One Hard Day

By Alan Featherstone

U.S. Air Force Lieutenant Cutler Walker is on a roll. He just graduated from Air Force pilot training and earned a coveted assignment to train as a fighter pilot, when disaster strikes. He and two others are involved in a horrendous accident, with life changing consequences. His early life could not have foretold this. The second son of an Army officer, his early years were unexceptional in every way. He flourished in college, though he faced a scurrilous attack on his honor, and suffered a falling-out with his father as a result. The accident changed the trajectory of his life and spurred him on his march to manhood. With the Lord as his copilot, Walker overcomes his injuries and faces his future with unbound optimism, and a newfound empathy for others who have had more than One Hard Day.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Covenant Books, Inc.
• Release date: Oct 28, 2022
• ISBN: 9781685261658

Book preview

Table of Contents

Title

Copyright

Acknowledgments

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

21

22

23

24

25

26

Author's Note

Beale Air Force Base, Marysville, California

About the Author

cover.jpg

One Hard Day

Alan Featherstone

ISBN 978-1-68526-164-1 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-68526-165-8 (Digital)

Copyright © 2022 Alan Featherstone

All rights reserved

First Edition

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Covenant Books

11661 Hwy 707

Murrells Inlet, SC 29576

www.covenantbooks.com

To those who have taken a hard fall and suffered greatly because of it and then gotten up; picked up the pieces; dusted themselves off; and gone on to lead full, rewarding, and admirable lives.

Acknowledgments

Following the embarrassing failure of the United States' invasion of Cuba in 1961, President Kennedy famously said, Victory has a hundred fathers and defeat is an orphan. Playing off his words a little, I would suggest that most books have only one author but many fathers and mothers. That is certainly true of this one.

Unless one is a truly gifted writer or well-known and connected, getting one's first book published can be an ordeal. Fitting neither of those two categories, I joined the North Carolina Writers' Network, led ably by its executive director for over a decade, Ed Southern, to learn the ropes. Ed suggested that I begin by hiring a professional editor to help me polish the manuscript. I took his advice and hired Robert Wallace, a much-published and award-winning writer. After Robert edited and critiqued my manuscript, I made most of his suggested changes and added a few of my own, and sent it back to him for a second review. Following his second review of the manuscript, I did some more tinkering with it and decided to try to get it published.

I sent it to about forty literary agents, hoping one would represent me and market it to publishers. Only one literary agent responded to my query, and that was to reject the manuscript. I then decided to contact publishers directly; and after about two dozen or more inquiries, I got a handful of replies, all rejections.

I honestly do not remember how my publisher, Covenant Books, and I first made contact; but I am grateful that we did. Ashley Baker, Covenant's acquisition agent, led me through the process and, after we had jumped through all the requisite hoops, put me in touch with Benjamin Kerchner, Covenant's publication assistant. He advised and ran interference for me throughout the publication process. Along the way, I worked with Felix who designed the cover, Albert who developed the page layout, and Francis and Lorraine, who edited the document numerous times. I thank them all.

Lastly, I want to acknowledge the hundreds of friends, family, and colleagues who have encouraged and helped me throughout my life. I've learned so much from them and will forever be in their debt. Foremost among them is my wife and soulmate for over forty years, Linda Lewis Featherstone. I especially commend her for putting up with my writer's angst these past seven years or so.

God bless you all.

Alan Featherstone

January 2022

1

Brooke Army Medical Center, San Antonio, Texas

1973

The clock at his bedside read 2:36. Whether that was morning or afternoon, he could not discern as the small room he was in was dimly lighted and had no windows. A newspaper on the nightstand was dated Monday, August 27, 1973. That could have been today or it could have been last year. Frankly, Cutty didn't much care. What he did care about was the fact that he was wired and tubed and connected to all sorts of medical gizmos and gadgets, and there were numerous monitors around his room that were blinking, beeping, buzzing, or otherwise being obnoxious. He knew he was in a hospital room but had no idea why. He was puzzling over this when his body overcame his curiosity, and he fell into a fitful sleep.

Cutty's brief period of wakefulness set off all manner of alarms, and within one minute, his room was filled with nurses and doctors and other medical personnel and his parents, Reggie and Kat Walker.

