The Flying Eunuchs Part 5: Steve's Revelation

When Jeff opened his eyes, he was staring into Becky's face, all clean and radiant. She was dressed in her white nurse's uniform, the way he had always seen her in his fantasies. Jeff didn’t know if he was dead or dreaming or hallucinating. "Good morning, sailor," Becky said brightly. "It's about time you woke up."

He had to be hallucinating! For her to use that form of addressing, and the absolute beauty of her face and hair, were just too good to be true. Or was he dead? How could he be anything else when the last thing he'd seen was the muzzle of an Iraqi rifle? But it all seemed so real! When his head had cleared a little more, he reached out and touched her cheek with his fingers. She even felt real! He tried to speak, but sentences wouldn't come. So he settled for words like, "Who?... What?... Becky?... Steve?..."
"Just relax," the angel in white ordered. "You've had a bit of a time."

All of a sudden Jeff woke up, and all that he'd seen and done came back to him. "I gotta see Adams right away," he exclaimed. "I gotta see him right now!"

Becky tried to restrain him, but he wouldn't be comforted. He was getting so agitated she finally said, "If you don't calm down I'll have to report to the doctor that you’re hallucinating again, and he'll give you another shot and you'll not see anybody for another five hours. So just relax, sailor, ok?"

That word he loved so much again! The soothing effect of her address, together with the threat of being put back to sleep, had the desired effect. Jeff settled down and concentrated on calming himself. He accepted the much needed bowl of soup Becky offered, the hot nourishing liquid warming his insides and filling him with a sense of calm and well-being.

As he lapped the soup greedily, Jeff barraged Becky with questions about what happened, what day it was, how he had got here, was the war over, and just about every other question imaginable. She explained that he had stumbled on a Saudi gun installation, had been ambushed by a Saudi sentry who thought he was Iraqi, what with the turban he'd had on his head, and had almost shot him, but for his screaming over and over, "I'm a twenty year old student pilot, and fuckin' proud of it, so shoot me if you want, you fuckin' Iraqi pig, but you won't win the fuckin' war! With or without me, we’re gonna kick your ass, you fuckin’ diaper head!"

"I said that?" Jeff said with wonder.
"No," Becky laughed, "you screamed it, according to the soldier that brought you in. He said you were looking up at him, right into the barrel of his rifle, screaming at the top of your lungs. The only thing that saved your life was his utter surprise at your outburst. What kinda screwball spitfire have I gotten tangled up with anyway?"

“I don’t remember any of that,” Jeff said sheepishly.
“I think it’s probably a good thing that soldier didn’t know what you meant when you called him a diaper head,” Becky laughed. By the time they got you here and I explained it to him, he thought it was the funniest thing he’d heard all year! But out there on the desert, it might’ve been another story.”
“He brought me here? The guy who was pointing that rifle at me?”
“He sure did. They called in a chopper and brought you in, and that sentry came with you to make sure you got here ok. He asked me to tell you he thinks you’re pretty brave, even if you are crazy.”

"What day is it?" Jeff asked, as much to change the subject as anything.
"Thursday, Why?"
"Becky, I've got to talk to Captain Adams," he pleaded. He was getting agitated again, remembering all the hardware he'd seen in that trench.
"Relax, Jeff, please!" she pleaded back. "I don't want them to knock you out again."

He made a valiant effort to calm down, but he was insistent that he had to see Adams, or talk to him by radio, or something. "You don't have to see Adams, Lieutenant, you can tell me anything that's on your mind." He looked up to see Colonel Smythe enter the room and wave Becky out.

"Don't leave," he told her. "I'm not feeling so hot, I think maybe I’m gonna pass out." Becky stayed, knowing Jeff was afraid of Smythe and also knowing Jeff didn’t feel hot at all. "Colonel," he said as respectfully as he could, "I have to see my commanding officer on a matter of utmost importance."
"I'm in command here, sailor. You can tell me whatever it is that's on you mind."

That word again! Why did he feel insulted hearing it from this man? Coming from Colonel Smythe the word that could elate Jeff more than any was a dirty thing, and expression of shame, of utter disgust. There was no goddam way he was going to tell Smythe what he'd seen; he probably wouldn't believe it anyway.

