A New World: Return

by John O'Brien

  “I will, Dad.”

  “I’m serious Robert. I know how the young mind in love works.”

  “Okay, Dad,” he responds. “Am I part of Red Team?”

  “’We’ll have to see about that. I’ll have you go with from time to time but you’ll be with me when you do.”

  “You know I can handle myself,” he says referring to our airsofting days. We always prowled the woods together as a team. We were very good together and he was very good at sneaking around. Better than me if truth be known. We were definitely a force to be reckoned with. In fact, there is no one I would want with me more. We could communicate and work together without the need for explanation. We would just know what each was doing. But I also know from experience that it is the reaction and simultaneous knowledge of what to do immediately that counted more than the ability to be sneaky.

  “I know you can but this is different Robert. This is for real. You’ll train with us, well, and then we’ll see.” The disappointment on his face is breaking my heart. I am so torn because of the desire to protect yet he needs to learn as well. I wonder if every parent goes through this moment in one way or another. I guess so. I suddenly realize that the other soldiers are not that much older than he is. He is actually among his peers to an extent.

  “Okay Robert, but you stay with me.”

  “Of course, Dad,” he says with joy in his eyes. I get the feeling that he somehow thought I was disappointed in him or didn’t think he was worthy enough to be a man. “Just like old times eh?”

  “Yeah, just like old times,” I say with a smile and pat him on his shoulder. We of course are referring to the invincible team we were in the world when no lives were at stake.

  “Do you have a weapon for Robert?” I ask Lynn walking over to her.

  “Are you sure?” She asks looking up from where she is checking on supplies with Bannerman.

  “Yeah, I’m sure,” I answer.

  “You’re the boss,” she says. I know those words and they indicate that she is not in agreement with my decision.

  She gets up and walks over to where the spare M-16s are strapped down, picking up several magazines as well - we had raided the armory back in her camp prior to leaving loading up with weapons and ammunition. She hands them to Robert gives me one of those looks. Yeah, we’re going to have an interesting talk later.

  “We’re going to open up the back and head outside. I assume the base personnel will be along shortly,” I say to Lynn.

  “Okay,” she says.

  That is the only answer I get from her as she kneels once more to the ground pretending to go over the inventory. I notice the distinct lack of ‘sir’ or similar from her. I know she is angry with me but I also know that it stems from worry. She is a lot like me in that respect. When she gets worried or scared, she gets angry.

  “If it’s all the same with you, I would like to give the teams color codings. We’ll take Red Team.”

  Lynn looks up to me over her shoulder. I look down at her with an apologetic look letting her know that I know where she is coming from. It’s one of those many looks we share. With a sigh, she stands, gives me a hug and whispers in my ear, “This isn’t a fucking game Jack!”

  “I kno..” I start to say but don’t get it all out before she goes on.

  “Hush! You take care of him Jack! I’m going to hold you personally responsible if anything happens to him.”

  “I will, babe. He needs to learn though” I say.

  “I know and he’s in good hands but know that I’ll personally kick your ass if he gets hurt.”

  “I love you!” I say chuckling in her ear.

  “I love you too! Now go away and let me finish here!”

  We release our hug. Robert and I start to the back with him stuffing the extra magazines in his pockets as best he can. At the back, Red Team has gathered around the ramp. “Everyone ready,” I say putting my hand to the ramp button.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Lock and load,” I say followed by a rapid succession of clicks as rounds are chambered.

  Gonzalez and McCafferty take positions along each side of the ramp door with their weapons pointed outward. Hydraulics kick in gear and the door slowly opens as I push the button. Light from the morning slowly fills the cargo compartment as the door pushes ever slowly open. A clang signals the ramp contacting the pavement outside followed immediately by the ringing of boots pounding down the ramp. Red Team immediately takes positions just outside of the aircraft covering different sectors, alert and ready as Robert and I step outside and look around.

  “All clear, sir,” Gonzalez calls after they are assured nothing hostile awaits us.