Over the next several days, Cutty would awaken periodically, though briefly, only to succumb to lengthy periods of sleep as if his body were saying to him, Dude, enough of this being awake stuff. You're still healing and you need your rest. There will be time for catching up later.

Seventeen days earlier, Cutty's parents were finishing up dinner and settling down to watch an old movie on TV when the phone rang. Kat picked up. Katherine Walker. May I help you?

Mrs. Walker, this is Dr. Harold O'Connor at Brooke Army Medical Center in San Antonio. Are you Lieutenant Cutler Walker's mother?

Yes, I am. What is this about, Doctor?

Mrs. Walker, your son was involved in an accident earlier today and was seriously injured. He was flown from Davis-Monthan Air Force Base in Tucson to Fort Sam Houston in San Antonio because he was badly burned, and we have extensive experience treating burn victims. He's in good care, but his condition is critical.

Kat, who's on the phone? Reggie demanded.

Some doctor in Texas. Says Cutty was in an accident and is in critical condition.

What the? Gimme the phone, he said as he took the phone. This is Major Reginald Walker. Who's this?

Major, this is Doctor—Lieutenant Colonel Harold O'Connor. I'm the attending physician for your son, Cutler. As I told your wife, he was in a bad accident and suffered some serious burns, and that is why he's here at Brooke.

What kind of accident?

Something involving an airplane. That's all I know. But Major Walker, I need to tell you that your son is on the edge. We're doing all we can to save him, but he might not survive. If you and your wife could come down here, I think that would be good.

Okay, we're on our way.

Major, I checked, and there is a Lear Jet leaving from Andrews Air Force Base in Maryland at 2230 hours tonight with five open seats, flying direct to Randolph AFB in San Antonio. If you and your wife can catch that flight, I'll have someone meet you at Randolph and bring you here.

We'll be on that flight, Doctor. Take care of our son, please.

You can count on that, Major.

*****

Cutty would learn later the extent of his injuries. He'd fractured his pelvis in three places and had undergone an extensive operation to repair that. This was a life-threatening condition because of the proximity of major blood vessels and the organs that are protected by the bowl-shaped pelvic girdle, such as the urinary bladder, the lower part of the digestive tract, and reproductive organs. He also had extensive burns over about 40 percent of his body. His entire right side—face, neck, shoulder, arm, hand, torso, and thigh—had second- and third-degree burns. His right ear was mostly burned off.

In addition to being intubated with a breathing tube, the doctors had established an intravenous (IV) line to provide medications and nutrients, and they had established two additional IVs just for fluids. Patients with extensive burn injuries can die quickly just for lack of bodily fluids, given the body's struggle to dissipate the heat generated by the burns. Thus, his body was continually wrapped with cool, damp bandaging, and he was continuously being fed fluids.

Once Cutty's condition was stabilized, the doctors began a regimen of skin graft operations to repair his broken and badly burned body. Dr. O'Connor had not been exaggerating when he told Reggie Walker that his son was near death.

Reggie and Kat caught the Lear and landed at Randolph AFB shortly after midnight. True to his word, Dr. O'Connor had an orderly from the hospital meet them on the flight line. Major and Mrs. Walker? he asked as he approached them on the parking ramp.

That's us, replied Walker. How's our son?

He's hanging in there, sir. I just talked to one of his nurses, and the next few hours are critical. I'm Staff Sergeant Benjamin Weiss. Let's get your bags loaded, and I'll take you directly to the hospital.

Thank you, Sergeant Weiss. We appreciate this more than you can know, said Kat.

You're most welcome, Ma'am. We take care of our own down here. The lieutenant is one of our own, and so are the two of you.

Thank you, Sergeant. Remind me to add you to our Christmas card list, said Reggie.

Actually, sir, I don't do Christmas. But a Hanukah card would be welcome, he said with a chuckle, as they pulled up to the hospital. Go on in and tell the attendant at the desk who you are. You'll be escorted directly to the critical care unit. We've arranged for you to stay in the Visiting Officers' Quarters for as long as you like. I'm going to take your bags there now and get you checked in. I'll bring your room keys back and leave them at the front desk. When you're ready, someone will take you there. Just focus on your son, and let us sweat the details.

