LITMIR.BIZ

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earlier. The CH-47 was a curiosity among them, especially the younger children.

      Jameela walked slowly and kept a hand on her curious daughter as they boarded the helicopter. Nike finished off her radio message to her base and then turned around. Lifting her hand, she waved hello to Jameela, who was draped in her black burka. Nike could only see her wider-than-usual eyes. The woman must not ever have flown in any type of aircraft. Feeling for her, Nike went back, knowing that a smile might make the woman feel more at ease.

      As Jameela grabbed her hand, Nike said, “It’s okay, Jameela. Everything will be all right.” She leaned over and gave Atefa a hug. The little girl was dressed in her finest, most colorful robe, her black hair brushed to perfection. Atefa’s eyes shone with excitement.

      Jameela gave the ramp door a desperate look and still gripped Nike’s hand.

      “She’s scared to death,” Nike said to Gavin, who had come up behind her.

      “I know. Show her to the nylon seat behind your seat. I’m sure being near another woman will help calm her fears.”

      Nike didn’t disagree. She took Jameela to the nylon webbed seat and asked her to sit. The woman did, with great reluctance. Nike had to guide her carefully to the seat so she wouldn’t trip and fall over her burka.

      After getting the harness in place around Jameela, Nike attended to Atefa in the next seat. Andy took the girl’s crutches and tied them down next to their two stacked suitcases strapped down on the deck of the helo. Atefa’s eyes were huge as she scanned the cargo hold of the helicopter. Nike kept smiling and murmuring words of encouragement as she ensured they were strapped in.

      Next came the helmets. They had none that would fit Atefa, so Andy brought over a pair of earphones and clapped them over her head so she would have protection from the horrendous sounds within the airborne helo. Jameela pulled on hers and was hooked up to the communications system. This way Gavin could continue to answer her questions and soothe her throughout the flight.

      In minutes, the ramp groaned and squealed as it came up and closed. The cargo hold was thrown into semidarkness. Patting Jameela’s shoulder, Nike went to her seat, pulled on her helmet and got ready to take the bird up.

      Andy sat down next to the twosome and Gavin explained to Jameela that he was there to support her through the flight. Jameela seemed less intimidated when Andy strapped himself in next to her. Nike’s large, broad seat back on one side and the young man on the other seemed to calm her fears, Gavin thought.

      After climbing into the copilot’s seat, Gavin picked up the extra helmet and put it on, opening communication between the four of them. As she rapidly went through the preflight checklist, Nike’s gloved hands flew across the instrument panel. She was focused on this flight, not on the man next to her. He must have understood the gravity of this dangerous flight and wasn’t about to distract her. For that, she was grateful.

      The flight back wasn’t any different from any other, but Gavin had his hands full with Jameela, who screamed into the helmet’s mouthpiece whenever they dived and wove through the mountain passes at a hundred feet. Nike couldn’t afford to pull her focus off her flying. The CH-47 shook and shuddered like a dog shaking off fleas as she guided it up and down and then twisted around the mountains to plunge down into the next valley.

      By the time they arrived at the base, Jameela was frantic. Atefa, however, was laughing and throwing her arms up and down. For the child, it was like a fun roller-coaster ride.

      By custom, no man could touch the woman, so it was Nike who unharnessed Jameela and Atefa, taking off the helmet and earphones and walking them down the ramp into the dusk. Andy brought along the suitcases. A medic met them at the bottom of the ramp in a golf cart, ready to whisk them to a tent for the night.

      By the time Nike had them settled, it was pitch-dark. Gavin met her outside the tent.

      “They all set?”

      “Yes. Finally.” Nike quirked her mouth. “What a day.”

      Gavin nodded and fell into step with her as they headed to the chow hall on the other side of the base. “Couldn’t have done it without you. Thanks. I know Jameela feels better because she knows you and trusts you.” No lights marked the camp after night fell. To have it lit up was to invite attacks by the Taliban. Each of them had a small flashlight to show the way between the rows of green canvas tents.

      The cool night air revived Nike. She was always tense after such a flight. It felt good to talk about little things, and, even though she didn’t want to admit it, she was glad to have Gavin’s company. After chow, she’d go to ops and fill out her mission debrief report.

      Inside the large, plywood-floored tent, the odor of food permeated the air. Nike found herself hungry, so they went through the line and ended up at a wooden picnic table in the corner. She eagerly sipped her hot coffee. Gavin sat opposite her.

      “You a little hungry?” she teased Gavin, who sat opposite her, digging into roast beef slathered with dark brown gravy.

      “Listen, when you eat as many MREs as we do, real food is a gift,” he said, popping a piece of beef into his mouth.

      Nike could only imagine. There were mashed potatoes with that thick, brown gravy, corn with butter and a huge biscuit. She ate as if she’d never seen food. Normally, she didn’t have such a large appetite, but tonight, she did. “This hits the spot,” she told him.

      “Mmm,” Gavin mumbled, barely breathing between bites.

      Nike grinned. “If you don’t slow up, you’re going to choke on that food you’re shoveling down your gullet.”

      Chastised, Gavin had the good grace to flush. He slowed down a little. “You have no idea how good real, hot food tastes.”

      “I probably don’t. I’m spoiled. I might fly every day or night, but I can come here and get good chow. I hate MREs.”

      “Everyone does,” he said between bites. He took his third biscuit and pulled it open. After putting in several slabs of butter, he took a big bite.

      Nike saw the absolute pleasure the food gave him. She knew these A teams were out in the wilds for a month at a time, sometimes more. This unexpected trip was a real present to Gavin. She tried to ignore how handsome he was, even with the full beard.

      “Do you mind wearing your disguise?” she wondered, pushing her empty plate to one side. She held the white ceramic mug of coffee between her hands.

      “No.”

      “It’s got to be different from the spit and polish of shaving every day.”

      “Oh, that.” Gavin touched his neatly trimmed beard. “I bet you wonder what I look like without it?”

      “No…”

      “Sure you do.” He grinned.

      “I was just wondering how you liked going under cover.”

      Shrugging, Gavin finished off his third and final biscuit. “Doesn’t bother me. Usually, when we’re out for a month, we’re riding horses and doing our thing.”

      “So you’ve all learned how to ride.”

      “That or fall off.” He laughed. Scraping up the last of the gravy, he sighed. “That was damn good food. I wish I could take this back to the guys.”

      “You and your team go without a lot of things,” Nike said, feeling bad for them.

      “Luck of the draw,” Gavin said. He wiped his mouth with his paper napkin, pushed the plate aside and then picked up his cup of coffee. “I’d rather be on the ground than threading the needle with that hulking helo of yours. That must take some starch out of you.”

      “Sure it does. Seat-of-the-pants kind of flying. I don’t mind doing nap-of-the-earth. I do mind getting shot at.”

      Chuckling, Gavin felt the warmth of the food in his belly. How lucky he was that Nike

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