by John O'Brien
I gradually pull very lightly on the collective and feel the Kiowa go light on the skids with each skid tapping on the paved tarmac below me in intervals. The helicopter starts sliding to the left and I correct with the stick to the right. An over correction and I start off to the right. I eventually bring the slide to a stop with the skids still light on the ground. I now know why they call them skids. I pull a little more on the collective and the helicopter rises from the pavement. I remember one pilot saying to just imagine or think yourself hovering – that you just have to think about moving and the helicopter will respond to the subtle inputs your mind sends to your hands - or sliding in one direction. Well, I must have been thinking I wanted to be waaaay over to the right because that’s where I go.
I try to bring the slide under control and once again over correct and am now looking at the ramp slide underneath me as I slide to the left in the same manner. I lower the collective as I try to correct that stellar move and the helicopter slams onto the tarmac like a bag of garbage being thrown in a trash bin. Okay, that was fun, I think collecting my thoughts once again. I look over at the others and see McCafferty with her hand over her mouth obviously stifling a laugh. Gonzalez on the other hand, is doubled over at the front of the Humvee. It’s also pretty obvious the others are laughing as well. I’m glad they find this amusing, I think steeling myself for try number two.
My second attempt to not change the sky to ground is a repeat of the first but without the absolute shock of the helicopter being deposited on the ramp. The next several attempts also give Red Team an ab workout but I’m eventually able to keep the helicopter within the county and hover reasonably well. I thought fighters were touchy with the controls but this thing is like having an Xbox controller on the most extreme sensitivity setting. Wow! When things have the feeling of getting out of control, I just deposit it back on the tarmac and start over. Eventually, I am able to keep it close to being in one place and try a couple of pedal turns. Now, that’s pretty cool. I slowly get the feel of the controls, even venturing forward a few times, stopping, and easing the chopper to the ground. That doesn’t mean I won’t have to remove the seat cushion. If I didn’t actually suck it up internally, then I know there will at least be a little white ring on it.
I eventually shut the helicopter down and step out after the blades come to a stop. The others meander over.
“Damn, sir, you should at least apologize to the poor thing after abusing it like that,” Gonzalez says stepping close.
“Or at least buy it dinner first next time,” Henderson says close on her heels.
“Well aren’t you two just the comedic duo,” I say. “Anyone else have anything to say? Come on, get it out.”
“No, sir. You won’t hear me saying anything like it was like watching a blind bird trying to land in a tree. Nope, wouldn’t say anything like that,” McCafferty says.
I can tell Robert wants to join in on the “make fun of me” session but keeps quiet. We head back with Robert asking how it was.
“It’s touchy as hell,” I answer.
“Um, yeah, I could tell,” he says.
We pull into the lot where a lot more equipment and vehicles are parked off to the other side of the Humvees and transport trucks. Semi’s and large, truck-mounted cranes dominate the parking lot. The appearance of them shows that the teams have been mostly successful, if not fully, at finding the equipment on Bannerman’s list. That’s good news as we can begin fortifying our place tomorrow. I’m pleased but there’s still a place inside that is really missing Nic and wishes she were here to enjoy this moment with me.
The sun is lowering in the late afternoon sky as I step out of the Humvee. I feel tired but there’s a touch of excitement as well. It looks like we have the tools to begin this next phase of building a place of refuge; a place where we can feel safe. It’s hard to think that just a few days ago we were travelling from place to place trying to get back. The events of that trip have faded to a degree making it seem like they took place a long time ago. For the first time in a long time, even in the presence of grief, I feel a sense of contentment; content that we seem to be making a lot of headway. Not as far as where we are, we still have a long ways to go and don’t truly know what the future looks like, but in as far as where we are going. It remains to be seen if that contentment will increase or decrease with the degree and speed that the wall is built.
Lynn is still camped by the chair where she was when we left. The only difference is the amount of sheets lying on the side of the table covered with writing. She looks up as we approach.
“So, how’d it go, flyboy?” She asks.
“Is everyone going to be a comedian today?” I ask in return.
“Oh, that well huh?”
“Well, I didn’t kill anyone or damage anything if that means anything,” I reply.
“Other than his pride and possibly one very undeserving helicopter,” Gonzalez quips in behind me.
“It went fine. I’ll be back at it tomorrow,” I say ignoring the peanut gallery behind me. “How are things here?”
“Just fine. Most of the others pulled in a little while ago. We have one team still out looking for the portable generators,” Lynn answers.
“And you?” I ask.
“Doing pretty well. I have it mostly finished and will be ready to start soon,” she replies.
“Good,” I say and am about to say more when the sound of a vehicle nearing interrupts.
We all look to the long drive to see a Humvee crest the hill. As it pulls past, I notice it’s towing a wheeled generator. Things are definitely looking up. The confidence I feel in our group increases. We’ll be okay, I think watching the vehicle park. As long as our security measures hold up and we don’t make any mistakes. Yes, there will be difficulties as we venture into buildings for supplies. The long-term supplies, growing our own food and such, will be a learning process, but for the short-term, we should be okay.