"Todah, Benjamin," said Kat.

"Mazel tov," he said in return.

Reggie and Kat were escorted directly to the critical care unit where they were met by Dr. O'Connor. Harry O'Connor. I'm glad you were able to come on such short notice. Did Sergeant Weiss get you all squared away?

Benjamin's a keeper, Doc, said Reggie. How's Cutty?

He's stable right now. It was very iffy a few hours ago, but we think the worst is behind us. He's still unconscious, but that is to be expected, considering the extent of his injuries. In circumstances like this, unconsciousness is the body's self-defense mechanism. Basically, the body shuts down and allows the healing to progress. Cutty is in no pain and is not suffering at all right now. We aim to keep it that way as long as we can. To do that, we'll keep him fully sedated for at least a week, probably longer. Technically, he's in an induced coma. It's very common in situations such as this. We're fighting to save Cutty's life and spare him as much trauma as possible.

Okay. Okay. Doctor, when can we see our son? asked Kat, fighting back tears.

Right now, he said. But I must warn you, he is mostly covered in bandages, and like anyone in intensive care, he is hooked up to all manner of monitors and things. It can be a little frightening at first, but he's in good care and is doing as well as can be expected.

What's the outlook, Doc? asked Reggie.

Honestly, it's very dicey. Medically, we've got a handle on it. But it's mostly up to him. Is your son a fighter, Major Walker?

Oh, yeah. He's a fighter, said Walker, thinking back on the busted lip and cauliflower ear his son had given him last year when they had their little kerfuffle.

Well, then, I like his chances, said Dr. O'Connor. Now let's get suited up. We have to be very vigilant about not subjecting Cutty to infection. So we'll all be wearing sterile gowns, caps, and gloves. All you'll see of Cutty is part of his face and his left arm and hand. You may touch him there with your gloves on, but you may not kiss him. This is for his safety. One more thing: we really don't know yet if people who are badly injured and are unconscious are aware of what is going on around them or not. But let's assume that Cutty is. It's okay to talk to each other. And talk to him, reassure him, tell him you love him and are here for him. Tell him he's doing great and that he's getting the best care possible. But please do not give out any negative vibes and try not to cry. Leave all negative thoughts at the door. Only positive energy.

Got it. Let's do this. We want to see our son, said Walker.

Right. Now, when I open the door to his room, I want you to take a moment to look in on him and get over the shock of what you are about to see. Take a moment to compose yourselves.

Kat looked at Reggie; they said nothing, but they were in agreement. We're all about positive, Doctor, said Kat.

They were thankful Dr. O'Connor had prepared them for this, but truth be told, they weren't prepared. And it wasn't his fault. How, for goodness sake, does any parent prepare for walking in on his or her son and seeing him lying in a bed in a dark room, save for the various monitors and gizmos that blared and blinked and flashed messages and statuses, some good, some mundane, and some who-knows-what-the-hell, the smell of alcohol and this and that, all hospital smells? The doctors and nurses conversing just outside the room, the buzzing, ticking, beeping of the electronic arcade; his poor body assaulted by tubes and wires and all manner of dehumanizing medical paraphernalia, urinal and rectal catheter bags, recording stuff, pumping stuff, extracting stuff, all sucking the soul out of their son to save his life—how is one to prepare for this? One can't.

After the initial assault on their senses, Reggie and Kat noticed a nurse attending to Cutty. She was putting drops in his eyes. Excuse me, she said as she noticed them and Dr. O'Connor entering the room. I'm Captain Janice Strong. You must be Cutler's parents. I'm just finishing up here. He's doing fine. I'll leave you alone now and will check back in a little bit.

Thank you, Captain, said Kat as she, Walker, and O'Connor walked into the room and approached Cutty. Kat walked to the head of the bed and willed herself not to cry. She put her left hand on their son's face and her right hand on his shoulder while Reggie gently cradled Cutty's elbow, being careful not to touch the IVs that were inserted into his arm, and held his hand. That's all they could see of their son and all they could touch.