  “Roger that. Henderson and Denton, take position at the nose. Rogers, Bartel, stay here and cover the right and rear. Gonzalez and McCafferty, you have the left and rear.”

  “Hooah, sir,” Henderson and Denton call out as they stand and trot toward the front of the aircraft. The propellers are turning slowly in the breeze as we didn’t have a chance to strap them down last night.

  “Watch out for those,” I yell out to them and, once I get their attention, point to the big props.

  The morning breeze flows across my body bringing a fresh sensation as if blowing away the staleness and bathing me. I want to just stand here and take it in. Pretend the world is nothing more than me resting here in the breeze as it refreshes me. Unfortunately, that is not to be. I notice a vehicle is approaching from the far side of the ramp.

  “Sergeant Connell, company on the way,” I yell back into the aircraft. “Have everyone fall out in formation at the rear of the aircraft.”

  “Yes, sir,” I hear her respond. This is followed by more yelling and sounds from inside.

  “Nic, get Michelle and hook up the ground power unit but don’t start it,” I say seeing her standing on the edge of ramp.

  “Okay, Dad,” she says and disappears into the aircraft.

  I stroll a few steps further out onto the ramp to await the vehicle that is rapidly closing in. I am taking it as another good sign that there is only a single vehicle approaching as opposed to an armada of MP vehicles with flashing lights on. From the way I left, I wouldn’t be surprised to see the sky and ground filled with weaponry to insure I didn’t leave again. I had thoughts of seeing the end of my days in a darkened room somewhere. Of course, I am not entirely sure that doesn’t await me now. I continue to eye the vehicle amidst the clatter of boots on the pavement further behind me. A shadow falls over Robert and I and I turn to see Major Bannerman step up next to us. I give a mental shrug and look back to the vehicle.

  The front doors of the Air Force blue staff car open as it comes to a stop a short distance away. I come to attention as Colonel Wilson and Sergeant Watkins step out and walk over. I hear Lynn call the formation to attention behind me. Yeah, I kind of forgot to do that or, more specifically, forgot that I should have done that. In all my years with the military, I had only been involved with one formation. I and those I played with tended to avoid those if at all possible. I remember having to see if I even had all of the bits and pieces that went with the dress uniform and the scramble to the uniform shop to buy those that I had lost or otherwise forgotten. Lynn has my back and I am ever grateful for that.

  “Good morning, sir,” I say and salute as Colonel Wilson draws closer.

  “Oh sure, he salutes him and calls him sir,” I hear Bannerman mumble under his breath behind me as he salutes as well.

  “Good morning, Captain Walker,” Wilson says returning my salute. “Major. At ease, gentlemen.” I see a little hesitation by Colonel Wilson wondering why I was there in front rather than Major Bannerman. Okay, I didn’t think this all of the way through perhaps.

  I relax and turn toward Lynn, giving her a nod once I catch her eye. Seeing her standing in front of the formation, as the soldiers stand at attention in formation according to their teams, I realize just how much she has her shit together and how much I truly need her in so many wa
ys. That aspect of professionalism just comes so naturally to her that it just happens. If it were left to me, it would look like a bunch of one-legged emus in a wind storm. Lynn calls the formation to parade rest as I direct my attention back at Colonel Wilson, noticing that Red Team is still holding its cover positions.

  “Glad to see you back, Captain,” Wilson says extending his hand. “I see your mission was a success. At least I am assuming these are the troops you were sent to get.”

  “Yes, sir. More successful than I anticipated,” I say shaking his hand. He then shakes Major Bannerman’s hand.

  “Your troops Major?” Wilson asks with a sidelong glance at me.

  Oh boy, this should be interesting, I think. “Sir, if we can have a word in private?” I ask.

  “I asked the Major a question, Captain. Please let him answer,” Wilson says holding a hand up to forestall me.

  “Yes, they were, sir,” Bannerman answers.

