9
“Practice.” Connie sucked hard to get her breath in the freezing air now roaring through the Globemaster’s cargo bay. “Practice makes perfect.” She whispered it like a mantra. It was how her father had raised her and the Army had trained her. And she agreed. But right now she was cold and tired.
Excellent conditions for an advanced training opportunity. She could practically hear her past instructors barking that out.
After a mission, thirteen hours repairing their DAP, and fourteen hours in flight, they were twenty miles short of Fort Campbell, Kentucky, the home of the 160th SOAR. Whatever was so urgent as to drag them across half the world didn’t supplant a training opportunity. Not in Fort Campbell’s mind.
Despite wearing her helmet, she could barely hear herself think. They were
