Chapter 9
Emily did not celebrate.
She spent most of those weeks visiting Alpha 3 in the hospital.
The first time she walked in, twelve men tried to sit up at once.
“Don’t,” she said quickly. “Please don’t rip anything open because of me.”
The wounded sergeant laughed, then winced.
“You sound like my wife.”
Emily smiled.
“What’s your name?”
“Sergeant Caleb Ross.”
He held out a hand wrapped in bandages.
She took it gently.
“You got us home,” he said.
Emily shook her head.
“You held long enough for me to get there.”
Ross looked at her for a long moment.
“Ma’am, we were done.”
The room got quiet.
He continued.
“We were out of ammo. Out of smoke. Half of us couldn’t walk. Then we heard that engine.”
A private in the next bed whispered, “Sounded like thunder.”
Another soldier smiled.
“Ugliest angel I ever heard.”
Emily laughed before she could stop herself.
Then she cried.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
Just one hand over her eyes while twelve soldiers pretended not to notice.
They gave her that mercy.
A month later, the base held a ceremony at sunrise.
Not sunset.
No smoke.
No emergency lights.
Just clean morning air and rows of service members standing beside the same runway where Barrett had tried to end her career.
The A-10 sat behind the podium.
Repaired.
Repainted.
Still old.
May you like
Still ready.
Read Part 10 to see why the old A-10 became a symbol no one on that base would forget.
