Bryan fell to his knees and lunged at his father to hug him. He then realized that his dad was injured. He appeared to have burns on his neck, arms, and presumably his hands; there were small blisters on all of his exposed skin. His hands appeared to be covered by makeshift bandages from what had been his dad’s undershirt. “Dad Are you OK” Bryan managed to say as he looked at his father. His father smiled a half smile and said he would be fine if he could get to the creek for some water. At that point Bryan had three canteens pushed into his field of vision. It seemed with the yell of a live person everyone had run to assist.
Bryan Held his fathers head carefully and gave him a drink from the canteen in sips. With each sip of the water his father seemed to come back to life. Bryan had a thousand things running through his mind. He asked his dad how he had gotten here and what had happened. His dad said, “Slow down son. Let your old man wake up a little before you grill me over the fire. What time is it anyway?" Bryan laughed a laugh of complete relief. His dad was OK. Injured yes, but he still had his sense of humor. That told Bryan he was really OK no matter what he looked like.
Richard Foster, his father, was the toughest and kindest man Bryan had ever known. He was the kind of man that could be in tremendous pain and never let it show. He was what Bryan wanted to be like. Tough as nails but with a heart as big as the ranch he dedicated his life to. When Bryan was about 16 he had seen his dad kicked in the chest by a bull. His dad got up off the ground and punched the bull right in the snout. He had seen his dad knock a full grown bull down with a single punch. As the bull tried to shake off what had just happened Rick went to his truck and got the rifle. He shot the bull in the head with one shot as he said some off hand remark about never being able to trust that bull again anyway. Rick then assigned the ranch hands to butcher the animal and bring the meat to the house, then after a second thought, he told them to cut a few of the finest cuts into steaks for the men at the bunkhouse that evening with his compliments and his thanks for all the hard work they had accomplished. Then he told Bryan to drive him to the doctor in town. The doctor said his dad had two broken ribs, in addition to the deep purple bruise that covered most of his chest. The doctor wrapped and taped his chest and then ordered Rick to lie in bed for a couple of weeks and take it easy for a while. Rick thanked the doctor for the advice and for patching him up, and then they headed back to the ranch. Rick never even winced from the pain that Bryan knew he was in. When they got home Rick didn’t even slow down he told Bryan and his older brothers that he wouldn’t be lying around while there was work to be done.
As he was remembering this Rick had asked Bryan something. He then asked it again and by this point Rick hit Bryan in the arm, and yelled “wake up boy”. Bryan apologized and then asked what he had said. Rick asked if they had seen the others yet. Bryan said “just the dead one over there”, and pointed in the direction he had come from. Rick was getting to his feet and said “I must have missed that one, I was talking about those”, and pointed at a grove of trees a little farther up the ridge line that was behind him. Everyone’s attention followed his finger and then they realized there was a small group of bodies laying in a row lined up in the trees. As they walked to the trees, Rick explained that he had burnt his hands while he was recovering the bodies and moving them up here from the crash site. He said the ground had still been hot when he came over the ridge. After he had moved the bodies he had sat down against the tree to bandage his hands. He wanted to get to the creek but the fumes had made him a little dizzy. He was so tired from the heat and exertion, and still a little fuzzy from the fumes, he had apparently passed out while he was wrapping his hands.
Rick looked at Bryan with the most serious expression Bryan had ever seen him make, and said something that Bryan would remember for the rest of his life. “Aliens, Real aliens crashed on our ranch!” Up until this point, this had all been a blur, a nightmare of sorts for Bryan. The vocalization from his father, his mentor, his hero, had brought the reality home to him. Bryan felt sick again. Rick continued by saying “I have never in all my days thought that the stories of little green men from mars were actually true. I thought these stories were someone’s imagination, or a comic book fantasy. Who was ever going to believed this?” He continued in somewhat of a hushed tone, “We have to call the sheriff and get him out here right away, before those government folks get wind of this." As he said this, Rick realized he was actually surrounded by the same “Government Folks” he was talking about. He looked around at the soldiers with him, who were all smiling at the comment he had just made, and said with the most serious face, “No offence fellas” They all burst into laughter.
As the laughter faded and, he could hear his dad’s voice again, He was shaking his head and muttering something about Leprechauns being next, but Bryan’s attention drifted else ware and he wasn’t hearing his father any more. His focus was now on the five bodies that were lined up in the trees in front of him. As they approached the row of bodies that Rick had gently placed there, one of the aliens moved. Rick had thought it was his imagination, or a reflection from the lights at first, but when everybody froze as if the world had just come to a stop he new it hadn’t been. In a flash they fanned out and trained their weapons on the alien. When it rolled over and sat up in to a sitting position, it realized that it was not alone, and it also remained motionless. They all stared at each other for several minutes, but it actually seemed like an eternity.
Rick was the first to break the silence. He whispered to Bryan, “I can’t believe one of them was still alive, I had no idea. I didn’t know how to check and they all appeared lifeless”. The alien then moved for the first time since realizing it wasn’t alone. It raised its small hand in what appeared to be a gesture of greeting. Then it put its hand to its small mouth and then pointed at Bryan with the same hand. Bryan nodded and grabbed a canteen from the soldier next to him. Mike Slager said to Bryan, “what are you doing”, Bryan replied, “I’m giving it the water it just asked for”. Mike argued, “Bryan, that thing didn’t make a sound”. “Sure it did, I heard it, plain as day, and it even speaks English”. Bryan replied. Rick said, “Son, your friend is right, it didn’t make a sound”. As his father’s words echoed in his ears, Bryan heard the sirens coming in the distance; coming from the direction where they had opened the fence and entered the ranch. At that moment he realized this was going to be a really, really long night.
He had been relieved of the command of the scene 4 hours ago, when the sheriff had arrived. He had walked back to his Jeep and still had no communications with the other patrols or the Desk Sgt; nobody’s radios seemed to work here. He drove the jeep over and picked up his father and then backtracked to the last spot he had had communications with the post and reported in. He briefed the Desk Sgt. The Desk Sgt, not believing what he had just heard, ask Bryan to “say again all last transmission”. Which if translated to civilian terms, means the Desk Sgt is telling him he’s full of crap, stop messing around give him the real story. Bryan repeated what he had said and after a long pause on the radio, the Desk Sgt responded with “Roger, Wait.” After about fifteen minutes Bryan was contacted and informed that there was a team coming from Washington D.C., as well as investigators from the FBI office in Albuquerque and that they were enroute to conduct their own investigation. He informed the Desk Sgt that as he was scheduled to be off for the weekend and his shift was long since completed, that he would stay out here pending the arrival of the investigators from the FBI and then he would be enroute back to Post. The Desk Sgt confirmed his request and told him to report to the Provost Marshall’s Office before he ended his tour of duty. Bryan acknowledged the transmission with “roger, wilco and out, which means “understood, will cooperate, and ending transmission.” Then he headed back into the area.
After the Base Ambulances, under escort by four soldiers from 4th platoon had left to take the Alien that had spoken to Bryan without speaking, and the other bodies back to the base Hospital, Bryan had taken his father back over the ridgeline to where he had been camping. He checked Shadow, and then had to convince his dad that he should get some rest. He left him comfortably lying on his bedroll, while Bryan went to fetch a medic to properly dress the burns his father had suffered. Upon his return Bryan had found his father sitting in the creek, in his skivvies with Shadow standing next to him. He begrudgingly left the creek and let the medic put some salve on the burns and then properly bandage his hands. The medic then said he would be fine with some rest. He retied Shadow to the tree and helped his father get comfortable. Then sat by the remenants of the fire, rested himself and tried to obsorb all that had happened this night.
At twilight over the ridgeline, Bryan observed for the first time the full magnitude of the crash site. The oblong crater was about 400 feet long from the craft to the edge of the furrow and burnt grass and 25 feet wide at it’s widest point. The earth had been pushed aside to carve a gouge from level at the beginning to about 9 feet deep at the end of the furrow. Pieces of the craft had broken off on impact and were strewn over the entire pasture, Bryan found and collected a few small piece of metal with some kind of writing on it from the dirt, and some sort of cloth material that he thought was part of the alien’s uniform. It was about a 9” X 9” piece. It had been hanging from a branch of one of the juniper trees when Bryan collected it. He decided he would keep these items and folded them up together into the cloth and placed it in his uniform pocket. After all this was his families land and Bryan thought he would study the things when he got them back to the Post. As he stood on the ridge overlooking the scene, Bryan was again awestruck by the sheer magnitude. There were now over a hundred people moving through the area sifting through evidence, taking lots of pictures, policing up and loading pieces of the craft into 2 ½ ton trucks. Bagging and loading body parts and pieces of the alien crew that could actually be identified as alien, and marking areas with stakes and twine, then taking measurements. They were also inventorying, photographing, and stacking the bodies of the dead cattle.
Bryan thought he should probably get a head count of the cattle for his father who was fast asleep. He mentally put it on the list of things he still had to do, but it felt small, like it didn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things.
Then Bryan saw the suits. The feds had arrived. Bryan decided it was time for them to leave and go home. He woke his father who was in a really deep sleep. When he was completely awake, Bryan filled him in on what was currently happening. He helped his father get his things together and sent him strait home with a promise that he would finish here with what needed to be done. They packed Shadow and Bryan promised to be home this evening and they would all talk about what had happened. He told his father that his mom would worry herself sick if he didn’t get home before lunchtime. Rick agreed and headed out over the other ridge. He had planned on bee lining it back to the house. He yelled back at Bryan over his shoulder to make sure the feds didn’t destroy anything. “And fix the fence after they leave Bryan, we don’t want the cows getting out.” It was the last thing Rick said to him before he disappeared in the trees at the top of the ridge. Bryan was alone now with nothing but his thoughts.
Then Bryan felt it. He felt the enormity of the change that had occurred in his life in the past 9 hours. He was tired, really tired, like he hadn’t slept in a week. He also knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that life as he had known it for 26 years had now changed. There was life on other planets. Bryan had actually communicated with it. He had touched it, and now he began to question the human belief system he had come to trust. Human nature took on a whole new meaning. How different was the human species from that of this alien he had communicated with a couple of short hours ago. Bryan decided he was going to find out. He looked forward to the challenge, and the wonder of it set in. How was this life form different from the human race?
