Chp. 2: The Black Sheep
March 24, 1995
Foley AFB, Osea
Foley Air Force Base, named after Osean Air Force General Calvin D. Foley, was one of Osea's "eighty-eighty" bases. It was placed eighty miles from the Eastern Osean border, and eighty miles from other Osean air bases (mostly Air Force or Army). These were the country's eastern line of defense, the latest incarnations of the border posts and forts that'd romanticized the days of the cavalry and cowboys. Foley itself lay to the west of the Great Lakes region, near the area's mountains and floodplains. Foley, and the few large towns that surrounded it, were essentially in what was frontier country.
Foley was a standard OAF base: two runways, housing for its inhabitants, a BX and other essential parts of a military installation. It was distinguished as being the other major base for F-15E Strike Eagles (alongside McNealy), and it was here that the 245th and the other three flying squadrons that made up the 11th Tactical Fighter Wing nested with their supporting forces in operational and logistics work.
As the sun was rising well into the sky over the facility, Matt guided his dark green 1993 Jeep Wrangler 4X4 through the base's main gate. He shot a glance to the right at the two gate guards: an F-105D Thunderchief and an F-4E Phantom. The young man gave them a smile and turned left towards the freeway, turning the volume up on his car's tape-player a little. Midnight Heat's "1989" came from the speakers with a bit more oomph as the New Wave song reached its climax of electronic noise. It got a smile out of Matt.
The tune was the kind of synthesizer and drum-heavy music he'd danced to as a college boy, going to downtown Bana to hit up clubs with friends and occasional dates. He never drank and as Air Force ROTC (the reason he didn't drink) had taken more and more prevalence in his life, but they'd been some of the wildest times of his youths. Flashing lights…shiny dance floors, laughter and an atmosphere that let you know everyone was letting loose just a little. It sunk him into Nostalgia Land briefly, but he was snapped out of that by a stoplight.
Truth be told, Matt was only making the hour-long drive to this party in the Lake Harwood area because he couldn't give his parents a legitimate excuse to stay on the base and just send Gerald a card. He didn't hate his oldest sibling, he loved the guy and his two sisters to death. It was just the fact that he was once again going to be dragged into the world of pomp and snobbery the Air Force relived him of. His parents had wanted him to be a man of law or medicine, not a fighter pilot. His choice to join Air Force ROTC at Bana City University instead of those had not gone over well with his parents, more his mother.
The freeway running to the southeast wove through the mountains like a snake as traffic traveled along it. The pilot enjoyed the view as the sun penetrated the thickening clouds, making visible stark beams of light, almost like the ones in pictures of Jesus of events of the Bible. Traffic bunched up twice, quietly irking the young man as he tried to arrive at his motel early. But he couldn't complain at the sights of the hills that towered above both sides of the road.
His mother and father's vacation home in the lakeside settlement of Broadmont sat at the lower part of a hill, elevated just high enough above the trees to see the body of water itself. His temporary lodging was in the actual town, which was a quaint little vacation spot like the location of Rambo: First Blood (minus a dickhead sheriff and rampaging ex-Green Beret). He stopped his Jeep before the front office and walked in, straightening the front of his dark-gray t-shirt.
"One room for Matthew Hall." He told the clerk. The middle-aged man nodded and went below the desk. The customer looked around the space and noted a TV. It was showing a man giving the weather. There was a storm system that was due in three days from the east. It was probably going to toy with flight operations if there was to be lightning, but rain didn't affect most modern jets in the air.
"Here you are sir, and your meal ticket for tomorrow's breakfast bar." The owner of the inn said. Matt took it, paid with his debit card, and left the lobby to reposition his car in front of room 115.
Matt Hall took his things inside and set them on the bed he wouldn't use. He went back outside and retrieved his Class A's, still wrapped in their dry cleaner's plastic. He freed the garments from the cover and laid out the shirt and coat, taking a bag full of rank and ribbons. The tedious process of pinning each little part to the uniform took up most of his time before he would hail a cab to transport him (since he planned to drink tonight). By the time he was showered, shaved the stubble from his face, and changed he had to call the cab immediately or risk getting an earful for being late.
"So where to, solider?" an Emmerian-accented driver asked.
"This address." The pilot replied, handing him a piece of paper.
The trip was quiet, uneventful. The brunette in the back of the Ford cab didn't say much to his driver, except for thanking him when he handed over his fare. The yellow vehicle pulled out of the driveway and Matt adjusted the peaked cap atop his head and walked purposefully towards the short flight of steps preceding the doors. He knocked on the door and straightened up as the door opened and he was greeted by a familiar face.
"Good evening, Wadsworth." He beamed at one of the family's servants.
