Thunderbirds and the Tracy Family are the creation of Gerry and Sylvia Anderson
rozzy07: Well, that was some re-read! When you said re-read, I thought you meant chapter 85! Hope all the angles became clearer second time around. I guess I just enjoyed seeing his recovery from so many angles. Gee, hope that 'smack in the jaw' wasn't too painful cus you have me reeling from that 'smack in the jaw' review. Thank you, much appreciated. You were very observant in your analysis of the two doctors reactions, in that they got more than they bargained for since their experiences only come from what they have learnt in textbooks as to how they think people should react. Of course, we're talkin Scott Tracy here! I wanted to convey that concept that not everybody can be fitted into some nice, neat little box of a theory and, after all, that man is one of a kind!
Sam1: Thank you, kind of you to say so for I really have enjoyed delving into that man's mind and emotions and I can't think of a better reason to look forward to updates than to irritate the heck out of your husband. I'd better get cracking on then; husbands need a good irritating!
Shaz1: I appreciate your comments and understand your point of view and, yeah, I'll hold my hands up and admit I didn't intend this flashback to be just quite so long. I did think it would be kinda novel, though, to have 2 stories in one rather than separate stories, just trying to be different. It's also the way I write, like once I start I find more scenarios and detail that I think might be interesting to explore and before you know it! The original story wasn't meant to be this long either, I just enjoy adding to it, though I do promise, I do have an ending and that's where I'm heading. Also I would have to have had this flashback story complete, in my mind at least, to have finished the rest of the original story since what happened to Scott back then would have been brought into conversation now and since I didn't know what I was going to be adding from back then, important stuff would have been left out once I come back to the present. Gee, I hope all that makes sense. If I'd had the 2 stories complete before I'd posted that would have made a difference and I might have been tempted to separate them, though they are intertwined. Hope you'll forgive me.
Anakin's Girl 4eva: I think you're trying to tie me up in psychological knots! You been taking lessons from the master, one Scott Tracy! But, yeah, I think I see! No, I'm sure I see, don't I!
Fenestrae: Yep, Captain Conley sure picked her moment but somehow I don't think Scott was too bothered, for him it was a timely rescue. Wonder just what he would have told Cass, though, had it been played out to its conclusion!
Christiana: Good to hear a new name but I am sorry you're bored; that's the last thing I want my readers to be. Sorry though, can't just cut this part of the story dead to rush back to the other. To do so would be to do an injustice to Scotty and a huge injustice to all those other readers who like the detailing. It's just the way I write; I guess I just find him too fascinating to write about. I do have a suggestion, though, if you're that bored. Stop reading!
Chapter 87
Lieutenant Scott Tracy stood handsome and resplendent in his full Air Force military dress uniform, complete with the various ribbons and medals of his service adorning his chest, including the Distinguished Service Medal and Silver Star and to which he would add the illustrious Medal of Honor and Purple Heart; looking every inch the gallant young hero, though he would far from describe himself as such. He was going home.
It had been seven weeks since that day he had been brought in by Lt Jack Flannigan and his crew and rushed into emergency surgery where it had been touch and go for a while but somehow the young man had fought his way back with every ounce of determination and will that he possessed, not forgetting the terrible ordeal that followed. Just seven weeks. Not long in the grand scheme of things for his body to heal from the serious injuries he had sustained, including his emotional trauma, which would invariably take much longer to heal. He could have stayed longer but his father, Jefferson Grant Tracy felt he had been deprived of his eldest son for far too long already and he was determined to have him home, back among his family where he belonged, where he could continue his recuperation. Since he was well enough to travel it was decided to release him but only on the condition he get plenty of rest and not put any exertion on his still healing body and with the promise of his father that they had adequate medical facilities on their island home.
He should have been happy about going home, looking forward to it with eager anticipation but instead he felt a nervous apprehension. It wasn't that he didn't want to see his family or be with them; they had, after all, been keeping in touch by vid-phone, talking to each other at some point each day. It was just he was feeling unsure of how he should react when he finally got home, how to be around them for so much had happened since he had last been home. Somehow he felt different, he felt distant.
It was something Cass had not failed to pick up on in the few days leading up to his departure, noticing his young charge become more quiet and withdrawn and as he helped the young man dress that morning he felt that a few words of reassurance were in order. "It will be all right, Chey'nah. It will just take time for you to readjust to being home and with your family again," he offered with kindly sympathy to which Scott winced a smile and nod of acknowledgement.
And, if truth be told too, in a strange way, he was going to miss being here, for he had to admit he was going to miss Cass and their banter. He had actually gotten used to that friendly, beaming face every morning, his timely, if not sometimes irritating, words of sagely wisdom and his 'white man' jokes and not forgetting how he sat with him through his nightmares. Almost without realising it Scott had come to rely on him being there and he couldn't help but smile with affection when he thought of their first meeting. Scott knew he would never forget this charismatic character who had played such an important part in his life at a crucial time and never more so when Cass had saved him from further excruciating torture. How could he forget the man who had stood up to the heinous Major Bauer, refused to leave his side and risked his own career for him by socking the Major a good one in the jaw; gawd he wished he'd been in more of a position to appreciate that. It was a bond that would remain between them for all time, since loyalty was something that Lieutenant Scott Tracy regarded very highly.
