by T I WADE
The food, friendship and weather made it a perfect day, and the group arrived backed at the Strong Ranch airport in a stretched out group of aircraft, again allowing Lady Dandy in first. She needed less of the runway than Buck had needed on her first landing, as the wind had strengthened to ten knots with strong gusts from the northwest and he put her down perfectly. They cleaned, checked and closed down the aircraft and the next party began in earnest.
A late morning was expected the next day, and Oliver was again the only one awake early trying to figure out which bones would fit in what holes. At 9:00, the phone rang. Preston got out of bed and sleepily walked to the entrance hall to answer it.
“Strong Ranch,” he spoke into the phone.
“You must be Preston,” said the caller on the other end of the line. “I’m Pete, and I’m planning to fly into your field just before lunch—a day early than expected. I’m currently in Huntsville Alabama, but I’m leaving in an hour and need your runway length.”
“Okay, Pete,” replied Preston. “Runway length is 2,970 feet of asphalt. We are expecting clear skies, but a cold wind in from the north. I suggest a long final into Runway 25 from the southeast. Winds are expected to be 10 knots with gusts up to 15. Temperature will be around 45 degrees at midday. Do you need long and lat?”
“No thanks, Preston. Already got that, see you later today.”
Preston put the phone down, wondered who Carlos had invited, and forgot about it as he went to fill the coffee machine.
It was another hour later before the hangar gang got their coffee machine fired up. Everyone was in a sleepy daze as the machine burbled, and all were dressed mostly in simple T-shirts and denims.
Sally and Jennifer still had their hair all over the place, and Carlos, Buck, and Barbara did not look much better. Nobody had moved for their first hour, drinking coffee and chatting, when an aircraft could be heard approaching from the south. Jackets and outside shoes were slipped on to head outdoors and watch the arrival. Carlos was a little perplexed. Pete wasn’t due in for another day and then he remembered hearing the phone earlier. “He must be coming in a day early,” he thought to himself, smiling.
They all shuffled out of the side door and onto the apron where Preston, Martie, and Oliver were already watching the incoming plane. The glare from the mid-day sun was behind the plane and nobody could tell what she was until a few seconds before touchdown.
“Oh my God!” exclaimed Sally, putting her hand to her mouth with her face going white. “It’s General Allen’s Blackhawk C-12! Oh my God, Jennifer!” Sally was in shock. Carlos smiled a very wicked smile in Sally’s direction.
“Will he be able to get out of here?” Preston quizzed Sally as the aircraft guided over the trees. That’s a King Air B-200. Its needs more runway than I have.”
“Not the C-12 Huron,” she answered back still in shock and looking up at the aircraft. “The Air Force has full Blackhawk and Raisbeck upgrades on her. She is also fully equipped down to 3,200-feet landings and take-offs. Nearly as good as Jerry, but I could beat her any day with four turboprops instead of two.”
“Well, what about 2,970 feet?” asked Preston, as the tires shot up small plumes of blue smoke right on the very end of the asphalt and plumes of dust rose behind the aircraft as the plane landed. Its front wheel came down fast, the propellers were feathered, and the brakes were applied, all within a second. Air brakes appeared under the wings, and the King Air came to a stop only several feet from the runway end, turned around, and began its taxi trip to the crowd on the apron.
“I suppose that answers your question,” replied Sally, her face still white. “For take-off, the General will have to copy Buck and release brakes on full revs, and again I’m sure he’s light on fuel. Jennifer, we are not dressed for the arrival of a four-star general.”
She turned on Carlos. “I’m going to kill you for not giving us any advance warning! I’m going to shoot you out of the sky the next chance I have! Any dang ideas of marriage in your head better fly out of the window fast, Mr. Rodriquez!” she growled, trying to compose herself.
It was the first time that Preston had ever seen Sally’s feathers ruffled, and he knew Carlos was going to get it. He looked over at Carlos and smiled with him when he saw his friend enjoying Sally’s meltdown. The smile of revenge on Carlos’ face made Preston’s day.
