Fiction: CK POSS FUEL PMP

Tonya sat outside the office of Sergeant Maxwell McGriffin on a well-worn wooden bench. What could this be about?

As a civilian aircraft maintenance technician, she loved her work at the Air National Guard base. Few mechanics volunteered for second shift, but Tonya appreciated the chance to work undisturbed by the stream of “tourists” who wander through the hanger during the day shift.

Sarge was a good boss. He was gruff and career military, but he had a soft spot for this perky fully grown tomboy who wanted to fix broken airplanes.

Why would he send for her immediately when he wasn’t even in his office?

Thinking back, Tonya wondered whether it could have anything to do with her recent work orders. She and Simon, her work partner, replaced worn brake calipers on a colonel’s plane last week. Then there was the worn-out windshield wiper on the two-seater. She had to substitute a different part because they didn’t have a wiper for that old plane in stock. It never ends.

Just last night, a noisy major and his toady pilot wouldn’t leave the facility until she completed a work order to check a testy fuel pump. She tried to convince them to grab a coffee at the mess, but they said they had to get underway yesterday. They followed her every move.

“Oh, hey, Sarge. What’s up?” Without a word of response, the burly Sergeant McGriffin barreled into his office and quickly motioned for Tonya to follow. He closed the door behind her and sat down behind a dented metal desk that filled much of the room.

“Tell me about that fuel pump repair.”

“It wasn’t a repair. It was a replacement. I checked the pump and it failed the diagnostic, so I grabbed another one and installed it.”

The sergeant scowled. “Did you run the diagnostic on the one you ‘grabbed’?”

Tonya’s face turned pale. “Uh, no. I started the engine after the install to ensure it was getting fuel.”

“As it turns out, that wasn’t good enough.”

Tonya’s heart sank. “Why? What happened?”

“The pump failed in flight last night. The pilot, a Lieutenant Broadnax, was able to reach their destination with one engine in bad weather, but they considered diverting to a general aviation airport. The Major is majorly pissed – at us.”

Without a word of defense available, Tonya’s eyes welled up as her gaze wandered around the cramped, grimy maintenance office. She saw pictures on the walls of pilots and airplanes mixed with miscellaneous aircraft parts, manufacturer bulletins, unit banners, and problem tickets. She had made the entire maintenance facility look bad to the brass.

Would she be fired or suspended or demoted or lose her maintenance certifications? Those possibilities were all too horrible to consider.

At that moment, Tonya’s eyes fixed on a dusty wooden object hanging on the wall immediately above Sarge’s head. It was a paddle. She never noticed it before. The words written on its blade were, “Do It Right… Or Else.” She made a snap decision.

“I want you to paddle me.”

“Wha..?”

“Yes, I made an avoidable mistake that could have resulted in the deaths of two of our officers.”

“You know, I’m not allowed to paddle civilians. As a matter of fact, I’m not allowed to paddle anybody.”

“Will you do it for me… so I feel better?”

“Yeah, if you put it that way, I guess so.”

“Thank you, Sarge. I’ll bend over your desk.” There wasn’t much room for a paddling in the tight confines of the windowless office. It wasn’t even Sarge’s desk because he shared it with the maintenance supervisors from the other shifts. But over she went.

Sarge pulled the paddle down off of the wall. It was as worn and grubby looking as everything else in the maintenance office. He smacked it twice against his hand before asking, “Are you sure about this?”

“Yes, I am absolutely sure. I deserve to be spanked.”

“OK.” With that note of finality, Sarge pulled back the short, thick paddle as far as the dimensions of the room would permit and then let it fly. The resulting collision with the seat of Tonya’s coveralls generated a much louder bang than either of them had anticipated. Tonya emitted a low groan but remained stationary.

Sarge repeated the punishing strike. Tonya gripped the edge of desk more tightly but stayed in place. Sarge took this as a sign that he should keep going. He didn’t want to injure his best mechanic, but he wanted to fulfill her request. Clearly, she had done this before. Three more hard swats met their target in quick succession.

“OK, you’re done.” Tonya rose from the desk with a hand gripping each roaring cheek. Her blushing face and teary eyes betrayed the intense pain she was feeling, both from the paddling and from the disappointment of letting down her team.

“So, what will happen to me?” She was afraid of the answer, but she simply had to know.

“You mean besides getting your butt busted? Nothing. That Major is a blowhard who bitches about everything. Now, get back to work, and be careful.”

That was it? Tonya stood motionless for at least ten seconds.

“Go on. Get outa here.”

"Uh, thank you..." With that, she left. Out of the corner of her eye, Tonya thought she spotted Sarge returning the source of her distress to its place high on the wall above his chair.

Upon returning to the hanger floor, Simon looked at her with one raised eyebrow. “Sarge sure is tough, isn’t he?”

Tonya revealed a knowing grin and replied, “Nah, he’s the best boss ever.”