guys won’t show, and pretty soon everyone is fucking around doing their own so-called training routine, which turns out to be nothing but
“I know,” Brad said. “I won’t miss any more. But I didn’t want to miss out on an ‘A’ mission.”
“Well, get your fucking priorities straight,” Ron said acidly. “I was at practice, and now I’m here, and tonight I’ll be on the FedEx ramp in Elko loading and unloading planes, and after that I’ll be at the AM/PM out there in Elko hoping I won’t get held up and the drunks won’t set the gas pumps on fire.”
“You got a job at the AM/PM in Elko too? You have
“My mom’s boyfriend knows somebody,” Ron said. “It doesn’t matter. If I can do it, you can fucking do it. Just get your rear in gear and do what you said you’d do, or get the hell out of the way.” And he stormed off.
“Wow, he was sure mad,” Ralph remarked.
“I didn’t realize he was working so much,” Brad said. “He’s probably beat, driving all the way out to Elko and back. He works part-time afternoons at the Walmart too, at least until school starts.”
“Why is he working so much?”
“Helping out at home, I guess,” Brad replied. “He doesn’t talk about it much, after his Dad left and all. I know he likes to take his girlfriend out a lot too.”
“I’m never going to have a girlfriend,” Ralph announced.
“You say that now, but in a year it’ll be totally different,” Brad said.
“
“I have friends that happen to be girls,” Brad said, surprised at how uneasy he felt, “but… I don’t know. Lots of reasons. Girls don’t like special-team guys like they do quarterbacks and linebackers; I’m not a private pilot yet, so I can’t take girls on rides; I’m fairly new in school, and… I don’t know, dating is just not high on my list right now. I’m thinking about college, and scholarships.”
Ralph sighed. “I wish I could go to college.”
“You can. We just need to work on your reading. You’re a smart guy — you just don’t learn like other kids.”
“I get tested every year in school. They say I’m like a fourth grader.”
“That’s compared to other students in school,” Brad said. “But how many kids you know can do all the first aid, orienteering, and fieldwork you do? How many kids can pick up a complex adult video game and figure out how to ace it in just a couple hours? Heck, how many kids do you know that have any idea what the one-in-sixty rule is?”
“But that’s easy.”
“It wasn’t when you started. I remember when I first tried to teach you land navigation and how to read a map and compass — you just didn’t have a clue. But you’re a visual learner.”
“What’s that?”
“You find it easier to learn by watching and doing rather than by reading a book or listening to a lecture,” Brad explained. “We tried to teach you map reading in a classroom for weeks and you never got it — you gave up several times. But once we took you out in the field, you learned to visualize the map with the actual terrain features, and once you got a compass in your hand and laid it on a map in the field, it all clicked. Same with video games or computers: you can read the instructions for a week and never get it, but we sit you down in front of one and just let you explore it, and soon you have it down cold.”
“But games and computers are easy,” Ralph repeated. “So why is school so hard?”
“Because traditional school is the same as it was in ancient Greece thousands of years ago — it’s listening to lectures in a classroom and reading books,” Brad said. “But that’s not always the best way to learn. You think the Paiute Indian boys learned how to hunt in a
Ralph nodded, then said, “I remember the land-navigation courses you taught. They were prerequisites for the fieldwork. I never passed any of the exams.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Then how did I get to go into the field?”
“Because I signed you off anyway.”
“You did? But why?”
“Because I had a feeling you could learn that stuff if we just got you out there and showed it to you,” Brad said. “I’m kind of a visual learner too. Take flying: I can muddle through the classroom stuff and squeak by on the exams, but I really don’t learn anything about flying until I get behind the controls. Then all the classroom stuff makes sense. If you didn’t pick it up in the field, I’d go to the squadron commander and explain what I did. But you did it.”
Ralph nodded and was silent for a few moments, then asked, “So if you’re a visual learner like me, sir — why do you want to go to a traditional college?”
Brad opened his mouth to reply… then realized he didn’t have an answer. But thankfully just then Jon Masters came up to the table. “Hey, there’s the birthday boy!” he greeted him loudly. Brad stood and held out a hand. Jon shook it, then spun Brad around and spanked him eighteen times, plus a last hard one for good luck. “I’m not too old, and you’re not yet so big, that I can’t give you a proper birthday greeting!”
“Thanks, Uncle Jon,” Brad said. “Uncle Jon, this is Cadet Markham. Ralph, meet Dr. Jon Masters.”
“The one that led the search and treated the survivor of that plane crash? Very nice to meet you.” They shook hands. “They tell me you’re quite the video-game expert.”
“I’m a visual learner, sir,” Ralph said proudly.
“I see,” Jon said. “Well, hopefully while I’m here I can show you some stuff that you might just find is right up your alley.”
“Like what, Uncle Jon?” Brad asked.
Jon put a finger to his lips and winked. “Hush-hush, need-to-know, super-duper secret, all that happy horseshi — well, you get the idea,” Jon said. “I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.”
“Not really, Ralph, but I like saying that,” Jon said, smiling. “But, I am here to tell you that your sortie this afternoon has been canceled.” Brad’s shoulders slumped. “I feel bad, because my stuff has something to do with it, and I know it was going to be your first mission as the guy who sits in back and looks out the window for stuff.”
“Mission scanner.”
“Right. So to make it up to you, I got you a present. I gave it to your dad.”
“Thank you!” Brad said excitedly. Jon Masters’s gifts were always weird, highly unusual, and one-of-a-kind high-tech gadgets. “When do I get it?”
“As soon as your dad gets off the computer, which might not be until you’re thirty,” Jon said with a smile. “In the meantime, if you guys are done here, why don’t you show me your Civil Air Patrol plane.”
“Sure!” Brad said excitedly. He ran to the communications room and retrieved the airplane’s keys, then escorted Jon and Ralph to the Cessna 182 parked outside. “This is a Cessna 182R Skylane, built in 1984,” he began proudly as they walked up to the red, white, and blue airplane. “It is a four-place, high-wing, single-engine monoplane, constructed mostly of aluminum with some fiberglass components. It is powered by a two-hundred- and-thirty-horsepower normally aspirated piston engine. It has a max gross weight of about three thousand pounds, cruises at about one hundred and forty knots, and has a maximum endurance of about four hours with an hour’s fuel reserve.”
“ ‘Normally aspirated piston engine’? ‘One hundred and forty knots’?” Jon Masters asked incredulously. “Who uses piston engines anymore? It runs on avgas? I didn’t think there were any planes that ran on avgas anymore! And I have unmanned aircraft I can carry in a backpack that can fly twice as fast!”
“The 182 is a good aircraft for the mission, Uncle Jon: good-weather, short-range, short-endurance, low- altitude, low-speed search-and-rescue, flown by civilian volunteers,” Brad said. “We have other planes that fly other missions. The Civil Air Patrol is the largest single operator of 182s in the world, with a fleet of more than five hundred.”