The previous afternoon had been a strange one, so he thought and Scott reflected back on the puzzling and intriguing conversation they had had.
Cass appeared to be somewhat troubled, having something obviously on his mind when he came into Scott's room after his few hours off, which wasn't at all like him. It was something the young Lieutenant had not failed to pick up on.
"What's up? You actually gonna miss me?" Scott jested with a weak smile and a measure of forced joviality, in what he hoped would cover up the turmoil of his own heart.
Cass nodded a sad smile. "Actually I am, Chey'nah. I will, very much, miss your intelligent conversation, your wily cunning and our illegal poker games but most of all, Chey'nah, I will miss your caustic sarcasm," he responded honestly with a playful, though saddened grin.
"Ok….enough already. You want to see a Lieutenant of the United States Air Force break down and cry….is that it!" Scott quipped with false bravado while choked and trying to tough it out. "But that's not it….is it!" he conjectured, sensing there was something else on his friend's mind.
Cass let out a laugh. "You are very observant, Chey'nah."
"Hey….what can I say. It's the wolf in me…..you oughtta know that," Scott continued with a brave smile, to which Cass gave him an acknowledging grin.
Cass returned then to the source of his troubling thoughts. "I had a vision, Chey'nah….a vision concerning you," he began seriously.
Scott frowned, not quite liking the sound of this and if it was something bad he didn't want to know, for he knew how seriously Cass believed in these visions. He had had enough bad things happen to him already to last him a lifetime. "Look Cass…if it's something bad I just don't want to know…all right. I'm already supposed to suffer more wounds…..sometime….somewhere….remember!" Scott reminded him, referring to Cass's interpretation of his own vision.
"Oh no, Chey'nah….this is not bad…..it's just….puzzling!" Cass reassured his young patient, which only served to make him curious. "In my vision I saw you ride the great Thunderbird….and the color blue is very strong…..the sky….it was a strong blue…..," he began, his face puckered in a bemused frown, suggesting he did not, as yet, have an interpretation, which for Cass was unusual and probably why he was puzzled and a little troubled.
Now you may be forgiven for thinking that the Thunderbird Cass saw in his vision must have been of the sleek, silver rocket type, that he had the psychic ability to see what hadn't yet been created and which was still very much in it's infancy on some faraway drawing board and that, perhaps, this might all be just a little too convenient! But you'd be wrong.
No, the Thunderbird that Cass was referring to was more of the Native American legend variety. The kind of legend that speaks of great birds whose eyes flash lightening and beating wings sound like thunder, hence the name. Indeed, it was thought that the great birds were the bringers of thunderstorms. It could be that such great birds actually existed in the distant past since legends are usually born out of some fact and built upon. A bird with such a great wingspan would need powerful thermals to lift it high and since such thermals precede a thunderstorm it would not be hard to see how a superstitious people would equate one with the other.
They were believed to have a dual characteristic, in that, to the Plains Indians, of which the Lakota Sioux belonged, they were the great protectors of the people and doing good, while on the other hand, to other tribes, they could cause great harm and were seen as something to be feared. Which is kind of apt really, when you think about it since the Thunderbirds in Lieutenant Scott Tracy's future would do much good and be seen by many as protectors in saving lives, while at the same time they had the capability to do great harm and which was why there would be those who would stop at nothing to get their hands on them and why secrecy would become so vitally important.
"A Thunderbird, huh! You mean there's no wolves involved this time!" Scott cheekily remarked with that mock caustic sarcasm that Cass was going to miss so much. "What is it with you guys and animals!"
Cass shook his head in mock exasperation. "The Thunderbird is in your future, Chey'nah," he told Scott with certainty, going on to explain its significance for his people.
"You mean I'm gonna be riding around on some big bird in the sky!" Scott teased, since he didn't know quite what to make of it.
The mental image brought a grin to Cass's face. "If it were literally possible, Chey'nah….then I would not put it past you to master the great bird….for I believe you could fly anything you set your mind to. All I know is that the Thunderbird is connected to your future, Chey'nah….and that what you do will be special," Cass reiterated.
Scott put his analytical mind to work, weighing up the clues; riding a Thunderbird, it makes a great noise as it flies and the color blue, but protector of people! At that he was stumped. He came to a swift conclusion, though. "Well the blue is easy, I guess. The Air Force uniform is blue….so…..maybe it means I'm gonna fly with the Air Force display team…..they're called The Thunderbirds. From what I remember that's where they got their name from….right! From your legend," Scott surmised, thinking it through logically and seeing how it seemed to make sense.
