed.
“Thank you,” Jenna sniffled as she spoke, “The Chaplain here came by to tell us, and there are folks here to help, but I really want family around.”
Alex thought a few seconds, then said, “When I get into McGuire, I’ll go rent a light twin, go to Charleston and Findlay to get Dad and Uncle Anni, and then we’ll be there late tomorrow. Is someone there now for you and the cubs?”
“Uh, yes, I Think some ladies from the PWOC (Protestant Women Of the Chapel) just got here. Tia just let them in,” Jenna replied.
“Good. Uh, how is Andrew taking all this?” Alex inquired about his 10-year-old nephew.
“He’s been very quiet. I think he’s bottling it all up inside, thinking it’s un-male-like to cry,” Jenna said. Alex could hear her tears welling up again.
“I’ll talk to him tomorrow. I have to go pack now, Jenna. I still have to call Dad and then be at the Aerial Port building in about two hours. You hang in there. I’ll be there as quickly as I can,” Alex said.
“Alright Alex, I’ll see you tomorrow. Bye ‘til then, and thank you. Love you Bro,” Jenna said in their traditional goodbye.
“Love you too, Sis,” Alex replied, then clicked the button on the desk unit to get the operator back. He gave the operator his father’s number, and soon heard the connection ringing. A strong male voice answered on the third ring.
“Hello.”
“Hello Dad, it’s Alex.”
“Hi Son, guess you heard,” the older tiger said. Anton O’Whitt was a male of few words. Just retired last year from a lifetime as an auto-body technician, he could still paw-sand a car so it’s paint would be smooth as glass. His quiet strength had always been there when Alex needed it.
“Yes sir, they just told me a little while ago. I wasn’t sure if they’d call you or not,” Alex said.
“Yes, someone from the Chaplain’s office called me, probably just after they’d told Jenna. Have you spoken to her? I called a bit ago, but her line has been busy,” Anton said. Alex was having a hard time reading how he was doing, with his very matter-of-fact tone. The elder tiger was still very old school about not letting his emotions show much, even with his family.
“I just got off the phone with her,” Alex replied, “She’s being a trooper, but she wants family with her.”
“You’re coming home, then?” Anton said in a hopeful tone. This told Alex volumes about how his father was doing.
“Yes sir, I’ll be on a plane stateside in a little bit, flying in to McGuire Air Force Base, New Jersey. I’ll rent a plane there, fly down to get you, and then we can go pick up Uncle Anni and—.”
“Anatol won’t be able to go. He’s got the flu,” Anton said, interrupting his son.
“Oh? I’m sorry to hear that. Maybe I can bring him down later, if he feels like it,” Alex said, surprise showing in his voice. Anatol Altaisokova had never been sick in his life, as far as Alex knew.
“Still,” Alex thought, “Uncle Anni’s getting on in years; I can understand him being down a bit more.”
“What time should I be at the airport?” Anton said, his tone back to stoically neutral.
Alex thought for a few seconds, and then replied, “Let me call you when I’m about ready to take off from New Jersey. That should give you plenty of time to get to Yeager.”
“Okay, Son, talk to you tomorrow, love you,” Anton said quietly.
Alex now knew that Jason’s death was hitting his father hard. He knew his father loved him, but the older tiger hardly ever said it.
“I love you too, Dad. See you sometime tomorrow,” Alex said, fighting to keep his voice calm.
“Bye, Son,” Anton replied and hung up.
Alex hung up his phone and headed for his quarters to pack, stopping by Col Higgins’ office to pick up his leave papers on the way. The Colonel was waiting for him.
“You’re authorized for ten more days on top of your 5 days for bereavement,” the lion said, “Now get out of here. Oh, and be careful, I want you back in one piece.” Col. Higgins was smiling at Alex, trying to lighten his grief a little.
“Yes sir,” Alex replied, giving the Colonel a sad smile as he left.
# # #
Anton O’Whitt hung up the phone and walked to his bedroom to start packing. He had called his sister, Talia, just before Alex had called. She didn’t like to fly, so she had said she would be driving down to South Carolina the next morning.