The aircraft came over to the middle of the apron. Preston used his apron batons to direct and halt the aircraft, which was painted in silver and white, and with Air Force insignia on its sides. She looked full of many extras on every part of her fuselage and rear wings, and her engines sounded as powerful as a lion’s roar as the pilot shut them down. She was no bigger than the Pilatus, but much heavier and usually the King Airs needed more than 4,000 feet of runway. The rear side door opened, the stairs unfolded, and Preston and Carlos walked up to receive their newest guest.
“You must be Pete?” welcomed Preston, shaking the man’s hand as he stepped onto the ground dressed in civilian clothes and looking nothing like a four-star general.
“Hello, Preston Strong,” replied General Allen smiling. “Pete Allen’s the name, flying’s the game. I’ve heard a lot about you and your little mercenary Air Force you have hidden down here in the South, here in the hangar I presume.”
He turned to the second man. “Hello, young Carlos, how are you? I had dinner with your father in Washington two nights ago and he told me to give you a belated Christmas present from him and your Uncle.” He held out a small package with one hand and shook Carlos’ hand with the other. “I see that our Air Force is also on display here at your fly-in, and I suppose the two young pilots got them in without a scratch?”
Pete turned back to Preston. “I couldn’t resist a visit after Colonel Mondale over at Seymour Johnson told me about your perfect P-38. Your buddy Carlos here told me about your fly-in months ago, so I allowed our two young pilots to get Tom and Jerry in and then I thought ‘What the heck! I might as well join in myself for New Year’s Eve.’ Carlos suggested that we keep the visit quiet, a surprise for our two pilots, I would assume.”
“You are very welcome here,” replied Preston, warmly.
“Don’t worry about a bed for me, Preston. I had this old girl fitted out with a bed in the back. I spend a lot of time in her and often get caught in interesting places in extended bad weather conditions. Cuba was the last place I got stuck, thanks to a tropical storm this summer. She has a toilet at the back, heat and air. I just need a 50-amp connection to power her up.”
By this time Sally had regained her composure, as had Jennifer, and they came forward in their ruffled condition and stood at attention.
“At ease, ladies,” the General ordered, who was also in civilian attire. “Not as crisp as the last time we met, Captain Powers, but you had just completed Hawaii tanker training, and from here on, I’m a civilian, so you are you two.”
Sally and Jennifer both nodded and dropped their ramrod postures.
“So, let me introduce myself,” Pete extended a hand to both women. “Hello, I’m Pete and you are Sally and Jennifer, I assume?” They both nodded again. “And don’t think I can’t party, girls. Apart from that good-looking gentleman coming out of the house over there,” he nodded at Grandpa Roebels in the distance, “I reckon I’m the oldest one here.”
Preston asked Martie to do the remaining introductions while he went in and grabbed an electrical connection on a long yellow cord for the general’s aircraft. He would need to tow the King Air to the side, pull the Pilatus away from the hangar, and place the new aircraft closer to the hangar side so that the cord would be long enough.
Pete enjoyed meeting everybody and he requested a guided tour of every aircraft this side of the runway.
He enjoyed Lady Dandy and Baby Huey with Buck as his tour guide while Preston sorted out his aircraft. He chatted with Buck for several minutes in each aircraft. Then he asked Sally to show him her new toy. They spent another several minutes in her air
craft while Jennifer snuck back to her room to tidy up.
Then there was the hangar. Pete whistled when he saw the four aircraft stationed in the warmth of the building. He asked permission to sit in each and asked the owners all kinds of questions. He sat for a long time in the P-38, with Preston going through the instruments, every one original except the Garmin GPS system he had in a corner of the dashboard and out of the way.