And indeed he was right. That's exactly where the United States Air Force Display Team got its name. Formed in 1953 as the official Air Demonstration Unit at Luke Air Force Base in Arizona they soon adopted the name of The Thunderbirds, influenced by the strong Indian culture of the area, since it was said when it took to the skies the earth trembled from the thunder of its great wings and given the sound from the formation fighters as they went through their manoeuvres the name proved to be very apt. The display team, not only showcases the latest advancement in America's fighter technology, flying the highly advanced F-16XD of which Lieutenant Scott Tracy was more than familiar but also acts as good-will ambassadors for the United States of America.
It had to be said, though, that Scott didn't seem all that enthusiastic at the prospect; not that he didn't appreciate the great skill it took to fly the intricate formations of the team it was just something he hadn't envisaged himself doing.
Cass nodded thoughtfully, admiring the young man's lateral thinking and his increased awareness of dream interpretation. "Yes….I do believe they did take their name from the legend…..and I had considered that……but I do not sense that your future lies with the Air Force. Your future lies in a different path, Chey'nah," he mused in puzzlement, leaving both men to ponder what that could mean.
"And what about you….where does your future lie, Cass…..when you leave the Force?" Scott asked with genuine interest.
Cass smiled in reflective thought. "Oh, that's easy, Chey'nah. We have a small clinic on the Reservation…but I would like to develop it into a better medical facility…for my people….somewhere they can get better treatment…without having to leave the Reservation. I want to use the knowledge I have gained here to help my people," he answered without hesitation, sure in the knowledge of what he was going to be doing. "That….and of course some more traditional 'medicine'….with a little chanting thrown in!" he added with a mischievous grin.
Scott nodded understandingly, along with a smile at the latter comment. "That sounds like a very worthwhile and special thing to do, Cass. It'll take a bit to set that up though, won't it?" he surmised with interest.
"I will have the money I get when I leave the Force…..in about two years……and I have been putting some aside for just such a purpose, Chey'nah. And those of our people who can will help too," Cass told him proudly; obvious that he had been thinking of this for some time.
"Sounds like you got it all figured out," Scott responded, a slow smile spreading across his face as the seed of an idea took firm root in his mind. He knew exactly what he would do.
For the rest of that afternoon Cass helped him finish his packing in preparation for his departure the next day, most of which was done in subdued silence.
But there was something Scott wanted to get off his chest and it was better done now when it was just the two of them. Scott stopped what he doing. "Cass……I….I….. Well…in case I don't get a chance to say it tomorrow….you know….with leaving and that. Look…I'm… I'm not very good with all this emotional stuff….goodbyes and……," Scott struggled to say.
Cass sensed what his young patient was trying to say. "There is no need, Chey'nah…..not between blood brothers," he reassured him with a kindly smile.
Scott took a deep breath and took the proverbial 'bull by the horns'. "Yeah…there is, Cass. I…I haven't been the easiest of patients…I know that. I gave you a hard time….and I'm sorry. And I guess what I'm trying to say is….I…I'm gonna miss you……gonna miss all that homespun wisdom of yours…those gawd-awful jokes….and those 'tall tales'," he confessed with a wincing laugh, the kind of laugh that tries to mask a deep emotion, the same kind of laugh that Cass returned. "And I'm gonna miss you callin me that damn name….I guess I gotten used to it."
"Your brothers could…..," Cass started to suggest and starting to feel somewhat choked himself, knowing how hard this was for the young man.
But Scott shook his head. "It…it just wouldn't sound the same comin from anybody else, Cass. I never told you this….but you got it spot on. It was as if you could see into my very soul," he admitted honestly. "I…I don't think I'd have been able to get through this without you, Cass. You pulled me through when I felt like giving up. I know you probably don't think so because you didn't get me to open up…..and don't think I don't know how hard you tried….in that sly dog way of yours…..sorry….wrong canine…wolf way of yours," he continued with an emotional grin while holding up his hands in mock apology before becoming serious again. "But you never pushed me, Cass…..and you've no idea how much that means to me. You helped me more than you'll ever know……just by being you. And you were there for me….risked your career for me…..I won't ever forget that, Cass," Scott finished with a wincing smile and a nod.
"Gee…that was one hell of a speech, 'white man'," Cass jested through his choking emotion. "You want to see a 'noble brave' of the Oglala Sioux cry….is that it!" Both men winced a laugh and both knew there was no need for any other words. They gripped each other in a gentle, yet as firm an embraceas Scott was able to bear.
While they got on with the mundane task of packing a crazy notion had been turning over in Cass's mind. "Chey'nah…..how would you like to go native!……..," he asked suddenly, bringing a puzzled bemusement to his young patient's face.
He went on to explain that the invitation was for Scott to join them at their annual Tribal Retreat, which basically involved the tribe upping sticks and going back to their roots as it were, like one big tribal 'campout'. The tribe would move off the Reservation to their annual camping grounds in a luscious green valley in South Dakota and just enjoy getting back to nature in a time of renewal and refreshing.
