Fire

"Blaze, you did it!"

It was a grand feeling. Well at least that's what it felt like.

I was flying only a few hundred feet over the ocean water some ten miles of Sand Island, and starring down at the sunken Scinfaxi. That ship along had destroyed three of our carriers and shot down dozens of our aircraft, including many nuggets who had just joined my squadron. And we had destroyed it, and I admit I felt great sweetness of satisfaction as I saw that vessel exploded in a massive back cloud. It was a devastating weapon. I felt at ease that it never was gong to fire those missiles ever again. Looking back I can't feel as proud as I did at that moment. Maybe it's because of all that happened afterward. Maybe it was because of what caused the creation of that real demon.

When the Scinfaxi went down the remaining Yuke ships lost most hope they had at taking Sand Island. I ordered everyone to higher altitude to deal with the support fighters that the Scinfaxi had deployed. Even without their carrier they still stubbornly fought on. The force's momentum had been broken and the Base Defense had pushed back the amphibious assault, which withdrew back to the support vessels once the Scinfaxi was destroyed. I felt the greatest relief in a long time when the area was finally "sanitized" and the picture clean. The Four Wings of Sand Island, lacking sleep and a meal, a captain and experience had fought off an invasion and all we wanted was time off. It would to have to wait.

Despite the victory, we were far worse than when we started. Casualties numbered in the thousands, most of these were felt base the ground crews and gunners who had hard bombardment from the Yuke destroyers. We had also a confirmed twelve pilots KIA and several more were wounded when shot down; for of them it was their first time in actually combat. It made me wonder where all the aces of the past war had gone; why were we alone?

Damage to base was extreme, the harbor dock and loading facilities were unrecognizable. Flying over all we could make out were several toppled cranes, damaged walls, and debris everywhere. Three of the hangars had been hit by ship-launched cruise missiles. While there structure was intact inside all you could was a floor back with ash that was once been several aircraft. Fortunately they didn't have to be condemned, just refitted and reinsulated…and cleaned out. The barracks was light ship fire, but only a few of the quarters, lucky enough though two of quarters turned out to be mine and Nagase's (this Chopper gleefully reminded us about). The base was still short people, and we were assigned to some of the vacant quarters which then were yet to be filled.

For the next several days we were kept on high alert, running numerous patrols around the western coastline of Osea. They all turned up nothing. Moral was high. We had dealt the Yukes a major wound to their offensive capabilities, and we were feeling pretty good at the damage we had done. And we had the Arkbird giving us support. That ship was like white angel to all our forces. All of us had feeling of invulnerability as we flew. The high alert was over in sort time and more and more intelligence was received, and command started to regroup for our counter attack. Then we began the arduous reconstruction efforts.

Sand Island was hit hard and everyone at the base was giving some sort of duty to get it back into full function. Our patrols were slashed entirely for a few days, replaced by much needed rebuilding. Nagase, Chopper, Grimm and I were first assigned to ammo shed that had been hit by an off target shell, and it was a mess.

"Wow, looks like it'll be sort day. Won't it, Kid?" Chopper said.

We, and some dozen grease monkeys pulled up to the side of what was even a building anymore, just of pilled of red and black twisted metal. Starring I could make the steel plates that once covered the protruding columns. Traces of the blue paint still remain in some places, and ever now then I could spot a Gründer emblem.

"Everything blew up. The supports were fried and the entire roof just caved in. Then the fire started. It must have been like the end of the world," Nagase said as walked up.

"No kidding, and now we're damn well stuck with this fucking mess! Man I swear," Chopper said.

"Stop shooting that sour tongue off Lt. Davenport, and just get it work," a newly arrived Captain, who was in charge of that little party said.

"Hey man, you just got here. Don't start giving me that 'holier than thou' attitude," Chopper retorted.

"Knock it off!" Chopper then threw his arms up and walked away muttering softly. The new Captain just his eyes and went off to the opposite side on the wreckage. "Blaze, go give him a hand," he said and I went off.

It only took a couple of hours to load all the debris into trucks since we did convince a good many airmen to help us. What did take a long time was the loading of the debris into the barges that would take them off the island. Because of the attack only one of the loading was actually left in adequate repair to function; so all the loading and unloading had to be done my just one crane, and there was whole hell of a lot to be done. We spent some three hours just waiting around, never mind that it was some 100 degrees with high humidity. If that wasn't enough as soon as it was all loaded the Captain had a new salvage assignment given to us all, which many of us responded with loud groan of defeat.

We were directed this time to a group of wrecked planes that didn't manage to make it off the ground when the attack began, there were four of them and one was only in reasonable condition to be refitted. So we were all handed torches mask and got to the endless work of taking the complex fighters apart and then sending them to the scrap yard.

