Four 'Hercs' on the tarmac. Don and I and the other NSF's sit tightly at the back of the bus until coaxed off by the bus driver, and then hang back from the boarding process looking as nonchalant as possible. The loadmaster surveys his realm, counts us on his fingers and yells up to the flight deck. The engines start to turn, the turbines whine, the shadows of the propellers flicker and disappear. The whole plane vibrates, even though it's stock still on the ground right where it was parked.
Lights blink, crew members yell into microphones and it looks like a go.
Abruptly, one engine dies, spins down to a halt with a sigh. The crew are looking every which way and listening to the earphones, they go out of the open front and rear doors onto the tarmac. One engine overheated or its oil pressure failed, the flight is scrubbed and we're on the ground for another day. The loadmaster sticks his head into the hold area. Everyone stops talking.