"In just over two months I get some leave and when I get home we make preparations to go to the camping grounds," Cass continued to explain. "And I would be honoured to have you stay with us, Chey'nah….as part of my family….you are wolf after all."
It was not something outsiders were invited to so to say Scott was overwhelmed by the generous invitation was an understatement. "I...I don't know what to say, Cass," Scott responded, clearly moved by the heartfelt invite.
Cass beamed him that familiar warm smile. "Just say you will come, Chey'nah. It will be good for your healing…and I promise…no-one will bother you….not even me!" he assured his young patient. "You can experience a proper Sweat Lodge….and if you're good, Chey'nah….we might even let you smoke 'the Pipe' he added mischievously, as though the incentive would make it hard to say no.
"You mean, 'the Pipe'! Scott queried with a good-natured raise of his brow.
Cass nodded with a laugh. "Yes, Chey'nah….'the Pipe'.
There was a brief pause as Scott became quietly serious again. "Yeah, Cass….I'd like to come….I'd like that very much," he responded, having thought it through.
Cass smiled delightedly at the done deal and they exchanged email addresses to arrange the details but that, as they say, is entirely another story!
He stood ready now, almost time for his departure. Captain Sarah Conley had come in to see him off and to fulfil her final duty of obligation, to ensure her young patient was fit, able and comfortable enough to travel. Had he not been she wouldn't have hesitated to have him back in that bed for, as it was, she felt he should have stayed longer, until he was one hundred per cent fit and well but she knew how anxious Jeff Tracy was to have his eldest son back home.
"We will miss you, Lieutenant Tracy…..and I hope your recovery goes well," Sarah told him, giving him a warm, encouraging smile, though at the same time she couldn't help feeling rather sad.
Scott winced a smile at the warm and genuine show of affection, hoping he was not going to find all this too emotional. There was something, though, he felt he needed to do. "Captain Conley….I…I want to thank you for all you've done for me….and to say…..well I know I wasn't the easiest of patients….and I'm sorry," he apologised sincerely.
Sarah smiled at the memory of those early days, for how could she forget how many times he had had her nurses in tears. She guessed her young nurses would be shedding some more tears now, not because of his rudeness but because of the handsome young Lieutenant's departure. "No…I guess you weren't exactly a model patient…were you. But then you had been through so much….more than any young man should have been….so it's completely understandable. And I just want you to know…it..it has been a privilege to have nursed you, Lieutenant Tracy," she added proudly. Feeling a little choked now with emotion, Sarah took a deep breath. "Now…you remember everything I've told you. You're to get plenty of rest….and not to be lifting anything heavy….don't be putting any strain on those ribs….or that shoulder," she ordered in a motherly fashion, trying to distract herself from the emotion of the occasion.
"Yes ma'am," Scott responded, relaxing into a smile over her fussing.
There was one person, however, who was strangely absent from this imminent departure. Cass had left about half an hour ago and Scott was beginning to wonder if, perhaps, he couldn't face the final goodbye. Surely Cass wouldn't let him down now, not now after being constantly by his side.
"He will be here," Sarah assured the young man, with a kindly smile, sensing his obvious distraction as they waited for word that the plane was ready for she knew exactly where Cass went and why.
Within moments he appeared, carrying what Scott would come to regard as some of his most highly treasured possessions. Oh not in the sense of monetary value, since money was no object to the young Lieutenant; no, these objects were beyond price because they were given freely and with love.
"These are for you, Chey'nah," Cass said simply, handing him, first of all, a soft deerskin bag, to be followed by a slim, rigid deerskin case.
The young man's puzzled bewilderment was evident. "Wh…what is this, Cass?" he choked out a response, clearly moved by the generous gesture.
Cass smiled warmly. "This is your Medicine Bundle, Chey'nah," he explained, having handed Scott the deerskin bag. "In it are the things that saw you through your Vision Quest. It is to remind you of who you are, Chey'nah…..and the peace that you seek. It is personal to you. And…perhaps…it will remind you of me from time to time," he added quietly.
"I…I….thank you, Cass……," Scott managed to say as Cass handed him the slim case. "And this! What is…!" he asked, still obviously moved that he should receive a gift. He opened the case and beheld the beautiful black-tipped eagle feather, clearly awed and appreciative of the beauty of the object. His eyes searched his friend's for an explanation. "I…I don't understand, Cass. This is beautiful……"
Cass went on to explain the significance of the eagle feather and who it belonged to. "And now it belongs to you, Chey'nah," he smiled with warm affection.
Scott shook his head, stunned and overwhelmed by the generous gift. "I…I don't know what to say….but I…I can't take this, Cass…it's far too much. It belongs in your family….with your tribe."