He looked around again at the empty camp site, the fire was out, the grass was trampled, and dad had left his handkerchief. Bryan picked it up, and looked down at the fire pit. He stirred the cold coals with a stick to make sure they were out and thought of Ashley Olson. Bryan Smiled, maybe he would invite her to the BBQ this weekend as well, if she wasn’t already busy?
He headed back down to the stack of cattle carcasses, and counted them. Then without even speaking to the Feds, Bryan got into his jeep and left the ranch the way he had entered. He told the guard at the fence to make sure when everyone left to close it up again, and then showed him how to do it. He left the soldier, heading back towards the post with three things on his mind….a Game of Pool, Sleep, and Cherry Pie!
(To Be Continued)
About Me
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Catastrophi
Wah Gwon Mon!
I'm at home today, waiting on the Tile crew to arrive for the second day in a row. Last Monday I got my clothes washer back from the shop but hadn't really used it since then. Saturday morning at about 06:30, I put a load in the washer and went to my kitchen to make a pot of coffee and fix breakfast. I ate in the kitchen then did the dishes, as I was standing at the sink, it dawned on me that the water was still running in the washing machine. I went into the living room to get to the washer and stepped into about two inches of water. The washer hadn't progressed through its cycles and was stuck in the fill cycle. The water overflowed the top of the tub and flooded the front part of my apartment. Then as I was squeegeeing out the water the tiles, all but maybe twenty, popped and buckled. So I been here for two days so the Tile crew could finish the repair job. Of course as is usual here in Jamaica, they were supposed to be here at 08:00, its now 09:18 and they are still not here. I hope this isn't a sign how the rest of my day is going to go.
For those interested I will post the next installment in a couple of days. Enjoy. Latah, Mon.
I'm at home today, waiting on the Tile crew to arrive for the second day in a row. Last Monday I got my clothes washer back from the shop but hadn't really used it since then. Saturday morning at about 06:30, I put a load in the washer and went to my kitchen to make a pot of coffee and fix breakfast. I ate in the kitchen then did the dishes, as I was standing at the sink, it dawned on me that the water was still running in the washing machine. I went into the living room to get to the washer and stepped into about two inches of water. The washer hadn't progressed through its cycles and was stuck in the fill cycle. The water overflowed the top of the tub and flooded the front part of my apartment. Then as I was squeegeeing out the water the tiles, all but maybe twenty, popped and buckled. So I been here for two days so the Tile crew could finish the repair job. Of course as is usual here in Jamaica, they were supposed to be here at 08:00, its now 09:18 and they are still not here. I hope this isn't a sign how the rest of my day is going to go.
For those interested I will post the next installment in a couple of days. Enjoy. Latah, Mon.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
"The Truth" Capter 3 - The Discovery
North Fort Training Area, RAAF, 20:00 hrs, 2nd of July 1947.
Bryan was making his way as fast as he could to the border of the ranch. He was in a M151, ¼ ton Jeep with a soft top and no doors, the standard patrol vehicle for the MPs at the RAAF. He was thanking God that he had elected to reassign his partner tonight as his route was taking him to areas outside the post that he had only been to on horseback and he would not have attempted to go there in a jeep had he been responsible for someone else’s safety.
Thinking back about 4 1/2 hours ago to the Guard Mount, or Patrol Inspection, prior to the beginning of the shift, Bryan had indeed had himself a partner. Because Bryan had some personal things he wanted to do while on patrol, and because he had some serious thoughts he needed to mull over without having to explain himself to a partner, Bryan decided that he wanted to work alone this evening. He picked a Supernumerary; it’s the glorified name for a soldier that was at the top of the bunch for the evening. The soldier in his platoon that looked the sharpest and had adequately but professionally answered all the questions posed to him during the inspection. Bryan picked the soldier with the best shined boots and sharpest uniform and gave him the day off. Bryan’s scheduled partner took this soldier’s place in the patrol lineup.
On any given patrol shift here at the RAAF there were 7 two man patrols and a patrol supervisor. The Patrol Sup could be either a one or two man patrol depending on the strengths of the platoon on duty. As the Sr. Ranking Squad Leader, Bryan had the responsibility as Patrol Sup for Swing Shift tonight. They were assigned duties based on Platoon number. Right now, in the Rotation 2nd Platoon, his platoon had the Swing shift, 16:00 – Midnight. 1st Platoon had Mid Shift, Midnight – 08:00, and 3rd Platoon had the Day Shift, 08:00 – 16:00. 4th Platoon was in a training cycle and had deployed for a field training exercise to North Fort Training area. If the reports they had received from the public were accurate, 4th Platoon would be in the general vicinity of the projected crash area.
It never ceased to amaze Bryan how a situation can change in a matter of hours. Now, Bryan was moving cross country, through the New Mexico Desert in a jeep at its top speed with one canteen of water, a .45 cal pistol, seven rounds of ammunition, and the most desperate thoughts running through his mind. You see, Bryan was very worried. He knew his father sometimes travels out this direction when he first takes off to ride fence. But 5 hours ago Bryan’s situation was quite different.
Bryan had called his mother Sarah before he left the barracks, at 15:00 hrs this afternoon for work at the the MP Station. He had asked her if they were still having the annual Bar-B-Q on the Ranch for the 4th. Bryan had wanted to bring a few of his friends and wanted to make sure it was OK with his parents before he made the invitations. His mother had squealed with joy at his request. In her excitement she said that Rick, his Father, had set out early this morning to ride fence. And that he would be back tomorrow. She was so excited that he was coming home for the holiday. It had been a long time since the entire Foster Clan was together in one place for anything, and the 4th of July BBQ was always so much fun. Sarah had promised to make Bryan his favorite desert, cherry pie, if he made it for dinner tomorrow. He laughed and readily agreed as his mouth watered when he heard her say cherry pie. His mother was very happy when he ended his call with an "I Love You Mom", and hung up the phone, and as a matter of fact, so was he.
Bryan had been in the Transit Barracks when this whole mess had started. He was about three hours into his shift, and had finished the personal business he had needed to get done. He was talking with a group of his coworkers and friends in the dayroom when all hell had broken lose. They were standing watching, and critiquing, the game of pool being played when the earthquake hit. It moved the balls on the table and made everyone look around to find cover.
Then the radio traffic started spouting about some kind of Plane Crash. As it was not really busy tonight, all the Patrols were requesting permission to join the search for the crash site. Bryan had to immediately respond to the requests with a net call over all the radio frequencies they operated from, and issue a directive to the patrols. He would send one patrol north to the reported area and he ordered the others to remain in their assigned patrol areas. He would also be enroute to the reported crash site, as he was pretty familiar with that area. He remembered the last time he had been up there. with a chesser cat grin, he quietly said a girls name, and then looked around and checked to see if anyone had heard him or was watching him.
His father had taken him through that general area many times while they rode the fence line and tended to the ranch when he was growing up. Since he was his own man now and was always on the lookout for a quite out of the way place to take his girlfriends, he had taken advantage of this place and taken a pretty little blond girl named Bree Olson, into that remote area on horseback one weekend, to a little spot his father always camped at during his rides. He and Bree had planned on doing a little camping of their own. He had taken her there shortly after getting assigned to the RAAF and felt somewhat uncomfortable there, like his father was somehow watching him. As he refocused on the situation unfolding now, he thought, that is a story he would think about at another time.
Bryan thought about calling to see if Sean was on duty, He wanted to invite him to the ranch for the BBQ anyway, and he figure he might be able to get some additional information about the crash. But after thinking about it, he then decided against it. He figured that if Sean was working he would be way to busy to talk. He would head out immediately instead. He could get the information from the Desk Sgt by radio while enroute. He would invite Sean to the ranch later, after his shift ended tonight. If Sean wasn’t working, then Bryan would find him after work or wake him up and maybe they could play a couple of games of pool on the table in the dayroom to wind down. But right now, Bryan was concerned that this thing might have actually crashed on the Ranch, so he didn’t waste anymore time.
He jumped in his jeep and headed north out of the post gate, and into the North Fort Training Area. This area is an open stretch of desert that went for what seemed like forever. Bryan had traveled cross country for about an hour and a half, occasionally getting radio reports from the Desk Sgt and stopping to check his bearing. He had lost radio contact with the other patrol about 10 minutes ago, mid transmission due to static.
Western Border Fence Line of the Foster Ranch, 23:00 hrs, 2nd of July 1947.
Bryan crested the top of a small ridge and saw the fence line about twenty yards in front of him. He knew that he was still too far south and turned left. He decided he would follow the fence line until he came to a place he had repaired a few of years ago, where all four strands of wire had been broken from a tree falling over and collapsing the fence. He would be able to open the wire drive the jeep through the fence and then quickly repair it the same way he had done before.
He thought about going in on foot but then thought that the pioneer tools on the Jeep may come in handy. These tools are standard vehicle inventory on the M151, they consist of a shovel, a pick, an axe, pry bar and a pick handle. The vehicle also has standard tools like a screwdriver, hammer, wrenches and tire tools. In addition to the tools the vehicle may come in handy as a mobile command post, someplace to lay maps out and direct operations from. He thought he should not separate from it at this point.
Bryan had just gone through a small stream when he spotted a soldier off to the right side of him. He was over the fence on the ranch waving and yelling to get his attention. It was one of the members of 4th Platoon. As Bryan came to a stop the soldier went between the wire by holding one strand and ducking under another. He approached Bryan and asked where he had come fromand if he had any information. Bryan recognized him; his name was Frank Cortez, he was a short muscular fellow. He had grown up in Florida, but it was said that his family was originally from one of the Caribbean islands. He was a likeable enough fellow, but not much of a pool player, though he tried and he really enjoyed the game. That is how Bryan had met him; they had played a few games together in the day room. Frank asked Bryan what he new about the Plane. And Bryan said that the reports were that it was a fast mover and crashed somewhere close by. Bryan asked where his Platoon Sgt was and Frank said His squad had been sent out from the Platoon CP (command post) a few miles away, to investigate.
