Page 4 of Wishing for Christmas
Major Brent McNally watched through the windscreen of the airplane as heavy snowflakes fell to the ground. He kept a watchful eye on the night sky, his mind on the weather—for the most part. He stared ahead, his attention drifting to thoughts of his new girlfriend, Clara. He wondered whether she’d made it home from work before the snow started. The snowfall could be dangerous for travel, after all.
He snapped open his lovesick eyes at the reminder and shook the dreamy grin off his face. He forced himself to focus on the mission in front of him and frowned, assessing the worsening weather. The pavement around the aircraft was covered in a slippery blanket of white—more than he would like for an impending takeoff.
He prepared himself for the disappointment. It was only a training mission to keep him current on his flying hours. A two-hour flight in the KC-46 Brent flew for the United States Air Force. Still, it annoyed him when a mission was canceled. Especially one where the plane was already on the tarmac, waiting to take off, and the pilots were antsy to get going. Hours of preparation went into planning a flight, and Brent hated it when all that work went to waste.
He looked at the pilot next to him. Major Dave Cunningham, his closest friend in the squadron, was also the aircraft commander of the flight. With his dark hair and focused eyes, Dave had the serious expression of a pilot trying to make a tough decision. As they watched the snow fall around them, they both knew what this weather meant. They probably wouldn’t be flying tonight.
“Man, it’s really coming down out there. We’re going to be tight on our holdover time. What’s the radar showing?” Brent asked, remaining hopeful. Maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as they thought.
Before Dave could answer, air traffic control came over the intercom and confirmed the bad news. “Extender two niner, the group commander called, and he’s closing the airfield due to heavy snowfall.”
Brent pushed the button on his headset to respond. “Roger. Extender two niner copies all. Requesting a taxi to spot two thirteen.” He let out a sigh and immediately pulled out his after-landing checklist to begin working on the first item. “All that work. We got the plane de-iced and anti-iced, and now we’re canceled.” He ran a hand through his light-brown hair, freshly cut in the military style by the barber on base.
He was dressed identically to Dave, both in their olive-green flight suits. The bag, as they called it—the one-piece uniform that zipped up the front, with the patch displaying the logo of their current command over the right breast.
Brent had excelled in pilot training, allowing him his first pick of assignments after graduation. He had always wanted to fly this amazing tanker airplane after once seeing a video of a fighter jet being refueled over the ocean. Even in his third year at this assignment, he never tired of being at the controls of this plane.
“Sorry, man, I know how much you hate it when this happens.” Dave began the process of returning the aircraft’s systems to their original positions.
“What, and you don’t?” Brent flipped a switch on the panel above him.
“Well, yeah, it’s a pain.” Dave looked out the window as a childlike grin spread across his face. “But look. It’s snowing.”
Brent shook his head, though he couldn’t help but smile too. “Guess you were stationed in California too long if a few flurries get you excited.”
“These aren’t a few flurries, dude. The visibility is well below half a mile.” Dave began a slow taxi of the aircraft, turning the nose back toward the direction where they started. “You know, something about a good snowfall always gets me excited.” He looked over at Brent with a teasing smirk. “Maybe it’s the element of surprise.”
“Well, I’d rather stick to the flight plan, thank you.” Brent’s focus remained on the list in front of him as he continued to run through his post-flight check items.
“Yeah, I know,” Dave said. “You are who you are, even after all the years I’ve known you. You’ve been the same way since training. Stick to the plan, no surprises, right?”
“It’s how missions are successful,” he said, not looking up. Brent was slow and careful as he continued to run through each item so as not to make any mistakes. He found comfort in a good checklist, ticking things off one by one in proper order so nothing was left to chance. “Besides, not all of us get the sweet deals you do when it comes to a change in the itinerary,” he said, his eyes still glued to the paperwork.
Dave’s nickname in the squadron was “Good Deal Dave,” for his ability to find himself stranded with maintenance problems in the most desirable locations. In fact, Dave and his crewhad recently been stuck in Hawaii for a week thanks to an unexpected landing gear issue.
Dave laughed. “Yeah, I suppose surprises do tend to work out in my favor.”
Brent shook his head. “This paperwork won’t take much time at all. It’s not like we accomplished anything on the flight plan anyway.”
“Speaking of plans, did you get approved for leave?” Dave asked.
Brent put down his pencil and finally looked up from his list, his shoulders slowly rolling back. “I sure did. I’ll have the whole week off for Christmas this year.” He looked out the window at the falling snow. “Okay, I’ll admit, snow at Christmas is pretty . . .” He considered his next word.
“Romantic?” Dave supplied.
Brent smiled. “Yeah, I suppose it is.” His thoughts went back to Clara. And to Christmas. Maybe he wouldn’t be flying tonight as planned. But that also meant he could spend more time on his holiday preparations. Maybe Dave was right; unpredictability could have its merits too.
“Well, this girlfriend of yours must be something else to make you smile like that during a canceled flight.”
Brent shrugged, trying to play it cool. Inside, he got a shiver of excitement as thoughts of Christmas filled his mind—Clara and his first one together. Clara had been able to take some vacation days from the hotel for the same week he’d be on leave, and he was looking forward to having the time together. He’d been planning the whole week the same way he planned his flights—with confidence that all would be executed accordingly.
“Always putting in the work,” Dave said, seeming to read his thoughts. “Even for your romantic Christmas.”
Brent thought about his own nickname within the squadron, “Rand.” It started, as most nicknames do, with an embarrassingstory from pilot training. He had made some navigational errors in an early check ride that nearly resulted in him landing the plane, with his instructor on board, at the wrong airport. It took him a while to live that one down. With the last name McNally, the name “Rand”—like the company that made maps—provided the perfect opportunity for his squadron buddies to christen him.
They all laughed about it now, but that check ride had truly affected him. He vowed to never let a dumb oversight like that ever happen again. Ever since, he’d been meticulous about his planning and checklists. His success was a direct result of that extra work. Now that he thought about it, that botched check ride was probably the best thing that had ever happened to his flying career.
“Well, I hope it’s everything you’ve imagined,” Dave said. He concentrated on bringing the airplane in toward the apron, where it would remain parked for the night. The plane came to a full stop. Dave set the parking brake and shut down the engines. He looked outside at the falling snow, still in awe. “Who knows, Rand, maybe you’ll even get hit with a surprise or two yourself.”