Reggie found his voice first. Cutty. Cutty, son. It's Mom and Dad. The doctor said that maybe you could hear us. I hope so because I want to tell you that everyone says you are doing great. You've got a long and difficult road ahead of you, but your mother and I know you've walked long and difficult roads before and as we've always done. We're going to walk this one together.

Cutty, dear, said Kat. Um, Doctor, could we have a moment alone with our son, please?

Of course, but only a minute or two. Then we need to make way for the doctors and nurses who check on him every few minutes, he said as he walked to the door. I'll be just outside.

Thank you, said Walker.

Cutty. It's Mom. I love you so much, honey. I surely do. You heard the doctor. We've only got a minute. Would you join Dad and me as we ask God for his blessing? Precious Lord. It's Cutty and Reggie and Kat here. We want to thank You for watching over Cutty these last few hours and ask that You keep him close as we go forward until he is fully recovered. You know we'll all do our part. Cutty has a lot of fight in him, and he has much to live for. Much to do in Your service and in service to others. We are, as always, forever in Your debt and we ask this of You in the name of Your Son, Jesus Christ. Amen.

Walker looked at Kat and knew she was about to break down. Cutty, we have to leave now, but we aren't going anywhere until you are well, he said. I promise you that. I love you, son.

Me too, Cutty, said Kat. I love you so much. Get some rest, dear. We'll be nearby.

They left Cutty's room and saw Dr. O'Connor down the hall by the nurses' station, conferring with Captain Strong. They were about to join them when Kat was overcome. She fell to her knees and sobbed. In an instant, Walker was on his knees, too, holding her tight, holding her close. Oh my God. Oh my God. Reggie, did you see him? Our beautiful son? Oh my God.

I saw him, sweetheart, Reggie said, fighting back tears of his own with little success. He'll be fine, honey. He's getting the best care possible. He's strong and we're strong and we're going to be strong together. We'll see this through.

He's not going to be fine, Reggie. Don't you see? Don't you see it? Our beautiful son will never be fine. Oh my God. Oh my God.

After they composed themselves, Reggie suggested that they get some fresh air. They walked outside through a side entrance and sat on a bench under a canopy. A light rain had begun to fall, and the air was markedly cooler than when they'd arrived just an hour before. The half-moon was ducking behind some grey clouds just above the horizon. All of this was lost on Reggie and Kat as they sat on that wooden bench, alone in their private world, she holding on to her husband of twenty-seven years, finding strength and resolve in his loving embrace; and he in the arms of the only woman he'd ever loved, the woman who'd given him three sons, one of whom needed them now more than ever.

Come daybreak, the rainstorm had subsided, the moon had succeeded in disappearing below the horizon, and the sun was making its first tentative appearance of the day. In the distance, a dog barked. The air was cool with a crisp breeze that freshened everything—except inside the hospital where everything reeked of alcohol and recent and near death.

Kat and Walker had continued their vigil through the night and into the next day, and after a day and a half of stressful wakefulness, fatigue took its toll. Kat, we need to get some rest, said Reggie. Let's go to the Q and get a few hours' sleep and then come right back. Cutty will be fine, but I'll ask Janice to give us a call if anything changes.

You go on, Reggie. I don't want to leave him just yet. Get some sleep, take a hot shower and freshen up, then come back. You can take the next watch.

And that's what they did. He will be fine, Kat, said Reggie. Cutty's got a world-class team in his corner. He's not in this fight alone. Hang tight, sweetheart. I'll be back in a few hours and take the next watch.

*****

Over the next two weeks, Cutty had only sporadic moments of wakefulness followed by long periods of sleep. Every few hours, the nurses would turn Cutty on his side or back to bathe him, change his bandages, and apply salves to his skin grafts and the stitched incisions from his pelvic surgery. This also aided in blood circulation and helped prevent bedsores. The doctors kept him on a steady diet of meds, including some potent painkillers, and he was pretty much out of it most of the time. Dr. O'Connor reminded them that this was intentional. Until Cutty's body had a chance to heal, he would be in horrible pain, primarily from the burns, so keeping him in a coma was for his own good.

