One Wounded Pilot

By Robert H Cherny

US Army Warrant Officer Second Class Rachel Levine suffers from burns to her face and shoulder. Her leg and wrist have been broken. She has spent the last few months in Army hospitals before being allowed to return home. She suffers from the types of stress disorders one would expect of a combat veteran, but the burns on her face have scorched more than her skin. They have made her question her understanding of herself.
Her road to recovery will involve her extended family, her employees at the company she and her sister have inherited from their father, and a court case where she defends not only her honor but that of her newfound friends.
Thoroughly grounded in a strongly religious background, she finds that she must forgo one of the most sacred holidays to assist her police officer brother-in-law by piloting a helicopter performing search and rescue missions in the face of an approaching forest fire. This mission is exactly the sort of mission she ran in combat and is the situation she fears the most. Facing her fears with the help of her family and friends, they fly into the smoke to perform the rescues. This book is suitable for pre-teens through adults, but it is not suitable for evangelicals. CRT TRIGGER WARNING

• Language: English
• Publisher: Robert H Cherny
• Release date: Mar 21, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005999216

Robert H Cherny

Writing has always gotten me in trouble. Still does.I have been a fan of science and speculative fiction since I found it in the young people's section of the library. In grade school, I devoured works by Heinlein, Norton, Asimov, and Huxley among others. By the time I had finished high school, I had read every science fiction book in the town's library.When I was in high school I wrote short stories instead of paying attention in math class. This did not help my math grade and would have serious consequences a few years later.In college, I could be counted on for the divergent opinion. This was after my failed math forced a complete redirection of my life plan. A disastrous Freshman year at Brandeis University, forced a reevaluation of reading materials. Switching majors to theater brought exposure to Shaw, Strindberg, Ibsen, Stoppard, Pinter, Shakespeare, and a host of young would-be playwrights. As a technical theater major, I found that the quantity of material to which I was exposed often surpassed the quality. Too busy to do any writing of his own, I devoted his time to supporting the efforts of others.The Vietnam War brought a tour of duty in South Carolina and the opportunity to begin graduate work at the University of South Carolina. While in the Air Force, my anti-war sentiments did not become an issue, because I kept them secret. I did no writing except for my graduate school classes which I took while still in service. Even here, I was ever the contrarian, unwilling or unable to go where the others went. Fortunately, as a design major, my writing was of less concern than my draftsmanship. The war ended and with less than a month to go on my MA, and no job opportunities in sight, I left school lacking only my thesis and took a paying job at Ringling Brothers Barnum and Bailey Circus World in Haines City Florida Master's degrees in the theater were not worth much in the aftermath of the Vietnam War.Fortunately, through a series of unlikely coincidences, I landed a job as technical director of the then brand new Tupperware Convention Center. At the time, it was the only full-time convention center in Central Florida. I would stay there for twenty years earning an MBA along the way although my work schedule left little time for either reading or writing except for articles in technical journals.My sudden departure from Tupperware provided the time to return to reading and writing. "Stagehands Walk" started in this period with the gracious help from the writers in the CompuServe Writers Forum. The email tag and the website name "Stagewalker" derive from this book. I returned to devouring speculative fiction reading authors like David Weber, John Ringo, Anne McCaffrey, CJ Cherryh, Kim Harrison, Tom Clancy, and Clive Cussler.A short stint at Disney Event Productions introduced me to the power of "Pixie Dust" although it would be six more years before I would figure out how to turn it into a novel, the "Fairies" series.I left Disney for Paradise Show and Design which later became "The Launch Group" where I returned to my roots in live event technical support. I took a short detour to open the Silver Spurs Arena in Kissimmee, Florida before returning to Paradise from where I have since retired."Don't give up your day job."

Book preview

One Wounded Pilot

And the Family that Loves Her

By Robert H. Cherny

Copyright 2018 by Robert H. Cherny

This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part without written permission.

This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

This book is licensed for your enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please buy your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this and all authors.

