Simon
I'm finally feeling like my old self again, even if I am up to only one seventy five, but it's a lean, fit one seventy five. I know Ashley likes how I look, and while we've waited to allow her body to recover before becoming intimate again, our morning showers and nightly massages have taken on an edge to them that we've both missed over the past weeks.
The handles on the machine quiver, and I push harder, trying to grind out one more rep. If I'm going to be allowed back behind the controls of an Apache, here is where I prove it, not to the medical board, but to myself.
Finally, with one titanic heave, I get the weights up, and hold them still for a moment before lowering them and sitting up, wiping the sweat from my forehead. Spring is coming to Virginia, and I'm glad. I've had my worst nightmares and after effects with the cold more than anything else, and I'm looking forward to warm days and nights again.
“Nice job,” the center staffer says. He's wiping down the machines and trying to get a jump on his work. He and I have gotten to the point of a nodding acquaintance in the past few months, one of those people that you know the face but never really talk to. I'm just too focused on my children, my wife, and my rehabilitation, in that order. Still, he and I have passed words once or twice.
“Thanks. Gotta do what I gotta do,” I say, grabbing my water bottle and taking a swig. “Hey, have you wiped down the cable stacks yet?”
“Go ahead,” the guy replies, squirting the pad on the machine I just finished. “Use whatever you want, I'd say you earned it.”
“Thanks,” I acknowledge, not asking how he knows about me. I've been on TV enough, I even got my USMA graduation photo in The Army Times.
After a quick shower, I take over the babies from Ashley. She's got her bag packed, and she'll change into her ACUs at the fitness center after a quick shower and chug a meal replacement shake on her way to class. It's a tight schedule, but we make it work. “After you get home, massage time?”
Ashley smiles and kisses me tenderly. “Maybe more too. I've been feeling it all morning thinking of those hard muscles of yours working under the iron. You're quite the stud, Simon Lancaster.”
“With a woman like Ashley Lancaster to inspire me, I feel like it,” I reply, pulling her close and letting our kiss deepen for a moment. Okay, so going through training isn't quite the classic honeymoon, but we'll celebrate after she graduates tomorrow. “Go, enjoy the last day of class, and we'll be here for you when you get back.”
The day proceeds well, Andi and Will are wonderfully helpful for infants who are less than three months old, and when I have an appointment at fourteen hundred at the Post Command Center, nobody says anything as I carry them in their two carriers through the halls, one in each arm with their bag on my back. I leave them with the Post Commander's secretary in the outer office, with quiet assurances that if they start to cry they'll be taken care of.
“Sir, Lieutenant Lancaster reports to the Post Commander as ordered!” I say, stepping in and snapping a salute. I finally feel like a soldier again, my body fit and my mind more or less back to normal, even if some of the scars might never totally fade. I'm not talking about my facial cut, or the bite mark on my arm, they're mostly invisible by now. I'm thinking of the scars in my mind, which still wake me up when I have to sleep alone and I find myself huddled in a ball with my blanket pulled around me for warmth even though I'm in a climate controlled house.
“Relax, Lieutenant,” Major General Thomason, the Fort Lee commander, says. “Have a seat. How're the twins?”
“Good, sir. Andi's been having a little problem with sleeping, but Will reaches out and comforts her at night. We tried having them sleep apart, but those two insist on sleeping together. And Ashley's doing well too.”
“Yes, your wife is doing quite well, I just looked over her scores. Not quite the Honor Grad, but quite good,” MG Thomason says. “And you, are you feeling good?”
“All I want to do is have my honeymoon, and get behind the controls of an Apache again,” I tell him honestly. “I know I need some simulator time, but I'm itching to do it.”
General Thomason nods, then sighs. “Unfortunately Simon, that's why I called you here. I wanted to pass along the news personally.”
“What is it, sir?” I ask, dread running through me. “Are they taking me out of the Apache?”
General Thomason nods his head sadly. “Unfortunately. The Pentagon felt that with your ordeal in North Korea, that sending you and your wife there, especially with two babies, was not in the best interests of your family or the Army. So you've both been reassigned. Here's your orders.”
He hands over an envelope, and I tear it open reading the contents. “The 52nd Regional Support Command? Sir, that's not an active duty unit, I don't even know who they are. From the orders they look like a Reserve unit here in Virginia. Whoever they are, they sure as hell don't have helicopters. What the hell do they need an Aviation officer for?”
“Who knows? The Pentagon makes decisions that even us generals don't sometimes understand,” Thomason says. “I know this is a tough break for you, Simon. You've busted your butt getting back into shape physically and mentally. I'm sympathetic to your desire. Think of it this way, at least you'll have your family with you, and you can spend a few years getting that squared away before you do something else.”
I shake my head, frustrated. “Sir, by the time I finish this out, I'll be a Captain. There aren't too many Captains in Aviation still flying. This is a knife to my career.”
“Perhaps,” Thomason says, looking at me sympathetically. “Do your job well, and you'll never know what might turn up for you.”
I hear a little cry from the office outside, and I save my comment. “I gotcha, sir. Thank you.”
