He would give his life for his country if it was needed. He was never afraid to die for his country and what it stood for. After weighing his options he had decided to enter into the ROTC program that the Air Force granted to him when he graduated high school. Once he had earned his degree four years later he had taken all the necessary tests to fly because he wanted to be a pilot. He was fighting for a slot to become a pilot and his chances were about 50/50 at best. Moving from the ROTC into an active-duty pilot slot was hard without graduating from the Air Force Academy in Colorado Springs but it was a dream come true because he beat those odds. He remembers the day fondly. He had just been commissioned a First Lieutenant and with the appointment he got the slot to fly the plane of his choice. He chose the Fairchild Republic A-10 Thunderbolt aptly named the Warthog.

He loved the Warthog for many reasons but first and foremost in his mind was the amount of firepower it could carry. The A-10 was designed for close air support (CAS) of friendly ground troops, attacking armored vehicles and tanks, and providing quick-action support against enemy ground forces. It entered service in 1976 and is the only production-built aircraft that has served in the USAF that was designed solely for CAS.

Its secondary mission is to provide forward air controller-airborne support, by directing other aircraft in attacks on ground targets. Aircraft used primarily in this role are designated OA-10. The A-10 was designed around the thirty millimeter GAU-8 Avenger rotary cannon. Its airframe was designed for durability, with measures such as 1,200 pounds of titanium armor to protect the cockpit and aircraft systems, enabling it to absorb damage and continue flying. Its ability to take off and land from relatively short runways permits operation from airstrips close to the front lines, and its simple design enables this.

He was following in the footsteps of what might have been his father. He never knew his father but his mother had told him plenty over the years. He was a U.S. Marine pilot in World War II and he flew the F4U Corsair. He'd actually won the Navy Cross for his participation in taking down in Japanese scout plane with his own plane by ramming it after he ran out of ammunition. He was able to eject from his crippled plane but the enemy was not that lucky. His father had become involved in the Korean war and as it progressed he was the only Naval/Marine Corps aviator who became an ace in a piston-engined aircraft in that campaign, one of the last in the war. Sadly he was flying the F-4 Phantom II when he was shot down by an anti-aircraft battery in Viet Nam during the Easter Offensive on March 30th, 1972.

But Rick never knew his father. He was born on April 1st, 1971 almost a full year before he died.

Martha was worried about her son. He went and did a foolish thing after he graduated from the ROTC. He accepted a commission to become an officer in the Air Force. His new "job" would be to provide ground support for the men and women who were fighting the war in Iraq by flying around in a massive plane that could take out almost anything it encountered on the ground and in the air. It's the 'almost anything' that had her worried the most. What if he was shot down? What if the enemy had a better plane? She still can't understand why he was doing what he was doing. She gets that he is patriotic, but to become a fighter pilot? There are better ways to support your country than risking your life aren't there? Maybe if he came home before he left for his deployment she could ask why he was doing this.

What was there left for her to do? What was she going to do now? Her father had become a fall-down drunk and she couldn't depend on him to guide her so to speak. Stanford was no longer a dream she was able to obtain. What could she possibly do? She had just turned twenty-three.

She decides to go back home and hopefully her dad is still down at the corner bar drinking his brain cells away. She had been up at Columbia earlier checking out classes that interested her but there was nothing she liked. She was looking to add to her degree in business management but Columbia had nothing for her in that field. She decided that taking a walk downtown from Columbia would be healthy for her. So she walked towards Broadway and then turned right towards downtown not really caring how she got home or where she went. At Columbus Circle where Broadway splits with 8th Avenue, she stays to the right once again to continue South on 8th Avenue. By the time she realizes where she is, she is close to Times Square. She slows a little as she passes the Armed Forces recruiting station the one that would later become the target of a bombing in 2008. There were news reports about when the station was bombed and she will always remember that this is where her life changed for the better.

She took a chance and walked into the station looking for some guidance. She was greeted by a Navy chief petty officer. He asked what she wanted to do with her life and she just stared at him with a blank look on her face.

"Well, I can see that you're a little undecided. That's what we're here for. What is your name?"

"Kate. Kate Beckett."

"Well Kate, do you have any interests? There are plenty of jobs that the Armed Forces offers that could get you on a career path that would satisfy your work ethic."

"I'm not sure that the military is for me. I just wanted some information about what was available." Kate says.

"Well, the military no matter what branch you choose has different roles. But I suggest that you take an ASVAB test to gauge your aptitude. Do you have any higher education?"

"I have a degree in business management from Columbia."

"Very good! I think that you are eligible for a program but I am not able to help you with it. I will however introduce you to a good friend of mine two desks away from me. His name is Master Seargent Collins. Can you walk with me?"

"Sure."

They walk to another desk not far from the entrance to the station. There sitting in a high back chair is a man dressed in a light blue shirt and dark blue pants. The left side of his chest is covered with medals and she can tell that he has seen some bad things during his career just by the serious look on his face.

