Circles in the Sand (2 page)

“What?”

“Yeah, nothing to it. Just keep it straight and level. Watch this altimeter and don’t drop the nose. Just keep her going. You won’t have to make any turns. Just keep the nose up.”

Clint figured, what the hell. I can do that. He put his hands on the wheel and his feet on the rudder pedals. Byers released his grip. “I’ve got it trimmed for straight and level. You won’t have any problem.”

“Yeah? Straight and level?” Clint swallowed. He still felt queasy. “How can I keep it from bucking up and down like this?”

“Aw, just turbulence. Don’t sweat it. Nothing you can do about it.”

“Yes Sir, If you say so…Can you put me in for flying  pay?”

“Sheesz. Only five minutes and wants to get paid for it. Shoot. Since you’re non-rated I can’t even log instructor pilot.”

“I’ve heard there are some enlisted pilots.”

“Yeah, there’s some in the Air Force…a lot of them in the Marines. A flight of four Marine Corsairs landed at Grand Eclipse. All four pilots were Technical Sergeants…Made me see green. Man would I ever like to fly one of those F4Us.”

“Can’t you transfer to the Marine Corps?”

“And straight to Korea? I’ll wait until they send me.” 

“Well, Sir. That might come up sooner than you think. The reason Air Div is sending a Master Sergeant to command this bomb scoring site is because of a lack of available officers. Maybe you ought to volunteer to take my new job away from me.”

Byers turned a troubled face to Clint. “Ohhh, I don’t know. That doesn’t sound like a flying job to me.”

“True. Not only no airplanes. Not much of anything. That’s why I’m on this trip…to find out what is there…and what I need.”
And why me? Why the hell couldn’t even a brown bar Lieutenant do it? Instead of me?

“You’ll know pretty soon. We’re almost there. I’ll take over.”

Byers descended to twelve hundred feet and circled over the teeming metropolis of West Layover. “Looks like you’ll have a hard time getting lost in this burg, Sarge.”

“You know it too, Lieutenant. Not many sidewalks to roll up.”

Turning north, they soon crossed over the runway. “Longer than I expected,” Byers said.

“Well they trained WW II bombers here. Forty-two hundred feet from my info.” Greybull took inventory of the rest of the facility: A few Quonset buildings; no hangers, no barracks, no control tower, a couple of shacks that hadn’t fallen down. Off to the side of the runway he spotted a large paved circle. He pointed it out to Byers. “Take-off  ramp for target drones.”

“And you have to build your own base here, Sarge? Wow. Talk about starting from scratch.”

Yeah…and I don’t even have an itch for it.

“Well, I don’t need all of this runway.” Byers landed  on the taxi ramp a  short way from the nearest building. “How’s that for saving gas?”

“That’s a good question, Sir. I don’t see any gas pumps.”

Watching a pick-up truck approaching from the direction of town, Byers said, “Looks like you got a welcoming committee, Sarge. Arrival of a plane is probably a big deal around here.”

A man with a Sheriff’s badge on his belt jumped out of the dusty  truck. “Howdy strangers.” He offered a hand to Byers and Greybull in turn. “I’m Hector Radecker. What can I do for you fellows?”

Byers said, “Glad to meet you, but I’m leaving right away. Sergeant Greybull is staying here. Probably could use a ride and some information.” He climbed back into the L-20. “See ya next time Sarge.” He took off from the taxiway.

“Well, I’ve got ya a ride any way, Sergeant. Hop in. You can tell me what you need on the way in to town. You got folks around here?”

“No. My duty is going to be here. I’m supposed to set up a bomb scoring site on the old gunnery range out here.”

“Golly, not much out there other than sand and sagebrush.” He turned to look at Clint. “You got quite a job…
for a Sergeant
. (
Is he hostile?
) How many people you gonna have out there?”

“Don’t know for sure. I’m just on a scouting trip…trying to get an idea of what’s needed. Probably have to depend on some things from the town.”