"Are you going to give me a hard time over this, Chey'nah?" Cass grinned in a mocking scold, causing the young man to wince an emotional smile. "It is my right to give it….and it belongs to a truly noble and honorable warrior brave. Besides….I think you are forgetting….you do belong to my family now. Are you not wolf! Does not my blood course through your veins, Chey'nah? Are we not blood brothers! It is my gift to you…you must take it…or I will be offended!" he went on, destroying every last shred of Scott's argument and making it impossible for him to refuse.
Tears of emotion welled up and glistened in the young man's eyes and he fought hard to keep himself in check. Scott nodded with gratitude and appreciation, recognising the great honor he was being done, not trusting himself to speak. He placed the treasured items carefully in his kit bag. And suddenly, an idea came to him, an idea of such powerful significance and yet so simple in its execution that he was determined to carry it through.
Reaching into his pocket Scott pulled out a small black box. "You said we were blood brothers. Well, I have your blood….but you don't have mine," Scott reflected, to which Cass nodded slowly with a bemused grin, wondering where this was going. "You wanna be a true blood brother!" he asked with serious determination.
Cass's eyes lit with a mischievous glint. "I would be honoured, Chey'nah. Just what have you got in mind," he replied without hesitation.
Someone else was wondering the same thing and before either of them knew it Scott had opened the small box, took his Purple Heart medal and held the heart shaped point against the palm of his right hand.
Captain Sarah Conley almost lost her eyesight. "Eh…just what do you think you're doing, Lieutenant Tracy!" she cried, trying not to believe what he was about to do.
The two men eyed each other, totally oblivious to her protests, with Cass knowing exactly what he was about to do for, after all, some things are just more important than rules. In the next instant Scott drew a deep breath, dug the medal into the palm of his hand and drew it downwards, his taut face flinching as he did so. Blood flowed from the self-inflicted wound. He then handed his medal to Cass, who with his eyes firmly fixed on his young charge, proceeded to do the same, flinching as the medal dug into the flesh of his palm, opening up a wound. The two men then clasped their hands together firmly in a bond of mutual respect. Now, they were truly blood brothers.
Things may have progressed in the medical field but not as far as wiping out every disease, which was why precautionary measures of protection were still very much in force, especially where blood contact was concerned. Scott and Cass, though, were so sure of each other and such was the trust between them that this bonding process transcended even the wisest and most sensible of rules.
This was definitely a male, macho thing, Sarah concluded to herself. "Oh lor….tell me you didn't just do that!" she exclaimed, shaking her head in mock exasperation when she could finally manage to speak. She hurried to get two dressing kits, quickly pressing a pad of gauze into Cass's hand and giving him a kit to finish dressing his hand while she took care of Scott's self-inflicted wound. "What am I going to do with you two!" she chided with exasperation, in the way a mom would scold her naughty children. "……and for goodness sake…don't tell anyone how you got this…..either of you….is that clear?" she added with a warning as she looked from one to the other.
The two men smiled at each other in conspiratorial fashion and at her fussing, chorusing together, 'Yes, Ma'am." And how could she not break down and smile.
Sarah wiped his medal clean, put it back in its box and handed it to the young Lieutenant. He stared at it for a few moments then, without hesitation, went to hand it over to Cass who looked at him in puzzling bemusement.
"I want you to have it, Cass," Scott stated with serious determination.
"I…I can't take this, Chey'nah," Cass responded, overwhelmed by the gesture. "This is your Purple Heart. It was given for your wounds…..you have earned it, Chey'nah….and besides….you will be expected to wear it….at the Ceremony," he added, explaining why he couldn't possibly take it and referring to when the young man would be awarded his Medal of Honor.
Scott winced a little, then drew a deep breath. "You gonna give me a hard time over this, Cass!" he queried with a weak smile and a raise of his brow. "Seems to me like you're wounded now too…..and you did that for me. It is MY right to give it, Cass. Besides….you don't want to offend me now….do you! So you have to take it," Scott added, having nodded down to Cass's wound of brotherhood and cheekily reminding him of his own words. "And anyway…..I'll have the ribbon bar to wear."
This referred to the small bar of ribbon that matched the medal as well as for campaigns served in and was worn on the dress uniform permanently. Lt Scott Tracy would also be one of the very few elite band of men who would have on his uniform the pale blue ribbon bar, embroidered with stars, that signified he had been awarded the illustrious Medal of Honor, the medal itself only being worn on special ceremonial occasions.
With a lump of emotion rising in his throat it was now Cass's turn to be totally overwhelmed and stunned by this magnanimous gesture. "Then it would be my very great honor to take it, Chey'nah…..and it will forever remind me of my blood brother," he responded, with all the noble pride of his Sioux upbringing as he took the box from Scott's outstretched hand.
And did Scott Tracy care if he got into trouble for giving away his medal and not having it to wear at the Ceremony? Now what do you think!