Then from behind him Bryan heard a noise and turned to see the rest of Frank's squad approaching. He recognized Mike Slager, one of 4th Platoons Squad leaders, and one of Bryan’s peers. They exchanged greetings and immediately briefed each other on what they knew, which wasn’t much at this point as the 4th had just arrived on foot. Slager told Bryan they had lost their radio communications a while ago because of static. They were trying to re-establish communications, so they could request permission to leave the training area, and enter private property. Mike had sent Frank over the wire as a scout to see if anyone was around, but didn’t want to put the entire squad in jeopardy, for trespassing. Mike spouted off about the ranchers in this area not taking to well to strangers on there land especially armed soldiers. Mike figured it was safer for them on this side of the wire until they got permission to proceed so they wouldn’t be accused of rustling and shot on site from the owner of the land.
Bryan said “well being that this ranchland belongs to my family, I’m sure we won’t have that problem”. Mike looked at Bryan as if he had three eyes and asked if he was serious. Bryan sheepishly said yes and started to explain the plan of where they would cross the fence. Bryan took charge with Mike's blessing, and set the rally point (RP) approximately 1 1/2 miles up the fence line. Mike assigned one of his team leaders to bring the squad at a forced march to the RP and climbed in the jeep with Bryan.
They took off to the RP with the squad of 14 following them. When they were out of earshot from the rest of the squad, Mike told Bryan that they had seen the flaming craft shoot through the sky as it passed the Platoon CP. “It was huge “said Mike. “It was moving so fast that when it hit the ground it felt like an earthquake”. Mike said if he hadn’t been already sitting in his foxhole he would have ended up being thrown on his backside as most of his platoon had been. This resulted in a few minor injuries in his Platoon, a couple of broken bones and one soldier had a concussion from a tent pole hitting him in the head while he was getting some shut eye. Bryan told Mike that they had felt it all the way back at the Post. “Bryan, it was as big as anything I have ever seen at the airfield. It was much bigger than the bombers”, Mike explained. Mike shared his suspicion that it was an experimental aircraft, some new weapons platform or something that had not been shared with the rest of the world yet. He said “If they had a full crew we could be looking at a dozen or more casualties, and if there was anyone in the area where it hit maybe more.” Bryan tensed in fear for his dad’s safety.
“How come you never told me you were from around here?” Mike Asked as they drove. Bryan made some lame excuse about him not wanting people to know he was a local. But the truth was that Bryan really didn’t know Mike that well. He didn’t know what kind of person he really was. They didn’t have the same interests or hang out with the same people. Mike was a Gear Head, he liked cars and engines. That just wasn't Bryan’s cup of joe. Bryan liked the excitement of the chase, he liked the hustle, and he loved the intricasies of the game of pool. Whether he was chasing girls or bad guys Bryan, loved to use his head to try and figure people out. They were way too different from each other to be close friends.
They came to the Rally Point, and Bryan was right on track, he knew exactly where he was. There was a thin smoke and a strange odor in the air that seemed to cover this whole area. The fence was taken down and they had the vehicle through before the rest of the squad caught up. Bryan assigned a member of the squad to guard the hole in the fence and should the need arise, to keep the cows from getting out. And they moved into the ranch.
They had moved about 1000 yards when the smoke got heavier. It wasn’t as bad as it would have been during a wild fire but looked as though a fire had been put out for about two days and was still smoldering. It was in the air but didn’t really block their view. They spread out into a moving Squad V formation with the vehicle at the apex. All the grass and trees seemed to have been through a fast moving wild fire. They were scorched and smoking but not burnt completely. This whole pasture area would surely have to be cleared and set ablaze when it was safe to do so, to prevent a wild fire environment or an actual unplanned fire. Probably wouldn't be safe to do until winter though. Then come spring, this grass would be new and tender. The cows would soon love this whole area.
Bryan still smelled the strange odor; it was reminiscent of burnt fuel of some kind, and it was getting stronger. He checked the direction of the breeze and decided to enter the area from up wind allowing the gentle breeze to blow the smoke and fumes away from them, though it really wouldn’t matter as it seemed to be everywhere across this pasture.
They proceeded into what appeared to be the general impact area. They parked the Vehicle and moved out on foot. They had moved about 50 yards when one of the men to the left yelled that he saw something. They went to investigate and discovered a charred dead cow. This cow had been severely burnt and mangled. Its eyes were ruptured which means the heat was explosive and intense enough to flash boil the liquid inside the eyeballs. As they proceeded they began to find more cattle in the same if not worse condition. Then they spotted the crash site. Bryan ordered them to set up a parameter around the site at an interval where they could maintain visual contact with the men to either side of them.
As they circled the site, one man yelled for assistance, and then screamed a blood curdling scream. Bryan and Mike went to his aid at a sprint. When they got to him he was on his hands and knees crawling away from an object in the singed brown grass. They got to him and asked what was wrong what had he found. He couldn’t speak, he was in a panic, all he did was point at the charred lump in the grass. Bryan, being somewhat prepared to find another mangled cow went to the thing in the grass. As he got close enough to see what it was he stopped and drew his pistol. Mike, following him, got a look over Bryan’s arms as he held the pistol aiming at the thing they were looking at. After a few minutes, as the shock began to ware off, He said to Bryan calmly, “Bryan I don’t think that thing is alive. It’s so charred, it’s not moving and it’s missing a leg”. He calmly tapped Bryan’s arms and told him to holster his pistol. Bryan did as he was told and they approached the Body laying before them.
It was about 4 1/2 feet long. It had a head the size of a large oblong pumpkin and it was kind of a pale gray with a green tint to it. The eyes were large, black, and evenly spaced on the head but spaced wider than a human’s eyes would have been. Its nose was missing and looked as though it had been torn off in the crash. A hole was in its place and a green ooze was emanating from the orifice. What was left of the body was clothed in a light green jumpsuit of some kind. Though one of its legs was missing the other was still fully covered, as was half of its upper body. Bryan knelt down beside it, being careful not to touch it. He noticed that the parts of this body that were exposed were charred severely, but the parts that were still cover by the jump suit and the suit itself were completely undamaged by the heat. The smells from this whole area were an assault to his senses. He felt like his stomach was going to release its contents. He was fighting the urge to vomit, when someone to his right yelled that they found a live one.
Bryan and Mike leapt up and sprinted in the direction of the yell. They both had weapons ready as they approached the soldier and the body leaning up against a small tree. As they approached Bryan could make out what appeared to be long legs moving and covered in what looked like blue denim jeans. Then he recognized the footwear as pointed leather cowboy boots. As he stepped next to the soldier who was knelt down beside this body, Bryan looked down and yelled “Dad!”
(To be continued)
Bryan was making his way as fast as he could to the border of the ranch. He was in a M151, ¼ ton Jeep with a soft top and no doors, the standard patrol vehicle for the MPs at the RAAF. He was thanking God that he had elected to reassign his partner tonight as his route was taking him to areas outside the post that he had only been to on horseback and he would not have attempted to go there in a jeep had he been responsible for someone else’s safety.
Thinking back about 4 1/2 hours ago to the Guard Mount, or Patrol Inspection, prior to the beginning of the shift, Bryan had indeed had himself a partner. Because Bryan had some personal things he wanted to do while on patrol, and because he had some serious thoughts he needed to mull over without having to explain himself to a partner, Bryan decided that he wanted to work alone this evening. He picked a Supernumerary; it’s the glorified name for a soldier that was at the top of the bunch for the evening. The soldier in his platoon that looked the sharpest and had adequately but professionally answered all the questions posed to him during the inspection. Bryan picked the soldier with the best shined boots and sharpest uniform and gave him the day off. Bryan’s scheduled partner took this soldier’s place in the patrol lineup.
On any given patrol shift here at the RAAF there were 7 two man patrols and a patrol supervisor. The Patrol Sup could be either a one or two man patrol depending on the strengths of the platoon on duty. As the Sr. Ranking Squad Leader, Bryan had the responsibility as Patrol Sup for Swing Shift tonight. They were assigned duties based on Platoon number. Right now, in the Rotation 2nd Platoon, his platoon had the Swing shift, 16:00 – Midnight. 1st Platoon had Mid Shift, Midnight – 08:00, and 3rd Platoon had the Day Shift, 08:00 – 16:00. 4th Platoon was in a training cycle and had deployed for a field training exercise to North Fort Training area. If the reports they had received from the public were accurate, 4th Platoon would be in the general vicinity of the projected crash area.
It never ceased to amaze Bryan how a situation can change in a matter of hours. Now, Bryan was moving cross country, through the New Mexico Desert in a jeep at its top speed with one canteen of water, a .45 cal pistol, seven rounds of ammunition, and the most desperate thoughts running through his mind. You see, Bryan was very worried. He knew his father sometimes travels out this direction when he first takes off to ride fence. But 5 hours ago Bryan’s situation was quite different.
Bryan had called his mother Sarah before he left the barracks, at 15:00 hrs this afternoon for work at the the MP Station. He had asked her if they were still having the annual Bar-B-Q on the Ranch for the 4th. Bryan had wanted to bring a few of his friends and wanted to make sure it was OK with his parents before he made the invitations. His mother had squealed with joy at his request. In her excitement she said that Rick, his Father, had set out early this morning to ride fence. And that he would be back tomorrow. She was so excited that he was coming home for the holiday. It had been a long time since the entire Foster Clan was together in one place for anything, and the 4th of July BBQ was always so much fun. Sarah had promised to make Bryan his favorite desert, cherry pie, if he made it for dinner tomorrow. He laughed and readily agreed as his mouth watered when he heard her say cherry pie. His mother was very happy when he ended his call with an "I Love You Mom", and hung up the phone, and as a matter of fact, so was he.
Bryan had been in the Transit Barracks when this whole mess had started. He was about three hours into his shift, and had finished the personal business he had needed to get done. He was talking with a group of his coworkers and friends in the dayroom when all hell had broken lose. They were standing watching, and critiquing, the game of pool being played when the earthquake hit. It moved the balls on the table and made everyone look around to find cover.
Then the radio traffic started spouting about some kind of Plane Crash. As it was not really busy tonight, all the Patrols were requesting permission to join the search for the crash site. Bryan had to immediately respond to the requests with a net call over all the radio frequencies they operated from, and issue a directive to the patrols. He would send one patrol north to the reported area and he ordered the others to remain in their assigned patrol areas. He would also be enroute to the reported crash site, as he was pretty familiar with that area. He remembered the last time he had been up there. with a chesser cat grin, he quietly said a girls name, and then looked around and checked to see if anyone had heard him or was watching him.