At length Smythe gave up and left, probably thinking that Jeff had nothing important to say anyway. Jeff had by now come to his senses enough that he didn’t tell Smythe what he thought of him, nor did he show any form of disrespect; but he didn’t tell him anything either.

When the Colonel was gone, Jeff told Becky what he'd seen. "You gotta get word to Adams," he begged her. "There's more of a build-up in that trench than anybody knows!" As he told her the story, the full realization of having killed twenty or so men hit him. He fought the tears harder than he'd fought those men, but they would not be denied. And when he thought about it, and realized he didn't know how many for sure, he was really stunned! Had life become so cheap that it wasn't important how many had been terminated? Had the war done this to him, or had he always been like that? How could he live with himself knowing there were God knows how many Iraqi kids that were now fatherless because of Jeff Allen’s killing spree? He didn't break down per se, but there was lots of lubrication in and about the eyes. "Jeff," Becky soothed, "this is war. This is what we do in wars. And if you hadn't killed them, they'd have killed you. Besides, how many did you kill with your bombs, and never gave it a second thought?"

"I know all that, he said. "But I didn't have to look in their eyes. I didn't have to watch them fall, never to get up again. They're people, Becky, just like you and me. They had hopes and dreams, wives and girl friends, kids, mortgages, just like us. And now..."
"And now," Becky interrupted, "you and I can have all those things because you stopped them from killing you. And maybe you stopped them from killing a whole bunch of people. Maybe, if this is as serious as you think it is, you just might change the course of this war by having killed those men and gotten yourself back to report. We’ll never know how many lives you’ve saved by getting back here with your information."

“You and I?” Jeff questioned. He had heard the rest of Becky’s little dialogue... at least he thought he had. But his mind had got stuck on that phrase. Becky and him with kids? A mortgage? Hopes and dreams? It just didn’t compute!
“Just a figure of speech, Jeff,” Becky said as she took his hand and rubbed it softly.
“Is it, Becky?” he questioned. “Was it really just a figure of speech?”
“Yes, Jeff, it was,” she answered. “Dammit all, the most handsome, sweetest man I have ever met... the man who took my virginity... the man I thought was the one... and he’s got to be in love with the second handsomest man I ever met!”

“What!” Jeff exclaimed.
“You’ve been semi-conscious for hours, Jeff. I suppose you’ve been having nightmares or something, but whatever it was you were going through, you did a lot of talking. I know, Jeff! I know you’re in love with Steve.”
“Well, you know more than I do,” Jeff said haughtily. “I’m a US Naval officer! The US Navy doesn’t...
“I know all about the US Navy and their stupid rule,” Becky scoffed. “I also know that sometimes we have little control over whom we fall in love with. What happens, happens.”
“Becky, I didn’t... I mean, I don’t know...”
“No, I don’t suppose you do know, Jeff. And I understand that too. I know you didn’t deceive me and I’m not angry. I’m incredibly disappointed, but I’ll get over it. It’ll be a long time before I get over you, and I’ll be pleased to go out with you, dance with you, even go to bed with you any time you want; but I know we’ve got no future together, and that’s ok. I can live with that, Jeff. I know you haven’t done anything wrong, and I know you wouldn’t hurt a fly intentionally. So let’s just go on from here with no more guilt, no excuses, no explanations, ok?”

Jeff knew Becky was right, but it didn't make him feel a whole lot better. Becky said she knew a real nice communications officer that would put her in touch with Captain Adams, so she scuttled off to find him. Jeff lay in the bed, so weak he could hardly move, and his mind wandered back to his first waking memory. "Good morning, sailor," he said over and over to himself. God it was good to be safe, to be loved, to love. And yes, it was good to be a sailor! He was so confused about what she’d said he didn’t know where to start sorting it all out. What in the world had he said anyway? And how could she be so calm about it? And WHERE THE HELL WAS STEVE?

