A New World: Sanctuary (34 page)

We finish and dress with me showing Robert where I found the fresh shirt.
 
The dirty laundry of the others is gathered in a pile and he tosses his along with the others.
 
I plan on taking Red Team, to include Robert as he is a member, with me to Fort Lewis to see what we can find.
 
It’s not that I just want to have fun but I feel that the helicopter will be a useful tool once we begin to search for others; to be able to cover a wider area.
 
Learning to fly one after we have a need for it will put us behind the curve and I want to be prepared.
 
I imagine a dozen scenarios where it will be useful.
 
I just wish we had a rotor head along with us already.
 
We’re lucky to have what we do with regards to people and abilities but that would have been cool too!

I hear the sound of gunfire outside as I emerge into the early morning light.
 
The light blue of the morning is replaced by a yellowish-orange glow as the sun rises above the mountains to the east.
 
The long shadow of the building stretches across the parking lot enveloping the parked vehicles.
 
The cool morning air refreshes me even more than the shower and I inhale it deeply.
 
I look over the doors, which are now rolled up, for damage where they are bolted into the concrete walls.
 
They look like they have withstood another night without a mark or becoming weakened.

The firing is coming from teams lined up at the edge of the parking lot and firing across the fields.
 
Drescoll walks along behind them.
 
Other teams are going through immediate action drills on another part of the parking lot with Lynn guiding them.
 
I stroll over to watch Lynn walk them through as Robert comes out and joins me.
 
It’s Red Team’s turn and I have Robert join them in their exercise.

“Are you going to join in?”
 
Lynn asks waiting for the team to get into place and for Robert to join them.

“I’m good thanks,” I reply.

“Jack, you’re part of this team so get your ass over here,” she says with me thinking I should have ventured off the other direction or found something very interesting on the exact opposite side of the parking lot.

I move in line with the team taking the slack position behind McCafferty and we go through the IAD’s with “contact front”, “contact side”, and “contact rear” drills focusing on each member’s responsibilities during each.
 
We also cover areas of responsibilities and coverage during various formations; whether that is in a wedge formation or in a patrol line.
 
We don’t really have rooms to practice clearing operations with as yet but will definitely have to incorporate inside building operations in the near future.

“I’d really like to formulate urban and building ops training as well,” I tell Lynn after we finish.

“I thought about that and will come up with something while I’m building the training program today.
 
I’ll incorporate that into a daily training plan for the teams,” she says.

“Switch,” Lynn calls out and the teams that were firing changes places with those that were drilling.
 
I fire several rounds making sure my sights and lasers are still centered.

We finish a short time later and adjourn.
 
The teams take turns showering and then we all eat as a group.
 
Afterwards, Lynn pulls a table and chair outside and begins writing furiously on several notepads.
 
The teams circle around Bannerman for assignments and Red Team gathers with me outside.

I tell Red Team of our plan to go to Fort Lewis and find a scout chopper which they find mightily amusing for some reason.
 
“Can we watch, sir?
 
I haven’t seen an officer make a complete ass of himself in about a week,” Gonzalez says at one point with a grin.
 
“Of course watching will be from a considerable distance but we’ll have fire extinguishers on hand and come a runnin’.”

“Yeah, highly fucking amusing,” I respond jokingly back.

We pile into a Humvee and start out with other vehicles beginning to pull out on their assigned errands.
 
The sun has just crested fully over the mountains covering the land in its golden glow.
 
It’s been nice to have so many nice days in a row without even the clouds coming to visit and no rain.
 
That’s unusual for the summer here and I hope it’s because someone is looking out for us.
 
I’m hoping this weather continues but I know we’ll have our share of the rain.
 
I’m also hoping the night runners will still be affected by the sun being out, cloud cover or not.
 
If that’s not true, then we’re in for a world of hurt, especially come winter time.
 
I can’t assume anything so our first day under heavy cloud cover will be a down day just in case.
 
Or at least starting later after assuring ourselves that we still own the day.
 
That’s just something we’ll have to find out.

Pulling onto the base, we head directly to the small flight line associated with Fort Lewis.
 
Several helicopters line the tarmac to one side of the runway with others parked in open hangars.
 
I still can’t get over the eerie feeling of seeing so many man-made objects without the associated sounds or activity.
 
The movement of crew chiefs on the ramp, the sound of engines cranking up or winding down, vehicles moving crews to and from aircraft, just the bustle of activity.
 
It’s all gone leaving behind a surreal quiet; especially after coming from the activity around our sanctuary.

We step out onto the gray pavement where papers, leaves, and other debris are blowing across the surface in the light wind.
 
It’s like stepping onto a surface of an archaeological site from a previous civilization; all of the objects and structures are here but the people who hovered around them are gone.
 
It’s not far from the truth, but damn!

I stroll over to one of the Oh-58 Kiowa helicopters sitting on the ramp close by and, with Robert by my side, peek in.
 
The rest of Red Team is looking around the area but they also seem to be getting ready for a show.
 
It actually looks like they’re placing bets on which tree I’ll end up in by the way they are gesturing and pointing.

“Ever flown one of these?”
 
Robert asks over my shoulder.

“Nope,” I answer.

“Ever flown a helicopter?”

“A couple of times but only in the air.”

“Hmmmm…” is all he says to that.

