“Oh, this is good, Chief. Tell the plane to pop their evacuation slide.”
When he didn’t respond, Gail reached out and nudged Sly hard.
He shook loose from his momentary shock with a laugh. “Goddamn! You are good! I didn’t even see it. Flight,” he called over the radio, “pop your evac chute. Front door only. Get them down here now.”
Gail spun around in her seat to watch; they all did.
The passenger door swung open high above them. Then the giant plastic chute billowed out and inflated. It landed almost perfectly in the center of the LCAC’s deck.
Gail popped her seatbelt, grabbed a portable radio, and rushed down the ladder.
The power of the uniform, even if it was a helmet and vest over a t-shirt and standard khakis, put her in charge by the time the second passenger was down the chut