  “They were Major? Something doesn’t seem quite right here. If I didn’t know better, I would say Captain Walker here is in charge.”

  “He is, sir,” Bannerman responds.

  Colonel Wilson tilts his head, looks at me, and says, “Now, Captain, you can have that word.”

  Before heading off with Wilson, I ask Bannerman to have Lynn release the troops. Standing in formation is not a pleasant thing let alone for extended periods of time. I remember the one formation I had to stand in for an afternoon. I thought I was going to pass out. It took days for me to get any feeling back. People just are not meant to stand straight up for that long.

  Colonel Wilson and I step a few paces away. I look back toward the aircraft. It’s another of those scenes that imprints on the mind. The large olive drab HC-130 squats on the ramp in the rays of the morning sun. Behind it, the formation of troops are lined up neatly on the ramp, Nic and Michelle stand next to the ground unit and stare in our direction, and Red Team is squatting in their positions at the front and rear. The old Chinese curse comes to mind – may you live in interesting times. I guess we have been mightily cursed as these are interesting times indeed, I think as I turn to face Wilson.

  “Troops! At ease!” I hear Lynn bark. I chuckle softly. She has no intention of releasing the troops but at least she is letting them relax some. She really has my back and I wonder who is really in charge.

  “Sir, you mentioned General Collins left yesterday,” I say opening the conversation.

  “That’s right, Captain. The General found an old time pilot but hadn’t flown in years. He didn’t figure you’d make it back. With our low supplies, he thought he needed to take the risk to get into contact with the mainland and find supplies. He loaded up what was left of the base personnel and took off yesterday. I was left here with a skeleton crew until they get back and we lost containment. I think my staying here was punishment for letting you go without letting him know.”

  “So how many are left here, sir?”

  “We’ll talk about that later, Captain. Would you mind telling me how and why you are in charge of an Army unit?”

  “Well, sir, I’m the best qualified,” I answer.

  “What exactly does that mean?” He asks.

  “I wasn’t absolutely truthful with you on my previous visit, sir. I was involved with special operations for quite a few years.”

  “I’m aware that you are in special operations, Captain. Your patch says it loud and clear.”

  “No, sir, not just flying. I was involved with the actual ground teams.”

  “I see. Go on.”

  I give him a brief synopsis of my experience from the flying to the control of Special Forces ground teams including the areas in which I was involved. “And here’s the part you aren’t going to like, sir.”

  “I figured there was one of those parts coming, Captain.”

  “In the sake of being honest, I have to tell you that your verb tense was incorrect.”

  “Explain.”

  The sun rising in the sky increasing the temperature isn’t the only reason I am suddenly a touch warmer. “Well, sir, when you said that you aware that I am in special operations. That verb tense was incorrect. I was in special operations.”

  I see the gist of what I am saying glue together in his mind. His lips thin and color rises in his cheeks. Again, not due to the increasing air temperature. In a low voice, he says, “Are you telling me, Captain, that you are NOT currently an Air Force officer? That you are not even in the military?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  A moment passes as the steam gathers before it has to blow somewhere. “GOD DAMMIT, CAPTAIN! I stuck my neck out for you and you’re now telling me all you said was a lie!” I see Robert take a step in our direction but hold my hand out stopping him. I also notice Sergeant Watkins head toward us before being stopped by Colonel Wilson’s.

  “I am sorry, sir, but with regards to the mission, yes.” I go on to explain the actual happenings and events of the past few days to include the conversation and vote that led to my leading our motley crew. I finish up with where we stand now.

  Several additional moments pass as he digests this multitude of information. “Tell me you were at least an officer. Tell me you weren’t lying about that as well.”

  “I was an officer, sir. And my background is the truth as well.”

  “Did you find her at least?” Wilson asks

  “I did, sir. She is the Sergeant in charge of the formation,” I say nodding in Lynn’s direction.

  “And the others?” He asks nodding at the formation of soldiers.

