by Nick Armbrister.
Riga Pot Luck
In combat it was pot luck who lived or died. Especially in a global war without end. Training, will power, skill and luck only went so far. The Grim Reaper struck without warning. There was only so much to be done. Do an extra five minutes of pre-flight checks. Wake up an hour earlier to review the latest Intel. Pray to God that you would survive this mission. Did all that make a difference? How was it what unskilled pilots survived their flight tour? While the most careful and proficient died early on? There was no logic here. It was the luck of the draw. Riga flew as many missions as she felt she could. Twice a day at times. She took a day off per week unless it was maximum effort. This way she flew she would be alert and rested. Ready for war and in control. But was anybody in control? Or was it all random chance? The truth was somewhere in the middle. It wasn’t luck or skill or God. It was simple mathematics. The daily equation of who was next…
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Riga Bizarre
It was a bizarre situation Riga was in. She put herself on it. That of being in love with somebody but not together. An inner force drove her. It said search him out and be with him. Not in romance for they already did that. Do it in other ways. Meet on the mess hall for a coffee. Go over to the flight line to watch him land safely. She had ended it. Why did she feel and behave this way? It was love. A form of madness. Different than the love of her country or her aircraft. Those were different. This was scary. It was inside her like her blood or her lungs. What caused this malady? Why fall in love with a pilot? He was in a different squadron. It caused complications. They had been a couple for three months. She ended it due to thinking it was wrong. Yet she still loved him. Was that wrong? How did he feel to her? He was silent now due to the pain. Should Riga fix it? What must she do? Normally she knew what to do. Right now, she was confused. What to do? Love from afar or risk making it worse? She hurt him once. What happened if it wasn’t fixed and caused big problems? What a damn mess!
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Riga Blazing
Riga was furious with one of the other pilots. He’d bumped her plane while taxying. His wing had gouged the fuselage. She couldn’t fly till it was repaired unless she took a replacement plane. His plane had a bent wing tip but was still flyable.
She confronted him there on the runway after leaping out of her ship. The row was fierce like her. Her face was red and high blood threatened. Her language was red. She hit the tall pilot in the belly. He doubled over. Then she slapped him. A member of the ground crew ran up and separated them. She kept swearing and called the new pilot many names.
Look at what you did! It was deliberate. You did that to ground me so you can have my kills. The ground crew man shook his head and dragged the angry woman away. She was crying tears of rage. Stress overcame her. She was red in all ways and was even madder when her glasses fell off and nearly broke.
She glared at the other pilot who stammered an apology and stormed off. She left the damaged plane to be hauled away by the ground crew. It would need two days of repairs. The other plane would need a new wing tip. An investigation would be launched to determine if the he was negligent. Then it would go from there.
She needed to calm down. She would write her sister. Writing to her always calmed her down.
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Riga Brat
Riga was a self-designated brat even if a good leader and combat pilot. She often treated those close to her badly in certain situs. There was one pilot who was quiet. Some of his behaviour grated on her nerves so she beasted him. This went on for months. Daily beastings off brat Riga. Bossy direct almost disrespectful. One time the pilot cut in front of Riga’s fighter plane. She had to cut the power and shove the nose down not to fly into him. Upon landing she berated him for almost killing them both and writing off two expensive planes. He apologized and said he wasn’t watching his flight path. She told him again. Your first priority is look ahead of you. All the time. Or you will die. Do you understand? He got upset with tears in his eyes. Do I need to give you flight lessons? You trained in basic then advanced planes. You fly a fighter plane. What is the problem? Then he blurted out the reason. She already knew what it was. He wanted Riga and had for a while. She glared at him. All of the men on the flight line want me. A few have had me. They do not almost collide in the sky with me. Ok. You want me? Yes or no? Silence. She asked him again. He nodded his head. She beasted him some more. It would be his last beasting. Then she took his hand and led him to the tool store. She kissed him. It went from there. He joined the list of pilots who had Riga. There were no more near mid-air collisions. A lesson had been learnt and a pilot became better. It was what she did. Riga. Pilot leader brat.
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