September 1992
Casey couldn’t permit herself to think about the events of the weekend in Flagstaff with Kathryn. She was starting the T-38 phase of pilot training in two days, and she had to focus her attention and energy on preparing for that.
Flying the supersonic T-38, the “White Rocket,” had been her life’s dream for as long as she could remember. Studying her flight manual, Casey continued to be impressed at what this jet could do. It was twice the size of a T-37 and twice as fast. It had afterburners on the engines and cruised at over four hundred knots. It was newer than the T-37 and had more advanced instruments. Casey couldn’t wait to get her hands on this plane. She could not lose sight of the goal of her life for an attraction to a woman, any woman, even if that woman was Kathryn.
Despite her efforts to not think about her, Casey kept hearing Kathryn’s voice in her head. As she was making her flash cards to learn the T-38 emergency procedures and operations limits, she heard Kathryn saying, “All knowledge can be divided into three areas: either need to know, nice to know, or nits.” Kathryn had taught her how to study, to prioritize, and to learn a new airplane.
She wanted to talk to Trish and Rhonda about everything that had happened with Kathryn in Flagstaff, but she couldn’t bear recounting the story of Kathryn’s rejection. It was too sad and pathetic.
*****
Casey arrived early to the T-38 squadron building. There were eight flights instead of the six in the T-37 squadron, and the building looked similar but slightly different from the Tweet squadron. The main hallway was darker and it smelled a little like a men’s locker room. The pilots returning from their flights wore G-suits, also known as “go fast pants.” They were olive drab, worn over the legs of the flight suit like cowboy chaps, and the guys loved to swagger in them. Casey wondered what they felt like when you were wearing them in the plane.
She glanced into the flight room of Tipper Flight. Their flight patch was a Playboy bunny drinking out of a champagne glass, and there was a giant mural of a naked woman’s silhouette along an entire wall. Casey found it tasteless and offensive and was grateful she wasn’t in that flight. The overall impression of the T-38 squadron was one of macho men, wannabe fighter pilots strutting about like roosters with excess testosterone. It didn’t matter. Casey would do whatever it took to pass this phase of training, and she would not be intimidated by anyone.
Casey was assigned to Gombey Flight and looked for her name on the big schedule board to see who her IP would be. She said a silent prayer that she would get a good instructor this time. Her IPs last name was Pruitt and she looked for his table in the room but didn’t find it. “Tompkins?” the head scheduler asked her.
“Yes, sir,” Casey answered.
“Your instructor is a guest help IP, Major Pruitt, and you can sit at my table.”
“Thanks,” she replied. Her tablemate was Tom Jenkins, a guy she didn’t know very well, but he was a captain like her and a former navigator.
“Hi, Casey, good to see you again,” Tom said as he extended his hand.
“Hi, Tom, good to see you.”
The first day was all briefing items and life support checks where Casey got fitted for her G-suit. It was a very tight lower body suit with air bladders against her stomach, thighs and calves. The air bladders inflated automatically when you pulled Gs to improve your G tolerance.
The life support technician told her, “This will not prevent you from blacking out. It only gives you another two Gs of resistance. The most important thing about this G-suit is that when you feel it squeeze your legs, that will tell you when you are pulling Gs, and to get on your anti-G straining maneuver and then you won’t black out.” What a revelation.
Casey saw her name on the schedule board with her new instructor pilot, Major Pruitt, for her first sim ride. Casey had learned all her prefight checklist flows and felt prepared but also nervous.
“Hi, y’all! Where’s my next victim?” The whole flight turned to see who was making the loud entrance. A short, stocky, bald-headed man with a neck as thick as his head strolled into the flight room. He had a giant grin on his face and was wearing a worn, faded flight suit. His name tag read “Pruitt.”
“Oh, no,” Casey muttered. She stood up to greet him.
“You must be Casey. Glad to meet you. Sit down, sit down,” he said with a Southern drawl as thick as molasses. He reached out to shake her hand.
“Nice to meet you, sir.” His hand was rough and sturdy like he’d just walked off the plantation.
“Oh, Jesus, don’t be calling me ‘sir.’ Just call me Bulldog. Get out your notepad and write down everything I say.”
He gave her exact pitch attitudes, airspeeds, and power settings for the initial maneuvers. It reminded her of the way Kathryn instructed, very succinct and precise.
“All right, missy, let’s get out there and slip some simulated surlies.”
“Okay, Bulldog.” How the hell did I end up with this redneck old fucker as my IP? At least he would be sitting behind her in the rear seat instead of next to her when he yelled at her.
The wall of cool air-conditioning in the sim building was a welcome escape from the Arizona summer heat. The first thing Casey noticed when she climbed into the front seat of the T-38 sim was how compact this plane felt. It was like a hot little sports car. The instruments were newer and the attitude indicator was huge compared to the meatball-sized one in the T-37.
Bulldog stood next to her on the sim platform. “Show me your preflight setup.”
Casey smoothly went through the tests and checks of the instruments.
“Well, somebody’s been practicing. Now do an engine start.”
Casey knew the engine start procedures and she announced the start parameters as the engines came to life.
