Free Star Girl by Alan VanMeter

victory!” Fielder dies laughing, leading the rest of us to hysteria too, even Major Hoyt.
              After dinner we are all waiting in the rec lounge for the second sortie to return. Just before the sun nears the western horizon, we hear the Raptors screaming overhead. All of us immediately head out to watch them land, counting them for our own ease of mind. There are six Raptors in the pattern, and we all sigh relief, and then silently watch as our brothers land.
              We wait for them to get chow, and they eventually join us in the rec lounge. The Colonel tells that they were called for a large strike package just before evening, and that things seem to be heating up in An Bar province. We should all expect more of the same in the coming days. It is still just now sinking in to me that I have killed, I don’t quite know what to think about that. Even though I didn’t see any of my victims, I know they were there. They were trying to kill our boys though, at least I hope that’s who I hit. What if they were innocent civilians though? Collateral damage as they like to call it, I guess so we can all still sleep at night. No, it was rebels, had to be.
              The next day is a repeat of the previous one, except we are not called on for a strike. We land, debrief, and eat lunch before we all wind up in the rec lounge. I break out my model again and start step two, within an hour several other pilots come from the PX with model kits of their own. It looks like maybe I started something here. Turns out to be a great way to stay calm and relaxed after a stressful day, kind of Zen like.
              After the second sortie returns, and dinner; I watch some TV with my new family. That’s what they are all like, and I have been welcomed into their fold with open arms. This is my dream all right, all except the part about killing people. That isn’t what I thought it would be like at all. It is without any mercy or compassion, or anger even. Just push the button, and fly away, not my problem.
              The next three days are almost identical, including the weather, or lack of as it is. This place is just damn hot, and dry, no wonder the people here are so uptight. Finally we will have a stand down day tomorrow, and that means that the officers club is open. Just about the whole squadron winds up there, and I am determined to buy the Colonel his drink to get the rest of his story from him. Just as I am making my way to him, the whole building shakes, and in a moment we hear a distant loud clap of thunder it sounds like. Everyone pours outside, but none of the sirens are going off. We all see a large bubbling ball of smoke rising against the city lights some ten miles away.
    “Car bomb.” The Colonel states.
    Still the alarms don’t go off, so we all go back in the club. Then not a minute later the building shakes much harder and we hear a blast not far off. The alarms go off, and we all run to the nearest bunker. We all just sit there with the loud blare of the sirens for nearly an hour, before the angry noise stops, and the all clear is given. By this time I am ready to hit the sack, so I do.
              For the next five days we fly sorties, sometimes two a day, and for the second time I am called on to drop my bombs. I do it with no hesitation, but there is a nagging thought there; this is wrong. Finally on the next stand down day I am able to get the story out of the Colonel at the club. All the pilots there shush up as he tells it, each listening with close attention.
    “The Fulcrums climbed pure vertical right onto our six, and were already at twenty thousand when we were alerted to them. Damn those things are fast, let me tell you, never under estimate your enemies’ capabilities. Anyway, I had the two elements with us break hard right and to disengage, while Major Hoyt and I broke hard left, coming around to go head on with the Migs. They came at us. I got