For some reason I found the work very revolting we the new Captain ordered us to the duty. It's not that I felt myself above the work. The planes were aging F-15's, old Eagles that were still in strong even fifteen years after the Belkan War. Somehow when I looked at them I saw aged soldiers maimed by the effects of war. Quite ridiculously I was sorry that we were going to take them apart. I didn't let the feeling stop me. I got to work almost before all of the other airmen. I started near the engine intake, and slowly worked my way back to take off the entire wing.

The heat was really getting to us by then. Even Nagase who was the only woman in the small work group was laced in sweat, but unlike the rest of us she actually still looked pretty good because of it. Resting for a moment I got a good look at her, the small jewel like beds of liquid running down her face to her chin as she leaned for respite against the plane body, then rolling her neck to here chest and onto the white tank-top she wore like the rest of us. For a moment looking at her my mind let of all my preoccupations and the weight of the war seemed to be lifted. I didn't let myself stay like for to long. There was too much to be done in war to concern myself with too much fantasy, especial for fighter pilots. I tied not to look not to, ironically, like a dog gawking and put her fair from my mid as I could, concentrating on the fighter's body instead of wingman's.

Sometime during the work I lost myself into my thoughts. Something about that F-14 Tomcat reminded me my old, unhappy life before I had joined the Air force. The airfield of Sand Island blew away from my mind in some phantom breeze and I found myself back in Lars' shop. I had just run away form my guardian and that orphanage which I live after he had railed on me for knocking down eighteen new stain glass windows that had just been imported form Sapin. I remember his face had twisted so painfully when I did it, and he swung he cane and ran me out of that yard. Whenever something like that would occur I would always go to Lars' shop. For one, Lars was one of the few shopkeepers that would tolerate me, and second, because one them Lars sold a lot of were photographs. Many he took himself. He actually was very good at it, earning several awards, at least he said. Most others were taken by a man I would later find out to be a relation of Genett. They decorated the wall in large collage arranged randomly. That day when I ran into his shop, he put a new one up, that he had taken a few mouths before. It was large aerial photograph of an F-14 in flight with a great sunset at its tail. I remember it as my first real look at fighter, the first time I saw one as anything other than a plane. I was in such awe, that I stood for nearly an hour just staring at the picture. And nearly everyday I would come in to look at it plus any other pictures of planes he had, which was many. I was so upset when he took it down that he gave me saw pocket size version of it for me to keep.

That photograph. I had forgotten about it completely. For very long time. It pained me to realize that I had never even looked for years and years. I nearly sunk in ridiculous despair before I realized I still had with me.

The old revere kept me well. It took a hand form Nagase to bring me out of the lightning rush of emotion, and her soft voice to bring my attention from the scrape piece of wreckage. "Blaze...?" It sounded so very soft for some reason. "Blaze, are you all right? You look as though one of us died."

"It's nothing." My attention again turned to the plane which now I noticed was in several large pieces waiting to be loaded and transported away. "I just was reminded of something." I knew she was going to say something else and I think she did, but I didn't want to hear it. I felt too much of mind was not in my control. It sounds like some lame excuse now, but reason just talking to Nagase just terrified me then.

Despite all the damage, and the personnel loss, the Base was back to near full operations in only a few days. And with the repairs that way long we were sent back in to the sky.

Every one of us was tense and I the most. Doomsday scenarios ran like water through my mind on the ground and in the air. Pops even checked me aside from maintenance duty on my plane and had a long "motivation" discussion with me. That gave me some confidence. Most of stemmed from an intelligence briefing that Hamilton gave us before we began renewed air patrols. It detailed the likelihood of another Scinfaxi class sub entering coastal waters and launching stealth missile strikes against coastal bases and the Capital, Oured. Because of that the Armed Forces were using everyone to create a virtual fortress around the country. Even though the Arkbird was with us no chances were taken, and my biggest fear on the first patrol we flew was see the white splash of one of those death missile launches. The fear gradually gave way to silent rage and I began to hope for another chance to destroy one of those ships. I regret that.

"This is Blaze, Chopper, Archer, you guys still with us?'

"Yeah Kid, we've been with you two the entire passed two hours, with the same blank radar screens. Man, you think they'd have the curtsey to deploy us to were the enemy is once in a while"

"This is AWACS Thunderhead; Wardog 3 cut the chatter and the follow the directed course."

"Roger that. I'm so sorry. Broke the silence."

I shared the frustration. We had been ordered to fly a fixed patrol path near the coast about 700 miles south of Sand Island for belief of possible air raids to be conduction for carrier launched fighter bombers, though through the entire duration of the patrol we didn't have a seagull squawk on the radar.

"This is Edge. Nearing turn point. Prepare to change vector to 180."

"Archer, roger preparing to change vector."

"And we start the circle over again," Chopper said!

"Blaze here, changing on my mark. 3…2…1." And so on and so on.

That patrol was by far the longest of them all. At least that was what it seemed to us. I remember dreading that they a tanker craft to us when our fuel was sued up. Luckily we were ordered to RTB.

Almost all operations ceased for some weeks, almost like the war wasn't real at all.