Sarah found herself brushing away the tear that had escaped her eye at all she had witnessed. Then, taking a deep breath, it was back to business, insisting that her young patient, for that's what he would still be until he walked out that door, had his right arm secured into an immobiliser to make him more comfortable for his journey home.
A knock on the open door by a rather nervous young 2nd Lieutenant was a sharp reminder that his plane was ready; it was time to go. Scott automatically went to pick up his kit bag, instinctive of his independence and military training, only to be stopped short by a warning cough and a 'look' from Captain Conley that said, 'Don't even dare think about it, Lt Tracy'.
Immediately the 2nd Lieutenant rushed forward to pick up his bag. "Oh no, Sir….I've been instructed to be your aide….and it's my privilege and, indeed, an honor, Sir, to carry it for you," the young man stated proudly.
Scott winced uncomfortably at the obvious adulation in the young man's tone but he guessed it was something he was going to have to get used to and he graciously allowed the young man to pick up his bag.
The time had come and it was harder than he thought it would be as he said his final goodbyes to Captain Sarah Conley. Turning to Cass he could no longer trust himself to speak but if Scott thought he was going to get rid of him that easily!
"Do you think I would let you walk to that plane alone, Chey'nah! Did you really think you would get rid of me that easily, white man!" Cass quipped, his face breaking into a huge grin, causing Scott to relax into a smile of his own.
"I'd like that, Cass….thanks," Scott said quietly, grateful to his nurse/companion for having broken the unbearable tension of the moment.
Captain Sarah Conley watched, with a mixture of emotions, as the two men walked away down the corridor; at the gallant and handsome young Lieutenant as he sought to regain his life and satisfied at a job well done, having nursed him back to physical health at least. Then it was business as usual; her attention having been called back to the routine of the ward by the needs of another patient.
The ward had been a buzz of excitement all that morning and, indeed, not only the ward but the hospital and the whole of the Base; Lieutenant Scott Tracy was, at last, going home. As they walked down the corridor and past each bay, both patients and staff alike stopped what they were doing and, coming smartly to attention, gave him a proud salute. It was all Scott could do to keep it together, struggling to keep his composure and feeling his eyes well up at the gesture and honor been given him. Taking a deep breath the young Lieutenant held himself proudly erect and, although he was not required to do so since he was the Medal of Honor recipient, he graciously returned their salutes, having to use his left hand. Cass, too, was touched by the show of respect heaped on the young man and put a supportive hand on his left shoulder.
As they walked through the hospital to the outer entrance, everywhere was the same; the same outpouring of respect and honoring him with smart salutes. Feeling completely overwhelmed he was more than glad of Cass's company at the beginning of his journey home.
If he thought that was the end of it and he could quietly slip away once they had boarded the jeep that would take them out to the runway, he was sadly mistaken for it seemed like every last man and woman stationed at Da Nang Air Base had turned out to see him off. He could barely take it in; that so many people had turned out, just for him, just to see him off, with the young 2nd Lieutenant assuring him of precisely that. It was now, more than ever, he needed to steel himself and draw on every last ounce of resolve to hold himself together.
Exiting the jeep the order was given and the massed assembly came smartly to attention, honoring the young man with their salute. Scott crossed the short distance to the bottom of the airplane steps where Colonel Lauren Adams also honored him with her salute and offered her apologies, once again. He graciously accepted, then turned to face Cass for one last time. Now it really was time to say goodbye.
Swallowing hard the huge lump that now seemed lodged in his throat and acutely aware that he was not alone, praying he would not disgrace himself, he bravely managed a smile. "Well, Cass….I guess this really is it. I…I….," he started to say.
But Cass had no intention of letting him struggle, not now and certainly not in front of everyone, even though he was feeling pretty choked himself. "It is the same for me too, Chey'nah. But there is no need….
blood brothers….remember! How could I forget….it hurts like hell," he winced with a laugh as he looked down at his dressed palm.
Scott broke into a laugh, glad at the release of tension. "Yeah…mine too. Blood brothers, Cass," he acknowledged, both men then silently gripping each other in a final embrace. "And if there's anything you need…..you know how to get in touch."
Cass nodded but couldn't help one last jibe, although Scott had no doubt he was perfectly serious. "And if all that fancy technology fails….then I can always send you my animal spirit. Look out for the wolf, Chey'nah," he called out as Scott prepared to board his plane.
Having followed his young Aide to the top of the boarding stairs, Scott now turned and, looking out over the sea of faces, swallowed back hard his emotion as, to a man and on a given order, the whole company, once more honored him with a smart salute. Holding himself erect as befits an officer of the United States Air Force and with his facial muscles flinching under the strain of trying to hold it all together Lieutenant Scott Tracy proudly returned the salute; a gesture they knew was not necessary on his part but which would forever be remembered with gratitude. And then he was gone, to begin the next stage of his journey home.