"Wake up, sailor," a voice said and brought Jeff back to consciousness with a start, but it wasn't Becky's voice, it was Adams. Jeff had fallen asleep again and slept almost all night. "You gave us quite a scare," the captain said cheerfully. "When did I give you permission to become a foot soldier?"
"Wasn't my idea, sir," Jeff said with a grin. Normally Adams would have told someone in his position to dispense with the formality, but Jeff had meant “sir” as a form of endearment, of utmost respect far beyond any military obligation, and somehow Adams knew it. "What was it," he said, "that got you so all-fired excited that you had to tell me right away?"

"Captain," Jeff said earnestly, his eyes fixed on those of his commander, "that trench is full of weapons and men. We've been missing them because they hide them in the daytime, and at night too if there's any air traffic. We can get them, sir. All we have to do is pound the shit outta that trench. No aiming, no searching, just bomb the hell out of that trench. We can do infrared scans at night from a high level and we’ll find warm bodies all over the freakin’ place!" He was so excited he was jabbering too fast for Adams to understand most of what he was saying. "Calm down," the captain propitiated, "and tell me about it."

“How’s Steve?” Jeff asked suddenly, realizing that he still had no idea how his friend was, or even where he was. “Where is he? Is he back on the ship?”
“Your report,” Adams reminded him. “You were saying...”
“Where the fuck is Steve?” Jeff demanded, getting agitated again. “What the hell is everyone hiding from me?”
“We’re not hiding anything, Jeff,” the kind captain admonished.

“The hell you’re not!” Steve’s voice came from the open door. “No one told me Jeff was here. No one told me he’d been found. I didn’t even know for sure he was been missing until two days ago, fer fuck sake!”

“Uhhhh... SIR!”

“Steve!” Jeff exclaimed. “You’re still here? In the hospital? What in the world...”
“Later,” Steve said to shut Jeff up. “I’ll tell ya all about it, but first you’ve gotta finish your report to Captain Adams.”
“But... Steve, it’s been a week. What the hell...”
“Later, Jeff. Finish your report, and I promise I’ll tell you all about it.”

Jeff knew he would get no more out of his friend until he finished, so he told them the whole story once again; about ambushing the groups of soldiers, about the installations he didn't feel he could take on so he avoided them; about there being all sorts of hardware under their very noses, and how he had almost stumbled into them because they were hidden so well. He told how the men seemed to come out of nowhere until he realized they had man-made caves dug into the sides of the trench. And in the process he told how he'd had to kill twenty men to get through.

Another of Adams' famous pauses. "You killed how many?"
"I don't know exactly, but something like twenty."

Yet another pause, this one longer. "You crazy little spitfire," he said, "you'd take on the whole fuckin' Iraqi army single-handed if you had to, wouldn't you?"

Jeff couldn't help grinning with relief. "I would if I had to," he replied, Adams' obvious respect having injected him with a new sense of value. "Besides," he reasoned, "what choice did I have?"

The three airmen talked a while longer, the military formality completely gone now. When he finally got up to leave, Adams hugged his two subordinates affectionately. "Take care of yourselves, boys," he said with a grin. "I have to get back to the ship and work out a new strategy. As soon as you're ready, Jeff, there'll be a new plane waiting for you to bring back to the ship. And try not to wreck this one, okay?"

“I’ll be flying back later today, sir,” Steve told his superior. “With your permission I’d like to stay until...”
“Take all the time you need,” Adams replied. “If you want to wait and bring Jeff back with you I’m sure no one will mind. Actually when I think about it there’s only one Tomcat on the ground here anyway, so why don’t you both use that as your shuttle? Just remember when you two get back, you’re gonna be leading the first attack mission on that trench, so be sure you’re ready before you come back.”

“Ok, we’re alone now,” Jeff said after Adams had gone. Now, what the hell’s going on? What’re you doing still in the hospital? Are you ok, Steve?”
“Yeah, Jeff, I’m fine,” Steve replied distantly.

“That’s it?” Jeff demanded hotly. “You’re fine, and that’s all I get? What’s happened, Steve? Why the hell are you still in the hospital a week after you came here for a checkup? Tell me, Steve!”
“There were complications,” he said weakly. “There was a lot of tissue damage...”
“Just tell me!
“It’s kinda personal...”