Pulling into what appeared to be the main street of  West Layover, Radecker said, “You might be pretty good news for some of the folks here. Town about dried up after the end of the war.”

Looking up the street at mostly decrepit buildings, Clint guessed the sheriff was being generous.
He should have added, ‘about to blow away.’

“I’ll give you a little tour of all our fine facilities. Most of them right here on main, except Olivia’s Boar-Pen. It’s over by the Possum River.”

“Boar-Pen?”

“What big city fellas might call a house of ill repute.”

Looking around, “I’m surprised a town of this size has demand for such a trade.”

“Well, there’s a lotta men living out in the country here…ranches, sheep camp, Army base and railroad depot across the river. She’s gota couple of regular girls, and during the summer a couple of college girls work there.”

“Since you’re telling me this, I guess it’s not against the law around here.”

“Well, yes it is. Just that most people, except the Christian crowd, and some of them too,” he jerked his thumb at the church, “don’t want the law enforced. I’m just bowing to the will of the power around here.

“We just passed the Lutheran church. Next corner is McCunes general store, got everything from farm tools to groceries. Lilith McCune is the only trained nurse in town, no doctor. Opposite them is restaurant and behind it there’s a hotel of sorts. At least there’s some rooms to rent. Coming up on the right is the Bank, and opposite is the town hall and meeting place. Attached is my office and behind it the jail. Far corner right is a saloon, opposite we got a gas station. There’s a lot of houses scattered around the side streets.”  Radecker pulled up in front of the restaurant. “How about I buy you a cup of coffee…or something to eat if you’re hungry.”

“Thanks, Sheriff. I’m not hungry but coffee sounds fine. Give me a chance to talk to you some more.”

“Good. I guess there’s an awful lot you want to know.”

Inside, “Lorena come meet Sergeant Greybull. Then you can bring us some coffee.”

“Pleased ta meetcha, Sir.” Did she curtsy? Are you staying around here?”

Jeez, is she ever cute…and stacked!
Smiling at the pretty teenage girl, Clint said,  “I expect so. Coupla nights for sure. You got any vacant rooms in the hotel?”
Hmmmm. Would I ever like to take you to a room.

“Probably. I’ll check with Mom after I get your coffee.”

Looking around, Clint could see where they sat was little more than a lunch counter with three tables. A dining room filled a larger space seen through a side door. He suspected elegant dining in West Layover was a dream. “I’ll need some form of transportation, Sheriff. Is there a car rental place here.”

“Naw. Tell you what. Since you bringing some folks in here is good for the whole town, I’ll  have my deputy, Tommy Kerns, take you around for a couple of days…long as we don’t have a serious crime wave.”

“That’s right decent Sheriff. I can sure use your help.”

Before they finished their coffee, Dorris Gilman came in and introduced herself.  After the usual pleasantries, “I’ve got a room for you Sergeant. How long will you be staying?”

“Only a couple of nights this time. Don’t know when my ride is coming back. I’ll be returning again with more people, but don’t know how many, or how soon they’ll get here.”

Radecker said, “When you finish your coffee, Sarge. Let’s get over to my office. I wantcha to meet my deputy.”

A young man in jeans, blue shirt and cowboy boots stood up as they came in.

“Anything goin’ on Tommy?”

On Kerns’ negative reply, Radecker introduced Clint. “He’s got to do a lot of lookin around…mainly on the old gunnery range. I’d like you to show him around up there, or any where near he has to go. Seems he’s gonna be settin’ up a bomb scoring site in the old range. You can use your official Jeep. It’s for the good of the town.”

“Okay” Kerns said. He didn’t look too happy. “You want to run out there right now?”

“If we can. Looks like there’s a lot of daylight left.”

Kerns slapped on a large Stetson. “Come on, Sarge. I’ll give you a ride. Heading North along main from the gas station,  Kerns said, “say, what kind of bombs you going to be dropping out there? Could be dangerous for folks and stock if they missed.”

“They’ll only drop dud bombs with a small charge in them…kick up a little dust. That way we can see where they land. Shouldn’t bother folks much.”

