Chaos

While Bri is in the screen-enclosed toilet, Nic and I gather the stuff we can see and put them back as best as we can.

“Dad.”

“Yeah, hon,” I say stooping over to pick up a water bottle that has rolled loose and looking up to her.

“Thanks.”

“For what, hon?” I ask standing up with said water bottle in hand.

“I was terrified and thought we were…. Well, just thanks. I am really glad you’re my dad.”

You know, I live to just hear that line. That makes my whole life justifiable to hear that and my eyes well up with tears. “Hon, I’m the lucky and fortunate one to have been able to be your dad.”

She steps over and wraps her arms around me, burying her head in my shoulder. I fold my arms around her and feel her shake as she releases the emotion of the storm passage and the events of the past few days. That is my Nic, in all of my life with her, it is a rarity to see her cry and that is usually only a silent sob and the shedding of a couple of tears. I hear the curtain swing back, “What’re you guys doing?” Bri lightly asks stepping out.

Nicole steps back and I release my arms from around her. “Nothing, babe. Just picking some of this stuff up,” I say as Nicole starts for the bathroom.

“Are you okay, Nic?” Bri asks, half turning to follow her as Nic passes by her.

“I’m fine, Bri,” responds Nic turning her head toward Bri but continuing to the toilet and pulling the curtain closed.

“Help me with the rest of this please, Bri,” I say.

She turns back toward me and starts fishing loose items off the floor with an occasional glance toward the curtains and Nic. Those two have always been close.

With Nic finished and the loose items stowed, at least as many as we could find and gather, we head back to the cockpit, settling in our seats for the final hour and a half to our stop. I attach the night vision goggles to my helmet and brief Robert on what to do if we have to resort to a night vision approach. Basically, he is to read out the airspeed and altitude on the radar altimeter. The radar altimeter gives a reading on feet above the ground when we are within 2,000 feet. The altimeters are basically worthless down low as we don’t know what the local altimeter setting is. I will be looking out front for the runway with my instrument lights turned down. Night vision goggles aren’t the best for depth perception so it is important for Robert to call out the instrument readings so I can assimilate what I see with what he tells me to better present a three dimensional picture, although my hope is to be able to just use the landing lights and the GPS.

Having called many times on the radio and only receiving the one garbled and scratchy reply, I make one more call before beginning a long descent into Brunswick NAS, hoping to raise someone there. I call on UHF guard three times but as most every time before, am only met by continued silence. Switching to VHF, I try there, “Otter 39 on VHF Guard for anyone that can read me.”

“Otter 39, this is Gulfstream Four Juliet Golf on guard. How do you read?” I stare at the radio almost disbelieving what I just heard. We all look at each other in astonishment.

“Gulfstream Four Juliet Golf, read you loud and clear. What’s your position?”

“We’re about 100 miles west of Charlotte at flight level 350. Over.”

“Where are you out of and where are you heading? Over,” I say still incredulous about talking to someone.

“We left Florida a short time ago and are heading up by Columbus, Ohio.”

“Watch out for a line of thunderstorms up that way. The line is basically over the Chicago area extending several hundred miles Northwest and Southeast from there. You might be okay in the Columbus area though.”

“Copy that. I don’t have anything on radar yet but will be looking out for them. Thanks for the tip. What’s your location?”

“Roger that Four Juliet Golf. We’re an HC-130 a little over 330 miles west of Portland, Maine at flight level 200. We plan to bunk there for the night before refueling and continuing to Kuwait in the morning.”

“Copy. Where in Kuwait if you don’t mind my asking? I have a sister stationed there.”

No freakin’ way, it couldn’t possibly be, I think. Lynn had, or has I guess, a brother who was a pilot flying out of Ohio. “Four Juliet Golf, your sister wouldn’t happen to be named Lynn would it?”

“Um, Otter Three Niner, that’s affirmative.”

“You wouldn’t by chance happen to be Craig would you?” I ask completely amazed and a little befuddled by this seeming happenstance.

“Okay, this is weird and perhaps a rather strange coincidence. I’m going to hazard a guess that you are Jack.”

“Yeah, Craig, I am. This is an amazing coincidence and I’m glad we met up. I’ll tell Lynn when I see her.”

“Have you heard from her lately?” Craig’s question comes into my earphones.

“Not in the past couple of days. How about you?”

“About the same,” he replies back.

“You mentioned we, who else do you have on board?” I ask leaving the hope that she is still okay open.

“Mom and two feline friends. Do you know how hard it is to buckle two cats up?”

“About as hard as trying to herd them I guess,” I say chuckling. “You’re welcome to follow us into Brunswick Naval Air Station. I can give you the coordinates if you like. I’ll leave the lights on for ya.”

“Love to, Jack, but I have to check on my other sis and dad. What’s your plan after?”

I tell him about out plan to return to McChord in a few days and we continue to talk for a bit back and forth, at one point Mom getting on the radio, “You find my girl and bring her back Jack.”

“Will do, ma’am,” I reply.

We didn’t want to get off the radio after having made contact, however, each of our duties calls and we agree to meet back at McChord in five days.

“Good luck to you Craig. I wish you and Mom the best.”

“To you as well, Jack. Tell my sis hi.”

“Roger that. See you in five.” And as quick as he came, he was gone.

It is quite the miracle we came together like that. Like the bubbling realm of possibilities in my mind and the quantum world came together to form a piece of reality. The realm of possibilities are endless and don’t surface into to the realm of reality until observed in some fashion; whether through direct observation or through a conscious or sub-conscious factor. Was meeting Craig like that, and the fact that he happened to be Lynn’s brother a direct manifestation of my mind and sub-conscious want? I drift into thoughts of the quantum world and energy until my brain bleeds. I shake my head bringing myself out of my reverie and into the current reality.

Beginning our descent, I switch our primary route to Robert’s nav instrument and the approach I designed to mine after accomplishing our checks. The moon looms large in the sky above, casting a ghostly, silver blue light on the landscape below. Nowhere does the light of man show and only the drone and vibrations of the engines keep us company.

Having descended a little out over the Atlantic, I turn back to the west, centering the localizer needle, flying toward the naval air station. Three miles from final approach fix, where we will start down toward the runway, with our flaps at 50 percent, I call for the gear. The deep rumble vibrates the aircraft and then comes to a stop as three green lights are illuminated by the gear handle. The horizontal needle on the instrument starts its downward trek toward the middle. I pull the throttles back and flick on the landing lights as the needle centers with the vertical needle already centered. It looks much like a crosshair and that’s the way we want it.

The moon disappears behind the clouds from the far away storm as they trek slowly eastward and the moon continues on its westward journey, leaving the land and sky around only very dimly lit by the stars above. Too dark to see any buildings or runway. I can only hope we are on the right path, that I have set up the right coordinates, and that the GPS is still accurate.

Continuing down the glide path, Robert calls out the airspeed and altitude on the radar altimeter for practice should we need to use the night vision equipment.  My eyes alternate between the nav readings, the airspeed,