Also, almost from the beginning, Cutty was receiving physical therapy. The PT was primarily to work his major muscles to keep them toned, keep the joints flexible, and to provide some flexing and stretching of his newly grafted skin to aid in its healing and keep it supple.

During that time, either Kat or Walker was at the hospital. They took turns trying to get some sleep and standing watch over their son. They soon came to understand that this was to be their new normal, and they settled in for the long haul.

The Walkers had prevailed upon the doctors, nurses, and other staff to not tell Cutty anything about the accident and to not answer any questions he might ask about it during his brief periods of wakefulness. They knew that the details would be heartbreaking and traumatic for him, and they were best equipped to break the news to him.

The day after Cutty regained full consciousness, he saw the results of his injuries for the first time. Captain Strong came by to put drops in his eyes and change his bandages, and this was the first time he had been fully conscious and awake for this. Janice, how scary is it?

How scary is what? Cutty.

Me. I mean, my new look.

Janice sat down on the bed beside him and said, Cutty, it's not scary. But your burns were severe, and you have a lot of scarring. Some will get better over time, some probably not. It's fair to say that you look a lot better than you did two weeks ago and not as good as you will look two weeks from now. But, Cutty—she looked into his eyes and held his hand—it's pretty bad. You will never look as you did before.

As she was saying that last, Dr. O'Connor was walking by, noticed that Janice was having a heart-to-heart with Cutty, and decided to drop in for just a minute.

Hi, Cutty. Janice. Cutty, I was just chatting with your parents. They're headed to the cafeteria for some gourmet vittles. Did you have a chance to talk to them this morning?

No. I've pretty much been asleep all morning. Just woke up about twenty minutes ago. Could we maybe cut back on whatever it is you guys are giving me that makes me sleep all the time? I'm missing all my favorite TV shows.

Consider it done. Janice, cut everything back by half, except the antibiotics. Cutty, you should notice a significant change within a day. If not, let me know, and we'll see what we can do. O'Connor noticed a nurse walking by and gave her a quick shout. Candy, I just saw Dr. Flanagan a few minutes ago. Could you please track her down and ask her to join us here right away?

Of course, Doctor.

Um, who's Dr. Flanagan? asked Cutty.

Captain Deborah Flanagan, Chief of Reconstructive Surgery, plastic surgery. The good news is that she has been with you on all of your surgeries, doing her magic. The better news is that she still has lots of magic available as necessary.

A captain is your chief plastic surgeon? asked Cutty.

Navy captain, Cutty, said O'Connor as Flanagan walked into the room.

Ah, Lieutenant Walker. Debbie Flanagan here. I believe that I have an unfair advantage in that I've known you for several weeks now, and you are meeting me for the first time, she said with a slight chuckle and a smile that would melt pretty much anything.

Nice to meet you, Doctor. You aren't the first woman to have had me at a disadvantage.

Good one, she said. So I take it this is the time for the great unveiling?

Yes, ma'am. Janice, could we just do this, please? Cutty said, unsuccessfully trying to stand. Um, Dr. O'Connor, I think I'm going to need a hand here.

O'Connor walked over and, sitting on the bed to Cutty's left side, said, Okay, Cutty, put your arm over my shoulders and grab on to my left sleeve. That's right. Now we'll stand up together, nice and easy. That's it. Good. Now just spread your legs a little to help with your balance, and let's just skootch back an inch or two so the backs of our buns are just touching the bed. Excellent. Now if you start to feel a little weak or dizzy or anything, we'll just sit back onto the bed. I am not going to let you fall.

Okay. Good. Thanks. I feel fine. Janice, over to you, Cutty said as he stood, facing the full-length mirror on the wall.

Okay. Here we go, said Janice as she grabbed a pair of scissors from the table and began to cut away the bandages on Cutty's head and face.

Lieutenant, I think— Dr. Flanagan started to say but fell silent when Cutty held up his hand, palm toward her, stopping her in her tracks. Janice cut away the bandages from his head and shoulder and then stopped to let him take it all in. When he said nothing, she continued and cut away the bandages on his arm and torso, stopping at his waist. Again, she paused for a few moments.

Cutty, you aren't wearing anything underneath the bandages here, she said.