Steve had an expression on his face that was downright frightening. As hard as he tried, Jeff could not analyze his friend’s face, except that it wasn’t good. “This is me, Steve,” he finally said softly. “If you can’t tell me, who can you tell? Steve, we’ve been through so much together...”
“Gangrene,” Steve said, that same distant expression on his face.
“Huh?”
“The doc said I was getting gangrene, Jeff. He had to take everything off. I was a eunuch before you took off last week.”

Jeff was so shocked he had trouble breathing. “Everything?” he said in disbelief when he managed to say anything at all. Steve didn’t reply verbally; instead he pushed the sweat pants he was wearing to his knees and faced his friend. Jeff gasped audibly. There was no penis, no testicles, no scrotum, not even any pubic hair. There was a rather long red scar and marks where stitches had recently been removed, and that was the only evidence that Steve had ever had genitals. “It’s not all bad,” Steve declared. “The pain is gone now, and next time I take a knee in the groin the owner of the knee is gonna get a hell of a surprise. Gettin’ kicked in the balls doesn’t hurt nearly as bad if you don’t have balls.”
“But... to cut everything off... surely they could do something...”

“Jeff, we had the same first aid training during boot camp,” Steve reminded him. “You know as well as I do, when you get gangrene there’s no time to fuck around. The only treatment is to get rid of the infected parts before it spreads to areas you can’t remove. But it’s ok, man, really! I was kinda expecting it when things weren’t healing. The doc said even if he hadn’t cut everything off nothing would work any more anyway. It was just fried too long by that crude oil. Only thing now is... I mean... what about... Uhhh... I hope you...”

“Me?” Jeff questioned. “What about me, Steve?”
“I dunno, Jeff. It’s just... well... I just don’t know if I could stand it if anything changed between us. And you... I mean I...”

Finally Steve broke down. He threw himself literally into Jeff’s bed and into his arms, his sweats still around his knees, and his entire body shook with his sobs. “I can do without my balls and even my cock,” he sniffed, “but I can’t do without you. Please don’t hate me, Jeff!”
“Hate you? What the hell ever gave you the idea I’d hate you?”
“Jeff, I’m not a man any more, and I never will be. I’m just a... I’m a...”

“A eunuch!” Jeff finished for him as his anger grew. He didn’t know exactly why he was angry or at whom, but there was no question he was suddenly mad as hell. “But that doesn’t mean you’re not a man,” he said as he embraced his friend, “and you and I are gonna prove it. I’m gonna get outta this hospital, and you and I are gonna go blast hell outta that trench and all the crap they’ve got hidden there. Last time I flew a Tomcat I don’t remember using my cock or my balls, so I don’t see how your not havin’ ‘em will change how you fly. And I don’t ever remember needin’ your cock and balls to be your friend, or to love you, so why would that ever change? Nothin’s ever gonna change between us, Steve. Nothing! Now go get into your flight suit, sailor, ‘cause we’ve got work to do. I love you, man, and nothin’s ever gonna change that!”

Reassured, Steve pulled himself together and went off to his own room to get dressed while Jeff busied himself calling for the doctor to get his release signed. While he was waiting, he thought about what he’d just seen and heard. He was incredibly saddened and depressed for his buddy’s loss, but he wasn’t about to let Steve know; not now. He was also somewhat depressed by what he was planning, but now he knew he had no choice. He wasn’t exactly sure how he was going to do it yet, but he sorted through what he knew to be fact and what he had assumed. There were definitely things he needed to know that he didn’t know, so he tried to think where he could get the information he needed.

When Becky came bouncing into the room to announce that her boy friend had been released, she found a very different person than she had left no more than two hours ago. “I’m sorry, Becky, I’ve got a lot on my mind. I know I’m not very good company now, but there are things I’ve gotta work out.”
“You’re talking about Steve, right?” Becky observed.
“Yeah, among other things. Steve and I have to get back to the ship. We got work to do.”
“Can’t it wait?” Becky pleaded. “I was kinda hoping you’d be able to spend the night before you leave.”
“Not tonight,” Jeff replied. Captain Adams wants Steve and me on deck as soon as we can get there. We’re gonna lead a mission to disable all the missile launchers in that trench.”