Tears stung the tiger’s eyes as he went about getting his things together, as they had since the call from the Chaplain’s office a few hours earlier.
“A father shouldn’t outlive his son,” he muttered sadly to himself. His stomach was upset again, so he went to the medicine cabinet for some antacid.
“I hope this settles by tomorrow,” Anton thought to himself, “Wouldn’t want to get airsick on Alex.”
He looked up at Jason’s picture on the wall. It showed the young tiger just after his pilot’s wings had been pinned on.
“He was only 38,” Anton said. The sadness and grief overcame him and he began to cry in earnest for several minutes. Calming himself, he was glad to have been in private to vent some of his feelings. Resolutely he went back to the bedroom and continued with his packing. He would be glad to see Alex, and Jenna and his grandcubs, but under such horrible circumstances, it wouldn’t be a very good visit. Perhaps he would take enough clothes to stay a while and help Jenna with things. His mind settled on the idea, Anton busied himself with his packing, and silently prayed for his family.
# # #
Alex sat at the Aerial Port passenger holding area, deep in thought. He felt he’d forgotten something important, but he couldn’t think of what it might be. He mentally reviewed his packing, then everything he had done since then. It suddenly hit him, and he gave a short, rueful laugh.
“Old tiger,” he thought to himself, “you are really slipping.”
Alex flipped open his cell phone and called the one fur he’d forgotten to tell of his brother’s crash and his imminent arrival back in the
“Billy Panelli here, what can I do for ya?”
“Hello Billy, it’s Alex.” Alex was thankful to hear a cheery voice, knowing that soon it wouldn’t be.
“Hey Alex! What’s up? Geez, it must be what, 0200 there? Why the late call?” Billy said in his usual, boisterous manner. A 52-year-old Bengal tiger, the retired Air Force Colonel was one of Alex’s best friends. He was also co-owner along with Alex of the business they had started with two other Air Force pilots as an investment almost 10 years ago. Kentiger Executive Air had flourished, and Billy and Alex had bought out the other two co-owners, intending to continue growing the business as a way to stay in aviation after they retired. Billy had retired four years ago and moved to the Lexington, Kentucky area that Kentiger based out of.
Alex sighed and thought, “Well, here goes.”
“Billy, I’ve got bad news,” he began.
“What, you’ve squandered your share in the company on femmes and cheap wine?” Billy teased in a mock stern voice.
Alex was silent a second, then said, “Look, I’m sorry, but I’m not in the mood for joking. This is serious. Jason was killed in a crash this afternoon.”
The line was silent for several seconds. Alex regretted sounding so harsh, but he kept silent waiting for Billy to digest what he’d said.
“Uh, Alex, look, I’m really sorry. I should’ve known something very bad had happened by your calling this late. How’d it happen? I’m really sorry . . .,” Billy said, and then ran out of words, finishing with, “Uh, where are you?”
“I’m still in
“You sure you want to do it that way? I could bring one of the King Airs up to get you,” Billy offered.
Alex considered it a moment, but then said, “Thanks Billy, but my schedule is too up in the air right now. It’d be best if I had my own ride, and I don’t think I’ll need that much aircraft. A nice Baron or 410 will do me fine. Besides, I don’t want to tie up the company’s assets.”
Billy gave a slight laugh and said, “Leave it to you to be practical at a time like this. OK, I’ll let you fly yourself.”
“Thank you Billy, I’m just not sure yet how much jumping around I’ll have to do,” Alex said.
“Any word on what happened?” Billy asked.
“No, I don’t know anything yet. I’ll know more after I talk with the furs at Shaw,” Alex said heavily. He was becoming frustrated with the lack of information he was operating with.
“Where’s the . . . funeral going to be?” Billy asked tentatively.
“Don’t know that yet, either. It’ll depend on Jenna, but my guess is there at Shaw. They’ll want to honor one of their own,” Alex replied.
“True. Ah, how’s Jenna doing,” Billy asked, unsure quite what to say next.
“As well as could be expected. The shock to her and the cubs must be enormous. Some ladies from the PWOC are with them now,” Alex said, his voice still flat as he suppressed his grief.