"Good evening sir, it's wonderful to see you've managed to arrive for tonight's festivities." A man with long black sideburns and a neat moustache said as he extended a hand. Matt gave him a smirk.
"Ah, no need for the formalities, old friend." He said as he gave the guy a brotherly hug. They exchanged smiles and Matt took off his hat as he walked in, keeping it at his side.
Already several people were there, milling about with various kinds of booze and small foods at their disposal. He gave polite nods and stopped occasionally to shake a hand or receive a hug. Eventually he navigated to the bar and immediately went for a beer, nothing to strong just yet. He drifted towards the open doors to the patio and enjoyed the view, taking a swig from his brown bottle every now and then. Suddenly, Matt felt a pair of arms seize him and hold him. He looked over his shoulder to see the blonde hair and taut face of the oldest Hall child.
"Gerald!" the brunette exclaimed.
"How are yah, Matty?" Gerald Hall smiled as he let his brother go from the bear hug.
"A lean, mean, flying machine." his younger sibling beamed. The doctor laughed and let him go.
"Glad you could make it." The man of the hour said.
"Ah come on Gerry, I'm not gonna pass this up. You're my brother after all." The officer said.
"Where are Annett and Harriet?" Matt asked.
"Around here somewhere, I've been so busy shaking hands and accepting thanks I haven't been able to say hello to everyone." The blonde replied.
The two caught up and reminisced a little until they were joined by their two younger sisters, the blonde Harriet and chestnut-haired Annett. The two pairs exchanged hugs and started talking.
"So how was your trip, Matty?" Annett asked.
"It was fine. Scenery was nice, and very different from Foley. Less woodland, more coastal. Plenty of palm trees too." The pilot said.
"Any handsome pilots to introduce either of us to?" Harriet chimed in.
"Well, if you want, I can always hook you up with my friend Ratpack." The brunette male teased. His youngest sister shook her head.
"Nickname or not, he doesn't sound very pleasant." She added.
"He isn't that bad, once you get past the ego." Her brother insisted lightheartedly.
"Doesn't every pilot have that?" Gerald pointed out as he lowered his glass.
"Ratpack's has a certain amount of exception to it." his younger sibling clarified.
Eventually they went back inside. Matt still had yet to come across his parents in the small crowd, and with his beer now finished he approached the bar for round two. He noted another patron and recognized him when he got closer to the short, stocky figure. Martin Hall, his dad's brother, turned around just in time to see the Lieutenant.
"Uncle Martin!" he exclaimed with a wide grin. The two exchanged a handshake.
"Hey Matty, it's been a while. The uniform looks good, and in-line with regs." The balding man pointed out.
It was his Uncle Martin that encouraged him to become not only an Air Force pilot, but one for the F-15E Strike Eagle. The man had spent half of his career as a test pilot, but the other half at the controls of the F-111 Aardvark. He'd even gotten some combat time during the 1985 Futuro Crisis. The stories he'd told Matt had further fueled the growing interest in pursuing a commission.
"So how's the life of a pilot treating you?" The retired vet, now a contractor in the construction business, asked.
"Good, I just returned to my home base from a stint at McNealy."
"Oh? What brought you there?"
"My squadron went through the Strike Warfare Center to practice interdiction and get some better practice at close air support. Apparently the A-10's and F-16's CAS abilities don't satisfy everyone, so now the Strike Eagle should be doing the same."
"The E doesn't do Close Air?"
"Not per say, like the Aardvark we mainly do interdiction. I'm surprised how easily we can do close air support once given a little practice and guidance."
Martin nodded and looked back towards his drank. The older man tossed back another gulp of it and let out a breath.
"So do they have you on alert with this Belka situation?" He asked. Matt shrugged.
"The XO suggested an ORE be made, but they don't have us ready to go in at a moment's notice. I probably wouldn't be here if there was any imminent threat."
His uncle nodded and looked back. He jerked his head and the young officer turned to see his mother and father nearby.
"I know you aren't always on the best of terms nowadays Matty, but they love you. Go make sure they know you're here." He told his nephew.
Matt nodded and left his now empty beer behind, navigating across the open space to the ageing couple. He slapped on a smile and waited for a brief moment as his mother took notice. Meredith Hall nearly squeezed the life out of her son and planted about a dozen kisses on each cheek.
"My goodness Matthew, you look as handsome as ever!" She beamed proudly.
"Now now Honey, don't embarrass the poor boy." Her husband, Julius, reminded her.
"It's good to see you both again." Their second-oldest son said.
"And the same to you, Matthew. How have you been?" His father said as they exchanged handshakes.
