Strike Force

The second cadet had just gotten to his feet, trying to get to attention while rubbing the back of his head. “Uh, I…yes, sir…I mean…”

“Johansson, what’s going on here?” Harlow demanded. He noticed the dust and dirt on Lenz’s uniform and the cut on Johansson’s chin — the only person here not dirty or bloody was VanWie, by far the smallest kid in this group. “Well?”

“We’re just…playing around, sir,” Johansson said. “We were demoing some martial arts moves.”

“I thought I told you guys to police this area and get ready to move out,” Harlow said. “I only see Delta out there. Now get busy.” The cadets saluted and ran off. “VanWie.” Katelyn trotted back and stood at attention. “Okay, Lieutenant, tell me what really happened.”

“It’s just like Lieutenant Johansson said, sir.”

“You don’t think I saw what happened, Lieutenant? Do you think I’m blind? Cadet Lenz attacked and struck Johansson, he defended himself and was preparing to hit back, you stepped in and kicked him, then stepped in between him and Lenz and knocked over Swanson. That makes you and Lenz the instigators and liable for disciplinary action. Now do you mind telling me what happened?”

“It was a misunderstanding, sir, that’s all.”

“A ‘misunderstanding?’ Explain.”

“Cadet Lenz misunderstood a comment made and overreacted. It was a failure in leadership on my part, so I’m responsible. If there’s any disciplinary action, it should be directed at myself.”

“I’ll be the judge of that, Lieutenant. What comment was made?” Katelyn remained silent. “I asked you a question, Lieutenant.”

“I’d rather not say, sir.”

Harlow stepped back, crossed his arms, and took a breath. This was not the first time he’d heard about such comments, but it was the first time he’d ever seen VanWie react to it.

React, hell…Katelyn kicked his ass. Johansson easily had twenty-five pounds on her, and she made it look easy. As much as Johansson probably deserved it, the use of physical force instead of ignoring or reporting such comments was a dangerous change that had to be nipped in the bud right away.

“Lieutenant…Katelyn, listen: I strongly advise you not to resort to violence to solve problems, even if a friend or colleague is in danger,” Harlow said. “Striking a fellow officer is not permitted, and you could face some serious repercussions no matter what the circumstances are; but more importantly, violence in the heat of emotion is the most dangerous and non-productive kind. It makes you weaker, not stronger. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m saying this as your friend, Katelyn, not just your CO,” Harlow went on. “You’ve obviously got some martial arts skills, which I didn’t know you had. Nothing wrong with that, as long as it’s used for self-defense — otherwise, you should be smart, avoid confrontation, and notify the proper authorities first before things get out of hand, whether it’s myself, a teacher, your parents, or the police, if you’re in a situation where your friends or family are getting hurt.” Harlow could see Katelyn’s eyes briefly turn away when he mentioned her parents, but they quickly returned to his. “If you start acting like the enforcer, you turn into nothing but a bully. Am I making myself clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Was Johansson’s comments about your hands, Katelyn?”

He could see her eyebrows droop a bit under the brim of her fatigue cap, but she replied, “I’d rather not say, sir.”

“You know that hypoplastic thumb is one of the most common congenital birth defects of the limbs, don’t you?” Harlow asked. Katelyn had received special permission from the Air Force to join the Civil Air Patrol because she was born with bilateral hypoplastic thumb — missing thumbs from both hands. At the age of one year she had pollicization surgery to position her index fingers in place of her missing thumbs, so she only had four fingers on each hand. But the results were excellent: despite her handicap, Katelyn was an accomplished student, pianist, typist, outdoorsperson, marksman — and apparently a martial artist, especially with her feet, which made perfect sense for someone with deformed hands. There was no skill or challenge in the Civil Air Patrol that she couldn’t master.

But her greatest skill wasn’t what she could do with only four fingers on each hand, but in the realm of leadership. Perhaps because most others expected less of the diminutive red-haired girl with the “ET hands,” she inspired others by her actions and distinguished herself as a natural-born leader. Her “Red Dog Delta” flight was consistently tops in required exams, dress and appearance, and field exercise performance in the squadron, and she often beat out flights all across the state that had far more physically capable members.