Like most of my work, this book is suitable for preteens through adults but is not suitable for evangelicals.

Chapter One

Struggling with her crutches, recently discharged US Army Warrant Officer Second Class Rachel Levine staggered from the taxi. The seam in her dress uniform had been opened to allow room for the cast on her leg. She could have worn a skirt, but with the difficulties of moving around, she felt that the pants version of the uniform would be safer. A black wrist brace poked out from the sleeve of her jacket. Bandages obscured part of her face. The taxi driver carried the luggage to the porch and set the suitcases at the feet of the woman who was waiting at the top of the steps.

The woman on the porch shouted, Welcome home!

It’s good to be home, Sis.

The woman on the porch turned back into the house and shouted, Mikey, Gabrielle, Aunt Rachel’s here. Come help with the luggage.

Rachel was about to protest that she did not need help when she heard a two-fingered wolf whistle from the porch across the street. She turned to see two older women waving and beckoning for her to come to them.

Hey, Hotshot, get over here! One of the women shouted. The other giggled.

Dozens of yellow ribbons festooned the trees in the front yard. Rachel wondered how she could have missed that on her ride there.

Rachel paid the taxi driver and looked back at her sister. She motioned for her to visit the ladies as she and the kids hauled the luggage inside.

Hotshot had been her nickname in high school. She hated it then and was not exactly fond of it now, but the woman who called to her could call her whatever she wanted and get away with it. The woman’s kids were a few years older than her, and they had long ago moved away, but the woman had always been her most reliable confidante. She had been a surrogate grandmother to half the kids on the block. Still, the well-intentioned Welcome Home sign over the front porch and the yellow ribbons did not exactly have the desired effect. Warrant Officer Levine sighed as she attempted to cross the tree-lined street.

Warrant Officer Rachel Levine had become proficient at maneuvering with the crutches when she was on firm ground in the months since her helicopter had been shot down. The burns were mostly confined to her face and upper arm. The injury to her wrist and the burns were almost healed. The cast on her leg would come off soon. Stairs were still a challenge. Getting into and out of vehicles was difficult, but her capabilities were improving. Still, her mobility came at a price. Every step hurt. Despite the pain, being home was better than being in a hospital bed.

Mrs. Overton, Mrs. Bishop, thank you for the lovely sign over the porch, but I am not a hero.

But you are our hero, right, Mildred?

Yes, Natalie, she is. Does a conquering war hero hug a lonely old lady?

Rachel laughed. Of course. Since when has either of you been lonely?

Since you left?

I don’t believe that for a minute. She held out her arms.

Group hug!

The three stood on the porch for a long embrace while Rachel did her best to not fall over.

We heard you brought home a bunch of wounded soldiers even though your helicopter was on fire.

Rachel shook her head. It wasn’t on fire most of the time, only at the end. I was scared. I knew that if I crashed into enemy territory, I would not last a week. They don’t treat American women very well over there. They like women pilots even less, and Jewish women, especially Jewish pilots, don’t stand a chance. If I wanted to live, I had to come back, and that meant bringing everyone else back with me.

But, you did bring them home.

Yes, I did. I totaled the chopper to do it, but we did make it back to base, barely, and everyone lived to tell about it. We crashed just inside the perimeter fence.

Any landing you can walk away from is a good landing, right?

I didn’t walk away from that one.

Rachel turned to look inside the house and the source of a strange noise. What is that I’m hearing?

Abigail and Barney are practicing for their Bar Mitzvahs.

Is Abigail thirteen already? Have I been gone that long?

Yes, and yes. Rachel, you’ve been gone half a lifetime. You can’t expect to waltz back here and find everything as it was, Mrs. Bishop scolded.

I understand.

Abigail was less than a year old when you joined the Army. She only knows you from video chat and your infrequent visits, Mrs. Overton added.

Those weren’t always wonderful, Rachel admitted.

It’s been two years since the last time you’ve been back. That visit was a disaster. You’ve missed a lot. Kids grow fast, Mrs. Bishop said.