What he didn’t tell the beautiful nurse that right now he couldn’t possibly spend the night with her. He seriously doubted that he’d be physically able to do what was expected, so great was his guilt that he’d already done it, could do it just about any time he wanted, while his best friend had never done it and now he never would. In Jeff’s mind, the only thing left in life for Steve was his flying, and Jeff was determined to reinforce his confidence in that arena as much as he possibly could.

Just when Jeff was thinking of getting dressed, having been given a reluctant discharge by the doctor, a rather grubby Air Force sergeant appeared, snapped to attention and saluted him. "Lieutenant Allen?" he inquired. Jeff confirmed that he had the right person and told him to relax. He was fifty-ish, an obvious career man, and just as obviously a mechanic. Jeff had never been able to get used to receiving so much respect from men over twice his age, so he felt much more comfortable if they treated him at least as their peers. On the ship he and Steve had reached an understanding with the enlisted men. They gave their young officers the respect that military protocol demanded, but aside from those requirements they were buddies, even father figures in some cases. But away from their own ship where they were not known, the rank and file had a great deal of difficulty treating the young officers the way they would have preferred.

"My name is O'Hara," the sergeant said nervously, "and I need to talk to you." He eyed Becky suspiciously.
"She's all right," Jeff assured the man. "She's a lot more than just my nurse."
"I know, sir," he said. "The whole base knows."

Becky offered to leave, but Sergeant O'Hara said no, that she should hear this too. "It's about your plane going down, sir. I have to apologize, and also tell you I... we all were glad you made it back safely. You see, we all heard of the trouble you had with Colonel Smythe when you landed, so we tried to get the birds all done up for you in the time we had. We were rushed, and we should have realized there just wasn't time, but we tried." He was obviously having a great deal of trouble getting to the point, so Jeff told him, "Sergeant, I appreciate your efforts, but why don't you just tell me what's on your mind?"

"Well, sir," he went on, "I found a small leak in your fuel line, so I took off a pump to fix the leak. Then I got called away for another rush job, and when I got back you had gone. Sir, you never had a chance! When you took off, your main tanks weren't even in the circuit! You were running on a small auxiliary tank, and when that was gone, there was no way to get fuel to the engines. I feel terrible, sir, and I never would've left that bird in that condition, but I had my orders."

Jeff looked at the sergeant in disbelief. "But," he argued, "what about the backup systems?"
"Disconnected, sir. We needed the parts for another plane that was going right out, so Colonel Smythe said..."
"Colonel Smythe?" Jeff choked on the name. "He told you to rob parts off my plane?"
"Yes, sir. There was a supply plane due in later that day, and he said you could fly without the backup until we had a chance to replace the valve."

Jeff was so stunned he could hardly breathe! That bastard knew he'd be long gone before the supply plane arrived, and it would be God knows when before he'd get the backup system back. "Have you told anyone else?" he asked.
"No, sir. I was just going to tell Colonel Smythe, but of course he already knows. But he doesn't know I had the main system apart when he ordered me to leave it..."
"Sergeant," Jeff interrupted, "I'd appreciate it if we could keep this between ourselves for now. I think if you tell Smythe it'll be you that winds up taking the rap for this one, and that's not fair. Besides, my plane going down just might have changed the course of the war, so it's not fair that you be disciplined for something that wasn't your fault in the first place. If we play this one right you could come out unscathed, and Smythe will be the goat. My CO already knows I was ordered to take off without the maintenance I’d come here for, and without a second seat. He’s already pretty pissed, and we did lose an aircraft in the whole process."

To show his trust in the sergeant, and to convince him the incident had turned out to be the best thing that had happened in quite some time, Jeff told O'Hara some of what he'd seen in the trench, swearing him to secrecy. He whistled his surprise. "Wow!" he exclaimed. "So that's why all the brass is coming in from all over! Well, don't worry about me, sir, I won't say anything to anybody; I have no desire to be court-martialed at this stage in my career."