I stand up and give Thomason a salute, which he returns. “Good luck, Simon.”
“Thank you, sir. If you'll excuse me, that's Andi.”
Outside, I see that Will's woken up too, looking at his sister and his face working as well, but he's not crying yet. I kinda feel like crying though, and I lean over sniffing. “Yeah, my sentiments exactly,” I tell Andi as I smell the poopy diaper. They say baby diapers don't smell before they're a certain age, maybe my kids just started the stinky poop faster. “My sentiments exactly.”
* * *
“At least we'll be together,” Ashley says as we follow the map towards the address that's given as the headquarters of the 52nd Regional Support Command. “I know being taken out of the Apache sucks, but there's that.”
“I know, Ash. And I'll get over it. I just... I want to fly it one more time, just one more time,” I tell her. I turn left, and proceed down the empty blacktop which looks like it goes nowhere. “And we'll stay close to your Mom and Dad. That'll be nice, I'm sure they'll appreciate being able to see the twins more often.”
There's a building up ahead, a squat concrete block that looks more like a delivery warehouse than an office building. In front, on a small brown metal sign is 'US Army Reserve, 52nd Regional Support Command.'
“Guess this is it,” Ashley says as I turn into the parking lot, putting the car in park. She gets out, and smooths her ACUs over her figure. She's pushed herself hard to get back in shape, and the changes that are left make her all the more beautiful to me. Sure, there's a few stretch marks around her belly button, her hips are a little wider, she did push two children out through there. Then again, her C cups are now solid Ds, something any man can appreciate, and she's still got that amazing auburn hair and face that our daughter has copied. Maybe it is a resting bitch face, but when I kiss her lips, the smile is that of an angel.
Ashley notices my look, and smiles, blushing. “What?”
“You're beautiful, that's all. I'm sorry if I have been whiny about losing the Apache. I gained something more. I gained you. I'll trade all the Apaches in the world for that.”
Ashley comes over and gives me a kiss, smiling. “Careful there, Lieutenant Lancaster. That's dangerously close to sexual harassment.”
“Noted, Lieutenant Lancaster. Come on, let's report in.”
We go up to the solid door, finding that we have to buzz to get in. The girl who opens the door is in a civilian woman's suit, and looks at us with a smile when she waves us in. “Oh, the Lancasters. Good, the Colonel's been expecting you.”
“Thanks,” Ashley says. “Uh, are you one of the GS civilians?”
“Not quite,” the woman, who's got streaky blond and brown hair and a little smile on her face still, says. “We do things a little different in the 52nd. You'll see soon enough. Come with me.”
She escorts us to the back of the building, past a line of nondescript doors, until she reaches the one at the end. She knocks, and opens the door. “Colonel Carlyle? They're here.”
“Colonel Carlyle?” Ashley and I say together, going in wonderingly. I blink, stunned as Henry Carlyle gets up from behind his desk, in his own set of ACUs. “Henry?”
“Hmph, I thought they taught you how to report properly at the Academy. The Corps has,” Henry says gruffly, and I snap to attention, saluting. Ashley does the same, reporting according to protocol, and Henry returns the salute. “Okay, that's the first, last, and only time you two are going to salute me, by the way. Major Ursek obviously didn't fill you guys in all that much.”
“Sorry Henry, I thought the surprise would be fun,” our escort says, her eyes twinkling. “I think it was more than worth it. Sorry for that, I'm Dee Ursek, your Ops Officer. Nice to meet you both. We'll talk later.”
I shake, still stunned at seeing Henry in uniform, in an office. Major Ursek leaves, closing the door behind her, and I turn, looking at Henry. “I think you have a lot of explaining to do, Henry.”
“I do,” Henry says, pointing to the couch. “First off, welcome to the 52nd. As for what the 52nd is, well, it's no Regional Support Command. It's... well, let's just say we're the unit that watches the watchmen.”
“What do you mean, Dad?” Ashley says, still sounding rattled as we sit down. “You retired.”
“That's what I am publicly. In reality, I'm the commander of the 52nd. I'm still active, a full bird now, and my job is to keep track of all the stuff that the Army doesn't want people to know about. Such as the man who sabotaged your Apache, Simon. Publicly, it's swept under the rug. But that's what the 52nd does, we're the ones who take care of what's under the rug,” Henry says. “You ever get into spy novels?”
“Not since West Point, sir,” I reply, realization slowly dawning on me. “So... why all this?”
Henry looks at both of us and smirks. “I need people I can trust. I've got five, maybe six years max before I have to retire. I need to know in that amount of time, that the family legacy lives on. Ashley, I never told you, but your Grandfather also commanded the 52nd when he 'retired' from active duty. I owe you an apology I know, and later on we'll have one. But for now... what do you say?”
I look over at Ashley, who nods. “I'm in. Simon?”
I nod, and look back at Henry. “Is there a chance I get to fly helicopters?”
Henry laughs and stands up. “Simon, you're going to find that you get to do all sorts of interesting things for the rest of your career. Both of you, welcome to the 52nd.”