“Very nice, missy.” He had a teasing, good ol’ boy tone in his voice.
“This little bugger up on top of the glare shield is the most important difference between a Tweet and a T-38. It’s the AOA indicator, and why do we care about this?”
“That’s the angle of attack display. It shows when you are flying near the stall speed.”
“Correct. But I like to call this the life-or-death-o-meter. You need to keep this bad boy in the green donut or you will stall the jet. I’ll hop in the backseat and we’re going to have some fun.”
Casey was excited but a little apprehensive as she closed the canopy and realized she was by herself in the front seat.
“Casey, can you hear me?” Bulldog said over the flight intercom.
“Yes, sir, I’ve got you loud and clear.” He had a smooth baritone voice, and hearing his disembodied words felt like God was talking to her.
“You’re loud and clear also. I’m going to show you the first takeoff, then have you try one. You have to hold the brakes hard to keep from moving during the engine run-up because this little sweetheart wants to get in the air. Push the throttles up to mil power, check the engine gauges, then push the throttles over the hump into max afterburner power, check for two good nozzle swings, this confirms the burners are lit, release brakes, and hang on.”
The sim leapt forward with a lurch as Casey watched the speed rapidly increase. “Speed one hundred thirty-five, rotate to five degrees nose up, and we lift off at one sixty. Safely airborne, gear up, flaps up immediately, and accelerate to three hundred knots.” Everything happened so fast Casey was mentally still on the runway as they climbed through ten thousand feet at four hundred knots. Crap, I’m so behind this jet!
“Casey, you take her and fly around a little. Hold your speed at four hundred knots and your altitude at fifteen thousand feet.”
“My jet.” Casey was all over the sky with wild speed and altitude fluctuations. The stick was super sensitive and she couldn’t get the airplane under control.
“Whoa, Nelly, my jet,” Bulldog said. “This baby is very touchy. Don’t try to move the stick, just think about putting a tiny bit of pressure on it. Try it again.”
Casey tried again by holding the stick lightly with her fingertips and got slightly better. She remembered the exercise Kathryn had her do of holding a pencil in her hand to prevent a death grip on the stick. She tried some turns.
“Just drag that big pitot tube right across the horizon to make a level turn. It’s easier than in the Tweet because you’re sitting on the centerline of the jet. Try a ninety-degree bank turn.”
Casey did more turns like he instructed, and she nailed her altitude. Sweet!
Back in the flight room, Casey wrote down everything she’d seen, and her first sim in the White Rocket hadn’t been great, but it wasn’t awful either.
“Overall grade, Good. You know your stuff, missy. Keep it up. Me and the boss are having a barbecue at the house this Saturday at 1600 hours. You will be there. This is a mandatory social event. Here’s the directions.” He handed her a scribbled note.
*****
Casey abhorred these Air Force social activities. She always felt so awkward. The men would be outside talking with their hands about flying and the wives would be in the kitchen talking about babies and spit-up. She didn’t feel particularly welcome in either group. She usually had to fortify herself with several belts of liquid courage before she could even walk through the door. She drove over to Bulldog’s house on base and saw Kathryn’s bright red Mustang convertible. Great, now it will be even more uncomfortable.
When she walked in, she was assaulted with the blaring sound of country music and she recognized both the T-37 and T-38 squadron commanders, many of the flight commanders, lots of IPs, and the wing commander. This was a who’s who of all the pilots at Willie.
“Casey, I want you to meet the Boss.” Bulldog grabbed her arm and led her into the kitchen.
“Hon, this is my new stud, Casey.”
“Hi, Casey, welcome. I’m Merrilee, you know, like in ‘roll along.’ We’re so glad you could join us.” She was the epitome of Southern charm with long, dark hair teased so high it almost touched the top of the doorway. Her Southern drawl felt like warm honey.
“Casey, this here’s our boy, Chester Junior. Chester, darling, meet Daddy’s new student,” Merrilee said.
“Hello,” he said in a tiny voice. He was about nine with the moon face of a child with Down syndrome.
Casey felt her presence behind her before she saw her.
“Oh, Kathryn, there you are. Will you set these salads on the table, hon?” Merrilee asked.
“Sure thing, Merrilee. These look delicious,” Kathryn answered. She exchanged a hot glance with Casey as she carried the food. Casey helped with the food and brushed her elbow against Kathryn’s arm as they set them on the table.
“Hi, how are you?” Casey asked.
“I’m good. How about you?”
“I’m okay, a little overwhelmed with the T-38, but overall, good.”
“I’m glad to hear that. Everyone is overwhelmed with the T-38 at first, but Bulldog is a great IP.”
“Really? I’m not sure what to make of him. Rednecks from the South are not usually the kind of people I like to hang around with.”
“Don’t let the Southern accent fool you, Casey. He’s one of the best pilots you’ll ever fly with. Check out his office down the hall.”
Casey glanced around to make sure no one noticed her as she slipped down the hall to the office. She peeked in and saw walls covered with plaques, diplomas, certificates, and awards: Top Graduate-Fighter Weapons School, Distinguished Graduate F-16 Qualification Course, magna cum laude from MIT, T-38 Instructor Pilot of the Year, USAF Test Pilot School. This guy is no slouch.
