Chapter 1
Water sprayed under the shadow of the doomed fighter plane as it pummeled into the water. The small vanes mounted on the nose of the B-1 bomber looked like a giant fishbone diving back into its ghostly haunt. Airman Wesson ejected into the air just seconds before the crash. The unwavering aviator held his breath under the freezing water as he sunk deeper and deeper toward the Atlantic ocean floor. Somehow, he managed to take off his headgear, unbuckle himself from the ejection seat, create a passage through the torn metal aircraft and swim up to the ocean surface just before frantically gasping for air. All the vigorous training he endured with his USAF Special Forces Command Unit suddenly proved to be worthwhile. Moments later a Maritime SAR (Search and Rescue) team pulled him out of the water and into a helicopter rescue basket.
As soon as Airman Wesson was brought on board the aircraft, Airman Taylor greeted him with an extremely eager high five, for he knew Airman. Wesson was lucky to be alive. Airman Fischer tried to make light of the situation. ”Well look what the cat dragged in!” he bantered. The officer in charge was extremely indignant. He interrogated Wesson as if the accident was because of pilot error. However, news had just circulated through the radio, confirming three other B-1b’s on the same joint training exercise had simultaneously suffered a similar fate. In fact, there had been serious injuries and possible casualties concerning the others.
Airman Mitchell came from the cockpit to hint that Airman Wesson had them all rattled after the distressing incident. “After that butt puckering event, I think we're all deserving of some R and R” Airman Mitchell insisted. Mitchell was the typical instigator of all things related to the word ‘mischief’.
The following day, the news headlines read: The Air Force Global Strike Command was conducting an engineering review of the B-1b fleet. The Pentagon’s B-1b bunker busters were in need of serious repairs and all planes were grounded until mission-capable. Wesson and his fellow Airmen were briefed by the Company Commander that they would be training on other planes as soon as they
returned to their base. The orders were established by the General. Knowing how much time and effort his boys put into the program, Colonel Zewkowerski offered to allow his B-1b crew to be on the special task force to come up with a solution to save the Bombers.
The Army, Navy, Air Force, Marines, Coast Guard, US Customs and Border Protection joint operation training had one more day to complete its mission. Airman Mitchell was able to pull off a day of leave from his superiors. Just one day off, so they better make the most of it! Mitchell couldn't remember a time when the younger Airmen even mentioned a woman. He alluded to the single Airmen in his crew, that they needed to have a good time. He assumed they needed some guidance to find some girls to have fun with. They all needed to take their minds off of the issues at hand.
Although Airman Mitchell, Airman Fischer, Airman Taylor, Airman Hanson and Airman Bell were all married to beautiful women, that did not stop them from being eager wingmen for their single comrades. Airman Wesson, Airman Langford, Airman Billings and Airman Schmidt were still young and ever since joining the crew, had been far too busy with training to be concerned with people of the opposite gender.
In order to take advantage of being away from their own duty base, and away from their overly jealous wives, the opportunity to make something happen, would have to take place during that one day. All service members participating in the joint training mission would soon have to return to their attached bases when all the other operations were complete.
Airman Mitchell suggested they go to an ‘acey-deucey club’ in the town just outside the base. Even though none of the men were familiar with the area, it wasn't hard to find where the action was. There were bars on the corner of every street. ”We got the ‘Anchors and Spurs Bar & Bistro' or the ‘Raised by Wolves’ Tavern”, Mitchell gave the approval of two.
Through the giant well-lit windows of the Tavern, they spied small batches of bourbons and an assortment of hard liquor assembled on shelves behind a long counter. A large sign hung above a large blackboard that read: RBWT, Home of the Moscow Mule, take your copper cup home as a souvenir! Under the sign was a well-stocked draft and bottled beer list handwritten with chalk on a blackboard. The white lights decoratively strung up under the ceilings sent out good vibes.
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As soon as they walked inside the pub, they saw a couple of pretty women dressed in seductive red dresses playing pool. The Airmen watched the dolled-up ladies hustle some gullible military personnel out of their hard-earned wages. They resolved to stay clear of them.
They noticed some girls in the back of the bar playing beer pong with a group of lively civilians. The young women wore short tops that exposed most of their abdomen and bosoms. The flirtatious partiers invited the Airmen to join them. Langford asked the women if they ventured out to the bars often. They chuckled as they reassured the Airmen that they were there most days.
