Chapter 20: Fade

04 July 2018 – San Francisco Bay, off Coyote Point, San Mateo, California

The sailboard skipped over the bay’s surface, skimming across the waves raised by the wind. Sabrina’s legs pistoned up and down, absorbing the shock of the board’s ‘slap, slap, slap’ as it bounced over the water. Twenty minutes later, she and her companion sat straddling their boards as they drifted near the Hayward Bridge.

“We started way over there?” Sabrina asked. Sonya Delgado looked over her shoulder where Sabrina pointed.

“Crazy, huh?” She turned back to the young cadet six years her junior. “So, how do you like it so far? You’ve picked it up pretty quickly.”

“It’s amazing! I can see why you like windsurfing so much! Although I’m sure I’ll be sore tomorrow.”

“The day after will hurt worse, so it’s a good thing we’re not on duty again until Tuesday.”

“I appreciate you giving up your holiday to keep me company, Ma’am.”

Captain Delgado raised an eyebrow at the cadet.

“I didn’t ‘give up’ anything, Sabrina. Colonel Nelson told me I’d host a USAFA cadet over the July 4th holiday in early May, before I made plans. I knew I’d be on duty this week anyway, so it’s no big deal.” She smiled at the young lady floating next to her. “You remind me of my younger sisters, and after the week you had, after the year you had, I figured you deserved to have a little fun.”

Sabrina arrived in San Francisco two weekends before, slated to spend two and a half weeks shadowing a pilot from the 12th Tactical Fighter Squadron at Moffett Air Force Base. The entire first day of her Operation Air Force experience had been a string of errors.

Her commercial flight from Boston’s Logan Airport to San Francisco International was four hours late due to a mechanical issue. Once on the plane, the man in the seat next to her seemed to be in love with the sound of his voice and with his cologne.

His voice carried his complaints across the terminal at Logan during the maintenance delay. His cologne threatened to suffocate her during the flight. Once in San Francisco, Sabrina discovered her duffel bag had gone to Los Angeles instead – she checked it in Boston because it was too big for carry-on.

“What do you mean my bag is in LOS ANGELES?” Sabrina growled to the man in the Baggage Claim office. “Does this look like Los Angeles to you?”

“No,” he admitted, “but it doesn’t look like Boston either, Cadet, which is where your anger should be directed. The folks out there made the error. People here and in LA are trying to correct it. We have your cell phone number, and we will deliver your bag to Moffett once it arrives.”

Sabrina blew out a breath.

“You’re right, Sir, and I apologize. It’s been an exceptionally long day, but that’s no excuse for my behavior.”

The man smiled at her.

“I understand, Cadet, and thank you for the apology. I doubt it’ll make you feel any better, but TWA did the same to me back in the day. That didn’t make my reporting in all that much fun then, either. We’ll have your bag to you by the end of the business day tomorrow. You’ll need to meet my guy at Moffett’s Visitor Center when he calls.”

Sabrina thanked the man again and turned to go. She almost ran right into her sponsor for the next two weeks. Sabrina came to attention and fired off a salute, which the Air Force captain returned.

“I’m glad you apologized to Mister Ruiz, Cadet,” she said softly. “Otherwise, this might have been an awfully long two-plus weeks for you.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“This way.” The Air Force officer turned and walked away, causing Sabrina to hustle. When Sabrina caught up, the woman asked, “What do you have in your pack?”

“My orders, tickets, laptop, toiletries, and two days of clean underwear and socks, Ma’am.”

The officer raised an eyebrow.

“Well, someone taught you how to be prepared, that’s for sure.”

“I’m glad I listened to my parents and the Academy’s travel office, Ma’am.”

“I see they still make cadets wear ABUs. When is USAFA changing to OCPs?” Sonya asked as they walked outside to a sporty little convertible.

“The regular Air Force folks already have, Ma’am. The incoming first and fourth-class cadets are being issued them when they report this year. My class will receive ours at the start of next year. And the incoming third-class cadets will be issued them in two years, at the start of their firstie year – 2020.”

The captain nodded and unlocked the car.

“Okay, to formally introduce myself, I’m Captain Sonya Delgado, training officer for the 12th. I’m also one of our duty pilots. I should be able to get you at least a couple of rides in an Eagle, but the real intent of Operation Air Force is to show you what your future holds – in this case, it’s lots of paperwork.” She watched Sabrina deflate a little.