The younger man recapped what he'd told his uncle, making it simpler for the non-military folks and conveniently modifying the situation regarding Belka.
"Well, we can catch up in detail and talk later; it's almost time for dinner. Where are your siblings?" His dad asked.
Matt retrieved his two sisters and the guest of honor and they gathered in the vacation homes large dining table. That night they had salmon caught from the lake nearby, plus various veggies and fancy breads. Several servants passed out drinks. Matt decided to lay off in alcohol in exchange for a glass of caffeine-laced Dr. Pepper. Before they ate, his dad called the room to direct their attention to him for the toast.
"I would like to propose a toast, firstly and most importantly to my oldest son, Gerald." The host said with a firm grin. He looked over at his firstborn as a round of applause circled the table.
"Gerald, you've joined the ranks of the many Halls who have proudly served the world of medicine. You're journey has just begun, and I know you'll make all of us proud." He went on.
"I'll drink to that!" Matt agreed. A round of subtle laughter followed the remark, and the group of upper-class folk clinked their glasses together.
"So Matty, find any pretty girls to woo yet?" Gerry asked as he divvied up his piece of salmon.
"Not Yet. Foley, unlike Bana City or McNealy, lacks a large civilian population, and any kind of fraternization between enlisted and officer is forbidden. We have very few female pilots and WSOs in the wing as well." His brother replied.
"Stick with me, the parties I go to are attended by several refined ladies." The older one winked.
"Do they like the daring type like me?" Matt chuckled.
"You'd have to find that out yourself." DOCTOR Gerald Hall told him with a wink.
"In fact, you should visit me sometime and I'll take you to a party. When you're available that is." The older man added.
"I'll hold you on your word." The F-15 driver assured.
The rest of dinner was light conversation and jokes. Desert came in the form of Sapin-style caramel pudding with ice cream and fruit. Matt quietly returned to alcohol for a short time, though he controlled himself with his parents not asking him about his career choices. By nine P.M. that night the party was drawing to a close. The brunette OAF Lieutenant, only a little tipsy, said his goodbyes to his family. Gerald saw him outside to meet his taxi.
"Let's have breakfast tomorrow at one of the places in town, my treat. You haven't really told me much about your career in the Air Force, and I like to hear about it." Gerry said.
"Yeah, and maybe you can tell me about what your job as a doctor will have in store." His brother agreed.
They decided to meet at a small diner at 8 AM the following morning with a handshake and bid each other goodbye before Matt's ride took him back to his temporary lodging. The night had gone well, especially since it had been devoid of any disdain for his job (and the subsequent drinking to drown that out)…
"I can't believe you just stood there like that, Julius. I thought you didn't like him being a pilot just as much as I did."
Matt's father looked at his now robe-clad wife. She didn't seem too upset with what he'd apparently done, but that was because she didn't like to overplay her discomfort with something like this. It got a sigh from him.
"Dear, we've been over this before." He reminded her.
"Just because we have, doesn't make it okay." She countered.
This issue was nothing new. Meredith Hall, amidst all her wonderful traits, had always secretly wanted to ensure everything in her life was under her control. It'd been that cool sense of command that drew the businessman to her. But it had now begun to sour in recent years.
"Meredith, how many times have we come to this subject? Matthew is a grown man now, and we can't be bitter forever about his choices. We've been lucky that he hasn't seen any actual fighting. If everything goes well, he'll have a quiet career and maybe become a test pilot or astronaut eventually. Maybe even a military lawyer." The man with dirty blonde hair reasoned.
"But he won't, we already suggested the idea to him. He's enthralled with flying jets now, he has no interest in law, just like when he was in college." She protested.
"Love…" He sighed.
"Don't "Love" me, Julius, We can't just pretend this isn't bothering us. How you not be disappointed anymore when you of all people hated it the most?" She snapped.
Now the long-haired woman was dragging things out, and the alcohol that was still in Julius Hall's system had shortened his temper, especially now that she was nearly insulting one of his children. With a loud inhale he glared daggers at her.
"Yes dammit, I'm disappointed he didn't make it as a lawyer! I'm disappointed that he went with Aerospace Engineering and ROTC!" Julius Hall finally snapped. Silence befell the ginger-haired woman.
"The last thing I wanted for my son was to become a soldier, but you know what, Meredith? He became one, and that's that! I learned that I can change it, so why can't you, dammit?!"
The room became very quiet for a long minute. Matt's mother kept the tears from her eyes as she simply turned away and left the room, the door letting out a resounding bang. Her husband drew in a breath and stood up, sighing. Sometimes he wondered what the younger version of himself would do if he'd known this would be the end result after 32 years of marriage.