“That’s good. Hey, they’re just reporting on the crash on the television. Says, ah, the plane went in 6 miles south of the runway. Not giving a name pending notification of family. Oh Lord, why do they always have to show pictures of the crash site,” Billy said.
Alex was keenly interested now. “What does it show, Billy, tell me?”
“Uh, not much, just a great big hole and a piece of a landing gear. Huge hole, must be 14 or so feet deep. Looks to me like he went in at a steep angle under power. Yep, the news fur says they’re speculating he was still in ‘burner,” Billy relayed in a distasteful tone.
“I don’t need speculation, I need FACTS!” Alex said, his voice rising enough to brings glances from the other furs around him as his frustration and grief momentarily got the better of him.
Billy was silent a second, then said gently, “Alex O’Whitt, I know this is tough, but yelling at your friends won’t make it any easier. I’m just relaying what the vultures on the news are saying. You know they don’t know winglets from windsocks, so at ease, Tiger.”
Alex took a deep breath, feeling guilty for having raised his voice, and then said, “You’re right, Billy, I’m sorry.”
“Por Nada, my friend. Uh, hate to bring it up, but where’s he going to be buried?” Billy asked quietly.
Alex felt his guts tighten. Until now, he hadn’t thought about what condition his brother’s body would be in, but Billy’s question right on the heels of the description of the crash scene made it all too clear in his mind.
“We’ll either bury . . . what’s left of Jason down at Shaw or up in the cemetery in Elkview near where Dad lives. Again, it’ll be up to Jenna to decide. The rest of us will just have to go wherever she chooses to pay our respects,” Alex said.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cause a bad scene,” Billy said contritely.
“It’s okay Billy, I would’ve thought of it sooner or later. You’re right, though; the press are vultures about things like this. Hey, I’ll talk to you tomorrow, alright?” Alex said, wanting to be alone to think for a bit.
“Sure thing. Hey, just thought of this, I’ll have a car waiting for you and Anton when you get in to Sumter. Talk to you later, our prayers are with you,” Billy said as he hung up. Alex could see in his minds eye the scene there, of Billy telling his wife Penny, of the two of them praying together. It gave him solace as he stared at the seatback in front of him, lost in thought and memory. Alex knew that there was nothing he could have done to prevent his brother's death, but he couldn't shake the feeling of guilt in his heart. He knew it wasn't rational, but he felt that he'd somehow let Jason and everyone down. Jason was his kid brother, and Alex felt responsible for him.
He was suddenly jolted from his reverie by a purred female voice in his ear.
“You are the most forlorn sight I’ve seen in ages!”
Alex’s claws had started to flex, and he’d sat bolt upright in his seat by the time he recognized the voice.
“Tasha,” Alex said as he relaxed again, “You know better than to do that to a tiger. We tend to be a bit hair-trigger, you know.”
“Hmmm, true, but most of the tigers I’ve known had a different hair triggered when I purred in their ear,” Tasha replied lightly. Alex just looked at her.
Seeing he didn’t feel like teasing, she said earnestly, “Sorry, just trying to lighten your mood. Would you like some company while you wait? I promise I’ll be good.”
Alex looked at her, taking in the lovely stripes that graced her face, and the stress and fatigue of the day crashed in on him. He turned his head and wiped at the tears in his eyes with the back of his paw.
Looking back at her, he said, “Yes, please. Only, no talk of death, funerals, or crashes. Let’s talk about something else, okay?”
For the next half hour, they sat and chatted, exchanging small talk, helping Alex put the tragedy away to the back of his mind. All too soon, though, a panda NCO called out, “Flight for McGuire,
Alex said, “Well, that’s me,” and stood up to gather his bags. Tasha stood also and grabbed Alex in a tight embrace. He returned it, but after a few seconds it struck him that the embrace had a familial, friendship feel to it, not the passionate feel of a lover’s hug. Tasha had felt it also. As they pulled apart, Alex looked deep into her blue eyes and saw a friend, not a mate. He opened his mouth to speak, but Tasha shushed him.
“Shhh, we’ll talk when you get back. Now go before you miss your plane.”
