Birth Pangs of the Coming Age | Chapter 7
If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness. (1 John 1:9)
Previously . . . Her commander awarded Katie the Distinguished Flying Cross and Purple Heart after she saved five soldiers’ lives in a battle-damaged helicopter.
Chapter Seven
Regret and Redemption
FOB Freedom, Squadron Dining Hall, March 18th
Katie walked from her quarters to her squadron’s dining hall under a bright, cloudless blue sky. The temperature was 45 degrees, with a gentle, dry breeze. Very nice!
Inside, she saw T-BAR and Shrek at their usual table. T-BAR waved her over. She acknowledged him with a nod, then went through the line to select her lunch. Roast beef, mashed potatoes and gravy. Green beans, bread, and butter. Black coffee.
As she neared their table, T-BAR greeted her, “Hey Poca! No whale blubber today, eh?”
She sat and removed her XyloVirus mask, folding it into her shirt pocket.
“No, but that’s a good idea. I’ll have to write that suggestion on a critique form.”
Looking at Katie, Shrek said, “Hey. Have you heard about the new XyloVirus screening requirement?”
“No, what is it?”
“DOD just made it mandatory to get a negative XyloVirus test within 48 hours of deploying or returning from deployment.”
In between bites, Katie said, “That doesn’t sound too bad. Probably a good idea.”
“That’s what I thought too,” Shrek said, “but mister conspiracy theorist here makes more of it.”
T-BAR jumped in. “Yeah, they’re pushing the vaccine more and more. A year ago, it was mandatory masks and social distancing. Now it’s mandatory XyloVirus testing before travel. Soon it’ll be mandatory vaccines. With the president’s 70 percent goal, you can see where this is going. The government owns us. We’re their property. You can bet a mandatory jab is coming. You watch and see.”
Katie said, “Why is the vaccine bad? If it keeps you from getting really sick or dying, what’s the problem with it?”
T-BAR looked at his left index finger as he held it up. “First, it’s not well tested. Trump rushed it into production without the normal drug testing safeguards. They said they didn’t have time to do the double-blind trials that could take years.”
Looking at two raised fingers, he continued, “Second, what’s this mRNA? It’s not a normal vaccine. It’s some kind of experimental genetic DNA manipulation. Sounds scary to me, especially when it’s been rushed into production.”
Shrek added, “I’ve been reading about it. Some people think it could make you sterile. People in the test group had blood clots. Others had a swollen heart.”
Not interested in the topic, Katie continued eating.
T-BAR responded, “Sterile? Maybe we oughtta look on the bright side. No baby Shreks.”
Shrek raised his giant arm, as if to smash T-BAR like a bug.
T-BAR cowered, “Just kidding!”
Katie said, “There’s no requirement for us to get the vaccine now. Maybe a little more time will give us better information about its safety.”
“Yeah, good thinking.” Shrek said.
Katie finished her dinner. As she sipped her coffee, she said, “My uncle stays informed about these things. I’ll ask him what he thinks about it.”
FOB Freedom, June 22nd
Katie and her crew were on standby when the alarm bell notified them of a mission. An explosion wounded a juvenile girl in a friendly village.
Katie got the mission details while her copilot and crew readied her Blackhawk for flight. As she ran to the chopper, the hot dry air made it hard to breathe. Feels like the inside of an oven!
At the aircraft, she briefed her crew. “We’re going to a friendly village to pickup a Kyrgi girl who’s been hurt in an explosion.”
She pulled a water bottle out of a box on the cargo floor and guzzled half the bottle. “Everybody stay hydrated.”
“Yes, ma’am!” The crew chief said as he grabbed a bottle.
From the left seat, she gave her copilot the coordinates and contact frequency, saying, “Tex, plug these in please.” As he did, she started the aircraft from memory, just as Tiedown had done.
During the last six months, Katie quickly ascended from copilot to aircraft commander. She loved this moment in every flight—the feeling of her aircraft coming to life under her command. The sound of the engines and electronics, the sight of the dials awakening inside the cockpit and the main rotor accelerating overhead. The vibrations of a thousand synchronized parts in her seat, pedals, and flight controls.