Is there anyone in this room who hasn't seen me naked? Cutty asked. There being no answer, Cutty said, Please proceed, Janice. I think I'll survive the embarrassment.

So she did. When all the bandages had been removed, Cutty stood in front of the mirror, a statue showing no emotion. He just stood there, staring into the mirror, speechless. For the first time, he saw the extent of his injuries. The right side of his head, scalp, and face were badly scarred from the burns and subsequent skin grafts. His right ear had been burned to just a nub; he'd lost much of his hair and his right eyebrow, and his right nostril was mostly burned away, leaving his nose with a withered sinister look. His neck, shoulder, right arm and hand, right side of his torso, hip, and thigh were similarly burned and scarred, the skin grafts still new and not yet completely healed.

Again, Dr. Flanagan started to say something, but Cutty waved her off. After a full two minutes of complete silence in the room, Cutty nodded to Dr. O'Connor, and they leaned back and sat on the edge of the bed. Cutty let go of O'Connor's sleeve, put his face in his hands, and retreated deep within himself. Fully understanding Cutty's wishes by now, no one said a thing, but Janice retrieved a fresh warm blanket and wrapped it around him. She sat next to him on the bed, holding the blanket with one hand so it would not fall away, put her other hand on the side of his head, and held him close, saying nothing for just a minute. Or maybe it was two.

After a while, Cutty looked up, turned to Janice, the nurse who had been by his side since he arrived by helicopter several weeks before, and kissed her just above her forehead and nodded to O'Connor and Flanagan. Still, no one said a thing. Finally, Cutty broke the silence. Well, now, I'd say the man on the moon has nothing on me.

2

Brooke Army Medical Center and Randolph Air Force Base Hospital, San Antonio, Texas

1973

Later that afternoon, Cutty assaulted the nurses' station where his parents were chatting with some of the staff and said to no one in particular, I swear, if someone doesn't tell me what in tarnation happened to me, I'm going to bust out of this place and hitchhike to Tucson for some answers. Now who's going to step up and do the dirty deed?

That would be me, darling, said Kat.

And me too, said Walker. Let's take a walk, son.

Not yet ambulatory, Cutty was forced to take the walk seated in a wheelchair with two bottles of fluids hanging from a hook over his head that fed the two IVs still in his left arm. Walker pushed while Kat walked alongside them both. They made their way to the pediatric ward where there were a number of private family rooms, found one, and closed the door after entering. Cutty, are you sure you don't remember anything about that day? asked his mom.

Mom, it's all a blank for me. The last thing I can remember was going to happy hour—I think it was a Friday—and then staying at the club for dinner. I seem to remember that I couldn't drink much and wanted to go to bed early, but why is a mystery.

Cutty, you're right about it being a Friday, said his dad. You know how you would rent an airplane at the Tucson airport and just tool around, doing a little sightseeing or just having some fun. Well, you rented one Saturday morning.

So did I get in a bad accident en route to the airport?

No, hon, said Kat, you got to the airport just fine and rented the airplane and took off and were airborne for about an hour and a half. And—

Son, is any of this coming back to you? asked Reggie.

Not a bit.

Well, this is where it gets bad, Reggie continued. Apparently, your flight was uneventful until you got back to the airport. You called in and got landing clearance and were on final approach just over the runway when—

When what, Dad? Just spill it.

When you crashed into a fuel truck that had encroached onto the runway, said Kat, reaching out to hold Cutty's hand as she said so. Your airplane broke apart, and you were thrown clear. Then the airplane and fuel truck burst into flames.

But how did I get all these burns if I'd been thrown clear? Did I get doused with burning fuel?

No, Cutty, said Reggie. You were burned when you ran back to the airplane to—

Why would I do that? asked Cutty, Unless I…no…oh no… I had a passenger. I had a passenger?

Yes, Cutty, said Kat, and you went back into the airplane to rescue her. That's when you got your burns. The airplane and fuel truck were completely engulfed in flames.

Did she… I mean, did I…did I get her out?

Yes, you did, Cutty, said his dad. You got her out. Even as you carried her to safety, her clothes were burning. It was a brave thing you did, son.