Pete was impressed with the display. He had already met Grandpa Roebels and Michael outside, and coffee was served by Martie while Preston went out to check on his electrical work with the General’s aircraft. The three older men talked for a good hour with everyone listening in, except Sally, who noticed that Jennifer was now smart and cleanly dressed and snuck away to do the same. Joe and David arrived an hour later to find a new aircraft freshly parked where the Pilatus had been, with the Pilatus now taking second row between the hangar and the runway. Preston was climbing out of the new arrival as they drove up.
“Wow!” he exclaimed as the men drove up. “That is the most sophisticated aircraft and instrument panel I have ever seen. And it has a toilet, a bed, a Lazy-Boy, and a large-screen television in the back. An RV has nothing on this baby!”
He explained about the new arrival to the Joe and David and they went inside to be introduced. Once again, Pete was excited to meet Joe and David, and quickly enjoyed a grand tour of all the land vehicles on display outside.
“May I assume you have already checked out my ride, Preston?” Pete asked, smiling at the younger pilot. Any good pilot would do so automatically, and there was nothing secret about his aircraft, as far as civilians were concerned. “The C-90 designated as Air Force One had a lot more stuff than this one. I used to fly President Johnson in it.”
Pete settled into the party routine nicely. He was a martini man and had his stock aboard his ride. He brought out several bottles and the necessities necessary to make everybody martinis, and after a long liquid lunch, the guests rested and relaxed. Sally and Jennifer were now more comfortable with their superior officer, who was in line to be Chief of Staff with the change of power in Washington next year, and talked war stories with him for a couple of hours with everybody listening raptly. Many in attendance had military experience and interesting information was gathered from each of them.
Once things had been cleared away, Carlos took a nap, as did Buck and Barbara, and Martie and Preston took Oliver on a walk around the perimeter of the farm—a good two miles of trail. Most of the farm was desolate and natural bush. In the New Year, Preston wanted to borrow a large yellow Caterpillar that Joe owned and pull out more trees to make another 100 feet of runway, as well as push the undergrowth away from the existing runway to give him more room.
“I checked this out a few months ago,” he said to Martie as they stood at the end of the southern tip of the asphalt runway trying to find where the general had put down his tires. There were black strips within a foot of the end of the blacktop—too small for Lady Dandy and the C-130s—and a second set six inches to the left of the first marks that started two feet further onto the tarmac.
“These are either Sally’s from yesterday or Pete’s from this morning. Anybody who can get their wheels down within two feet of the start of the tarmac is a pilot in my book. I think Sally was less worried yesterday on landing compared to her first one. There are no C-130 tire tracks, which mean that she had her C-130 wheels on the ground long before they touched the asphalt, same with Jennifer. They couldn’t brake hard until the front section was on the ground, most probably 100 feet into their landing.”
Preston looked over at Martie with a grin. “Sorry, I got distracted. As I was saying, if I angled a second runway another ten degrees to the west, or from 250 degrees and 110 degrees to 260 degrees and 120 the a form of a triangle with the triangle being at the southern tip here, the runway would be 150 feet over there,” he stated pointing directly west. “I would be able to build a second runway, use the current one either to takeoff and land like we do now, and the second one, also 30 feet wide, could be increased to fit easily into that corner of the property over there. I would still be 200 yards from our perimeter and I could increase it by another 310 feet, giving me over 3,300 feet of tarred runway. Also, with the angle change, I could overlap our current one and add another 200 feet on the north side. I would be pretty close to our driveway entrance but nobody lives or even comes close to our entrance. Thirty-five hundred feet of runway would mean small jets, and since we land more from the south than the north, landing aircraft could turn onto the old runway and taxi in leaving it clear for the next guy.”
“Great idea, but are we going into competition with Raleigh/ Durham International, or shall we just turn it into an air museum for all aircraft?” laughed Martie. Preston was always trying to increase his airport size, but nearly had a heart attack if anyone drove onto the property. “Thirty-five hundred feet of 30-foot wide prepared runway plus a lighting system?” Martie questioned. “Hmm, what would that cost us so that Preston can decide which runway to use with his yellow crop-duster that completes 99% of the annual landings and take-offs on The Strong Farm/Ranch/Airport, or whatever you want to call it—a million dollars?” she laughed at him and smacked the back of his head with her hand. “Dirt maybe, but not 30 feet of asphalt.”