With that, she kissed his cheek, turned, and walked away without looking back. Alex could see her tail dragging low, but he couldn’t see the tears in her eyes. He quickly gathered his belongings and hurried to get on the plane.
# # #
Alex awoke early in his room at the VOQ (Visiting Officer’s Quarters) at Shaw AFB, South Carolina. It was still at least an hour until dawn. As he lay there, the events of the past four days played over in his mind. The flight from
The flight from New Jersey in the rented Beachcraft Baron had been turbulent and long, as Alex had to dodge around thunderstorms that were part of the weather system that had contributed to his brother’s death the day before. Anton had filled an airsick bag about thirty minutes after they’d departed Yeager Airport in Charleston, West Virginia. He’d slept the rest of the way to Sumpter, South Carolina after taking some Dramamine, and was feeling much better when they pulled out to head for Shaw in the rental car Billy Panelli had arranged for them.
When they’d arrived at Jason’s house on base, Jenna had wrapped her arms around Alex’s neck and sobbed into his shoulder for almost two hours. All Alex could do was return the hug and murmur words of solace and comfort. When she’d finally stopped crying, Jenna had lifted her head and looked Alex in the eye. He was still amazed at what he saw there. Grief and pain, yes, but also a steeled resolve to go on, to be a good mother and now, provider for her children. The look in her eyes reminded Alex of the way Jason had always looked when he’d decided on a course of action.
Billy and Penny, his tiger-fox wife, had come down from Lexington, and arrived at the O’Whitt home several hours after Alex and his father. Billy’s usual boisterousness was subdued, but Penny was her usual bundle of boundless energy, bustling about seeing to it that everyone was fed and taken care of. Alex had offered to help in the kitchen, but Penny had just winked and said, “Bachelors can’t cook! I’ll call you when it’s time to do the dishes!”
She had, too. Alex and Billy, and Anton, and even Andrew, who normally hated to do dishes, had all pitched in on the cleanup. Andrew had stayed with the guys as much as he could, and each in turn had talked with the young tiger. Alex had noted Andrew’s red, puffy eyes the next morning, and knew he’d begun to finally let his grief out.
Tia had finally emerged enough from her initial shock to ask Anton, “Grandpa, who’s watching Blake for you?”
Blake was Anton’s Canadian Blue kaht. He’d found the dark blue and gray furball the previous year in the parking lot of the grocery store in the small town of Elkview, WV where he lived. After a checkup at the vet, Blake had become Anton’s constant companion.
“Mrs. Wagel next door,” Anton had answered, “She’ll make sure he doesn’t go hungry.”
“Next time, bring him with you,” Tia had said.
The rest of the time since then had been a seemingly endless barrage of planning, meetings, details, and mountains of military paperwork. New ID cards, arrangements for the disposition of pension, medical record status changes, insurance changes, all the things seemed to pile up one upon the other.
Then came the realization that Jenna and the cubs would have to move. They lived on base in Officer’s Housing, and could not stay there now that their sponsor was gone. Jenna had looked at Alex blankly. The thought that she’d have to move hadn’t occurred to her.
Alex had looked into her red-rimmed blue eyes and said, “Remember the place I bought a couple of years ago up in Winchester, Kentucky, right outside Lexington?” She had still looked at him blankly. “For when I retire, so I’ll be close to my business,” Alex had said. Understanding had dawned on Jenna’s face and she nodded.
“The main house there is set up for me,” Alex had continued, “it would take a bit to change it around for a family. However, there’s a guesthouse on the property. It’s a three bedroom, two bath ranch. You, Tia, and Andrew are more than welcome to live there as long as you’d like.”
“Alex! We can’t put you out like that! We’ll be in your way all the time.” Jenna had protested.
“I’ll only be put out if you refuse. You won’t be in my way, I’ll only be in and out from time to time, even with me coming back stateside,” Alex had stated. Jenna had looked at him quizzically, and Alex had told her of his promotion and orders to Test Pilot School. She’d hugged him and offered congratulations, and then agreed to move into the guesthouse.