“Sorry, can’t be helped. The other thing I hope to accomplish is showing you how to interact with your NCOs. A good new nugget learns to balance their authority as officers with their NCO’s experience. Listen to their advice, but you are the one making the decisions and the one who will be on the hook if something goes haywire. Have you had much of a chance to show leadership at the Academy?”

“Not as a four-deg, Ma’am. This past year? Well, I’ll explain later. In high school, yes, but I don’t think that counts.”

“Maybe not at USAFA, but it does in the long run, Sabrina. Were you the captain of a sports team in high school?”

“Yes, Ma’am, twice – for a year at a time on two separate hockey teams.”

“That sounds like an interesting story, but we’ll leave that for later, too. When we’re in the office or around other folks, call me ‘Ma’am.’ When we’re by ourselves, though, you can call me Sonya. I’m only twenty-six, and one of my sisters is about your age.” Sabrina started to say something, but Sonya held up a hand. “If you are not comfortable doing that, it’s fine. I don’t want you to get into trouble. But you’re wound a little too tight, and I don’t think your time at the Academy has helped you in that regard.”

Sabrina’s bad day threatened to continue when they arrived at the Base Housing office.

“I’m sorry, Ma’am,” the airman said, “but the cadet’s not supposed to be here until tomorrow.”

Sonya glared at the man.

“Cadet, may I see your orders, please?” Sabrina handed them over without a word. Sonya glanced at them, then dropped them on the desk in front of the airman. She pointed to the listed report-by date. “This appears to be today’s date, Senior Airman Jefferson. Now find this young lady a room.”

A staff sergeant stepped out of another office.

“Jefferson, what is the problem?”

“Staff Sergeant, the cadet’s orders have today’s date on them as her arrival date, but our system has tomorrow.”

“Do we have open quarters for her in a female VOQ?”

“Yes, Staff Sergeant.”

“Then give her a room and a meal card. In the future, check whether there is an open room that meets a visitor’s requirements, and ask your NCO for guidance. Clear?”

“Yes, Staff Sergeant.”

“Get it done, Jefferson.” The sergeant turned to the two women. “This won’t take long, Ma’am, Cadet. We have plenty of space.”

“Thanks, Staff Sergeant Michelson. The cadet’s had a long day, and I’m sure she’s eager to rest.”

Sabrina dropped her backpack in her VOQ room before climbing back into Sonya’s shark-like BMW Z4, which fit Sabrina’s mental image of what a fighter pilot would drive. Sonya laughed when Sabrina mentioned that during the drive to an off-base restaurant.

“I drive this because the shitbox Chevy I owned through college died at the end of my initial flight training. It’s not the most practical thing, but since the Air Force packs and moves all my stuff for me – what little I have – I figured I’d have a little fun. It’s a good thing I didn’t get posted to Elmendorf or Shemya. I’ll buy a truck if I get stationed somewhere they get snow.” She paused. “Not that I know how to drive in snow...”

“Where are you from, Ma’am?”

“Las Cruces, New Mexico. Went to New Mexico State in Las Cruces, too, mainly so I could have access to free laundry and could still see my little sisters.”

“So you’re the oldest?”

“Yep. My sister Erica is your age – nineteen – and Stacy is seventeen.”

“I’ll be twenty next week, Ma’am. There’s a bit of a gap between you and your sisters,” Sabrina commented as they walked into a chain steakhouse.

“Mom had a miscarriage between me and Erica. That made her a little gun-shy about having another baby. It took Dad a few years to convince her to try again.”

“What do your mom and dad do?”

“Mom’s an administrative assistant for a pool supply business back home. Dad was killed by a drunk driver while I was a freshman at State.”

“I’m sorry.”

“That was a really bad year for all of us. I nearly failed out of college, and my sisters’ grades tanked that year, too, but Mom helped all of us through it. She’s the strong one in our family.”

Sabrina learned over the next two days how much paperwork came with being a squadron training officer in addition to being a flight leader. The 12th Tactical Fighter Squadron, despite being ‘high visibility’ due to being based in a major metropolitan area, would be one of the last to upgrade its current F-15E Strike Eagles to F-35A Lightning II fighters. Keeping enough Eagle pilots on duty while sending others off for transition training was a constant dance. Sabrina’s eyes started to cross by that afternoon.