It’s not like I’ve written to the family as I should.

You did know that your father died.

Yes, the doctors wouldn’t let me come to the funeral.

That’s what we heard.

I heard that Karen took over the business.

Your sister is smart, and she’s done an excellent job with the company. You should be proud of her. You know your dad sold a lot of air conditioners in this town and most of the towns around here.

I remember. Dad loved his work and always did the best he could for people.

Your dad was the best. We miss him.

So why are Abigail and Barney practicing here? I would think they would be in their own houses.

They’re thirteen. They want to be together. Besides, they don’t want to embarrass themselves in front of their families. They don’t want anyone to hear them make mistakes. They know we won’t pick on them every time they hit a wrong note. Do you remember what you were like at thirteen? Would you have trusted yourself alone with a member of the opposite sex without supervision?

Probably not.

Your sister was adamant that they are not left alone for more than a few minutes at a time. We agreed to chaperone. They’re adorable together, and they’re good for each other. You’ll see.

Well, Karen comes by her concerns naturally, Rachel observed.

You were no slouch in that department either, as I remember.

Aunt Rachel!

A young girl came barreling out of the house and almost knocked Rachel over before she realized that the crutches were not as much support as they seemed. A boy followed her. Where the girl was excited to see her heroic aunt, the boy kept his eyes downcast and avoided contact.

Aunt Rachel, this is my boyfriend, Barney. Barney, this is my Aunt Rachel just back from Afghanistan.

Pleased to meet you, ma’am, Barney whispered.

The pleasure is mine, Rachel replied.

How was your flight? Was the seat cramped with the cast? Abigail bubbled with excitement.

The gate agent upgraded me to first class, Rachel replied.

That was nice. Did you sit next to anyone famous?

No, but I sat next to a very nice lady who owns a string of car dealerships.

What did you talk about?

Finding and keeping good salespeople. She said that’s the key to her success.

Sounds boring, Abigail said.

Rachel laughed. It was fascinating.

Mrs. Bishop leaned over to Rachel, So, Hotshot, how many broken hearts did you leave over there?

None, Rachel replied.

Abigail raised an eyebrow, Really? Mom seems to think otherwise.

I thought you had a relationship with some hunk-a-licious fighter pilot, Mrs. Overton said. She started to sing Danger Zone, complete with hand motions until Rachel cut her off.

Yeah, that didn’t work out, and it was two years ago. The bastard rotated back to the States and told me that it had been real, and it had been fun, but it hadn’t been real fun.

That’s cold! Abigail said.

Yeah, well, what can I say?

Mrs. Bishop offered, When you were in school, you could have had your pick of any of the boys there.

Perhaps, but that never worked out either, Rachel admitted.

Not for lack of trying, Mrs. Overton pointed out.

So, you’re a footloose and fancy-free, Hotshot, Mrs. Bishop said with a giggle, knowing full well that Rachel bristled at her teasing her with the nickname.

Rachel pointed to the cast that covered her ankle to her knee and half her thigh. I would hardly say that I was footloose.

But we do need to fix you up with someone nice before someone evil gets his claws into you, Mrs. Overton said.

Rachel sighed. Mrs. Overton, with all due respect, you tried to fix me up with a dozen boys when I was in high school, and every single one was a disaster. Don’t do it again. Please?

Mrs. Bishop smiled, Besides, there aren’t a lot of available men your age worth having in this small town.

Stop it. Please? I need to get healthy. I need to let my bones mend, and the scars need time to heal. I need a lot of physical therapy, and none of that is pleasant. I do not need distractions.

Well! Be that way!

Rachel slowly shook her head as an idea came to her. Rachel assessed her niece staring at her with admiration. This hero-worship thing was going to get old fast. Abigail, what do you do after school?

I’m in a couple of clubs, but nothing I care about.

Barney, what about you?

Just chess club, ma’am.