Scott took his seat, next the window; his young Aide having stowed his kit bag in the overhead locker and taking leave of him, again, with a proud salute and telling Scott what an honor it was for him, to which Scott wincingly acknowledged a thank-you. Glad to be free now from all the attention he gratefully sank back, amazed at how tired and drained he felt already by the emotional departure. Unbuttoning his jacket, loosening his tie and undoing the top button of his shirt to escape their cloying effect Scott stared blankly out of the window, taking his last look at Da Nang and feeling strangely alone, lost in his thoughts, thoughts of where he'd been and thoughts of where he was going.
Settled in his seat and having the time now he picked up the Medicine Bundle he had asked the young Aide to retrieve from his kit bag before he left. He smiled weakly as he fingered each object and though he didn't remember them being used on him since he was out of it with the fever they brought back vivid memories of his Vision, some very vivid memories indeed that, even now, made his body tingle. He reached his hand into the very bottom of the bag, taking out the last object he felt and smiled curiously.
"Well I guess…you little fella…must be the Thunderbird, huh," Scott mused to himself, fingering the small carving of a bird with outstretched wings and its head to one side. It sure was a puzzle; causing him to wonder what significance it could possibly have for his future.
"What's that you have there, Lieutenant?" a fellow officer asked curiously.
"Oh…just a gift from a good friend," Scott reflected quietly. "Just a gift from a friend." Having put everything back in the bag he then asked the attendant to put it back in his kit bag.
Once airborne the flight attendant returned, rousing him from his reverie. "Lieutenant Tracy….can I get you anything?"
"Eh…just an OJ, thanks," Scott requested politely and returned to gazing out the window, each minute bringing him ever closer home.
Normally they would have been heading Stateside but on this occasion the Air Force flight was diverting to Auckland International Airport, New Zealand with one very important passenger. Since Scott's home was in the South Pacific it was deemed rather pointless to take him all the way to the States only for him to have to fly back to New Zealand to get home. It wasn't something they would do, though, for just any serviceman but then, of course, it wasn't every day they were privileged to fly home a Medal of Honor recipient, this being one of the perks accorded him.
As he contemplated his homecoming he hoped his father had heeded his request not to have the whole family there at the airport to meet him. It was the last thing he needed for he knew he would not be up to an emotional family reunion in such a public place, even if it were in the VIP suite but then he knew how persuasive his younger brothers could be and how eager they would be to see him. Still, he hoped they would be content enough to wait until he was home and even then he hoped they didn't expect too much of him.
Just what would they expect of him? That he would be so happy and eager to be home, to see them; that he would be full of chat and shower them with hugs. He should be, shouldn't he! Why then did he feel so cold at the prospect, feel numb with no sense of excitement whatsoever. He felt like he was coming home a stranger, being with yet separated from his family by some impenetrable barrier that would never, ever go away, for how could he undo what he had done, un-see what he had seen, knowing he couldn't lift a finger to help; rather he was just going to have to find a way to live with it all.
Another horrifying thought struck him. What if they'd organised some big 'welcome home' party! He knew how much they all wanted him home, how anxious they had been and he guessed they had every right to be; after all, he had been shot down, missing in action. They must have been out of their minds with worry and then to hear he had been shot. He hoped he had made it clear to his father that he didn't want any fuss, wanting his homecoming to be a low-key affair but then he knew how persuasive his Grandma could be when she put her mind to it and she would be only too eager to make a fuss of her eldest grandson. He just knew, though, he wasn't up to any kind of party or emotional speeches, no matter how well intentioned and it was the last thing he would want to do, to cause offence to his Grandma or his family. No, all he wanted to do was go to his room and crash for a bit.
His room. Would it still be the same as he remembered it? When was the last time he was at home, in his room? He had been in hospital almost two months, following his three-month tour of duty and before that they had spent weeks in preparation at Cannon for their tour, having had a short leave beforehand so, all in all, it had been almost six months since he was last home. Six months! It seemed like a lifetime ago.
And his family! Just what did they know? He knew his father knew most of it but he had begged him not to tell his brothers and he had to trust his father to keep his promise. So many thoughts were spinning around now that his head ached.
Feeling drained and exhausted Scott put his head back and closed his eyes, just for a minute but with the steady, hypnotic hum of the engines he was soon lulled into sleep.
"Can you see it, Jez? Have you got a fix on it yet? I need to know what gawd damn direction she's coming at us from," Scott heard himself shout as his keen eyes scanned the sky through the panoramic canopy.
In reality he was mumbling, tossing and turning in his seat as his heart rate accelerated. Suddenly and without warning there was a violent shuddering and the aircraft dropped with a stomach-churning lurch, bringing groans from the rest of the passengers. Beads of sweat broke out on Scott's forehead, his breathing rapid and shallow. "We're hit…we're hit, Jez. Eject…eject…EJECT," he called out in alarm until he was brought sharply back to the present by someone calling his name and gentle shaking him.