As she rolled the throttle up to full power, she felt fulfilled. This is what God created me to do. I love it.
She had proven herself. Her entire squadron respected her as a skillful and courageous medevac pilot.
She looked forward to returning to Ketchikan, having earned the same glory and honor her Uncle Andy enjoyed. She’ll be respected by her entire clan, especially by the native kids she hoped to mentor.
***
An American medic waited near the village and guided Katie to a safe landing spot. He helped Katie’s medic load her stretcher into the Blackhawk, then he jumped on board to accompany the girl back to FOB Freedom.
Her clothes were tattered, as if from a blast. She wailed in misery, and Katie smelled burned flesh.
Empathizing with the girl’s suffering, Katie felt herself getting emotional. Don’t look back. She forced herself to focus her attention ahead, and didn’t look back for the rest of the flight.
She tuned her navigation radio to a local Armed Forces Network radio station, then turned up the volume until she couldn’t hear the girl’s cries. The station was playing jazz, which she didn’t like, but it was better than the alternative.
When they landed at the hospital helipad, the two medics quickly carried the wounded girl into the hospital.
Back at her squadron’s parking area, Katie and her crew inspected, refueled, and prepped the aircraft for its next mission.
Something about this girl gnawed at Katie’s soul. She decided when her shift was over, she’d go to the hospital to check on her.
FOB Freedom Hospital, June 22nd
Staff Sergeant Ethan Salvadore stood next to the five-year-old girl’s bed, first adjusting her IV, then stroking the unconscious girl’s forehead. He’d accompanied the girl in Katie’s helicopter.
He heard the nurse behind him say, “Hi Poca.”
Ethan turned to see Katie, who’d come to see how the girl was doing. He felt glad to see her again, though she obviously didn't remember him.
Katie stood on the other side of the girl’s bed. Katie loosened her XyloVirus mask, letting it hang from her left ear. She gently touched the girl’s hand and whispered, "Easaa 'an yashfiak Yasue." which he knew meant, “May Jesus heal you,” in Arabic.
When Ethan saw the three-inch scar on Katie's left cheek, he remembered the first time he saw Katie, when she saved him in the Tanger Valley. Then, it was a gaping, open wound.
He remembered the doctor’s words. Yes, she could’ve been Miss America before she got that scar.
As she turned to leave, he said, “Hal tatahadath alearabia?” which means, ‘Do you speak Arabic?’
“Un poco.” she said, looking directly at him for the first time.
“How’s the shrapnel wound in your tattoo healing?”
Slightly shocked, she looked at his nametag. Salvadore. He saw the light of recognition on her face as she remembered his name.
“It’s healing nicely, but it left a scar.” She pulled up her left sleeve to show him.
“What kind of tattoo is that?”
“I’m a Klinatok from Ketchikan, Alaska. This is my tribal clan tattoo.”
He read her name, Katie Whitefeather, embossed under her pilot wings.
“I heard the nurse call you Poca. Does that bother you?”
“No, I’m proud of my native heritage. Besides, it could've been worse. Some of the names they call each other are pretty cruel. For me, they easily could've settled on Squaw, or now, Scar. So, Poca isn't too bad.”
She replaced her XyloVirus mask, covering the scar.
“Do you visit all your medevac patients?”
“No, but this one touched my heart, reminding me of someone. It’s so needless, so unfair. I’m afraid to ask. What’s her prognosis?”
Ethan looked down at the girl’s face. Her blackened epidermis was peeling, revealing the pink dermis layer underneath.
His voice quivered. “She won’t make it. She’s too badly burned. I knew both her and her parents. Her father was the village chief. They were good people, and Suzie—that’s what we call her—was so full of life. She always had a smile.”
“How did it happen?” Katie asked.