I need a favor, Rachel said. Except, I don’t expect to get something without giving something in return. I need someone to help me with my physical therapy. I can’t do it alone, and I won’t go to the clinic every day to be treated like a hardship case. I’ve seen the looks in their eyes. They mean well, but I don’t want to deal with it. So, here’s the plan. I’ll assist you with your Bar Mitzvah passages and your homework. I’ll be your chaperone when you need one and be the friend you can talk to when you need that.

Will you teach us to fly? Abigail asked.

Now, you’re pushing your luck, kid, Rachel replied.

Rachel was in the top ten in high school and the top one percent in college before she dropped out to join the Army, Mrs. Bishop offered. She would have been valedictorian if she hadn’t been in trouble so much. I am sure she can help you with your schoolwork. But, don’t give up on the flying thing.

If we want to go to a concert that our parents won’t let us go to alone, will you go with us?

If they agree, yes, but I do have rules.

Cool, Abigail said.

Barney smiled for the first time. He asked, Will you need us to change your bandages? I heard you were burned. The tape across your nose is peeling back.

Rachel reached up to check the tape.

Rachel, don’t pick your nose! Mrs. Overton shouted.

Rachel stood open-mouthed at the two grinning older women.

Gotcha, Mrs. Bishop said.

Barney said, Would you like me to fix that for you?

If you can, Rachel replied.

We can. We’ll be gentle. I hear burns are very painful, Abigail added.

It’s not something I want to do again, Rachel admitted.

Barney gently smoothed the tape back down and patted it into place.

Thank you.

Mrs. Bishop said, You two run along, or you’ll be late for dinner.

Yes, Mrs. Bishop.

Once they were out of earshot, Mrs. Bishop said, His mom died two years ago. About a year ago, his grades started to slip. Abigail’s been doing everything she can to help him, but I think he needs more than she can give. Perhaps by them helping you, you can help them.

Rachel smiled. I’m up for that.

Abigail turned on Barney as soon as they were out of sight. Barney, don’t get any ideas.

What? What did I do?

I saw the way you looked at her. She’s old enough to be your mother.

Barney stopped and faced Abigail. His face was red with anger. I don’t care what you think you saw. She’s in pain, and we can help her. You are my girlfriend. Don’t mess it up being jealous. I’m not that stupid, and I’m angry that you think I might be. Don’t do it again.

Abigail blinked. Barney had never spoken to her in that tone. Maybe her mother was right. She just needed to make him angry occasionally for him to bring out his true colors. I won’t. I promise.

Thank you.

Chapter Two

Warrant Officer Rachel Levine gingerly made her way back across the street. The two delightful elderly ladies who had been such an influence on her teen years had spent the last half hour regaling her with stories of the misdeeds and misadventures of many of her high school classmates. It had been the first time she had laughed since the crash. Her sides hurt as much from the laughter as from her injuries. Upon reflection, she realized how well they had understood her mood and had known what she needed, as they had always done when she was a teen.

Gabrielle held the door for her when he finally arrived at the porch. Welcome home, Aunt Rachel.

It’s good to be home. Thank you for holding the door and hauling in my luggage.

Gabrielle smiled. Mom said to tell you to come back to the kitchen once the widows cut you loose. It sounded like you were having a good time over there.

I was. I needed that.

I love them, Gabrielle said. They are my best friends.

They are good friends to have, Rachel agreed as she hobbled to the kitchen.

Hey, sis, Rachel said as she entered the kitchen. Thank you for letting me stay here.

It’s your home, too, Karen replied as she slid a big dish into the oven.

Perhaps, but I’ve been gone so long, and I was not the one who stayed to care for Mom and Dad when they fell ill. I will try not to overstay my welcome.

Nonsense. You stay for as long as you need to stay. I’ll hear no more about it.

Okay.

Do you want your old room?

No, I think Abigail’s in there now. It wouldn’t be right to kick her out. If it’s okay with you, I’ll take Dad’s old man-cave in the basement.

I haven’t dared to go in there since he died. After Mom died, he spent most of the time when he wasn’t at work down there just staring at the television. It hasn’t been dusted or cleaned since that last time we took him to the hospital.