# # #
Now, it was the day of the funeral. Alex could see his dress blues hanging on the bathroom door, reminding him of the tough, emotional day ahead.
Knowing that attempting to go back to sleep would be futile, Alex got up and dressed in shorts and a t-shirt. He had seen a running trail that started just behind the VOQ building, and he thought a bit of a workout would help prepare him for the day. He grabbed his ID wallet and keys, and walked out the door.
The morning was cool and damp, with a light fog blanketing the predawn landscape. That should burn off well before the funeral, Alex decided. He set out at a moderate pace. The air felt good in Alex’s lungs, and the dewy grass felt good to his bare footpads. He let his mind relax, concentrating only on balance and speed, his tail whipping around behind him to maintain his equilibrium, his ears half down against the wind stream. He squinted slightly, letting his excellent low-light vision follow the path.
After a mile or so, Alex saw an obstacle course set up on a trail to his left, parallel to the main trail. Intent on burning off the stress and emotion of the past several days, as well as forget the guilt he still felt, he headed into it. After the usual climbs, balances, and rope swings, Alex came into a clearing and found a large wooden pole, about 16 feet tall, and about the circumference of a boxer’s heavy bag. There were scratches and scars all around it, from about knee high to about as high as he could reach.
Alex contemplated this giant scratching post, and decided it was just what he needed. He did a few stretches and warm-up katas, and then set to work on the post. After a long, scratching stretch, Alex started with some Tae Kwon Do moves, striking the post in various places. He expressed his claws and then attacked the pole again, either barely scratching the surface or taking out large chunks of wood, as he determined before each strike. Next, he did a quick triple reverse-spin kick, his toe claws scoring deep furrows in the wood with each pass. Finally, Alex crouched and leaped up as high as he could and scored the wood with his claws, noting with satisfaction that he had hit at least 6 inches higher than any other mark.
As he touched down from his leap, Alex was startled to hear “WOW!” come from the opposite side of the clearing where it joined back into the main trail. He dropped into a fighting stance as he spun to face that direction, his claws out and a feral gleam in his eyes. He immediately saw that the source of the exclamation was no threat. A young collie female stood rooted to the spot where she’d seen Alex leap. Seeing his stance and attention focused on her, she took a tentative step backward.
Alex quickly stood up and sheathed his claws, saying. “It’s alright, don’t run! You simply startled me.”
The collie relaxed a bit as Alex looked at her with a calm expression, still breathing hard from his workout. Young, maybe 25 at most, pretty, with a nice, slim figure apparent in a jogging bra and shorts. She smiled at him, still slightly uneasy.
“Sorry to have startled you,” she began tentatively, “I’d just never seen anyone get that high on the pole before,”
Alex looked back up and grinned, saying, “It’s a great fixture to work out on.”
“Are you stationed here? I don’t remember seeing you before,” the collie said with an interested look.
“No, I’m here . . . on family business.” “No need to burden a stranger with my troubles,” Alex thought.
The interested look flinched, but the smile remained as the collie turned back toward the trail.
“Well, nice to have met you. Great jump,” she said as she started out jogging again, affording Alex a nice view of her silky tail.
“You too!” he called out. Then, with a shake of his head and a shrug, Alex turned and started back toward the VOQ, his mind returning to the coming day.
# # #
Everyone was standing as the flag-draped casket was wheeled to its place of honor. The day had stayed cool, but the sun shone brightly down through scattered clouds, a cheerful counterpoint to the sad occasion. The funeral was being held outdoors in front of the 78th Fighter Squadron’s hangars. A row of parked F-16’s formed a backdrop to the proceedings. The honor guard moved off to the side and remained at attention as the rest of the assembly sat down. Alex sat in the center of the front row, his arm draped around Jenna’s shoulder. She sat, sniffling and dabbing her eyes with a pawkerchief. The all-black dress and hat she wore would’ve complimented her markings well under better circumstances, but the widow’s veil she wore hid eyes red and puffy from days of tears.
Tia, her tears plainly visible as they leaked down her muzzle, sat beside her mother. Alex’s right paw rested on her shoulder, and she would periodically rub her cheek against it.