It was evident that Wesson hadn't had liquor in a while as his lack of coordination affected how he threw the ping pong ball. “So do you come here often?” Wesson asked the bartender in a semi-slurred speech. The barmaid laughed. She worked there, so yes, she was there every day.
The evening passed quickly. After hours of playing beer pong, Mitchell pushed one of the younger men to make a move on one of the girls. Billings liked the looks of the blonde in the short skirt. Schmidt was trying to talk to a dark-haired beauty. None of them made much sense but they weren't thinking of what the future held for them, so Mitchell was happy.
Billings was the only one of the rookies, sober enough to make a move. He kissed the blond girl and caressed her back. He grabbed a fresh squeeze of her bottom, but as he reached under her skirt, he realized ‘she’ was actually a ‘he’. Billings was furious. He rinsed his mouth out with a shot of whiskey and punched the imposter in the face.
Billings hasty action started a series of swings and blows from every direction. The Airmen dodged and weaved but eventually, a brawl broke out. Everyone in the bar threw punches at each other but no one knew who started the fight. The Airmen ran out of the building before anyone realized it was them.
Each Airman grabbed a bottle of beer on their way out the door. They kept running until Mitchell stopped, then they resorted to walking. When they got to the end of the road, they saw a large field of cattle. Most of the Airmen were country boys and were raised on farms and ranches. Wesson and Schmidt challenged each other to tail ride some cows. Wesson jumped over the fence made of thick, splintered wood with Schmidt following after him. Wesson grabbed one of the larger cows' tails and gave a sharp whistle. The cow got startled and began to run, dragging Wesson across the field. Wesson managed to remain upright the entire time, even while being drug thru mud. Schmidt, on the other hand, fell face down in the mud, but got back up and tried again.
Billings was ready to jump over the rustic fence and have a go but lost his chance when they heard the cattle rancher yell from afar to get off of his property. The young men moved slowly at first to get out of the field but Schmidt lost one of his beloved cowboy boots in the mud making him come to a halt. He needed to get it back. Wesson and Billings tried to locate the boot but had no luck.
The rancher jumped in his truck and continued to yell. Still, they waded through the mud searching for the missing boot. The headlights of the truck got more distinct as it got closer. Mitchell yelled out, “He has a shotgun! Let's get out of here!”. But still, Schmidt wasn't going anywhere until he had his boot. The rancher fired a shot in the air just as Schmidt miraculously recovered his boot. They all took off running with the rancher following behind.
The men were breathless when the rancher finally stopped his vehicle. The Airmen threw their beer bottles at his truck, never expecting to hit their target. The headlights turned on and the truck moved forward again. The Airmen ran back to the base. Airman Bell laughed loudly, ”All that madness for an old muddy boot!”.
All the members of the US Armed Forces and Civilian Agents who participated in the training operation were back at their base camps within the following days, including Mitchell and his crew. It didn't take long for amateur mischief-makers: Wesson, Billings, Langford and Schmidt to get into trouble as soon as they got back. Being Airmen, traveling at speeds of over 900 mph, and Mach 1.2 at sea level, was not unusual. In fact, they grew accustomed to it and learned to crave it. They expressed a need for speed.
Wesson’s truck could barely reach the 60 m.p.h mark at full speed and Schmidt’s only way of transportation was a motorcycle. Billings owned a Dodge Challenger and Langford owned a Chevrolet Chevelle. They decided to team up and race on a deserted road off the main highway. Wesson rode with Billings in the challenger. Schmidt rode with Langford in the Chevelle. Billings and Langford took the first race. Both cars revved up, screeched their wheels, and reached high speeds with all the men shouting with excitement. The race ended in a tie. They drove back to the invisible starting line for the second race. Wesson and Schmidt took the wheel. They all had a large grin as they took off down the dark paved road. They burned rubber as they circled around each other to relay back. The thunder of the car engines could be heard from a distance.
The yelling and intensity of their brief speedway race distracted the fact that a state trooper was watching from the side of the road, not far away. The siren lights flashed and the Airmen were asked to get out of the cars. The trooper asked who owned the cars and who was driving. They all took the blame and tried to cover for each other.
Billings asked the trooper if he saw who won the race. The officer was not amused. The State trooper took them to the local town to book them in the Bixby County Jail. The Airmen had to call one of their senior officers to bail them out of jail. This cost each airman two nights of extra night watch.
Chapter2
Everyone loves her as Remi...
30 chapters in all...help me add them, please!