Reliving Operation Golden Transport
He closes the hatch and hurriedly positions himself in front of the controls. The mission is time sensitive and the impending doom of failure looms large. He tugs on the seat restraint to insure it’s secure. Judging by the rumbling sounds in the distance this could be a turbulent trip.
He pulls out of the designated refueling area, and takes off under a gray sky. He’s gone radio silent and knows this is no time for idle chatter. After all, he's transporting a volatile payload and care to conduct a smooth trip is vital.
The mission won’t take him through enemy territory, but a missed signal or too hasty of an entry could spell disaster so he maintains a steady speed. Once he’s pointed in the direction of his destination he glances at the display to check his ETA. It’s going to be close.
En route, his mind starts to wander. How exactly did he get to this point? He enlisted voluntarily over five years ago, and he certainly didn’t regret that. But, like many a young man, he didn’t fully understand the ramifications of what he was signing up for and at no time was that more evident than right now.
Suddenly, he’s jolted back into the present. His instrument panel doesn’t show any problems, but a quick glance back tells him there is most definitely a problem. He thinks of WWII bomber pilots who lost an engine flying missions in the Pacific. He had heard that a glance back showing the wispy, gray trail of a smoking engine was often one of the last things the survivors remembered -- before plummeting down in coerced homage to gravity.
Thankfully, there wasn’t any smoke in his cabin and the single engine was running like a champ. But there was no point in sugar coating it; at any moment his special payload could explode. And the engine cutting out would look like nothing in comparison to that mess.
He’d heard of Air Force pilots talking their way out of predicaments during missions, effectively willing their crafts through close calls with anything from missiles to weather patterns. If it worked for them…
He started off in stilted sentences. “We can make it.” “It’s just a little further.” But the wooden delivery betrayed an insincerity that he knew was unacceptable at a time such as this. Now was the time for confidence and conviction. “Hold on, just a couple more minutes.” “We are going to make it.”
As he made the approach, his nerves got the better of him and he stopped harder than he wanted to. He cut the engine, jumped out, and scrambled to the back. In one smooth motion he slid the door open and began freeing the volatile delivery from the array of buckles on the harness.
And as he picked it up and charged for the door, he heard the words that confirmed his mission was going to be a success. “Thanks, Dad,” said the earnest voice in his arms. “I really have to go potty.”