His father had taken him through that general area many times while they rode the fence line and tended to the ranch when he was growing up. Since he was his own man now and was always on the lookout for a quite out of the way place to take his girlfriends, he had taken advantage of this place and taken a pretty little blond girl named Bree Olson, into that remote area on horseback one weekend, to a little spot his father always camped at during his rides. He and Bree had planned on doing a little camping of their own. He had taken her there shortly after getting assigned to the RAAF and felt somewhat uncomfortable there, like his father was somehow watching him. As he refocused on the situation unfolding now, he thought, that is a story he would think about at another time.
Bryan thought about calling to see if Sean was on duty, He wanted to invite him to the ranch for the BBQ anyway, and he figure he might be able to get some additional information about the crash. But after thinking about it, he then decided against it. He figured that if Sean was working he would be way to busy to talk. He would head out immediately instead. He could get the information from the Desk Sgt by radio while enroute. He would invite Sean to the ranch later, after his shift ended tonight. If Sean wasn’t working, then Bryan would find him after work or wake him up and maybe they could play a couple of games of pool on the table in the dayroom to wind down. But right now, Bryan was concerned that this thing might have actually crashed on the Ranch, so he didn’t waste anymore time.
He jumped in his jeep and headed north out of the post gate, and into the North Fort Training Area. This area is an open stretch of desert that went for what seemed like forever. Bryan had traveled cross country for about an hour and a half, occasionally getting radio reports from the Desk Sgt and stopping to check his bearing. He had lost radio contact with the other patrol about 10 minutes ago, mid transmission due to static.
Western Border Fence Line of the Foster Ranch, 23:00 hrs, 2nd of July 1947.
Bryan crested the top of a small ridge and saw the fence line about twenty yards in front of him. He knew that he was still too far south and turned left. He decided he would follow the fence line until he came to a place he had repaired a few of years ago, where all four strands of wire had been broken from a tree falling over and collapsing the fence. He would be able to open the wire drive the jeep through the fence and then quickly repair it the same way he had done before.
He thought about going in on foot but then thought that the pioneer tools on the Jeep may come in handy. These tools are standard vehicle inventory on the M151, they consist of a shovel, a pick, an axe, pry bar and a pick handle. The vehicle also has standard tools like a screwdriver, hammer, wrenches and tire tools. In addition to the tools the vehicle may come in handy as a mobile command post, someplace to lay maps out and direct operations from. He thought he should not separate from it at this point.
Bryan had just gone through a small stream when he spotted a soldier off to the right side of him. He was over the fence on the ranch waving and yelling to get his attention. It was one of the members of 4th Platoon. As Bryan came to a stop the soldier went between the wire by holding one strand and ducking under another. He approached Bryan and asked where he had come fromand if he had any information. Bryan recognized him; his name was Frank Cortez, he was a short muscular fellow. He had grown up in Florida, but it was said that his family was originally from one of the Caribbean islands. He was a likeable enough fellow, but not much of a pool player, though he tried and he really enjoyed the game. That is how Bryan had met him; they had played a few games together in the day room. Frank asked Bryan what he new about the Plane. And Bryan said that the reports were that it was a fast mover and crashed somewhere close by. Bryan asked where his Platoon Sgt was and Frank said His squad had been sent out from the Platoon CP (command post) a few miles away, to investigate.
Then from behind him Bryan heard a noise and turned to see the rest of Frank's squad approaching. He recognized Mike Slager, one of 4th Platoons Squad leaders, and one of Bryan’s peers. They exchanged greetings and immediately briefed each other on what they knew, which wasn’t much at this point as the 4th had just arrived on foot. Slager told Bryan they had lost their radio communications a while ago because of static. They were trying to re-establish communications, so they could request permission to leave the training area, and enter private property. Mike had sent Frank over the wire as a scout to see if anyone was around, but didn’t want to put the entire squad in jeopardy, for trespassing. Mike spouted off about the ranchers in this area not taking to well to strangers on there land especially armed soldiers. Mike figured it was safer for them on this side of the wire until they got permission to proceed so they wouldn’t be accused of rustling and shot on site from the owner of the land.
Bryan said “well being that this ranchland belongs to my family, I’m sure we won’t have that problem”. Mike looked at Bryan as if he had three eyes and asked if he was serious. Bryan sheepishly said yes and started to explain the plan of where they would cross the fence. Bryan took charge with Mike's blessing, and set the rally point (RP) approximately 1 1/2 miles up the fence line. Mike assigned one of his team leaders to bring the squad at a forced march to the RP and climbed in the jeep with Bryan.
They took off to the RP with the squad of 14 following them. When they were out of earshot from the rest of the squad, Mike told Bryan that they had seen the flaming craft shoot through the sky as it passed the Platoon CP. “It was huge “said Mike. “It was moving so fast that when it hit the ground it felt like an earthquake”. Mike said if he hadn’t been already sitting in his foxhole he would have ended up being thrown on his backside as most of his platoon had been. This resulted in a few minor injuries in his Platoon, a couple of broken bones and one soldier had a concussion from a tent pole hitting him in the head while he was getting some shut eye. Bryan told Mike that they had felt it all the way back at the Post. “Bryan, it was as big as anything I have ever seen at the airfield. It was much bigger than the bombers”, Mike explained. Mike shared his suspicion that it was an experimental aircraft, some new weapons platform or something that had not been shared with the rest of the world yet. He said “If they had a full crew we could be looking at a dozen or more casualties, and if there was anyone in the area where it hit maybe more.” Bryan tensed in fear for his dad’s safety.
“How come you never told me you were from around here?” Mike Asked as they drove. Bryan made some lame excuse about him not wanting people to know he was a local. But the truth was that Bryan really didn’t know Mike that well. He didn’t know what kind of person he really was. They didn’t have the same interests or hang out with the same people. Mike was a Gear Head, he liked cars and engines. That just wasn't Bryan’s cup of joe. Bryan liked the excitement of the chase, he liked the hustle, and he loved the intricasies of the game of pool. Whether he was chasing girls or bad guys Bryan, loved to use his head to try and figure people out. They were way too different from each other to be close friends.
They came to the Rally Point, and Bryan was right on track, he knew exactly where he was. There was a thin smoke and a strange odor in the air that seemed to cover this whole area. The fence was taken down and they had the vehicle through before the rest of the squad caught up. Bryan assigned a member of the squad to guard the hole in the fence and should the need arise, to keep the cows from getting out. And they moved into the ranch.
They had moved about 1000 yards when the smoke got heavier. It wasn’t as bad as it would have been during a wild fire but looked as though a fire had been put out for about two days and was still smoldering. It was in the air but didn’t really block their view. They spread out into a moving Squad V formation with the vehicle at the apex. All the grass and trees seemed to have been through a fast moving wild fire. They were scorched and smoking but not burnt completely. This whole pasture area would surely have to be cleared and set ablaze when it was safe to do so, to prevent a wild fire environment or an actual unplanned fire. Probably wouldn't be safe to do until winter though. Then come spring, this grass would be new and tender. The cows would soon love this whole area.
Bryan still smelled the strange odor; it was reminiscent of burnt fuel of some kind, and it was getting stronger. He checked the direction of the breeze and decided to enter the area from up wind allowing the gentle breeze to blow the smoke and fumes away from them, though it really wouldn’t matter as it seemed to be everywhere across this pasture.
They proceeded into what appeared to be the general impact area. They parked the Vehicle and moved out on foot. They had moved about 50 yards when one of the men to the left yelled that he saw something. They went to investigate and discovered a charred dead cow. This cow had been severely burnt and mangled. Its eyes were ruptured which means the heat was explosive and intense enough to flash boil the liquid inside the eyeballs. As they proceeded they began to find more cattle in the same if not worse condition. Then they spotted the crash site. Bryan ordered them to set up a parameter around the site at an interval where they could maintain visual contact with the men to either side of them.
As they circled the site, one man yelled for assistance, and then screamed a blood curdling scream. Bryan and Mike went to his aid at a sprint. When they got to him he was on his hands and knees crawling away from an object in the singed brown grass. They got to him and asked what was wrong what had he found. He couldn’t speak, he was in a panic, all he did was point at the charred lump in the grass. Bryan, being somewhat prepared to find another mangled cow went to the thing in the grass. As he got close enough to see what it was he stopped and drew his pistol. Mike, following him, got a look over Bryan’s arms as he held the pistol aiming at the thing they were looking at. After a few minutes, as the shock began to ware off, He said to Bryan calmly, “Bryan I don’t think that thing is alive. It’s so charred, it’s not moving and it’s missing a leg”. He calmly tapped Bryan’s arms and told him to holster his pistol. Bryan did as he was told and they approached the Body laying before them.
It was about 4 1/2 feet long. It had a head the size of a large oblong pumpkin and it was kind of a pale gray with a green tint to it. The eyes were large, black, and evenly spaced on the head but spaced wider than a human’s eyes would have been. Its nose was missing and looked as though it had been torn off in the crash. A hole was in its place and a green ooze was emanating from the orifice. What was left of the body was clothed in a light green jumpsuit of some kind. Though one of its legs was missing the other was still fully covered, as was half of its upper body. Bryan knelt down beside it, being careful not to touch it. He noticed that the parts of this body that were exposed were charred severely, but the parts that were still cover by the jump suit and the suit itself were completely undamaged by the heat. The smells from this whole area were an assault to his senses. He felt like his stomach was going to release its contents. He was fighting the urge to vomit, when someone to his right yelled that they found a live one.
Bryan and Mike leapt up and sprinted in the direction of the yell. They both had weapons ready as they approached the soldier and the body leaning up against a small tree. As they approached Bryan could make out what appeared to be long legs moving and covered in what looked like blue denim jeans. Then he recognized the footwear as pointed leather cowboy boots. As he stepped next to the soldier who was knelt down beside this body, Bryan looked down and yelled “Dad!”
(To be continued)
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Do Over!!!
Remember when we were kids and if you didn't like a play in football or missed a shot playing horse, you'd scream do over and get another shot at it. It's kind of like a mulligan in golf.