“A US Army patrol caught a couple of Kyrgis planting a bomb in the road near the village. There was a brief firefight, and a stray bullet must have hit the propane tank in their house, causing it to explode. Her parents and brother died instantly in the house when it collapsed on them, but Suzie was outside. The explosion burned her from head to toe, and the concussion sent her flying. I got to her quickly after the explosion, but there wasn’t much I could do to help her, or to ease her pain. That’s when I called for medevac.”
“That’s terrible!”
Ethan shook his head. “Yeah, I’m sick of this war and all the mindless, uncaring waste of innocent human life. And for what? I was a gung-ho Green Beret when I came here. I bought into the propaganda. We were supposed to be the good guys.”
Suzie moaned, delirious.
“You and I came here to help people, but we’re both pawns of evil people that don’t care about us, or about Suzie and her family. They don’t care about freedom or democracy either. Those are just words they used to manipulate us. They only care about power and money.”
Ethan could see Katie was shocked at his emotional, unpatriotic outburst. She apparently didn’t share his feelings, or his conclusions.
“When my tour ends next month, I’ve decided not to re-enlist. I want to use my paramedic skills on medevac choppers back in the states.”
She walked to him, looked him in the eye, and put her hand on his shoulder. “You’ll be a good one.”
Katie’s Quarters, June 22nd
Katie closed the door behind her, the click of the latch sounding final. Desert heat seeped through the walls despite the constant whirring of the window-mounted air conditioner. The air was dry, unlike the tears forming in her eyes.
What’s bothering me? Why do I feel so conflicted?
She moved to the small desk by the window, where the relentless sun filtered through a thin curtain, casting long, distorted shadows across the room. It was June, and the desert outside her window was an expanse of relentless, undulating waves of heat. The brown landscape was desolate, much like how she felt inside.
The small cross on her desk caught the sunlight, casting a glow that seemed to beckon her. It was a simple thing, made of brass, but it embodied a truth she was still learning to comprehend. It spoke of sacrifice and redemption.
Then Katie realized the source of her tears. My baby would’ve been about Suzie's age, full of innocence, with her whole life ahead of her. But neither Suzie nor my child will have a life. Their lives were ended by others, through no choice of their own. In Suzie’s case, it was an accident of war, a stray bullet. But in my child’s case, it was my selfishness and desperation. I killed it.
What if I’d kept my baby, becoming a single mother, unemployed, and living on welfare? I’d be poor, with no economic future, but my baby would have its life.
But, unlike Jesus, I wasn’t willing to sacrifice myself for another—not even my own child.
She silently prayed. God, I can't change the past, and I can’t bring back the life I discarded. Please forgive me.
A voice in her mind confronted her, saying, “Sure, now you’re sorry, after there are no consequences remaining. You got the career you wanted, with no baby to tie you down, and now you want forgiveness, too. What a hypocrite.”
She pulled her Bible towards her. When she opened it, her eyes landed on a highlighted passage, “For I know the plans I have for you, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”
“Thank you, Lord.”
Katie let those words wash over her. She recited them, over and over. With each recitation, she felt the burden of guilt lessen. In her heart, she felt God’s embrace. She rejected the accuser’s voice and received the forgiveness she’d sought for the last five years.
There, seated at her desk, Katie folded her hands, bowed her head, and prayed.
“Heavenly Father, I know I’ve sinned, and I’m sorry.” Her voice wavered, but she pressed on.
In her heart, she had an assurance that God was listening. “I've carried this guilt for five years, too afraid, or too ashamed to confess it. I know I don’t deserve it, but today I ask for your forgiveness. Let Jesus’s blood cover my sins, and give me the strength to live for you from now on.”
Deep in her heart, she sensed an intuitive assurance that God had heard and granted her prayer.
Katie remained still, basking in the light and love of God’s holy presence. When she opened her eyes, the last rays of the sun cast a gentle glow across her face, as if in answer to her plea. A fragile sense of peace settled in her soul. As she rose, she knew in her heart that God forgave her. For the first time in five years, her conscience didn’t condemn her. She was born again.
Coming Next Week . . . Katie’s commitment to follow the truth will be severely tested.
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