"Jon, I have someone who'd like to find out more about what the Air Force can offer her."

The man rises out of his chair and looks directly at Kate. He extends his hand for her to shake.

"Good morning. My name is Jon Collins. and who do we have here?"

"My name is Kate Beckett."

"Well, Jon I'll leave you two to it. Miss Beckett, it was nice to meet you.

"Thank you, Steven," Jon tells his friend as he returns back to his desk.

"Miss Beckett would you please have a seat."

Once Kate sits down Jon does the same.

"So Kate what brings you here today?" The recruiter asks.

"I really am just looking for some information about what could maybe be a good fit. I'm not really sure the military is my cup of tea but that's why I'm here." Kate replies honestly.

"I couldn't help but overhearing that you have a degree in business management from Columbia. This automatically qualifies you for a program that the Air Force is just starting to get off the ground no pun intended."

Kate smiles at his joke.

"What I'm saying is that the Air Force is always looking for a few good men and women. And with the gulf war in full swing, we need everybody we can get. What I want to do is test your aptitude. To me, I think you would be a good fit as a Combat Rescue Officer."

Kate is intrigued to stay at least. The first word that jumped out in her was combat and she wanted to clarify what it meant exactly she would be doing.

"Combat? But women were not allowed to be in actual combat."

"Combat has many different meanings, Miss Beckett. But I'm going to tell you now if you do decide to take a commission as an officer, you will be in for a grueling, no bullshit, training course. Other people will depend on your training to keep them alive, people that you will become to know as a team. Would you like to know more?"

"Yes, I would. How long would it take to complete this training?"

"The entire survival and associated courses are about 10 weeks long. But first, you have to go to the officer candidate school. Then you will be sent to Maxwell Air Force Base in Alabama for the remainder of your training. Let me get some brochures that I'll give you a heads up on what to expect. It looks like you're in tip-top physical shape which is a definite plus. The training you will be going through is similar to SEAL training the Navy has."

The master sergeant turns to his file cabinet and pulls out a notebook filled with information about the class and job classification she will be trying to attain. He hands over the notebook and tells her that she can take her time reading the information enclosed. Before she leaves he make an appointment for her to come back and talk to him in two days.

When Kate arrived back at her and her father's apartment he was nowhere to be found. She was probably right about guessing where he could be. Her feelings for him have bounced back and forth between what she should do for him and what he should do for himself. She knows it's hard. She lost her mother and he lost his wife. So in a way, they're both hurting but she thinks that his drinking is eventually going to be what kills him. Since he's not home he pulls out the notebook that Master Sergeant Collins gave her. She starts reading in-depth about what it takes to become a Combat Rescue Officer. She does all her reading and when she's finished an hour later she goes on the internet to find out more information she wants to know about the pay she will earn, duty stations, and her likelihood of going to an active war zone. The answers that she finds give her more information than she can process. She spends about the next three and a half hours on the computer learning all about what she could be doing for the Air Force.

He knew he couldn't stop. There was just too much pain for him not to drown it in alcohol. He started earlier than usual this time but he knew that he had to straighten up because if he didn't he was going to lose the only person who still loved him. His daughter Katie. But the draw was too great for him to stop. He kept ordering and ordering shots until he couldn't see straight then he knew it was time to head back home.

The bartender had cut him off after his last drink and called him a cab. He knew that he was way too drunk to drive home. The cab arrived and Jim gave the driver his address. Within fifteen minutes he was safely home.

Kate was just staring out into space when she heard someone trying to gain entry to the apartment. Whoever it was was trying to put a key into the lock but was having a lot of trouble doing it. Then it dawned on her who it was. It was her father. Deciding to put him out of his misery she got up off the chair she was sitting in and went to the door. He was not expecting his daughter to be at home when he got there. But when she opened the door He was leaning against it and he fell into the living room. Kate who wasn't expecting what had happened stepped back just before he landed on her feet. He just laid there not moving and she wasn't sure what was wrong. So deciding to get him into the apartment she dragged him back from under his armpits and closed the front door. Knowing that he wouldn't remember any of this she drags him over to the couch wrestles him onto it, puts a pillow behind his head, and covered him with a blanket.

She had a decision to make and it seems that her father has made her decision for her he made it an easy choice. When he sobered up she would tell him what was going on and where she was going but for all intents and purposes, she was going into the Air Force.

A/N: This will be a story that will be updated when I can update it. Please don't expect chapters to magically appear every Sunday like I usually post on my stories. On that note starting on September 12th I will be posting a new story that is almost finished being written. The title is called 322. It will be posted in the same fashion as my friend Garrae posts her stories. Sunday 0700, Tuesday 1800, and Thursday 1800. All times are EST.

UCSBDAD this one is for you.

P2P