Jeff assured him that the whole story would come out, and if his part were ever told, he'd probably get a medal, not disciplinary action. He thanked the sergeant for telling him, then as the man was getting ready to leave, he said “By the way, Sergeant, could I ask you a very big favor?”
“Anything,” O’Hara said. “Anything I can do for you, sir.”
“Do you have any idea where I might get my hands on a couple pair of briefs?” he whispered so Becky couldn’t hear.
“Briefs, sir? So I presume you’re not enamored with Navy issue boxers?”
“Something like that. My partner and I will be taking off ASAP, and I could really use two or three pair of briefs before I get back to the ship. Any ideas?”

Sergeant O’Hara assured the young Lieutenant that he could provide almost anything he wanted, and that two or three pair of briefs would be no problem at all. Jeff told him his size and swore the sergeant to secrecy. “They’ll be in the pocket under the second seat when you take off,” O’Hara told him.
“Put them in the second seat, if you would,” Jeff directed. “Price will be flying this one.”
“Anything else I can get for you?” he inquired. “I’ve been in the Air Force a long time, and I can lay my hands on just about anything you can imagine.”
“Thanks,” Jeff said, “but the briefs will be fine, if it’s not too much trouble.”
“Consider it done, sir. And good luck on your mission.”

After O'Hara was gone Jeff looked at Becky with a grin. "The whole base knows?" he questioned.
"I guess I have bragged a little bit," she said sheepishly. "I am kinda proud of my sailor." That word again, and the chilling thrill that always went with it! And she was proud of him! Suddenly he wanted to run away from the whole world with this gentle creature, never to be seen again; but that's hardly the way to act when people are proud of you, so he contented himself with telling her he appreciated her more than he could ever tell her. He felt incredibly guilty, knowing that their relationship would never go anywhere, which led Jeff to a new objective: to somehow break up with the beautiful nurse without hurting her.

Jeff and Steve were summoned to a briefing late that same day. The brass had had meetings most of the day to discuss the new development, and had decided to launch an immediate assault on the now famous trench, before the enemy could find out the Americans were onto them. Because it was much closer and easier to get at, they had decided to use the land base rather than the Navy carrier planes, so the two young Lieutenants were the only Naval officers present, and the lowest rank. Jeff assumed that he was only there to describe what he'd seen, and had a lot of trouble hiding his disappointment at not being part of the assault. But the Air force, and the Navy for that matter, were concerned about wasting fuel despite popular opinion, and they also liked to recognize accomplishments and efforts where possible; so Jeff was told at the briefing that since he and Steve had to fly back to the ship, and their plane was laden too heavily to land on the carrier, that they'd be honored if their Navy pilots would lead the first attack.

"Lead it?" Jeff questioned. Yes, they confirmed, lead it! Then they could make their way back to the ship and resume their normal duties. Colonel Smythe was there, and for his benefit Jeff accepted graciously on behalf of Steve, his eyes never leaving the good Colonel's. "I'd be truly honored," he answered, "but I want to check this plane over carefully because there seemed to be something wrong with the backup fuel system on the last one I flew out of here."

Jeff strongly suspected that Adams had something to do with Jeff’s commanding the squadron of Air Force fighter bombers that headed for the trench, but the sweetest part of the entire exercise was seeing the look on Smythe's face. Maybe Adams knew that too; but now Smythe knew that Jeff knew he'd robbed parts off his plane. Jeff didn't say anything to anyone else and he didn't have to; The Colonel got the message loud and clear that any more crap from him, directed to either Jeff or Sergeant O'Hara, and Jeff would tell all.Jeff had never flown second seat before, but he was thoroughly familiar with all the instruments and what they did; and with Steve as his pilot, he knew he was in good hands so he could concentrate on all the bomb sights, missile controls and radar devices he had to operate. So before he had too much time to get used to his new role, he was being led to Steve’s Tomcat, which was armed more heavily than any either of them had ever seen. "Watch her," the sergeant instructed, "she'll be heavy and sluggish with all those cluster bombs." The sergeant had meant well, but he was wrong. It felt so good to be airborne again, to be free; and with Steve up front, that extremely heavy F-14 seemed to handle as if it had no load at all.

