Page 181 - Never Fly Solo

154 | NEVER FLY SOLO
The radio call from the tower comes through my headset.
“Viper flight, taxi into position and hold.”
I clamp the oxygen mask down over my face and run up
the throttle as I take my position on the runway. As usual, my
heartbeat ramps up and my mouth starts to feel dry. I gaze
down the runway and miles away, out into the night sky. I’ll
be up in that black hole for six hours tonight.
It feels like an eternity, but the call finally comes. “Viper
flight, cleared for takeoff.”
It’s go time.
Yoda is first. I watch as his engine kicks into afterburner
and brightens the runway all around him. The sound is deaf-
ening. In an instant, he’s blasting down the runway, and I
watch him lift off. Now it’s my turn.
My left hand engages the throttle as I crank the engine to
full military power while compressing the rudder pedals down
to engage my brakes. The plane is shaking as I scan my engine
instruments. All “check good.” My heart is pounding. I look
down at the photo of my niece and nephew, kiss the angel
wings on my checklist, and then push it up to max after-
burner. Releasing the brakes, I am slung back into my seat as
the jet accelerates down the runway.
There’s no turning back. I’m committed to this mission.
I’m free.
That night, I “broke right” and defeated four surface-to-
air missiles, lost sight of my flight lead, overcame vertigo on
the tanker, and battled a claustrophobic panic attack headed
home from the tanker. It was the most intense mission of my
life. But I survived.
Actually, I did more than survive—I won. Along with my
wingmen, I came back to a hot cappuccino, a squadron of
friends, and a feeling of accomplishment that simply cannot