I lean over, give Lynn a kiss on the cheek, and head inside. There are several team members pulling the large centerpiece apart and carrying the pieces outside. I see others manhandling several large commercial washer and dryer machines against one of the outer walls. I feel a little guilty for spending the day trying to fly an aircraft, one with the propeller in entirely the wrong place, seeing all of the work that the others have accomplished today but I also know that, should we need it, that skill will be a valuable one to have.
The rest of the day passes with more sorting of equipment and finally removing the last parts of the centerpiece. The center is now clear for any purpose we desire. The smell of dinner being warmed up wafts through the building as our small group meets again. Robert is off talking with Michelle and I wave him and Bri over. I want them to be a part of our meetings as you never know when learning will take place. I plan to take some time with them for additional training when things settle into a semblance of equilibrium and after their initial training with Lynn.
“Did we get everything we need to start tomorrow?” I ask as we draw together.
“As near as I can tell,” Bannerman answers. “Of course, there will always be odds and ends that we’ll find we need along the way.”
“Nicely done,” I say with the others nodding.
“Lynn?” I ask wanting to hear her report.
“I’ve finished with what I think preliminary training should encompass. It’s a scaled down version of boot camp without the breaking down phase. I’m emphasizing weapons training, tactics, and conditioning along with a survival phase,” she says.
“Great. Need any help with it?” I ask.
“I did put together a secondary training course that I want everyone to go through at some point. You can help with that. It will be more of small unit tactics, stealth, and small unit leadership,” she answers. “I haven’t put together any of the nightly training as yet but will make an announcement for folks to be prepared to teach a class in something they know.”
“Exce
llent,” I say.
“And you? How did your day go?” Lynn asks.
“Yeah, well. It was, um, interesting. It’ll take some time before I’m comfortable and I’ll leave it at that. I plan to be back up there tomorrow and will take Red Team with me so if we need help anywhere, give us a call," I answer. "Frank, what do you have?' I ask.
“We tested the radios and were able to communicate with the teams out to a considerable distance today so we should be good. We located some maps of the area and have them tacked down on a table by the radios. We’ll be able to keep track of the teams and people,” Franks answers.
“Make sure we have the teams report in hourly and the drivers report leaving and arriving at each location,” I add.
“I’ll brief everyone,” Lynn says.
“Oh, we might want to pick up some chainsaws along with oil and gas. We’ll need to cut the trees down away from the wall so the night runners can’t climb them and vault over,” I say. Bannerman picks up his well-used pad and pen to make a note. “I think we should also rotate the teams out gathering supplies with the standby team.”
“Sounds good to me,” Drescoll says.
“Anything I missed or that we need to talk about?” I ask.
“I think we’re good,” Bannerman answers.
“I can’t think of anything,” Lynn replies. Drescoll and Frank shake their heads.
We adjourn and I walk up to the roof sitting on the same pipe as before. Robert and Bri join me. We sit in silence and watch the sun drop below the trees to the west. The mass of vehicles below us are mostly out of sight, hidden by the roof edge. The roof edge, I think gazing across the grass fields surrounding the parking lots and stretching to the trees in the distance. I make a mental note to talk with Bannerman about putting an overhang over the edges so the night runners can’t scale the sides. I still don’t know how they managed it but I put nothing past their abilities anymore. I’m sure there will be more surprises in store and I hope we’ll be able to meet them.
The shadows of the evergreens in the distance spread across the fields below us marking the slow transition of day towards night. I think about the lots below us filled with night runners as the night envelops us. I wonder how long they will continue coming to this building if they aren’t able to get in. Are they able to recognize and understand defeat and gradually drift away and stop trying? Do they know to stop trying? How intelligent are they? Or will their persistence remain and continue with their nightly attempts because they don’t know any other way? Do they feel compelled to continue? These thoughts drift through my mind as the sun sinks lower in the sky and behind the mountains. I enjoy being up here at this time of day with Robert and Bri and would like to make this a nightly ritual. A time for just us to be together.
The sun slides down behind the mountains sending a last ray across the orange-lit horizon. The ray signals that our time of the day has gone and the time of the night runners has begun. We stand as one and bid the day farewell, each in our own way. After sealing the doors closed, we head to the restaurant for dinner. I pass by Bannerman mentioning the roof edges. As with the nights before, our evening meal becomes momentarily interrupted by the first of the attempts by night runners. The resounding echo reminds us that we are far from being out of danger.
The night passes like the others. The noise from the night runners, as they slam into the doors, has almost a rhythm to it; rising and falling as if the rhythm itself were alive. Several louder ones startle me during the night but I’m able to get a semblance of rest.
The next day starts like the last one. I rise and see Lynn going about the teams, waking them for their morning training. I’m tired but don’t have the exhausted feeling I’ve had on prior mornings. Lacing my boots up, I wonder just how long I’ll be able to put up with these cots. After rubbing the sleep from their faces, everyone gathers their gear and heads down the stairs. With the morning training complete and a bite in us, I gather up Red Team. Lynn catches me just as we are leaving.