Casey noticed Kathryn sitting with the T-37 squadron commander, two flight commanders, and Bulldog. It seemed like Kathryn was avoiding her on purpose. She also saw her former IP, Lieutenant Carter, sitting with another guy. She didn’t know who he was, but she felt an instant dislike for him. He had greasy hair, pockmarked skin, and a sneer on his face. The two of them were laughing and pointing at Kathryn. She wanted to punch him in the face. She went over to sit with some other T-38 student pilots.
“So you’re Bulldog’s new stud?” one of the guys asked her.
“Yes, I’m Casey. Just started this week. Are you his students?” she asked.
“I’m Jeff, I’m in Shatsi. This is Carlo, he’s in Beer Can, and this is Ed, he’s in Boysan. We’re all at different phases in training. Carlo graduates in two weeks. He’s got an F-15 to Kadena, Japan.”
“Congrats, Carlo. You must be glad that you’re almost done with training.”
“I’m having fun right now. All my check rides are done and Bulldog has been showing me some fighter maneuvers. You won’t believe what they can do in this jet at Fighter Lead-In Training. I can’t wait,” Carlo answered.
Casey felt a twinge of jealousy because women were not allowed to fly a fighter aircraft. She wanted to make a comment about women being discriminated against but decided to keep her thoughts to herself. “So how do you like Bulldog as an IP?”
“He’s the best,” they answered in unison. That’s quite an endorsement.
Casey rose to thank her hosts and was hoping to get a chance to talk to Kathryn. “Merrilee, thank you so much for dinner. It was all delicious. I need to get home and study, so I will say good night.”
“Casey, you are so welcome. I’m happy to have met you. You just come on over anytime you want to. You are always welcome here.” Merrilee was sincere, and her warmth gave Casey a lump in her throat.
*****
As the party started to break up, Kathryn pulled Bulldog aside. “How’s she doing so far?”
“Well, Kath, it’s still early, but so far, she’s okay. She knows her stuff, but we’ll just have to see if she can accelerate her brain to keep up with the T-38. I’ll keep you in the loop. If she starts to have problems, you’ll be the second to know. She’ll be the first to know when I kick her ass!”
“Thanks, Bulldog, I appreciate it.”
“Anything for you, darlin’. Why are you so interested in this one? I know you like to help out all the gals, but what’s up with Casey?”
“I don’t know, really. There’s just something special about her. I think she’s a natural pilot, and you know as well as I do how very rare those are.”
“That I do know, Kath. I’ll do my best with her, as always. I better go help the Boss clean up. Thanks for coming. It’s always great to see you.”
“Thanks, Bulldog, it was fabulous, as always. Good night.” Kathryn genuinely enjoyed spending time with their family. They always made her feel at home.
She walked to her car feeling conflicted about Casey. She wanted to see her, and she was as gorgeous as ever, but her attraction to Casey was so dangerous for both of them. All it took was just the suspicion of being gay to destroy your life in the Air Force. At least she’d arranged for Casey to have the best chance to succeed by getting her the best IP in the squadron. She was startled by a figure stepping out of the dark toward her. Casey.
“Kathryn, I need to talk to you.”
“Casey, you scared the crap out of me. We can’t talk here. We’ll be seen by someone. Drive over to the bleachers at the softball field. I’ll meet you over there.”
“All right, I’ll be there in five minutes.”
Kathryn was dreading this conversation with Casey. She knew what Casey was going to say, and there was no way to avoid hurting her. None of the possible outcomes was good.
Casey was sitting in the dark on the first row of the bleachers.
“Are you avoiding me, Kathryn? Why?”
“No, it’s just that we are under constant scrutiny, and you and I can’t be seen together. I’m sorry, Casey.”
Casey reached over and took Kathryn’s hand in hers. It was as warm and soft as she remembered. “I need to talk to you about what happened in Flagstaff.”
“Casey, there’s nothing to talk about. I already told you there can’t be anything between us because you are a student and I’m an IP.”
“I need to know if you feel anything for me. I understand how the Air Force works. I’ve been around for four years and I’ve had friends kicked out for being gay. I’ve seen the witch hunts and I know how to be discreet. But I felt a real connection with you when we were in Flagstaff, and I need to know if you feel anything for me, or was it just my wishful thinking. Please tell me the truth.”
Kathryn paused for a long moment. She had a choice to make. She could tell Casey that she felt nothing for her and that would be the end of it. They would go their separate ways. But that would be a lie, and for some reason she couldn’t bring herself to lie to Casey—not now, not ever.
“I felt a connection too, Casey. It’s just that we can’t do anything about it.”
Casey squeezed her hand a little tighter. “I understand that. You need to know that I’m willing to wait. I’ll wait until I’ve graduated from pilot training, then we can decide what to do. But can I see you on the weekends, away from this place?”
“No.” Kathryn’s heart hurt to say that.
She stood up to leave when Casey gently pulled her down to place a soft kiss on her lips. Kathryn tasted the salt of a tear on Casey’s lips.