Looking inside, it’s not that different than a normal aircraft cockpit but I know different.
 
Flying a helicopter is worlds apart from buzzing around in something with wings attached.
 
I know the fundamentals and basic aspect of flying something with a propeller over my head, but I also know they’re tricky little buggers and take a lot of finesse.
 
I’m beginning to wonder if this is actually a good idea.
 
I rummage around the cockpit and come up with a checklist and start leafing through it.
 
I’m not all that enthused about taking something up that I’m not familiar with; emergency procedures, systems, etc.
 
However, this will be handy as long as I don’t wrap it around the nearest pole.

“Well, there’s nothing like the present,” I think getting in the pilot seat, yes, it’s also on the opposite side of where it should be, and sit looking at the instrumentation while going through the check list.

“Am I going with?”
 
Robert asks.

“Oh hell no.
 
This may be the shortest and warmest ride in history.
 
I don’t think you should be within a mile of me,” I answer.

“Are you going to take it up now?”
 
He asks.

“I was thinking about it,” I reply.

“You sure about this?”
 
Robert asks looking over the cockpit with me.

“No, not really,” I say finding the various switches and trying to become familiar with them.

I run through the start-up checklist finding the switches as I progress through it, making dry runs to get acquainted.
 
It’s not like I’m going to hop cross country right off the bat but I want to get familiar with their locations so I don’t have to do the hunt and peck thing while airborne.
 
And, it’s not like I’m thinking I want to get more than six feet off the ground for a while either.

I spend a couple hours going through dry runs with the check list and visualizing flying with my hands on the controls.
 
Robert hasn’t lost interest and has climbed in the other seat observing.
 
The interior is heated as the sun pours through the Plexiglas windshield; the angle of the sun once bounces off at the right angle, blinding me at times.
 
The smells of the interior are familiar; the smells of use.
 
Sweat mixed with oil, fuel, and the cloth seats.
 
Anyone who has sat in a cockpit knows those odors well.

I take a break and head over with Robert to where the rest of the team is milling about the vehicle.
 
They’re alert for anything moving in the area but also have that “I’m bored” look of standing around.
 
We break out some rations and water we brought for a quick lunch.

“Having a hard time getting it started, sir?”
 
Henderson asks.
 
“If you want, I could spin the blades around if that’ll help.”

“Or, we could go find a large rubber band to wind it up for ya,” McCafferty chimes in.

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary.
 
Be careful though or I may make you go up with me for the first time,” I reply to their quips.

“No, no I’m good thanks,” McCafferty says.

We eat in silence watching the stillness of the area around.
 
Watching as scraps of paper are lifted from the tarmac to flutter momentarily in the light breeze before being deposited back down a short distance from their starting point.
 
Birds sail over the area from time to time.
 
At one point, two dogs trot across the runway in tandem.
 
The stillness, that was once so surreal, begins to become common place and peacefulness settles in.
 
All of us are enjoying a quiet lunch under the clear, blue skies with the sun warming our shoulders.
 
The calm has an underlying quiet stillness to it as if it is just holding its breath.
 
The peace is only a temporary one and there’s a storm and violence brewing just behind it.
 
The day knows that night will come, bringing the night runners with it.
 
There’s also a measure of hope with it that knows another day will come.
 
It’s just that you have to make it through the tempest before you can enjoy the peace once again.

Lunch ends and I clamber back into the cockpit with a renewed focus.
 
Part of me is worried about trying this little adventure.
 
I’m not even remotely qualified to be doing this and worry about not knowing the systems.
 
Like at all!
 
I always thought it would be nice to drive a helicopter where, if you got into trouble, lost or otherwise, you could just set it down anywhere.
 
Kind of like pulling over to the side of the freeway.
 
That was youthful thinking and I certainly know better now.
 
Anything that leaves the ground has an inherent danger associated with it and has the ability to come back to the ground in ways not desirable.

“Okay, time for you to leave and find your seat,” I tell Robert who is sitting next to me.

“You’re going to try it eh?”
 
He asks.

“Yeah, with try being the key word,” I answer.

He climbs out and joins the others.
 
I see them talking briefly and then all attention is focused on me.
 
They even walk around to the other side of the Humvee.
 
Yeah, that’s trust
, I think flipping the battery on and letting the gyros warm up.
 
Going through the check list, I press the starter and the blades slowly start to revolve above me.
 
What the fuck am I doing?
 
I think watching the instruments and the blades pick up speed.
 
I have no idea what the limitations are on the engine instruments other than the meaning of the white, green, and red markings.
 
Red is bad, I know that.
 
Green is good.
 
White is some performance limitation.
 
Of what performance limitation, I haven’t a clue.
 
Not the best way to venture into a flight.
 
Or anything for that matter.

I check my surroundings with the blades rotating in a blur overhead and am thankful that there aren’t other objects close by.
 
It’s one of the reasons I chose this one in the first place.
 
I reach down to the collective and grab the throttle.
 
Rolling it, the rpm gauge increases with an increase in the noise, vibration, and speed of the rotor overhead.
 
I feel the vibration of the helicopter through the seat and pedals.
 
Well, actually, I feel it everywhere but it is more predominant there.
 
I know I have to keep a constant rpm and think of the collective as a throttle and the cyclic stick in front of me as any normal stick.
 
A combination of both acts similar to an aircraft but the idea is so foreign to me.