Armed with the information Jeff had provided, the spy satellites had been re-tuned to concentrate on the areas he had described. Now that they knew what to look for, it wasn't too hard to spot the targets from those little electronic wizards high above them. So when twelve fighter bombers took off and headed north, the occupants all knew exactly where they were going and what they'd do when they got there. They couldn't see anything unusual from the planes, but they knew landmarks and what they meant, so that one mission trashed more enemy equipment than any other single mission so far in the war. The satellite pictures had not only confirmed Jeff’s story, but had shown the magnitude of the buildup to be even greater than he had reported. Having reduced the Iraqi army to a manageable size, Jeff and Steve thanked their companions and veered east toward the gulf. "Thank you, Lieutenants Price and Allen," came the voices from their Air Force comrades in their headsets. "That was a lot of fun. Y'all come back and see us, y'hear?"

When Steve landed the Tomcat easily on the carrier, the deck was strangely empty. Both boys assumed because they'd been getting the royal treatment so much lately, today’s homecoming would be no different; but there was almost no one around. "Oh, well," Steve said with his characteristic grin, "it’s kinda nice in a way not to be mothered all the time. They've still got work to do, so maybe they're out on a mission." Of course they both knew that wasn’t true because the storage area on the deck was full of parked Tomcats.

An Ensign approached as they climbed out of the jet, saluted, and announced that Captain Adams was in the galley and wanted to see them both right away. They thanked him and headed for the ladder, climbing out of their parachutes as they went. They expected at least their second seats to be on the deck because of the special relationships the two man teams had developed, but they were nowhere to be seen. A sudden panic came over Jeff as he thought that maybe Adams had some more bad news to tell him. Maybe after Marty’s taking over Steve’s plane the day they’d gone on their mission, he had been assigned his own plane. He hoped not; he and Marty had formed a special bond that was professional and efficient, yet friendly. Each knew and trusted the other implicitly, and Jeff wasn’t at all thrilled with the thoughts of breaking in a new Second Seat. “C’mon, Steve, something’s up,” he said as he broke into a nervous run, anxious to know if his buddy was still his second seat.

When they walked into the crew's eating area, the largest single room on the ship aside from the hangars, they were met by another surprise. A large banner had been posted on one wall exclaiming "WELCOME HOME SAILORS," and the entire ship's company, except those on duty to keep her on course, were gathered and gave a loud cheer. A bottle of beer was pushed into the hand of each of the astonished flyers as a procession formed to shake their hands and express their gratitude at having them back aboard. Adams was first, followed by the captain of the ship, followed by officers and seamen alike, all wanting to hear the details of their adventures. But still no Marty!

It was an hour later when Jeff had finally shook the last hand. He hadn't had a chance to ask where Marty was, but just then they heard a chopper land above, followed by an F-14. Moments later Marty appeared in his dress white’s. He walked up to Jeff, ignoring everyone else as if they weren’t there. He saluted as if addressing an Admiral, then threw his arms around him in front of the entire crew! "God, it's good to see you," he said as the tears flowed. "We thought you'd burned up with the plane."

They hadn't seen Jeff on the ground at all, even though they'd looked for him. Then when the plane erupted in flames and exploded, they had assumed that he'd been hurt in the crash and couldn't get out. "But why are you dressed like that?" Jeff questioned. “And what’s with the Tomcat that just landed?”
“The Tomcat’s our replacement bird,” Marty replied. “I just brought it back from Africa, and I can’t wait to get back in my own seat. As for the white’s, well, I had to escort Admiral O’Blenis aboard.”

Just as he got the words out, the Admiral appeared and walked up to the two young pilots, ignoring everyone else just as Marty had done. They exchanged salutes, then handshakes. "You're awful hard on planes, sailor," he said to Jeff with a grin, "And you're both sorta hard on the enemy too. I understand you just led the Air force on a very successful run."
“Yes, sir, we were very lucky,” Steve, as mission commander, replied.
“Bullshit,” O’Blenis scoffed. “That wasn’t luck, that was just damned good flying! The lucky ones were those Air Force flyboys, having you to lead them.”