I’m sure it will be fine. Is there anything I can do to help?

You can set the table.

For how many?

There’s five of us, you make six, and the widows make eight.

I had forgotten how funny they could be.

They are a hoot.

I missed them almost as much as I missed you.

Oh, go on!

Rachel reached around her sister and hugged her, resting her head on her shoulder. Karen was so much taller than Rachel that putting her head on Karen’s shoulder was something of a stretch.

Don’t be taking liberties with my wife! A large man in a police uniform entered through the back door. She may be your sister, but she is my wife, and I am a very jealous sort.

Hello, Tom. Congratulations on your promotion to deputy chief.

Welcome home, Rachel. Thanks. Look, you can’t hug my wife without hugging me.

Rachel laughed out loud. She tried to wrap her arms around the man’s barrel chest, but she got as high as the bottom of his ribcage and hugged him as intensely as she had embraced her sister.

Abigail poked her head in the door and shouted, Group hug!

Abigail wrapped her arms around her father and aunt as the others came running into the kitchen, and they joined in the hug. Finally, with a giggle, Karen entered the mass of bodies entangled together in her kitchen. After a few moments of giggling, laughing, backslapping, and a few kisses as appropriate, they separated.

That’s it! All of you set the table. The widows are joining us for dinner.

Tom left to change into civilian clothes while Rachel, Gabrielle, Michael, and Abigail set the table. The silver they put out was the set Rachel had given her sister when she and Tom had married. It reminded Rachel of how long he had been away. Several times, as they arranged the dishes, glasses, and silver, Rachel saw Abigail carefully observing her. Rachel wondered what was going through the girl’s mind, but as with most things in her life, she knew she would find out soon enough.

Mikey and Gabrielle resembled their mother in miniature, but more even at that, they favored their grandmother. Abigail was her father’s daughter, and there was no mistaking the family resemblance. Rachel enjoyed their easy laughter and outgoing personalities. She had already missed too much of their growing up. She resolved not to miss anymore.

The table was set in no time. Rachel, Abigail, Mikey, and Gabrielle dragged the luggage downstairs to the old man-cave where Rachel would take up her residence. The layers of accumulated dust quickly succumbed to their intense onslaught. A dozen dusting cloths were sacrificed to the cause. Gabrielle insisted on using the fuzzy duster with the long stick and created as much dust as she cleaned. Mikey was deliberate and systemic about cleaning up the messes his little sister made, but neither of the children listened when Abigail tried to take charge.

The luggage was unpacked and stowed. Fresh linens were put out. Abigail even had time to fetch her Chinook, Pave Hawk, and Blackhawk helicopter models from her room. They proudly displayed the markings from Rachel’s squadron in Afghanistan. The models were given a place of honor on the shelf above the desk. Gabrielle insisted on dusting them before putting them on display because everyone knew Abigail’s room was a disaster. Even though Rachel only flew the Chinook, the other helicopters assigned to Rachel’s squadron intrigued Abigail enough to build the models and carefully paint them for display.

Abigail was about to show Rachel one of her favorite computer games when Karen called them all to dinner.

Once they had been seated, Karen said, Abigail, you do the blessings tonight.

Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the Universe, who has brought Rachel home to us more or less in one piece.

Amen.

Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the Universe, who provides us the food we eat.

Amen.

We ask you, Lord, to help us and guide us so we may make Rachel’s recovery as swift, painless, and as complete as possible.

Amen.

Mrs. Bishop said, May I offer one? We thank you, Lord, for the friendship, companionship, and support we share around this table and every day of our lives.

Amen.

After the blessings had been said and the first servings had been taken, Tom said, Rachel, I know you’re the engineer, and this is normally your purview, but we do need to discuss logistics.

Rachel smiled. Probably a good idea.

When do you need to be where?

I have an appointment with an orthopedic specialist tomorrow at nine.

Which one?

Statewide Orthopedics. They’re next to the hospital.

"I’ll take you