Scott snapped his eyes open to find himself looking into the face of a concerned flight attendant and he quickly looked around, taking a few moments to realise he had not been in the cockpit of his F-16XD after all.
"Are you alright, Lieutenant Tracy? We just hit some bad turbulence…that's all….but everything's fine now," she explained with a kindly smile.
"Yeah…yeah….I'm alright. A bad dream I guess," Scott wincingly explained, acutely aware he was the object of attention and being whispered about.
"Can I get you anything?" she asked with kindly concern, passing him a napkin with which he wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead.
"Just a glass of water….please," he requested, nodding a thank-you and taking slow, steady breaths to compose himself. He turned to stare out the window again at the blue ocean below to avoid the unwelcome attention he had attracted. This was something else he guessed he was going to have to get used to, the powerful intensity of these damn flashbacks.
Shortly after the aircraft began its descent into the now familiar view of Auckland International, his apprehension increasing at the imminence of his reunion. Looking, once more, immaculate, after getting help to straighten his tie and button up his jacket, he was ready to disembark. Scott was again accorded the honor of a full military salute from all those on board, including the Captain and co-pilot who had come through from the cockpit, telling him it had been their privilege and wishing him well. He had to admit he was finding all this pretty hard to take and fought hard to keep a measure of cool decorum. Since the flight was stopping over for a few hours before continuing its journey to the States there was no shortage of officers willing to take his kit bag for him and escort him into the airport terminal to await the next and final stage of his journey home.
Standing now in the busy, bustling terminal, near the information desk, the agreed meeting place, Scott observed the thronging mass of people going about their daily business. It was a place of constant motion, people in transit, going from one place to another on either business or pleasure or both but though he was surrounded Scott felt strangely alone.
Then, without warning, everything started to crowd in on him; the atmosphere was cloying, the noise of people's incessant chatter deafening, the incoherent chatter reminding him of 'Charlie' advancing on him as he ran for his life out into the clearing. He felt panicked and claustrophobic. He pulled at his shirt collar as his breathing increased rapidly, looking around,desperate to see a familiar face.
Where the hell was Virgil? He was supposed to meet him here; he should have been here by now, he thought in annoyance, though it was more his sense of panic as his eyes searched the sea of anonymous faces. He didn't want to be here any longer, he had to get out of here.
"Hey…there he is," a disembodied voice called out from the crowd. Scott spun round. "That's the guy….that's him...come on," the voice called out excitedly. And before Scott knew it he was surrounded, the flashing lights of cameras going off, mics and all manner of recording devices being shoved in his face.
"Lieutenant Tracy…give us a statement…….what was it like!"
"Yeah….what was it like….in that jungle, Lieutenant! It must've have been hell…."
"Did you really carry your wounded buddy for two nights, Lieutenant!" "What did you live on….is it true you had to eat bugs to stay alive, Lieutenant!"
"How does it feel to be awarded the Medal of Honor?" "Did you see any sign of the enemy, Lieutenant Tracy! Did you see 'Charlie'!" "Aw come on…please, Lieutenant…just one statement…." the myriad of voices rang in his ears, all asking questions and clamouring for his attention. The paparazzi had descended on him in a feeding frenzy. Just how they knew he was coming in was anybody's guess since it was thought his travel arrangements had been kept strictly secret but then, the paparazzi always seem to have a way of finding out these things.
Scott put his left arm up to his face in an effort to protect and shield himself from the glare and flashing of the camera lights but no matter what way he turned they were there. "Leave me alone. I've nothing to say," he told them adamantly. But, as is the way with the paparazzi, when they are intent on getting hold of a story they will let nothing stand in their way, hounding their subject mercilessly in the process.
"Come on, Lieutenant…be a sport,"
"How does your father feel about you being awarded the Medal of Honor, Lieutenant?" "Your family must have been worried when you were shot down!" "How did that feel, Lieutenant…having to eject over hostile territory!" "What was it like…getting shot!" "Were you at any time afraid of being captured, Lieutenant Tracy!" "Is it true you had to cut off your buddies leg…out there in the jungle…with only your survival knife, to save his life, Lieutenant!"
Now some of the questions were just getting truly ridiculous but, as usual, that is the way of the tabloid press; to spice up the facts in order to sell the story and make it more exciting. Never let it be said that facts would get in the way of a good story.
The questions were coming at him from every angle, the flashing lights blinding him as he desperately tried to shield himself, frantically seeking for a way of escape.
"Come on, Lieutenant…just one statement."
"Tell us." "Yeah…tell us." "Tell us……Tell us…..Tell us……."
Voices merged into a thunderous roar in his head. "Leave me alone. JUST LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE!"
Author's Note: To refresh yourself on the contents of the medicine bundle and the significance of the black-tipped eagle's feather refer to Chapter 82. Regarding the Native American legend of the Thunderbird! I swear, it's completely true and it couldn't be more apt. As for the 'blood brother' ritual! For goodness sake, please, please, do not try this at home.