Well, I apparently have people reading this that I didn't think were out there. I was going to stop publishing the Short Story, "The Truth" on this blog, because I've been getting some flack from the people I work with. I don't know if they are serious by giving me a hard time about it, or if they are kidding, but I've been rather embarrassed about the whole thing, so I was going to end my embarrassment, and I removed the first two parts of the story today.It's hard for me to imagine that people are out there and reading the ramblings I write here. I was asked what happened to the story this afternoon by a dear friend, and was told that several people that I care about were actually reading it. I was asked to continue with it, and I have agreed, but I would really like some feed back from you all. Serious feedback, just try not to hurt this old fool's feelings, (yes I have them), If you like what I've written then say so. If you think its drivel, then don't read it. I'm embarrassed to say that even my own wife hasn't read it. That's kind of the straw that broke the camels back; I figured I was making a fool out of myself.Anyway, be aware that I did not originally write a preface to this story, it was written when I decided to blog it, and when I deleted the entries I lost it, as well as some grammatical and punctuation errors that I made after I entered it to the blog. I have discovered while getting used to this way of entering posts. You can't copy the changes back out. At least I haven't figured out how to do it yet. So I will put the entries as I originally typed them during the translation of my chicken scratch. Again I'm sorry Jodie, (my assistant) and God Bless You for putting up with me. I will continue the story when I finish typing each section.Thanks Tami, for encouraging me to continue. To those of you at work, nany nany ha ha :-) I'm going to do it anyway, don't care what you say. Latah Mon!
Well, I apparently have people reading this that I didn't think were out there. I was going to stop publishing the Short Story, "The Truth" on this blog, because I've been getting some flack from the people I work with. I don't know if they are serious by giving me a hard time about it, or if they are kidding, but I've been rather embarrassed about the whole thing, so I was going to end my embarrassment, and I removed the first two parts of the story today.It's hard for me to imagine that people are out there and reading the ramblings I write here. I was asked what happened to the story this afternoon by a dear friend, and was told that several people that I care about were actually reading it. I was asked to continue with it, and I have agreed, but I would really like some feed back from you all. Serious feedback, just try not to hurt this old fool's feelings, (yes I have them), If you like what I've written then say so. If you think its drivel, then don't read it. I'm embarrassed to say that even my own wife hasn't read it. That's kind of the straw that broke the camels back; I figured I was making a fool out of myself.Anyway, be aware that I did not originally write a preface to this story, it was written when I decided to blog it, and when I deleted the entries I lost it, as well as some grammatical and punctuation errors that I made after I entered it to the blog. I have discovered while getting used to this way of entering posts. You can't copy the changes back out. At least I haven't figured out how to do it yet. So I will put the entries as I originally typed them during the translation of my chicken scratch. Again I'm sorry Jodie, (my assistant) and God Bless You for putting up with me. I will continue the story when I finish typing each section.Thanks Tami, for encouraging me to continue. To those of you at work, nany nany ha ha :-) I'm going to do it anyway, don't care what you say. Latah Mon!
"The Truth" a short story by S. M. Connors
Foster Ranch, Roswell New Mexico. 2nd of July, 1947
It’s late in the afternoon; the sun has moved down to just above the horizon, it’s dusty, hot, and dry. Richard Foster, locally know to everyone as Rick, has been riding the west fence line of his ranch for most of the day, stopping to make repairs when necessary. Riding fence is one of the loneliest chores of ranch life, but Rick enjoyed the peace and tranquility of the ride, as well as the hard work of repairing any damage to the fence that he discovers. He also enjoys the company. Shadow, his horse, is his favorite out of all the horses on the ranch. She is a buckskin mare with a sweet disposition. He has raised her from a foal and she has been his favorite since her birth. She’s nicely matured and stands16 hands tall. She is strong, healthy, and can travel for what seems like days without rest, and she loves him as much as he loves her. They trust each other with the respect gained by years of working together, and their dependency on each other is mutual. She has saved Rick from more sticky situations than he can remember. Situations ranging from summer cattle stampedes to getting him home after a snake bite a year ago that had almost done him in. He would have surely died had she not gotten him home, without his guidance, to the aid of his wife and sons. He owed her his life on more than one occasion. Riding fence with Shadow, on his ranch allowed Rick time to reflect about life and the future, and made him realize how blessed he was with his family, health and prosperity. He looked forward to these times alone with his horse and his thoughts.
It had been a hot day and he was tired. It was late afternoon as Rick stopped to set up camp for the night in a small valley between two low ridges. He filled his canteens and let Shadow drink her fill from a small seasonal creek that ran through the ranch. He tied Shadow with a long lead to a tree with lots of green fresh grass underneath for her to munch on. Then he built a small fire to cook the rabbit he had snared earlier in the day. As the sun left the horizon and the day turned to night, the temperature started to cool a little. The evening sounds of the ranch began to fill the air. The crickets began to chirp and in the distance Rick heard an owl hoot a couple of times. He could hear the small herd of cattle mooing and grazing in the next small valley pasture to the east.
As Rick sat by the fire feeling full and content with the meal of rabbit and beans. He quietly thanked his wife Sarah under his breath for delicious cornbread she had wrapped and put in his saddlebag this morning. Rick had consumed his meal hungrily as he had not had time to eat all day.
In the afterglow of his hearty meal, Rick began to reflect on his life on his ranch, The Foster Ranch, a 3680 acre working cattle ranch east of Roswell New Mexico. He had bought the ranch with a mortgage from the local bank 15 years ago, but had paid off the mortgage and fully owned the Ranch outright for 3 years now. He had just gotten the ranch books to the black instead of in the red, last calving season.
Rick had been married to best woman in the world for the last 36 years. God had blessed his lovely wife Sarah and him with 3 sons, Richard Jr. 34, who is a fine rancher in his own right and works the Foster Ranch with him. Dale 31, who had finished 3 years serving in the Army Air force during the war and returned home to work on the ranch, and Bryan 26 who was a currently a Staff Sergeant in the Army Military Police Corps stationed over at Roswell Army Air Field and due to be honorably discharged in a few months. All of his sons would soon be home to follow in Rick’s footsteps as cattle men. Sarah had also given birth 15 years ago to a beautiful daughter that they named Kaitlyn. She was beautiful, feisty, and intelligent just like her mother. She will make a good wife to the lucky man that can pass the muster of the Foster men.
The cattle on his ranch were healthy and fat as the spring and early summer had been good to them. With an abundant supply of grazing pastures and plenty of fresh water from the creek and that ran threw most of the ranch and the new wells he and his sons had dug in the remote areas of the ranch over the last two years, the herd had increased in size to nearly 2000 head.
As any rancher in this region can tell you, Water is Life, without it, the land is barren and dry, and unable to sustain much life. Water is the most precious commodity for a working cattle ranch.
This years herd should really put him in a position to be a major cattle man in New Mexico. Rick and his sons would take a good portion of the heard to the sale yard in Alamogordo in a couple of months and they should fetch top dollar.
As he was reminiscing and planning the future of the ranch and the next days ride, a strange sound brought Rick out of his reflective dream world. It sounded like a locomotive was approaching at high speed. The sound was roaring but Rick couldn’t tell from which direction it was coming. The sound got louder by the second and was now deafening. Shadow was franticly trying to bolt from the place Rick had tied her. Rick had just reached her to calm her down when the object came over the ridgeline.
The object was a ball if flame the size of a farm house. It passed overhead with such power that it shook the earth. The intense heat it produced burned his skin and made him cover his face. He threw his arms around shadow’s head and tried to protect her with his body. He ducked his head and buried his face next to hers.
Then it struck.
It hit the earth so close to them, and with such force that he and shadow were both knocked to the ground. After what seemed like an eternity but was, in reality, only minutes, Rick regained his senses and his footing. Shadow was shakily standing on her own but her main and ears were singed like she had been in a barn fire. Her eyes were wide with panic and she was literally shacking from pain and fear. As he calmed her he realized that in addition to her ears, she had been burned on her neck and back as well. He realized that his own skin was burning and he felt like he had been in the sun without his hat and long sleeves for days. He looked at his arms and hands in the light of the fire and could see he had what appeared to be a tremendous sun burn and could feel a few small blisters on the back of his ears as well. He shakily took Shadow to the creek where he waded her in to slight current in the middle. He bathed himself clothes and all, and her in the cool water for what seemed like hours until the burning began to subside. Shadow calmed in the cool water and didn’t want to leave the creek. Rick gently talked to her and coaxed her out. He secured her bridle to the lead rope that was in turn still tied to the tree where she had been before this nightmare began. He dug into his saddle bag that he had placed next to his bedroll and gave her some grain from a small bag he had stored there as well as a few sugar cubes he always carried for her as a treat. He then climbed the small ridge that the object had passed over as it made its way to the ground.
Not knowing what to expect, Rick crested the small ridge slowly. He began to find the remnants of the small group of his cattle he had heard earlier, scattered through out the sage brush and small juniper trees. All the brush and trees in this area were scorched and would probably soon die. He would have to be back up here next month to clear this scorched vegitation away because of the fire hazard. Most of the animals were dead already or would soon die. All of them were severely burned. Some of them were mangled from the small explosion caused by the impact of this object. He resigned himself to the fact that there was nothing he could do for them.
Rick slowly went into the impact area. He observed a trench plowed into the ground that was about 400 feet long and 25 feet wide and 9 feet deep. There were a few small fires burning in this gouge carved into the earth. The brush, trees, and grass that surrounded this large artificially created terrain feature, that up to a few minutes ago did not exist, was scorched and still smoking like the rest had been, but as most of this area was still well supplied with ground water there was no big threat of a wild fire starting here.
As he progressed into the area he began stomping out the small fires that he found. He smelled a strange odor, like some sort of burnt fuel. It burned his eyes and lungs and made him choke. He coughed to try and clear his lungs but it was no use. Then he remembered the handkerchief he had in his pocket. He pulled it out and found it was still wet from the creek. He folded it into a triangle, covered his mouth and nose with it and tied it behind his head. The handkerchief provided him some relief of the strong fumes and smoke. Ricks mind began to race; He began to think this object had been an aircraft from the Army Airfield where Bryan was stationed. He began to franticly search the ground for what he thought would be pieces of plane wreckage.
Through the smoke and fumes he began to make out pieces of metal wreckage, confirming in his mind that it was indeed the remnants of an aircraft.
He approached what he thought was another mangled cow or maybe an older calf from his heard when he realized this body was not like the rest. It was small and shaped like a small man with long limbs. He began to prepare himself to see the carnage of a plane crash. He fought the panic that raced into his mind. He forced himself to calm down and went to render what assistance he could to this man he assumed was part of the unfortunate crew. It was clothed in what appeared to be a light green flight suit. He turned this body over and as if he was living in a bad dream, or in the worst nightmare he could think of, he realized that this was no man.
