No Quarter Given (SSE 667) by Lindsay McKenna Page A
Authors: Lindsay McKenna
Tags: Army, Women in Army
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brittle. "Women, by nature are weak, Ensign."
"Where I come from, they're strong and capable, sir. I guess you just haven't run into any of my kind."
With a snort, Griff got to his feet. How he wanted to throw down the red flag of war and surrender to those defiant blue eyes. Dana's mouth... Sweet heaven, Griff thought. What would it be like to mold those lips to his and taste her fiery response? And then he remembered Carol, who had appeared so capable and independent, too—at first.
"Ensign, you've got nothing to do but get well. Now get out of here."
Dana stubbornly remained. "It's 0800, Lieutenant. Can't you at least walk me around and introduce me to the trainer? I can read up on the manuals while I'm recuperating. I'm not an invalid, you know."
Pleased with her response, Griff shrugged. "A walk-around? You're picking up the lingo fast, Coulter."
Moving into a parade-rest position, hands behind her back, Dana continued to meet his stormy gray gaze. "Give me half a chance to prove myself, Mr. Turcotte, and I'll earn my wings."
For a moment Griff almost believed her. "Come with me, Dana—er, Coulter. If you want to play at learning how to fly, I'll go along with your game."
Throttling her anger, Dana followed him out of the office. As they left admin, she noticed the pink dawn on the horizon for the first time. Whiting Field was small, she had heard, in comparison to the Pensacola air station where most of the student flying was conducted. Both sat on the Gulf of Mexico, in Florida's panhandle. Still, the airport had six runways, a large, glass-enclosed control tower and a number of barracks that housed students and personnel alike. She was glad that she and Maggie and Molly had an apartment off station.
"Why do you use the word play, Lieutenant?" Dana lengthened her short stride to keep up with Griff. He towered over her, his shoulders thrown back with pride. Despite his arrogance, she would never forget his actions at the airport.
"Women play at everything. Life's a game with them, Coulter. I'm sure you know that."
"No, sir, I don't know that. I take my commitment to the Navy seriously."
"Yeah, a six-year commitment. You'll probably snag a higher-grade officer, get married and end up with a brood of kids and quit."
"Barefoot and pregnant?"
Griff heard the steel in her lowered tone. "Isn't that the goal of every woman, Coulter? A husband with a big fat paycheck? Security?" That had been Carol's aim, she had confided timidly the day she'd asked for a divorce.
"I wouldn't be here if that were my goal, Lieutenant."
With a harsh laugh, Griff headed onto the tarmac after flashing his security badge at the gate guard. In front of them were five neat lines of parked aircraft, six to each row. The trainers had been serviced and checked the night before by teams of hardworking enlisted mechanics, and now were ready for their demanding flight schedule for the coming day.
Griff looked for tail number 13115, his trainer. It sat at the end of row three. Glancing down, he noticed Dana's alertness. Her eyes roved restlessly, and she didn't seem to miss much. It was one thing he looked for in a prospective student. Alertness could save a student's life—and his, too.
Halting, Griff stood in front of the trainer. "This is 13115, Coulter. My plane. A walk-around consists of checking out the external surfaces of the aircraft. You're to look for possible hydraulic leaks under the wings, check the ailerons, rudders and elevators to make sure they work properly." Griff moved in a counterclockwise circle around the trainer, pointing here and there. "The student is responsible for the walk-around. The crew chief on this plane is AVM Parker, and he'll present you with the discrepancy book on it. You're to look at it, see if everything's been repaired and sign it off after the visual inspection." Griff pinned her with a dark look. "Failure to do so leads to an automatic Board."
"You don't have to look so happy about it, Mr.
"Where I come from, they're strong and capable, sir. I guess you just haven't run into any of my kind."
With a snort, Griff got to his feet. How he wanted to throw down the red flag of war and surrender to those defiant blue eyes. Dana's mouth... Sweet heaven, Griff thought. What would it be like to mold those lips to his and taste her fiery response? And then he remembered Carol, who had appeared so capable and independent, too—at first.
"Ensign, you've got nothing to do but get well. Now get out of here."
Dana stubbornly remained. "It's 0800, Lieutenant. Can't you at least walk me around and introduce me to the trainer? I can read up on the manuals while I'm recuperating. I'm not an invalid, you know."
Pleased with her response, Griff shrugged. "A walk-around? You're picking up the lingo fast, Coulter."
Moving into a parade-rest position, hands behind her back, Dana continued to meet his stormy gray gaze. "Give me half a chance to prove myself, Mr. Turcotte, and I'll earn my wings."
For a moment Griff almost believed her. "Come with me, Dana—er, Coulter. If you want to play at learning how to fly, I'll go along with your game."
Throttling her anger, Dana followed him out of the office. As they left admin, she noticed the pink dawn on the horizon for the first time. Whiting Field was small, she had heard, in comparison to the Pensacola air station where most of the student flying was conducted. Both sat on the Gulf of Mexico, in Florida's panhandle. Still, the airport had six runways, a large, glass-enclosed control tower and a number of barracks that housed students and personnel alike. She was glad that she and Maggie and Molly had an apartment off station.
"Why do you use the word play, Lieutenant?" Dana lengthened her short stride to keep up with Griff. He towered over her, his shoulders thrown back with pride. Despite his arrogance, she would never forget his actions at the airport.
"Women play at everything. Life's a game with them, Coulter. I'm sure you know that."
"No, sir, I don't know that. I take my commitment to the Navy seriously."
"Yeah, a six-year commitment. You'll probably snag a higher-grade officer, get married and end up with a brood of kids and quit."
"Barefoot and pregnant?"
Griff heard the steel in her lowered tone. "Isn't that the goal of every woman, Coulter? A husband with a big fat paycheck? Security?" That had been Carol's aim, she had confided timidly the day she'd asked for a divorce.
"I wouldn't be here if that were my goal, Lieutenant."
With a harsh laugh, Griff headed onto the tarmac after flashing his security badge at the gate guard. In front of them were five neat lines of parked aircraft, six to each row. The trainers had been serviced and checked the night before by teams of hardworking enlisted mechanics, and now were ready for their demanding flight schedule for the coming day.
Griff looked for tail number 13115, his trainer. It sat at the end of row three. Glancing down, he noticed Dana's alertness. Her eyes roved restlessly, and she didn't seem to miss much. It was one thing he looked for in a prospective student. Alertness could save a student's life—and his, too.
Halting, Griff stood in front of the trainer. "This is 13115, Coulter. My plane. A walk-around consists of checking out the external surfaces of the aircraft. You're to look for possible hydraulic leaks under the wings, check the ailerons, rudders and elevators to make sure they work properly." Griff moved in a counterclockwise circle around the trainer, pointing here and there. "The student is responsible for the walk-around. The crew chief on this plane is AVM Parker, and he'll present you with the discrepancy book on it. You're to look at it, see if everything's been repaired and sign it off after the visual inspection." Griff pinned her with a dark look. "Failure to do so leads to an automatic Board."
"You don't have to look so happy about it, Mr.
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