“Half a million—a small amount, but I suppose you’re right,” answered Preston. “The old motto ‘if we build it nobody will come,’ I suppose would be the end result.”
“We could do a couple of world cruises aboard the new Queen Mary, or whatever her name is, for that amount and that sounds better to me,” laughed Martie.
The next morning, Preston warmed up the old truck to go and collect Maggie and the kids from RDU Airport. It was a 20-mile drive, and they were due in on the first flight in from the west coast, just after midday. They left on a new Southwest Airlines route from Burbank, straight into RDU. It had been in service only a couple of months, and lucky for the Smarts Burbank was the closest L.A. airport to Antelope Acres. A five and a half hour flight non-stop across the country, their flight had left early at 7:00 am and they were due to arrive in North Carolina at 12.30 pm. Sally and Martie begged to go along and there would be just enough room in the big Ford.
It was weird driving the old truck after flying the airplanes. It was slow heavy and felt like a tank. They drove down Preston’s 300-foot driveway, once they had passed the end of the runway, over an old and dry 20-foot riverbed to a private dirt road. The large farm-style gate automatically opened and closed. The only gate-openers were in Joe’s, Martie’s and Preston’s vehicles, in the hangar and in the house.
A couple of years earlier, Preston had mounted a camera on a high pole 20 yards inside the gate. It was the only way to see who was ringing the electric bell at the entrance to the property so far from the main house. He had laid 800 feet of wire for the project. The front perimeter of the property was also well-fenced and maintained.
They turned right onto a slightly wider dirt road, maintained primarily by Joe, and drove another 100 yards to the south before making a left-hand, 90-degree angle turn due east to connect onto a tarred feeder road and then down two more miles to Highway 64. Joe lived at the end of the dirt road, half a mile further down from Preston’s entrance. The two farms were the only houses on the road and on the side of the tarred feeder road stood their mail boxes. Even the mail truck wouldn’t go any further.
Preston waited until there was a hole in traffic on 64 and then gunned the track over the west-bound lanes and turned left into the east-bound lanes towards the airport. The eastern edge of Jordan Lake was only 100 yards away from the road entrance, and much of the ground south of the farms was part lake itself—a natural barrier for most of the farm’s southern and western boundaries. To the east and on the other side of the feeder road was a protected forest of several thousand acres and only towards the northeast a couple of miles away were there any neighbors. They were well-hidden in their little corner, an
d rarely got any un-scheduled visitors.
The scenery never changed on their way into Raleigh on NC64. The highway was dual-lanes through the Apex area and 15 minutes later, Preston turned onto the 540 beltline headed north and toward the airport exit. They arrived at exactly 12:30 pm, and the three Smart family members were already outside the baggage claim area waiting for them. Preston honked the horn and Martie and Sally waved at the three through the front windshield. The Smarts were carrying a back pack each and looked like they did not have any other baggage.
“Hi Maggie, Ben, and Oprah! How come you are so early?” asked Preston, jumping out and grabbing their back packs and packing them into the rear bed of the truck. “I was just going to keep going around until you showed.”
“You should know, Preston,” replied Maggie after being hugged by both Sally and Martie at the same time. “With the big storm going through, it was bumpy as hell for the first three hours. The pilot said that we had a vicious tailwind all the way through Arizona, New Mexico, the top half of Texas, and Oklahoma before we flew south of it and they could start drink service. We arrived 20 minutes early, had no baggage, and were out here a couple of minutes before our limo arrived. I hope you look after your flying machines better than this poor truck. It’s worse than ours, and I thought ours was bad.”
“The rust keeps it together,” laughed Preston. “I heard that even Warren Buffet drives the exact same model. This is a real rich man’s truck!”