As he rolled the body over, Rick nearly passed out from the shock of what he was seeing. This creature was as alien to him as anything he had ever seen.
In the seconds following this unexpected revelation, Rick flashed back to a jovial conversation he had with his hired hands a few years back. They were discussing reading Readers Digest stories of UFO sightings across the nation. Now Rick, being the down to earth man that he was, had never believed in these UFO’s and all that science fiction comic book crap that so many people seemed to believe was real. He just chalked it up to their imaginations. He had boldly told his men this, and then dismissed their tales and stories as folklore and fantasy.
Rick figured that if little green men from mars really did exist, they wouldn’t be interested in his place, unless of course, they had a taste for beef. He laughingly joked to his hired men that if he ever found aliens on his ranch butchering his cattle, that he would treat them like any other rustler, shoot them on sight and bury them in a deep, unmarked grave.
He shook himself back to reality as he coughed again. This was real, it wasn’t a comic book or Readers Digest Magazine, it wasn’t a conversation or rumor. It was a body, a real alien body. There was no longer any room in his mind for fairy tales or folklore. He had touched the body and it was real.
At that instant, Richard Foster’s life had changed forever.
It’s late in the afternoon; the sun has moved down to just above the horizon, it’s dusty, hot, and dry. Richard Foster, locally know to everyone as Rick, has been riding the west fence line of his ranch for most of the day, stopping to make repairs when necessary. Riding fence is one of the loneliest chores of ranch life, but Rick enjoyed the peace and tranquility of the ride, as well as the hard work of repairing any damage to the fence that he discovers. He also enjoys the company. Shadow, his horse, is his favorite out of all the horses on the ranch. She is a buckskin mare with a sweet disposition. He has raised her from a foal and she has been his favorite since her birth. She’s nicely matured and stands16 hands tall. She is strong, healthy, and can travel for what seems like days without rest, and she loves him as much as he loves her. They trust each other with the respect gained by years of working together, and their dependency on each other is mutual. She has saved Rick from more sticky situations than he can remember. Situations ranging from summer cattle stampedes to getting him home after a snake bite a year ago that had almost done him in. He would have surely died had she not gotten him home, without his guidance, to the aid of his wife and sons. He owed her his life on more than one occasion. Riding fence with Shadow, on his ranch allowed Rick time to reflect about life and the future, and made him realize how blessed he was with his family, health and prosperity. He looked forward to these times alone with his horse and his thoughts.
It had been a hot day and he was tired. It was late afternoon as Rick stopped to set up camp for the night in a small valley between two low ridges. He filled his canteens and let Shadow drink her fill from a small seasonal creek that ran through the ranch. He tied Shadow with a long lead to a tree with lots of green fresh grass underneath for her to munch on. Then he built a small fire to cook the rabbit he had snared earlier in the day. As the sun left the horizon and the day turned to night, the temperature started to cool a little. The evening sounds of the ranch began to fill the air. The crickets began to chirp and in the distance Rick heard an owl hoot a couple of times. He could hear the small herd of cattle mooing and grazing in the next small valley pasture to the east.
As Rick sat by the fire feeling full and content with the meal of rabbit and beans. He quietly thanked his wife Sarah under his breath for delicious cornbread she had wrapped and put in his saddlebag this morning. Rick had consumed his meal hungrily as he had not had time to eat all day.
In the afterglow of his hearty meal, Rick began to reflect on his life on his ranch, The Foster Ranch, a 3680 acre working cattle ranch east of Roswell New Mexico. He had bought the ranch with a mortgage from the local bank 15 years ago, but had paid off the mortgage and fully owned the Ranch outright for 3 years now. He had just gotten the ranch books to the black instead of in the red, last calving season.
Rick had been married to best woman in the world for the last 36 years. God had blessed his lovely wife Sarah and him with 3 sons, Richard Jr. 34, who is a fine rancher in his own right and works the Foster Ranch with him. Dale 31, who had finished 3 years serving in the Army Air force during the war and returned home to work on the ranch, and Bryan 26 who was a currently a Staff Sergeant in the Army Military Police Corps stationed over at Roswell Army Air Field and due to be honorably discharged in a few months. All of his sons would soon be home to follow in Rick’s footsteps as cattle men. Sarah had also given birth 15 years ago to a beautiful daughter that they named Kaitlyn. She was beautiful, feisty, and intelligent just like her mother. She will make a good wife to the lucky man that can pass the muster of the Foster men.
The cattle on his ranch were healthy and fat as the spring and early summer had been good to them. With an abundant supply of grazing pastures and plenty of fresh water from the creek and that ran threw most of the ranch and the new wells he and his sons had dug in the remote areas of the ranch over the last two years, the herd had increased in size to nearly 2000 head.
As any rancher in this region can tell you, Water is Life, without it, the land is barren and dry, and unable to sustain much life. Water is the most precious commodity for a working cattle ranch.
This years herd should really put him in a position to be a major cattle man in New Mexico. Rick and his sons would take a good portion of the heard to the sale yard in Alamogordo in a couple of months and they should fetch top dollar.
As he was reminiscing and planning the future of the ranch and the next days ride, a strange sound brought Rick out of his reflective dream world. It sounded like a locomotive was approaching at high speed. The sound was roaring but Rick couldn’t tell from which direction it was coming. The sound got louder by the second and was now deafening. Shadow was franticly trying to bolt from the place Rick had tied her. Rick had just reached her to calm her down when the object came over the ridgeline.
The object was a ball if flame the size of a farm house. It passed overhead with such power that it shook the earth. The intense heat it produced burned his skin and made him cover his face. He threw his arms around shadow’s head and tried to protect her with his body. He ducked his head and buried his face next to hers.
Then it struck.
It hit the earth so close to them, and with such force that he and shadow were both knocked to the ground. After what seemed like an eternity but was, in reality, only minutes, Rick regained his senses and his footing. Shadow was shakily standing on her own but her main and ears were singed like she had been in a barn fire. Her eyes were wide with panic and she was literally shacking from pain and fear. As he calmed her he realized that in addition to her ears, she had been burned on her neck and back as well. He realized that his own skin was burning and he felt like he had been in the sun without his hat and long sleeves for days. He looked at his arms and hands in the light of the fire and could see he had what appeared to be a tremendous sun burn and could feel a few small blisters on the back of his ears as well. He shakily took Shadow to the creek where he waded her in to slight current in the middle. He bathed himself clothes and all, and her in the cool water for what seemed like hours until the burning began to subside. Shadow calmed in the cool water and didn’t want to leave the creek. Rick gently talked to her and coaxed her out. He secured her bridle to the lead rope that was in turn still tied to the tree where she had been before this nightmare began. He dug into his saddle bag that he had placed next to his bedroll and gave her some grain from a small bag he had stored there as well as a few sugar cubes he always carried for her as a treat. He then climbed the small ridge that the object had passed over as it made its way to the ground.
Not knowing what to expect, Rick crested the small ridge slowly. He began to find the remnants of the small group of his cattle he had heard earlier, scattered through out the sage brush and small juniper trees. All the brush and trees in this area were scorched and would probably soon die. He would have to be back up here next month to clear this scorched vegitation away because of the fire hazard. Most of the animals were dead already or would soon die. All of them were severely burned. Some of them were mangled from the small explosion caused by the impact of this object. He resigned himself to the fact that there was nothing he could do for them.
Rick slowly went into the impact area. He observed a trench plowed into the ground that was about 400 feet long and 25 feet wide and 9 feet deep. There were a few small fires burning in this gouge carved into the earth. The brush, trees, and grass that surrounded this large artificially created terrain feature, that up to a few minutes ago did not exist, was scorched and still smoking like the rest had been, but as most of this area was still well supplied with ground water there was no big threat of a wild fire starting here.
As he progressed into the area he began stomping out the small fires that he found. He smelled a strange odor, like some sort of burnt fuel. It burned his eyes and lungs and made him choke. He coughed to try and clear his lungs but it was no use. Then he remembered the handkerchief he had in his pocket. He pulled it out and found it was still wet from the creek. He folded it into a triangle, covered his mouth and nose with it and tied it behind his head. The handkerchief provided him some relief of the strong fumes and smoke. Ricks mind began to race; He began to think this object had been an aircraft from the Army Airfield where Bryan was stationed. He began to franticly search the ground for what he thought would be pieces of plane wreckage.
Through the smoke and fumes he began to make out pieces of metal wreckage, confirming in his mind that it was indeed the remnants of an aircraft.
He approached what he thought was another mangled cow or maybe an older calf from his heard when he realized this body was not like the rest. It was small and shaped like a small man with long limbs. He began to prepare himself to see the carnage of a plane crash. He fought the panic that raced into his mind. He forced himself to calm down and went to render what assistance he could to this man he assumed was part of the unfortunate crew. It was clothed in what appeared to be a light green flight suit. He turned this body over and as if he was living in a bad dream, or in the worst nightmare he could think of, he realized that this was no man.
As he rolled the body over, Rick nearly passed out from the shock of what he was seeing. This creature was as alien to him as anything he had ever seen.
In the seconds following this unexpected revelation, Rick flashed back to a jovial conversation he had with his hired hands a few years back. They were discussing reading Readers Digest stories of UFO sightings across the nation. Now Rick, being the down to earth man that he was, had never believed in these UFO’s and all that science fiction comic book crap that so many people seemed to believe was real. He just chalked it up to their imaginations. He had boldly told his men this, and then dismissed their tales and stories as folklore and fantasy.
Rick figured that if little green men from mars really did exist, they wouldn’t be interested in his place, unless of course, they had a taste for beef. He laughingly joked to his hired men that if he ever found aliens on his ranch butchering his cattle, that he would treat them like any other rustler, shoot them on sight and bury them in a deep, unmarked grave.
He shook himself back to reality as he coughed again. This was real, it wasn’t a comic book or Readers Digest Magazine, it wasn’t a conversation or rumor. It was a body, a real alien body. There was no longer any room in his mind for fairy tales or folklore. He had touched the body and it was real.
At that instant, Richard Foster’s life had changed forever.