The entire crew was still standing at attention, and no one made any effort to relax them. The admiral led the two Lieutenants to one corner of the room and started to address the crew. "I suspect," he said, "that everybody knows why I'm here; everybody, that is, except the target of this mission. Lieutenant Allen, Lieutenant Price," he said as he turned to the two young pilots, "It gives me great pleasure to pin on your chests the first Distinguished Service Crosses of this war."

Captain Adams handed him a small box which he opened, then the medal was being pinned on Jeff’s chest, right over his pounding heart. As he worked with the pin and struggled to work it through the heavy material of Jeff’s flight suit, which was suddenly unbearably hot, he related to the crew some of the details of the adventure. His task completed, he stood back two paces, saluted, and exclaimed, "Well done, sailor, you make me glad that I allowed you to talk me out of sending you home!"

He repeated the same process with Steve, exclaiming after he’d finished that Steve had made an unspeakable sacrifice, and the Navy was proud to consider him one of their own.

Adams made a little speech then, adding on the end, "I hear you boys tried to join the Air Force, but they rejected you."
"No, sir, you’ve got it backwards," Jeff replied. "They tried to join us, but we already have the best. We may be just baby-faced students, but we’re not stupid."
"I should say not!" a female voice from behind retorted. "After all, he picked me to go out with, didn't he?"
"Becky? What are you doing here?"
"What's the matter, sailor, don't you need a nurse on this tub?" Adams again, unless Jeff missed his guess. Again Jeff was overcome with guilt as he thought of his romp in the hay with the gorgeous Canadian nurse. He pictured in his mind the frustration Steve must feel as he thought, as he must do almost every minute, how he would never have what Jeff had experienced. Then he felt guilty for what he was planning. The three pair of briefs the Sergeant had provided were at that moment stuffed inside his flight suit; that plan, and the long term effect, did not include Becky.

The party went well into the night. Jeff would have much preferred to retire to his cabin to begin to put in place the final steps of his plan, but the entire ship had withdrawn from the war for a few hours to celebrate the return of their two young pilots, and Jeff could simply not escape gracefully. One of their own had returned from the dead, another from what had to be a very painful experience; Two of the crew had been decorated, and the good guys had scored a major victory against the enemy. They all knew the worst was yet to come, but for a few hours they forgot everything except having a good time; and no one knows how to party like the crew of a ship. Eventually, none too soon for Jeff, it was over and the admiral and Becky again boarded the chopper and headed for the mainland. Jeff and Steve had a mission at five a.m.

"I need your help in composing a letter to your parents," Adams said two days later. "It's customary to send a letter to the parents or spouse of anyone receiving a medal, and I'd like you to help me with the wording." Jeff and Steve accepted the typewritten sheets he handed them and read them. It went into a lot of detail telling the respective readers how brave their sons had been, how they had overcome insurmountable odds to do their duty, and how they'd been instrumental in doing heavy damage to the enemy. When they were through reading they handed the letters back to their captain. "Nice letter," Steve said, "but you can't send it."
"Can't send it? Why? Your parents have a right to know, Steve."
“They don’t know,” Steve said, that same strange look on his face. “When I tell them I’m a eunuch, that they’re never gonna have grandchildren, I want to do it face to face. I certainly don’t want them finding out through some letter from the Navy.”
“I can change the wording and just tell them you were seriously injured, but that you have recovered nicely and returned to duty,” Adams offered.
“They’ll know something’s wrong,” Steve countered. “My dad served in the Marines, so he knows how the system works. Please, sir, you can’t send that letter!”

Jeff knew now that Steve’s nullification was bothering him much more than he was admitting, and again he was overcome with guilt. They had been so busy flying missions since their return, Jeff had done nothing further regarding his plan. Now it was time. They had a two day layover while their planes underwent some maintenance, and it was time he did what he’d decided to do while he was wandering around the desert. He told Adams to send his letter to his brother Mike because the kid needed all the encouragement he could get, then he and Steve went to the mess for a drink before going to bed. He wanted to talk to Steve, but he wasn’t at all sure what he was going to say.

To be continued...