Thank you, God. So she's all right? Cutty saw that his father's face had turned grim and that his mother was silently crying. The veil lifted, and Cutty wept too. Oh, please. Please. Tell me she's okay, Cutty pleaded, knowing that she wasn't.

Cutty, oh, Cutty, she didn't make it, Kat said through her tears which had turned to sobs. By the time the airport rescue team arrived, she had already died. I'm so sorry, sweetheart.

Almost a full minute passed with no words spoken. Cutty, having barely regained his composure, asked, Who was she? What was her name?

Her name was Melinda Browning, said Reggie. She was a schoolteacher. Do you remember her?

Melinda! Oh dear God. I had just met her a few days before. It was Melinda?

Yes, it was her, said Kat.

Cutty, you know her dad was the wing commander at DM, right? said Reggie.

Yes, she told me. But I hadn't met him or his wife yet. We were going to do that after our flight.

Cutty, you remember that? said Kat. Are you starting to remember this?

Mom, I remember that because Melinda and I had talked about it a few days before. Even after you telling me all of this, that Saturday is a complete blank for me. I can't believe it. Melinda dead by my hand.

Stop that crazy talk right now, Cutty. You were not at fault, said Kat.

The pilot is always at fault, Mom, he said. It goes with the territory.

Well, Cutty, I gave Colonel Browning a call a few days after the accident. I expressed our condolences and told him that he and his wife and Melinda are in our prayers. He thanked me for the call, and that was it. Ninety seconds, if that.

Thanks, Dad. That was a tough call to make. I'll have to make the same call soon myself.

Cutty, don't rush it, said Kat. He and his wife need some time to heal, as do you. There's no hurry on this.

I guess you're right. Cutty looked like he'd been run over by an eighteen-wheeler and left as roadkill on the side of the road. Which, actually, wasn't that much removed from what did happen to him.

With that, they hugged each other. Walker didn't shed a tear, but Kat and Cutty shed enough for the three of them. As they were heading back to Cutty's room, he blurted out, Wait a minute, what about the fuel truck driver? Did he make it? His parents didn't need to answer; Cutty saw it in their faces. Oh dear God. Dear God, why?

Kat, said Reggie.

Cutty, said his mother, you should see this. At that, she reached into her purse and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. It's the newspaper article that appeared in Tucson the day after the accident, she said as she handed it to him.

Cutty unfolded the paper and read silently:

Arizona Daily Star

Sunday, August 12, 1973

Airplane Crash Erupts in Fireball

Deadly crash leaves two dead and the pilot in critical condition

By

Annabelle L. Morrison

Tucson: Yesterday morning at exactly 11:49 a small propeller-driven airplane piloted by Air Force Second Lieutenant Cutler Walker crashed on landing at Tucson International Airport and erupted into a massive fireball. Killed in the crash were Walker's only passenger, Melinda Browning, 22, daughter of Colonel and Mrs. Theodore Browning, and Wallace Hanson, a fuel truck driver at the airport. Lieutenant Walker survived the crash but remains hospitalized in critically grave condition, after having been evacuated by air to Brooke Army Medical Center in San Antonio, Texas, a world-renowned hospital for burn victims.

The cause of the crash is under investigation, but eyewitnesses said that the fuel truck driven by Mr. Hanson slowly encroached onto the runway just as Walker was attempting to land. It is unclear at this point whether Walker's airplane flew into Hanson's fuel truck, or if the fuel truck rammed the airplane. Either way, the result was disastrous.

When contacted by the Arizona Daily Star, Air Force Lieutenant Colonel Rodney Samson, the base safety officer at Davis-Monthan AFB here in Tucson, issued a prepared statement: The horrendous accident of yesterday is under active investigation. The Air Force will jointly conduct a thorough investigation in concert with the Federal Aviation Administration and the National Transportation Safety Board. Now, our hearts go out to the families of the deceased, and our prayers are with Lieutenant Walker as we hope for his full and speedy recovery.

Colonel Browning is the commander of the 355th Tactical Fighter Wing at Davis-Monthan AFB. Calls to his office were referred to the office of public affairs, which also issued a prepared