"The Truth" Capter 2 - The Tower
Roswell Army Air Field (RAAF), Air Traffic Control Tower, Roswell New Mexico 2nd of July, 1947
Sean Flannery had just gotten to the Airfield and gotten his possessions stored in the locker that was assigned for his use in the day room, or break room as the civilians called it, at the base of the Air Traffic Control (ATC) Tower; He had 30 minutes before his shift started and there was a hot pool game in progress on the pool table they had in their day room. He wanted to challenge the winner of this game but just didn’t have time.
Sean was a Sergeant (SGT) and one of the senior ranking Jr. enlisted members of his squad of fourteen Air Traffic Controllers assigned to the RAAF. He had been a SGT once before but had been busted to Corporal after he had gotten into a little trouble when he was off duty less than a year ago. He had been promoted again to SGT ten months ago and was responsible to make sure his tower crew was present for duty and prepared for their shift.
The trouble he had gotten into hadn’t really hurt his career too much, but made him work harder to overcome the stigma of having been arrested. It did however solidify a bond of friendship that will last forever. One Saturday night he and his good friend Bryan, who had grown up around here someplace, were out in town playing pool, drinking and blowing off some steam as GIs tend to do when they are given a weekend pass. They had gotten into a bar brawl with a few of the local civilians.
Bryan Foster had been Sean’s friend since he had arrived here in New Mexico two years ago. He was originally from the local area, and his family owned a big cattle ranch a few miles from the base, Sean had been there once and really enjoyed it.
They had met, playing pool in the day room of the transient billets that they had both been temporarily assigned to. The ATC detachment and the Military Police Company shared a barracks building as they are both shift workers and their schedules seemed to coincide. Their new barracks building was under renovation two buildings down from where they were playing pool. Through the many friendly games of pool they played and the healthy respect of each others skills on the pool table, they become good friends even though Bryan was a Military Policeman.
Bryan explained to Sean once that for an MP to develop a close friendship with someone outside of the MP Corps was pretty unusual, as most MPs, as well as their civilian counterparts in law enforcement, only associate with other lawmen in their respective departments exclusively, on and off duty. Bryan explained this to Sean as an unusually strong bond that the police share with each other that most other occupations don’t experience. Sean didn’t really care about all this, as he just liked hanging out with Bryan. He had a strong character, and lively personality, and because Bryan new most of the local girls and the local hang outs, but most of all because he could match Sean’s skills on the pool table.
When he got into trouble that Saturday night, they were in a pool hall in town called Jerry’s, they were having a little fun and playing pool against the locals for some spending cash, when a local cowboy, who had lost a game miserably, had started a fight with Bryan over something to do with his family’s cattle ranch. Sean had stepped in to cover Bryan’s back when a couple of the cowboy’s buddies had tried to get involved. During the brawl they had torn the bar up pretty good, even punched the owner who was trying to break up the ruckus.
When the MPs came to pick them up from the civilian police station, Bryan had told them what had happened and that Sean had backed him up. Sean had earned their respect that night. Bryan had told him later while they were at the MP station, that the young ranch hand insulted his father and his family name.
It was ok with Sean that he was sitting next to his friend on a bench at the MP Station because of an insult, Sean loved to fight anyway. He was a prime example of a real Irishman. Red Hair, Green eyes, Fair skin, and as tough as nails. Above all however, Sean loved a good fight.
Sean also liked his Irish whiskey. Especially the fine single malt Irish whiskey that was aged in a stone crock jug, and as smooth as anything Bryan had ever drunk. What was strange about this stuff though was that Sean always seemed to have an endless supply on hand. It seemed as though Sean had a mystery supplier of this fine Irish libation and Sean was always willing to share it with his friends, even though it wasn’t available in any of the local liquor stores. This was somewhat of a mystery to Bryan, how Sean came into possession of as much of this fine quality liquor whenever he wanted it, and one day in the distant future, he may try to figure it out, but he won’t really try too hard too soon, as they all enjoyed it immensely when they got together.
Because he had stood up with Bryan to cover his back, as a real friend would do, the word spread throughout the MP Company. Sean had inadvertantly gained the respect of the other MPs on the base, as well as the reputation as someone that could be depended on. Sean was always welcome wherever and whenever they all gathered together.
Sean’s reduction in grade to corporal couldn’t be avoided, as the owner of the bar, who had been thoroughly embarrassed due to the black eye he was given, had pressed charges. He and Bryan, along with the others involved, had to pay for the damages and issue a public apology. Sean’s Detachment Commander, CPT Lewis, said at the reading of Sean’s Article 15, “discipline must be maintained in the Army, you can’t go punching out civilians in bars.” And in the blink of an eye, he had lost one rank and a months pay. However, he was promoted to SGT again within two months.
It seems that his First Sergeant, 1SG Dean, had been called by the Provost Marshall Operations Sergeant, and given the real facts about how the incident had unfolded. As a professional courtesy, Sean’s 1SG said he would take care of him after the dust settled and his commander had cooled down. 1SG Dean was good to his word.
The Air Traffic controllers shared the tower day room with other airfield personnel to relax, eat, or drink a cup of Joe, while they were off duty, or on break from their duty shifts. The whole ATC squad would gather there to play pool and cards, or just shoot the breeze when they had nothing better to do.
Their shifts were pretty good here at the RAAF; the air traffic here was not really heavy, which translates to less stress. Three ATCs were on always on duty, two of which were in the tower at any one time. The other was on break in the day room. They worked each 8 hour shift for three days and then off for four days. One day of professional development training, when it was needed to maintain their qualifications, and then back into the shift cycle. The shifts rotated from Days (8:00am – 4:00pm) to Swings (4:00pm – 12:00 midnight) to Mids (Midnight – 8:00am).
Sean was a very experienced controller and had been a controller in England during the war and never passed on the opportunity to tell the younger men, who had never experienced the war, about his experiences there. The shifts in England were long and arduous and because of the potential bombings, constant enemy and friendly fly-overs, and the heavy traffic patterns, they were extremely stressful. Some of Sean’s co workers said that these experiences are why Sean liked to drink so much when he was off duty, but his friends knew that he just liked the whiskey.
In Contrast of what you would think of someone who drank heavily at times, while Sean was on duty he was the consummate professional and as solid as a rock. Nothing ever fazed him. He was the perfect example, and the best roll model for the other controllers to emulate. He was the ultimate, Professional Air Traffic Controller and would be able to work at any of the worlds best Airports when it was his time to leave the Army.
Sean was no career man, or lifer as the others called him. He had been an ATC for 6 years, and had just reenlisted for three more years. He had told Bryan that he had personal reasons for doing this, but didn’t want to stay in the Army after this enlistment. Sean had not elaborated on this, and Bryan didn’t push it. Bryan figured if Sean wanted to tell him he would. Bryan’s dad had taught him when he was growing up, to keep his nose on his face and not in other peoples business.
Besides, Bryan had his own secret that he had not told anyone. He had not told his father or even his closest friend that he had just reenlisted for three years. The timing wasn’t right and he didn’t quite know how to break the news, especially to his dad. His father had been expecting him to get out of the Army and become a Cattle Rancher, as both of his older brothers had done. He didn’t quite know how to tell him that he didn’t want to be a rancher. He loved police work and wanted to pursue it as a civilian career when he got out of the Army.
As Sean had completed his tower duty checks of the equipment and the inventory of the keys, he and his crew received their take over briefing from the off going crew and took their stations. As one of his controllers had requested an hour to complete some personal business, Sean took the first shift as Sr. Controller.
As the Sr. Controller in the tower, Sean was responsible for all tower activities and supervised the military and civilian traffic in the RAAF traffic pattern. This Air Space responsibility covered a grand total of 2000 miles in circumference with the RAAF in the center. He was currently tracking three civilian aircraft in his airspace. There was no military traffic currently in the pattern.
Sean was three hours into his shift; the pattern was clear with the exception of a small private plane leaving the pattern enroute to Albuquerque, when an unidentified object appeared in his screen. It was at an extreme elevation and traveling faster than anything he had ever seen. At first, Sean had thought it was a glitch in the equipment. He checked his equipment thoroughly and found it to be in perfect working order. The object was on a strait, rapidly descending track from west to east and moving faster that any known Aircraft in existence. Sean quickly did the math and questioned his own results. This object was on a track moving at 30,000 mph, which if unchecked would result in an impact approximately eight miles east of Roswell, a few miles outside the boundary of the post. Sean repeatedly tried to contact the unidentified aircraft on all the RAAF frequencies and the emergency frequency. He didn’t get a response.
Sean had barley had the time to have the other on duty controller look at the unidentified aircraft and confirm his figures, when he lost it from his radar screen. They visually witnessed a ball of flame streak across the night sky for the few seconds that it was in view from the tower and then a bright flash of light in the distance. As they lost sight of the unidentified object, the ground shook and rumbled as though they were having an earthquake and the tower swayed back and forth a few inches from plumb. Sean remembered being in the tower during bomb raids during the war and feeling movement like this. This movement had to have been from the apparent impact of this as yet unidentified Aircraft but was more intense than he had ever experienced in his life. To create this type of movement, the object must have been really big or very explosive, or maybe both.
Sean was in shock as the realization struck him, that there had been a plane crash on his watch. He paused for a few seconds to gather and organize his thoughts, and then with the enormity of what had just happened foremost on his mind, he reached for the telephone. He dialed the first number, the first of many that he would have to dial over the coming hours, on the emergency contact roster that was posted next to the phone. He was not prepared to answer the many questions with which he would be bombarded with in the coming hours. There were so many questions and very little information from which to piece together his answers.
Sean had contacted the base leadership, the hospital, the airfield commander and then he called the Military Police Desk Sergeant. Sean knew the Sergeant on duty through his friendship with Bryan. By the stress in his voice Sean knew the sergeant was obviously being bombarded with reports of the fireball. Sean reported where the track had apparently taken the object and was told by the Desk SGT that the MPs, the local Sheriff, and the fire department were already enroute to check out the scene. Sean asked the Desk Sergeant if Bryan was on duty tonight. He told him, Bryan was the Patrol Supervisor on duty, and that the Impact area was near his family’s Ranch. Bryan was one of the patrols enroute to the scene. As Sean hung up the phone, and continued to call the numbers on his roster, he thought to himself that they couldn’t have sent anyone better into that area to check things out. Foremost in his mind at that moment however, was that Bryan would be able to give him the facts he was missing, and tell him what type of Aircraft that had crashed during his watch.