“Jack, would you mind heading to the aircraft to see if, well, just see if the note is still there?” She asks taking me aside.
“Of course, hon,” I say pulling her close and holding her tight. There’s so much more I’d like to say but we understand each other and there’s nothing more to be said.
We begin our journey north for a repeat of yesterday, well, hopefully not an exact repeat. The day is an almost complete replica of the day before with the exception that a few, high wisps of clouds sweep across the blue background. Those high, innocent wisps indicate a front trying to move in. It may mean our test to see how clouds affect night runners may be coming soon. Or maybe the high pressure over us will win out and we’ll be blessed with more warm, sunny days.
The helicopter sits on the ramp where I left it, or some might say deposited it, yesterday. It sits as if inviting me to another round. I gather my things and trudge over in order to make another attempt to master my skills. Going through the check list once again, the rotors overhead respond as if accepting a challenge. I feel a touch more comfortable but still feel hesitant remembering some of yesterday’s lovely experiences. I roll the throttles up and feel the vibration increase. Lifting up, I feel the skids go light like the many times before only this time I don’t go shooting across the ramp.
Working my way through pedal turns and some forward and back moves, I lift higher off the ground and work on other maneuvering. After a point, it’s better to have altitude for maneuvering to give a little more margin for error. Of course, if I was to make an error requiring said altitude then I’m pretty screwed anyway. I get the hang of it after a bit, using the term “getting the hang of it” liberally but I find I can maneuver. I practice turns, climbs and basic maneuvers.
I maneuver around the airfield incrementally testing turns and such before setting it back down with a thump. Yeah, I’ll have to work on my landings some. The others gather around and we eat a bite with the sun climbing toward its zenith casting warm rays of sunshine on our shoulders.
“Anything on the radio?” I ask Gonzalez as she and the rest of Red Team draw near.
“Nothing much, sir,” she answers. “Just teams reporting in and the drivers calling out their locations.”
“Good. Let’s finish up with lunch and enjoy a moment. I’ll refuel and then see if I can get this beast back to Cabela’s,” I say. “Before we leave though, I would like to pop into one of the squadron buildings and see if we can find some manuals.”
“Can I go with when you fly down?” Robert asks as we open our rations and lean against the Humvee together.
I’m glad to see he has the same adventurous spirit as I do but I also know that he wants to take every opportunity to learn. He is a lot like me in that way. He always wanted to try new things and never hesitated when I suggested something where he thought he would learn. I feel stuck here though. The feeling stems from the great sense of loss for Nic and knowing I could never go through that again. Even though it’s been a short time, our situation has forced some of those deep grief feelings down inside. On the other hand, I want him to have experiences and I have to balance my protective nature against his need to learn. This seems to come up too many times and I still don’t have the right answer.
“Okay, you can go,” I say.
We finish with our meager lunches. Robert and I head off for one of the fuel trucks parked adjacent to one of the open, brown hangars. The fact that we’re toting M-4s in our hands is really the only surreal thing I feel at this moment. The quiet of the fort and surrounding area doesn’t seem as unreal as we walk across the light gray pavement, feeling the warmth rising from it. I’m sure that feeling will rise again in some instances but with the progress we’ve made and our days spent in this new world, I seem to be getting used to the quiet. My mind is no longer telling me that there should be a tremendous amount of noise associated with what my eyes are seeing.
We drive the truck over talking about the day and other ord
inary topics with Robert wanting to know what is was like flying the Kiowa. Describing the differences I noticed, we set up the fuel line and refuel. He asks questions trying to fit the answers within the frame of reference he has with the 130.
“In a way it’s very similar but is touchy as anything,” I say as we finish up.
“Kinda noticed,” he says with a small smile.
“You too!?” I ask.
“Well, it was pretty funny. That’s of course after we figured out you weren’t going to take out everything else around you,” he replies with a chuckle remembering. “You took off to the side like you had a rubber band attached.”
I chuckle imagining his perspective. There’s an apprehensive tone to our conversation because we subconsciously realize we are about to enter an unknown building. I know if we have to penetrate too far in, I’ll just call the whole thing off. The info within is not as important as the info we needed from the CDC. I’m hoping we can find something just inside the building. We’ll be able to use the helmets we took from the HC-130 so I don’t need an equipment room but who knows where I’ll be able to find a manual without going deeper inside.
I stand at the Humvee with the others after dropping the truck back at its location. Shading my eyes from the overhead sun, I glance around at the various buildings. I know the Air Force bases put the squadron buildings next to the ramp and I’m hoping the Army did the same. That way we won’t have to play “find the building” as well. The glare from the sun prevents me from reading any of the signs by the tan buildings.
“None of you would know which would be the squadron or wing building would you? Well, I mean the battalion or regiment building?” I ask the others while still facing the buildings as if the answer will shout forth from them. I’m actually studying the buildings to see if I can denote which one it could be.