  “They came attached to her. She asked if she could keep them.” Wilson’s lips ease a bit as he tries not to smile but then fails miserably.

  “I don’t see that I have much of a choice really. What’s your plan then, um, Captain?”

  “Well, sir, if I could borrow some more gas, we plan to head to Brunswick Naval Air Station for more fuel. It’s then off to the CDC to see if we can find some information on these night runners. We figure if there is any info on what we’re dealing with, it’s there. After that, it’s back to McChord to build a safe place in that area.”

  “Night runners huh?”

  “Yes, sir. Had to call them something.”

  “I’m still not terribly pleased about being misled like that, Captain.”

  “I understand Colonel. You should come with us. Join our merry band of travelers.”

  “I can’t, um, you know, I can’t call you Captain. What’s your first name?” Wilson asks.

  “Jack, sir.”

  “The name’s Frank,” he said sticking out his hand for a second time. “You must care for her a lot. That took some balls doing what you did.”

  “I do indeed, sir, Frank. Care for her that is. Not sure about how big they are,” I say with a smile.

  “Anyway Jack, I have my orders and can’t leave. General Collins will be back tomorrow.”

  “Sir, what if he doesn’t come back? You’ll be stuck here. You should really come with us.”

  “What do you mean ‘if he doesn’t come back’? He’s only making a quick trip for supplies and to make contact with someone on the mainland.”

  “Frank, this here,” I say sweeping my hand around and inferring the danger from the night runners, “is only a very small taste of what it’s like everywhere else. If General Collins and his group go in unprepared, they’ll get swept away. They didn’t even see the small taste you are seeing here. How many of the personnel he took are combat trained?”

  His eyes narrow as he absorbs this information and the meaning of it. “Is it that bad Jack?” Frank asks.

  “Yeah. It’s pretty bad alright,” I respond.

  “And if he does come back and we’re not here?”

  “We’ll call all of the way across the pond. If they’re out there, they’ll hear us. We’ll let them know what happened.”

  Frank turns to Sergeant Watkins. “Sergeant Watkins,” he yells.

  “Sir,” Sergeant Watkins yells b
ack.

  “Get on the radio and get everyone else out here. Leave one in the tower to monitor the radios.”

  “Yes, sir,” Watkins answers and ducks his head in the staff car.

  I look over to Lynn and, with a quick nod of my head, I indicate that everything is okay and to truly release everyone. She calls the formation to attention and, from across the ramp, I hear her release the troops. With a last look in my direction, she heads back into the aircraft. Troops head inside only to reappear moments later with food and water, congregating in small groups on the ramp to sit and eat. Red Team is squatting at their appointed locations eyeing the area as another vehicle departs the base of the tower driving toward our location.

  “Jack,” Colonel Wilson begins, “I want to talk it over with the rest of our detail before saying anything else.”

  “Of course, sir, um, Frank. Sorry, old habits seem to die quickly,” I say as the light blue crew bus comes to a stop. Eight people emerge from the vehicle toting M-4 carbines and gather around Sergeant Watkins. Frank walks over to their small group and they are soon immersed in conversation.

  With the warming breeze blowing across my face, I look out over the area once again. I cannot help but notice that some of the soldiers from our outfit, still enjoying their meager breakfast, glance curiously over at the other group locked in conversation. The sun has climbed higher into the morning sky warming the air rising from the ramp surface.

  I look across the ramp towards the once lively base. It’s so quiet. I think. Just like being out in the country. The quiet that was so peaceful out in the country seems so alien here. The brain carries the association of man-made objects with the noise that went along with them. People scurrying on errands, the sounds of vehicles passing, construction, doors opening and closing, everything that made sound within that environment combine into one solid noise that defined any congregation of people. The silence is what makes the quiet here so alien. There is a disjointed feeling in the mind between what the eyes see, what the ears hear and what the brain is used to. It’s as if the brain is trying to reconcile the difference and leaves behind a sad, almost lonely feeling.