Chad and the Admiral

This story was originally written for a Storywriters United group challenge, to be no more than 700 words and to use "tomcat, uncle, last rites, fanfare, and homeland" in the body of the story.  This was my effort for that.1

Chad and the Admiral2

(692 words)3

He stood quietly, head bowed but eyes raised slightly, glancing around at the uniformed strangers but unable to keep his eyes off the huge metal thing, reflecting the bright, mid-day sun off the gently moving deck of the huge aircraft carrier. The man standing beside him, with the single silver star on his collar, bent down so he could speak into the small lad’s ear.4

“That’s an F-14 Tomcat, Chad, the kind your dad flew.”5

The boy nodded. “Thank you sir,” he said looking up into the Admiral’s face. “I’ve read a lot about those planes.”6

“Your father was a fine pilot, Chad, as is your uncle. It’s unusual to have two brothers be such excellent pilots.”7

“Uncle Charles brought me out here – he’s going to be my . . . my dad now.” A tear formed in the corner of the big blue eye and then rolled slowly down his cheek, wiped away quickly by the embarrassed boy.8

Chad had been brought to the carrier with no fanfare, no TV or news coverage. It was just something they had decided to do quickly, when the carrier had returned to port, the first time it had seen it’s homeland in nearly a year. This carrier, the USS Constellation, had been on normal duty in the Indian Ocean. It was 1981 and there was no war, nothing particularly threatening. It had been a routine flight, just like all the others, except that during the landing, the arrestor gear had failed and the plane and pilot had plunged like a huge anchor off the edge of the deck and into the Indian Ocean, never to be seen again.9

It had been so sudden - no body, no last rites, no funeral – just an emptiness where there had once been warmth and love. His mother had disappeared the year before, just gone and his dad had decided it was time to retire and be home with the boy. Now there was just his uncle. Chad stood and stared at the plane, just like the one that was his father’s “casket”, and wondered if it would be his uncle’s too. He didn’t know what to do or how to feel. He was twelve years old and loved planes – and hated this one at the same time. He just wanted his dad back . . . and his mom.10

Slowly he walked forward and touched the plane. He ran his fingers over the rivets, ground flat so they were smooth and flush with the skin. He walked under the wing, looking up at the words stenciled there. Moving slowly he ran his hand along the huge engine pod as he edged toward the rear of the plane. He stopped and swallowed – and then stared, at the arrestor hook. He was aware of a hand on his shoulder.11

“Want to climb up there and see what the cockpit looks like?” The Admiral turned the boy back toward the front of the plane.12

“No sir, my dad took me to the base and let me sit in the cockpit. Thanks anyway.”13

Just then, another sailor appeared, with a small box. He handed it to the Admiral, saluted, and quickly left.14

“Chad, here’s something your dad left for you,” he said quietly, and put the box in Chad’s waiting arms. The boy opened it slowly. Inside was a set of pilot's wings and his dad’s hat. Carefully, Chad took the wings out, looked at them lovingly and then pinned them to his shirt pocket. He looked at them for long seconds, then picked up the hat and carefully put it on his head, unmindful that it dropped down over his ears. He turned quickly toward the Admiral, snapped to attention as he had seen his father do, and saluted smartly. A slightly shocked Admiral quickly saluted back.15

Chad did a quick about face, looking out across the ocean to the horizon that stretched as far as he could see in all directions. Once more his arm snapped up in a salute. And, behind him, two tears crept down the checks of a formerly very tough Admiral.16