“Sheriff seems to think a bunch of soldiers coming in here will be good for the town. I wonder what the ranchers and sheep herder will think about that.”

“We don’t have the new blue uniforms yet, so we might look like soldiers, but we’re really airmen now. What’s the problem for the ranchers?”

“They’ve been grazing cattle and sheep on that tract. Won’t be happy about bombs dropping on them, even if they’s duds.”

“Yeah. I don’t know anything about the politics of this job, but I’m guessing they’ll have to move their stock elsewhere.”

“Gonna be a fuss about that. Believe you’ll make some enemies.”

“Huh? Too bad. They’ll have to get used to the idea. Since this is an old live-fire gunnery range, I’m surprised it was safe for stock before now. That reminds me, we’re supposed to get some drones in, fly off a circular pad out there. Gunners will be live-firing on them.”

“Man, I don’t know…”

“I can’t imagine anyone leaving their stock around here…with five-hundred pound bombs coming down, and machine guns shooting in the air at drones.”

Silently, Kerns fought the rutted and holed road wondering if his Jeep was up to it.  Finally he stopped. “We’ve come six miles. As far s ya’ want to go, ain’t it?”

Greybull got out and studied the terrain: gently rolling scrub land interspersed with dry sandy desert land, pretty much the same as the rest of the site as far as he’d seen. “Big problem will be getting material up here. Well let’s head on back to town.”

Neither said much until they reached Main Street. Clint examined his dusty uniform and Kern’s sweat-stained shirt. “Been a dry run, Cowboy, how about I buy you  a beer to wash down some of this dust?”

“Best notion I’ve heard all day.” He parked in front of the tavern. Inside, Tommy said, “Hey, Chet, meet Sergeant Greybull, he might be around here for a while.”

Chet Shaffer held out his hand. “Glad ta meetcha, Sarge. Been a long time since we’ve seen any uniforms around here.”

“You’ll probably see a few more.” Clint ordered two drafts and then explained his mission to the bar man.

“That’s interesting. Oughta wake things up around here.”

“Yeah. I just hope it ain’t too big a job. Had no idea till I got here, and Tommy drove me out there. Right now I feel kinda over whelmed. I hope the people who got this idea know what they’re doing.”

“Surprised there aint a whole passel of officers out here scouting the situation.”

“Claim they don’t have enough officers. All going to Korea. Suit me if they found one, or more, to take over this ball of wax.”

“Yeah. On the other hand, won’t it be a great day for enlisted troops when you bring this off?”

Somewhat elated by Shaffer’s positive attitude, Clint smiled for the first time today. “You’re right. If the Marines can have Sergeants flying Corsairs, why can’t an Air Force Master Sergeant do an Officer’s job?”

“From my experience, can probably do it better. Have a beer on me.”

“Some folks might not be too happy about you being here.” Kerns jerked his thumb at a man they could see through the front window just emerging from a carry-all.

“Oh. Why not?’

Kerns said, “I guess he’ll be happy to tell you himself.”

“Howdy men, how they hangin’?” A stocky man in jeans, work shirt, wide-brimmed black western hat and cowboy boots, strode through the door and waved his hand to Kerns and Chet. He stopped and took in Clint’s uniform. “Well I’ll be darned if we don’t have a hero among us. We about to be invaded, Sergeant?”

Irritated by the man’s tone, Clint stiffened but stayed cool. “Only by your friendly Air Force.”

“Izzat so?” He stepped over to Clint and offered his hand. “I’m Fritz Deutsch, Sergeant. Welcome to West Layover. What brings you here?”

Clint stood and shook his hand. Before he could answer, laughing, Kerns broke in, “He’s here to bomb your mangy cows, Fritz.”

The rancher shot a spiked look at Kerns. “Since when are you a sergeant,…deputy?”

Kerns shrugged and turned back to his beer. Clint sat back down and in a laconic voice explained his purpose to Deutsh.

Pulling his arms akimbo, