H
ail’s Gulfstream had not been shot down prior to landing on the tarmac of Andrews’ 11,300-foot western runway. Hail was happy about that. He was also happy that the local time in Washington was 10:30 a.m. With a little luck, and a big helicopter, Hail would be on time for his lunch with the president.
Hail had slept wonderfully on the flight across two oceans. After the first hour of trying to sleep in the chair, he got up, drank a glass of orange juice and crashed on the comfy bed in the rear of the plane. He never even stirred when they had landed and refueled in Dakhla. By the time they had arrived in Washington, Hail was cleaned up and dressed for his meeting with the president.
Although Hail had never liked wearing suits, he was going to lunch with the President of the United States, and anything less than a suit would have been disrespectful.
The Gulfstream taxied to the area where the president’s VH-60N White Hawk was located. Of course, both helicopters used by the president and vice president had been modified for comfort rather than military use. Hail deployed the Gulfstream’s stairs, and grabbed the handrail and eased himself out into the dry cool air, careful not to hit his head on the doorway.
In the background, he heard the helicopter start its engines and was pleased that his taxi was waiting. He just hoped that the pilots wouldn’t be too pissed off when he changed the destination once they were already in the air.
Hail made his way over to the big red, white and blue chopper. Out of habit, Hail saluted the lieutenant who was dressed in ACUs and waiting at the open door of the helicopter. The soldier looked at Hail funny and then returned the salute.
Hail immediately felt foolish. He knew why he had saluted the man. It wasn’t because Hail was in the military or had ever been in the military. It wasn’t because he was intimidated. It wasn’t from an outburst of patriotism. Hail had saluted the man because his father had always made him salute officers since he was a little boy. Instead of a hug, he was instructed to salute his own father every time he came home from work. Just about any uniform with important insignia got Hail’s hand moving up to his forehead. Old habits were hard to break.
“Step in please, sir. Sit down and buckle up,” the lieutenant said.
Hail did as the young officer instructed. The chairs were not nearly as comfortable as they were on his plane, but it would be a short flight and he thought he could endure it. The lieutenant followed Hail into the helicopter and sat to Hail’s left.
Two pilots could be seen via a video camera and monitor. The lieutenant made a twirling signal with his finger. The rotors increased in speed and the door was drawn shut. The White Hawk rose straight up from the ground, made a 180-degree twist and then leaned forward and began to gain speed.
Hail had flown the same model helicopter in the simulator on the Hail Nucleus and actually had more simulator flight time on the White Hawk than on the AgustaWestland. He considered asking the lieutenant if he could fly it, but realized he might think Hail was crazy and throw him out the side door. Hail didn’t like that idea very much, so he kept his mouth shut. It was only a short fifteen miles from Andrews to the White House, and it was a nice ride. Hail looked down at the old and proud city below and felt absolutely nothing. It didn’t inspire him in the least and that worried him. Hail actually felt sick about visiting the nation’s capital, but he knew why, and he would confront those issues in about five minutes.
Hail leaned over to the lieutenant and yelled, “Put me down there.” Hail pointed at a spot on the ground below at what was rapidly approaching.
The soldier looked at him, then looked at where he was pointing and then asked, “What are you talking about? My orders are to take you to the White House.”
Hail shook his head no.
“I’m going to walk to the White House. I want you to drop me off there, in that clearing between the Vietnam Memorial and the Constitution Gardens.”
The lieutenant shook his head adamantly, no. “No way, my orders were to—”
“I don’t care about your orders,” Hail growled at him. “Either you drop me off right there, or turn this tub around and take me back to my plane. I’ll let you explain to the president why I didn’t make my lunch date with her.”
The lieutenant looked confused and worried.
The lieutenant said, “Even if I wanted to, look, there are people down there.”
“They’ll move,” Hail argued. “I mean, if you saw a massive helicopter coming down on your head, wouldn’t you move?”
The lieutenant hoed and hummed, and Hail could tell that the soldier wanted to tell the pushy man to go screw himself, but the thought of being responsible for canceling a lunch with the president had the lieutenant conflicted.
In the end, the lieutenant put on a headset and talked into a microphone to the pilots up front. Through his headset, the lieutenant instructed the main pilot to set them down in the grassy area in front of the memorial.
At first, the main pilot looked confused, and Hail thought he was going to have to argue with him as well. But after a moment or two, the pilot simply rotated the craft into a position directly above the grassy area very slowly lowered the machine down to earth. The few people that were lunching, sleeping or drinking below scattered as the wind turned into a breeze, into a squall, which turned into a tornado. By the time the Sikorsky’s skids sunk into the Washington soil, Hail couldn’t see a single person anywhere in sight.
The lieutenant looked pissed as he yanked open the door.
“Don’t wait for me, I’ll walk,” Hail told the soldier.
Hail jumped out of the chopper, and before he could even clear the blade wash, the rotors began to spin up. It’s just natural that almost everyone ducks in the proximity of a helicopter taking off, which was silly. The machine’s giant blades are well above head level, and when they began to take on lift, they actually bend up toward the sky moving even further away from head-level. Even so, Hail ducked his head as he walked out from under the big helicopter blades. Paper, sticks, leaves, trash—anything that wasn’t heavy or growing into the earth went flying. Hail shielded his face as dirt and dust tried to sneak into the tiny slits that had become his eyes.