Chapter 9 - THE DEPARTURE
-9-
The morning of my deployment arrived with a slate-gray dawn and a thin mist rolling down from the Rocky Mountains, blanketing the Fort Carson airstrip in a quiet, solemn hush.
The C-17 Globemaster transport aircraft sat on the tarmac like a massive, gray mechanical beast, its engines idling with a deep, bone-rattling roar that vibrated through the crisp morning air. Around us, dozens of soldiers in full desert camouflage adjusted their rucksacks, kissing spouses goodbye, sharing final handshakes, and conducting last-minute equipment checks.
I stood near the edge of the staging area, dressed in my operational fatigues, my heavy tactical rucksack resting on the asphalt beside my boots.
Emily and Laura stood right in front of me. Laura had her arm wrapped securely around Emily’s shoulders, both of them wearing matching Colorado Rockies baseball caps to fend off the chilly mountain wind.
“Remember your operational directives, Colonel,” Laura said, her voice teasingly brisk to mask the emotional tightness in her throat. “Sunday video calls, zero missing reports, and no trying to fix foreign logistics networks single-handedly.”
“Orders received and understood, Lieutenant,” I smiled, pulling my sister into a fierce, protective hug. “Take care of her, Laura.”
“Always,” she whispered against my shoulder.
I knelt down on one knee in front of Emily. The morning light caught her green eyes, reflecting a quiet maturity that belonged to a girl twice her age. She didn't cry. She reached out, straightened the collar of my uniform shirt with meticulous care, and then wrapped her arms tightly around my neck, burying her face in my shoulder.
“Don't stay away too long, Daddy,” she whispered into my ear.
“Six months, bug. Not a day longer than necessary,” I promised, holding her as tight as I possibly could without breaking her ribs. “You’ve got my drawing right here in my pocket. Every time I look at it, I’ll remember who I’m fighting to come home to.”
I pulled the small, crumpled piece of paper out of my pocket—the drawing of our family under a bright sun that she had clutched in the laundry room months ago—and showed it to her. She beamed, kissing the edge of the paper before I carefully folded it back up and tucked it back into my breast pocket, right over my heart.
A loud, piercing horn blew across the tarmac, signaling the final boarding call for all deploying personnel.
“That’s my cue,” I said, standing up and picking up my rucksack.
I gave Laura one final nod, scooped Emily up for one last crushing hug, and then turned toward the metal loading ramp of the C-17.
As I walked up the incline, the roar of the engines growing louder, I paused at the top threshold and looked back. Emily and Laura were standing side by side near the safety barrier, both of them waving frantically, their baseball caps catching the wind.
May you like
I raised my right hand in a crisp, sharp salute, turned on my heel, and stepped into the belly of the aircraft.
The deployment was underway. The mission was clear. And as the massive cargo door sealed shut behind me, plunging the cabin into a dull, rhythmic roar, I knew with absolute certainty that no matter how far away my duties took me, my heart was already anchored safely at home.
