Fourth Crisis: The Battle for Taiwan Read Online Free Page A
Author: Peter von Bleichert
the end of her driveway and pretend the asphalt
was the steel deck of an aircraft carrier. Cindy’s best friend would stand beside her and salute. This signaled Cindy to start pedaling. She would pump the pedals as hard as her
skinny legs could manage, and got the bike up to speed. Trailing sparkly streamers from the
handlebars, Cindy’s bike would hit a makeshift plywood ramp and go
airborne. These were her first imaginary
carrier take-offs. She cherished those
few weightless moments before the bicycle hit the ground again. Often sent tumbling through the brambles, she
always had a righteous laugh, and did it all again and again.
Years later, she had found her teenage sweetheart, and fell
harder than those bicycle wipeouts. He had
proposed on the dance floor at their senior prom. She turned him down and left him in the
flicker of the disco ball, with the thump of music and a broken heart filling
his chest. Although she was handed true
love, Cindy wanted more from life: Cindy wanted wings. With a bit of help from her father, she put
herself through college and earned a degree in aeronautics. With diploma in hand, Cindy went right to the
navy recruiter. He immediately showed
her where to sign.
United States Naval Officer Candidate Cynthia Pelletier had
then gone on to Officer Candidate School at Naval Station Newport, Rhode
Island. There she had endured the Marine
Corps’ ‘House of Pain,’ and earned a healthy fear of drill instructors, and a
place at Primary Flight Training. Now a
distinguished naval aviator, Lieutenant Pelletier accepted her hotel card
key. She headed upstairs for room
service and a few hours of sleep.
Early the next morning, Lieutenant Pelletier trailed another
bellhop. He lugged her sea-bag, as she
strolled through the hotel’s lobby doors and out into the cool pre-dawn dark. Pelletier breathed in the moist salty air and
looked at the seagulls that were already awake and complaining as they wheeled
above. Attracted more by Cindy’s
splendor than by the bellhop’s wave, a taxi screeched to a stop beside her, and
the driver emerged to open the car’s door. He was unkempt and reeked of old cologne. Pelletier stated her destination: “North
Island Naval Air Station,” and took a deep breath before shuffling into the
car. She quickly lowered the windows to
aerate the interior, and, in the side mirror, watched the driver cram her sea-bag
into the taxi’s trunk.
They passed the venerable aircraft carrier Midway on Harbor Drive, and then the
Marina and Gaslamp districts of Old San Diego. The taxi turned onto Highway 75 and crossed the elegant blue ribbon of
viaduct that linked Coronado Island to the city. The sun began to rise, tinting the morning
sky deep purple. In the distance,
Pelletier spotted the white-barreled towers and red witch hat-shaped roofs of
the beachside Hotel Del Coronado. The
taxi passed Coronado Island’s Tidelands Park and turned onto 4 th Street. Pelletier thought about her ship: USS Ronald Reagan . This would be the first time she was to serve
aboard the nuclear supercarrier, and she would be doing it in the navy’s newest
airplane. With fifth generation aircraft
trickling into the fleet, Pelletier was one of the first to learn and fly the
new jets. One of the stealthy machines
awaited her on North Island’s flight line. She would fly it out to meet the carrier.
Nudged by tugs, Ronald
Reagan had already put to sea beneath the twinkling stars, and departed San
Diego Harbor early that morning. With her
decks bare and cavernous hangar empty, ‘The Gipper,’ as Ronald Reagan was affectionately called, would meet her air wing
and escorts south of San Clemente Island. Once formed-up in southern California waters, the Ronald Reagan carrier strike group was to head west toward the
continental shelf.
Pelletier’s taxi arrived at the outer gate of North Island
Naval Air Station.
was the steel deck of an aircraft carrier. Cindy’s best friend would stand beside her and salute. This signaled Cindy to start pedaling. She would pump the pedals as hard as her
skinny legs could manage, and got the bike up to speed. Trailing sparkly streamers from the
handlebars, Cindy’s bike would hit a makeshift plywood ramp and go
airborne. These were her first imaginary
carrier take-offs. She cherished those
few weightless moments before the bicycle hit the ground again. Often sent tumbling through the brambles, she
always had a righteous laugh, and did it all again and again.
Years later, she had found her teenage sweetheart, and fell
harder than those bicycle wipeouts. He had
proposed on the dance floor at their senior prom. She turned him down and left him in the
flicker of the disco ball, with the thump of music and a broken heart filling
his chest. Although she was handed true
love, Cindy wanted more from life: Cindy wanted wings. With a bit of help from her father, she put
herself through college and earned a degree in aeronautics. With diploma in hand, Cindy went right to the
navy recruiter. He immediately showed
her where to sign.
United States Naval Officer Candidate Cynthia Pelletier had
then gone on to Officer Candidate School at Naval Station Newport, Rhode
Island. There she had endured the Marine
Corps’ ‘House of Pain,’ and earned a healthy fear of drill instructors, and a
place at Primary Flight Training. Now a
distinguished naval aviator, Lieutenant Pelletier accepted her hotel card
key. She headed upstairs for room
service and a few hours of sleep.
Early the next morning, Lieutenant Pelletier trailed another
bellhop. He lugged her sea-bag, as she
strolled through the hotel’s lobby doors and out into the cool pre-dawn dark. Pelletier breathed in the moist salty air and
looked at the seagulls that were already awake and complaining as they wheeled
above. Attracted more by Cindy’s
splendor than by the bellhop’s wave, a taxi screeched to a stop beside her, and
the driver emerged to open the car’s door. He was unkempt and reeked of old cologne. Pelletier stated her destination: “North
Island Naval Air Station,” and took a deep breath before shuffling into the
car. She quickly lowered the windows to
aerate the interior, and, in the side mirror, watched the driver cram her sea-bag
into the taxi’s trunk.
They passed the venerable aircraft carrier Midway on Harbor Drive, and then the
Marina and Gaslamp districts of Old San Diego. The taxi turned onto Highway 75 and crossed the elegant blue ribbon of
viaduct that linked Coronado Island to the city. The sun began to rise, tinting the morning
sky deep purple. In the distance,
Pelletier spotted the white-barreled towers and red witch hat-shaped roofs of
the beachside Hotel Del Coronado. The
taxi passed Coronado Island’s Tidelands Park and turned onto 4 th Street. Pelletier thought about her ship: USS Ronald Reagan . This would be the first time she was to serve
aboard the nuclear supercarrier, and she would be doing it in the navy’s newest
airplane. With fifth generation aircraft
trickling into the fleet, Pelletier was one of the first to learn and fly the
new jets. One of the stealthy machines
awaited her on North Island’s flight line. She would fly it out to meet the carrier.
Nudged by tugs, Ronald
Reagan had already put to sea beneath the twinkling stars, and departed San
Diego Harbor early that morning. With her
decks bare and cavernous hangar empty, ‘The Gipper,’ as Ronald Reagan was affectionately called, would meet her air wing
and escorts south of San Clemente Island. Once formed-up in southern California waters, the Ronald Reagan carrier strike group was to head west toward the
continental shelf.
Pelletier’s taxi arrived at the outer gate of North Island
Naval Air Station.