Andrew, still the brave stoic, sat next to his sister. Alex could see from his tight-lipped expression and the tears welled in his eyes that he was only just keeping his composure.
To Alex’s left, his father Anton sat with a sad, faraway expression. The occasional swallow or heavy sigh told Alex the older tiger was near tears also.
Alex’s Aunt Talia sat next to Anton, dabbing tears as well. Billy and Penny sat two rows back. They would have to slip out early and fly back to Lexington due to a business commitment.
For his part, Alex sat contemplating the display of boots, flight gloves, and helmet surrounded by flowers in front of the casket.
The chapel choir, seated off to the left, stood and sang the Air Force Hymn, and then those who were giving eulogies began to speak in their turn. Alex listened carefully to every word, hoping to find something that would let him mitigate the guilt he felt at leading Jason into the career that had killed him.
The 20th Fighter Wing Commander, a one-star akita named Barnes, spoke of Jason’s service record and combat missions in the Gulf War. Jason’s Squadron Commander, a rotwieller Lieutenant Colonel named Mastifson, spoke next. Alex thought he sounded rather pompous, as he spoke more of himself than of Jason.
One of Jason’s squadron-mates in the row behind him whispered to Alex, “That’s the pompous ass Jason was flying with when he went down.” Alex nodded, frowning slightly, and filed that away for further thought.
The base pipe and drum corps, stationed to the right, now struck up with one of Jason’s favorite pieces, “The Skye Boat Song.” It was doubly appropriate now, Alex thought, as it spoke of “the lad that is gone . . . over the sea to Skye.”
The chapel youth leader spoke next, telling of Jason’s concern for and work with the young furs on the base. The base Chaplain rounded out the speakers, delivering a sermon as he told of Jason’s love of God, family, and country.
The chapel choir and the pipe and drum corps joined in one last song, an old Irish hymn called “Be Thou My Vision.” They then departed, the choir disbanding and the pipe and drum corps marching over beside the hangars.
Alex’s hope for an easing of his guilt never materialized as he realized how much Jason would be missed. If Alex hadn’t talked so much of flying and service, Jason would probably never have pursued an Air Force career. He hadn’t expressed any interest in it until after Alex had come back from flight training, full of pride and stories. Jason had then decided to follow his brother. He’d earned an ROTC (Reserve Officer Training Corp) scholarship, just as Alex had, and graduated West Virginia University, just as Alex had. He’d followed his brother’s footsteps, and now he was gone. Alex tried to rationalize that this sort of thing was one of the hazards those who flew accepted, but the feeling of guilt would not by put aside that easily.
Alex watched sadly, as the honor guard lifted the flag from Jason’s casket and carefully folded it. The OIC (Officer In Charge), a mink captain, marched up to Jenna and presented it to her.
“From a grateful nation,” he murmured. Jenna took the flag and clutched it to her chest, thanking the officer.
As the mink marched back to join the honor guard, all stood as a mournful trumpet began to play “Taps” and a 3-fur squad executed the gun salute. As the last notes trailed off, four F-16s came streaking overhead and executed the missing fur formation, where the third aircraft pulls up and away from the rest, leaving an open slot as it climbs into the sky. Alex bowed his head and fought to keep the tears from spilling down is muzzle.
As the honor guard retreated to the side, Alex blinked his eyes and stood tall. The assembled furs passed by the coffin and walked down the line of family, offering a word of comfort and sympathy as they left. Alex shook paws and said thank you’s, his mind still on his brother, until he suddenly found himself shaking paws and looking into the bright brown eyes of the collie he’d met on the running trail that morning.
“I’m very sorry for your loss, Colonel.” She said. Alex noted the Staff Sergeant’s stripes on her dress blues. Her name tag said “Killian.”
“Jason and Jenna,” SSgt. Killian said, nodding to Jenna, who managed a smile back at her, “took me under their wing at chapel. I used to be pretty wild, but they showed me how great marriage can be. When I find the right guy, I’ll be using Jason as a measure of what he should be.”
Before Alex could frame a reply, she smiled sadly and said, “It was a pleasure meeting you, Colonel.” She turned and quickly walked away. Alex watched her wipe her eyes with a paw as she left.