Sean Flannery had just gotten to the Airfield and gotten his possessions stored in the locker that was assigned for his use in the day room, or break room as the civilians called it, at the base of the Air Traffic Control (ATC) Tower; He had 30 minutes before his shift started and there was a hot pool game in progress on the pool table they had in their day room. He wanted to challenge the winner of this game but just didn’t have time.
Sean was a Sergeant (SGT) and one of the senior ranking Jr. enlisted members of his squad of fourteen Air Traffic Controllers assigned to the RAAF. He had been a SGT once before but had been busted to Corporal after he had gotten into a little trouble when he was off duty less than a year ago. He had been promoted again to SGT ten months ago and was responsible to make sure his tower crew was present for duty and prepared for their shift.
The trouble he had gotten into hadn’t really hurt his career too much, but made him work harder to overcome the stigma of having been arrested. It did however solidify a bond of friendship that will last forever. One Saturday night he and his good friend Bryan, who had grown up around here someplace, were out in town playing pool, drinking and blowing off some steam as GIs tend to do when they are given a weekend pass. They had gotten into a bar brawl with a few of the local civilians.
Bryan Foster had been Sean’s friend since he had arrived here in New Mexico two years ago. He was originally from the local area, and his family owned a big cattle ranch a few miles from the base, Sean had been there once and really enjoyed it.
They had met, playing pool in the day room of the transient billets that they had both been temporarily assigned to. The ATC detachment and the Military Police Company shared a barracks building as they are both shift workers and their schedules seemed to coincide. Their new barracks building was under renovation two buildings down from where they were playing pool. Through the many friendly games of pool they played and the healthy respect of each others skills on the pool table, they become good friends even though Bryan was a Military Policeman.
Bryan explained to Sean once that for an MP to develop a close friendship with someone outside of the MP Corps was pretty unusual, as most MPs, as well as their civilian counterparts in law enforcement, only associate with other lawmen in their respective departments exclusively, on and off duty. Bryan explained this to Sean as an unusually strong bond that the police share with each other that most other occupations don’t experience. Sean didn’t really care about all this, as he just liked hanging out with Bryan. He had a strong character, and lively personality, and because Bryan new most of the local girls and the local hang outs, but most of all because he could match Sean’s skills on the pool table.
When he got into trouble that Saturday night, they were in a pool hall in town called Jerry’s, they were having a little fun and playing pool against the locals for some spending cash, when a local cowboy, who had lost a game miserably, had started a fight with Bryan over something to do with his family’s cattle ranch. Sean had stepped in to cover Bryan’s back when a couple of the cowboy’s buddies had tried to get involved. During the brawl they had torn the bar up pretty good, even punched the owner who was trying to break up the ruckus.
When the MPs came to pick them up from the civilian police station, Bryan had told them what had happened and that Sean had backed him up. Sean had earned their respect that night. Bryan had told him later while they were at the MP station, that the young ranch hand insulted his father and his family name.
It was ok with Sean that he was sitting next to his friend on a bench at the MP Station because of an insult, Sean loved to fight anyway. He was a prime example of a real Irishman. Red Hair, Green eyes, Fair skin, and as tough as nails. Above all however, Sean loved a good fight.
Sean also liked his Irish whiskey. Especially the fine single malt Irish whiskey that was aged in a stone crock jug, and as smooth as anything Bryan had ever drunk. What was strange about this stuff though was that Sean always seemed to have an endless supply on hand. It seemed as though Sean had a mystery supplier of this fine Irish libation and Sean was always willing to share it with his friends, even though it wasn’t available in any of the local liquor stores. This was somewhat of a mystery to Bryan, how Sean came into possession of as much of this fine quality liquor whenever he wanted it, and one day in the distant future, he may try to figure it out, but he won’t really try too hard too soon, as they all enjoyed it immensely when they got together.
Because he had stood up with Bryan to cover his back, as a real friend would do, the word spread throughout the MP Company. Sean had inadvertantly gained the respect of the other MPs on the base, as well as the reputation as someone that could be depended on. Sean was always welcome wherever and whenever they all gathered together.
Sean’s reduction in grade to corporal couldn’t be avoided, as the owner of the bar, who had been thoroughly embarrassed due to the black eye he was given, had pressed charges. He and Bryan, along with the others involved, had to pay for the damages and issue a public apology. Sean’s Detachment Commander, CPT Lewis, said at the reading of Sean’s Article 15, “discipline must be maintained in the Army, you can’t go punching out civilians in bars.” And in the blink of an eye, he had lost one rank and a months pay. However, he was promoted to SGT again within two months.
It seems that his First Sergeant, 1SG Dean, had been called by the Provost Marshall Operations Sergeant, and given the real facts about how the incident had unfolded. As a professional courtesy, Sean’s 1SG said he would take care of him after the dust settled and his commander had cooled down. 1SG Dean was good to his word.
The Air Traffic controllers shared the tower day room with other airfield personnel to relax, eat, or drink a cup of Joe, while they were off duty, or on break from their duty shifts. The whole ATC squad would gather there to play pool and cards, or just shoot the breeze when they had nothing better to do.
Their shifts were pretty good here at the RAAF; the air traffic here was not really heavy, which translates to less stress. Three ATCs were on always on duty, two of which were in the tower at any one time. The other was on break in the day room. They worked each 8 hour shift for three days and then off for four days. One day of professional development training, when it was needed to maintain their qualifications, and then back into the shift cycle. The shifts rotated from Days (8:00am – 4:00pm) to Swings (4:00pm – 12:00 midnight) to Mids (Midnight – 8:00am).
Sean was a very experienced controller and had been a controller in England during the war and never passed on the opportunity to tell the younger men, who had never experienced the war, about his experiences there. The shifts in England were long and arduous and because of the potential bombings, constant enemy and friendly fly-overs, and the heavy traffic patterns, they were extremely stressful. Some of Sean’s co workers said that these experiences are why Sean liked to drink so much when he was off duty, but his friends knew that he just liked the whiskey.
In Contrast of what you would think of someone who drank heavily at times, while Sean was on duty he was the consummate professional and as solid as a rock. Nothing ever fazed him. He was the perfect example, and the best roll model for the other controllers to emulate. He was the ultimate, Professional Air Traffic Controller and would be able to work at any of the worlds best Airports when it was his time to leave the Army.
Sean was no career man, or lifer as the others called him. He had been an ATC for 6 years, and had just reenlisted for three more years. He had told Bryan that he had personal reasons for doing this, but didn’t want to stay in the Army after this enlistment. Sean had not elaborated on this, and Bryan didn’t push it. Bryan figured if Sean wanted to tell him he would. Bryan’s dad had taught him when he was growing up, to keep his nose on his face and not in other peoples business.
Besides, Bryan had his own secret that he had not told anyone. He had not told his father or even his closest friend that he had just reenlisted for three years. The timing wasn’t right and he didn’t quite know how to break the news, especially to his dad. His father had been expecting him to get out of the Army and become a Cattle Rancher, as both of his older brothers had done. He didn’t quite know how to tell him that he didn’t want to be a rancher. He loved police work and wanted to pursue it as a civilian career when he got out of the Army.
As Sean had completed his tower duty checks of the equipment and the inventory of the keys, he and his crew received their take over briefing from the off going crew and took their stations. As one of his controllers had requested an hour to complete some personal business, Sean took the first shift as Sr. Controller.
As the Sr. Controller in the tower, Sean was responsible for all tower activities and supervised the military and civilian traffic in the RAAF traffic pattern. This Air Space responsibility covered a grand total of 2000 miles in circumference with the RAAF in the center. He was currently tracking three civilian aircraft in his airspace. There was no military traffic currently in the pattern.
Sean was three hours into his shift; the pattern was clear with the exception of a small private plane leaving the pattern enroute to Albuquerque, when an unidentified object appeared in his screen. It was at an extreme elevation and traveling faster than anything he had ever seen. At first, Sean had thought it was a glitch in the equipment. He checked his equipment thoroughly and found it to be in perfect working order. The object was on a strait, rapidly descending track from west to east and moving faster that any known Aircraft in existence. Sean quickly did the math and questioned his own results. This object was on a track moving at 30,000 mph, which if unchecked would result in an impact approximately eight miles east of Roswell, a few miles outside the boundary of the post. Sean repeatedly tried to contact the unidentified aircraft on all the RAAF frequencies and the emergency frequency. He didn’t get a response.
Sean had barley had the time to have the other on duty controller look at the unidentified aircraft and confirm his figures, when he lost it from his radar screen. They visually witnessed a ball of flame streak across the night sky for the few seconds that it was in view from the tower and then a bright flash of light in the distance. As they lost sight of the unidentified object, the ground shook and rumbled as though they were having an earthquake and the tower swayed back and forth a few inches from plumb. Sean remembered being in the tower during bomb raids during the war and feeling movement like this. This movement had to have been from the apparent impact of this as yet unidentified Aircraft but was more intense than he had ever experienced in his life. To create this type of movement, the object must have been really big or very explosive, or maybe both.
Sean was in shock as the realization struck him, that there had been a plane crash on his watch. He paused for a few seconds to gather and organize his thoughts, and then with the enormity of what had just happened foremost on his mind, he reached for the telephone. He dialed the first number, the first of many that he would have to dial over the coming hours, on the emergency contact roster that was posted next to the phone. He was not prepared to answer the many questions with which he would be bombarded with in the coming hours. There were so many questions and very little information from which to piece together his answers.
Sean had contacted the base leadership, the hospital, the airfield commander and then he called the Military Police Desk Sergeant. Sean knew the Sergeant on duty through his friendship with Bryan. By the stress in his voice Sean knew the sergeant was obviously being bombarded with reports of the fireball. Sean reported where the track had apparently taken the object and was told by the Desk SGT that the MPs, the local Sheriff, and the fire department were already enroute to check out the scene. Sean asked the Desk Sergeant if Bryan was on duty tonight. He told him, Bryan was the Patrol Supervisor on duty, and that the Impact area was near his family’s Ranch. Bryan was one of the patrols enroute to the scene. As Sean hung up the phone, and continued to call the numbers on his roster, he thought to himself that they couldn’t have sent anyone better into that area to check things out. Foremost in his mind at that moment however, was that Bryan would be able to give him the facts he was missing, and tell him what type of Aircraft that had crashed during his watch.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)