So it went, with Alex meeting fur after fur whom his brother had helped or had a positive influence on. He could still feel the guilt, back in the corners of his mind, but mostly now, he was very impressed with all that his brother had done. The question came to mind, as it usually does after the death of a loved one, of why? As usual also, no answer was forthcoming, so Alex simply said, “Thank you for him, Lord.”
“Maybe someday all the things that happen like this will be explained and make sense,” Alex thought, shaking his head.
The hearse arrived to transport Jason’s casket to his final resting place. Jenna had decided to have him buried in the family plot in West Virginia. The family would leave in the morning, and meet for the burial late in the afternoon the next day. Everyone else had left, going his or her separate ways to prepare for the wake later that evening.
As the O’Whitts gathered to watch, the honor guard moved to escort the casket into the hearse. Suddenly, off in the direction the pipe and drum corps had gone, the mournful sound of a lone bagpipe came to them. The beginning notes of “Amazing Grace” drifted on the breeze as they all turned to look. A lone figure stood out from the rest, his tail slowly sweeping back and forth under his kilt in time to the music.
“That’s Lt. Iverson, a friend of Jason’s from the chapel male’s group,” Jenna said, a bit taken aback. Alex had thought of having the corps play the hymn, but thought maybe it would be too cliché. Hearing it now, played as a tribute from a friend of Jason’s, it sounded perfect.
As the second verse started, more pipers joined in. Alex could hold back no longer. The tears streamed down his muzzle unrestrained as his tail drooped to the ground. Jenna, her tears streaming also, wrapped her arms around his waist and sobbed into his shoulder. Talia, not normally one for physical contact, draped her arm around Alex’s shoulder, her paw patting Jenna’s head. Anton and the cubs joined in the group embrace as the hearse doors were closed and the honor guard dismissed.
The O’Whitts let their grief and pain mix with notes of the familiar song as it rose into the sky. Slowly, as their emotions spent themselves, and the song entered the last verse, their sobs and tears subsided. Only Lt. Iverson played the last verse, holding the last notes long, as if loathe to end the music.
As the final note faded away, Alex and family broke their embrace and turned to walk back to their cars. Alex was the last to go, looking one last time as the hearse pulled away.
As Alex walked down the ramp, a young Wermerainer Sergeant approached him and saluted. Alex stopped and returned the salute.
The NCO said, in a pronounced New Yorker accent, “Colonel O’Whitt, I’m Sgt. Josef Gustafson, Captain O’Whitt’s crew chief. Sir, I just wanted ya ta know that I checked Cap’n. O’Whitt’s aircraft very thoroughly before he left Nellis. If somethin’ went wrong with it, it happened after he left.”
“Thank you, Sergeant.” Alex replied, “I don’t know what they’ve found so far.”
“Word is they’ve found the black boxes.* Hopefully, they’ll tell us somethin’, sir. Cap’n O’Whitt was too good a pilot for what Lt. Colonel Matifson’s tryin’ ta say happened. He’s sayin’ they went through a thin cloud layah, and Cap’n. O'Whitt lost it ta vertigo, didn’t get on instruments. I don’t buy it, sir,” the Wermerainer stated, his blunt New Yorker mannerisms made even more short as he fought to keep his own grief at bay. He shrugged and said, “Just thought ya should know. Cap’n. O’Whitt was the finest pilot and offica I’ve served unda. I’ll really miss him.”
Alex digested the information, then said, “Thank you again, Sergeant. I’ll make sure the investigation gets to the truth.” His anger was rising towards Jason’s CO, but there was no need to display it to the NCO.
Sgt. Gustafson took a step back and saluted. Alex returned it, and the Wermerainer did an about-face and walked away. Alex continued on to the car to join the rest of his family, his thoughts troubled.
END OF CHAPTER 3.
*Military aircraft do not carry flight data recorders, or “black boxes,” like civil airliners, for security reasons. However, aircraft like the “fly-by-wire” F-16 have several systems function recording systems for maintenance use. These don’t record heading or altitude, but will show how systems were functioning and any problems encountered.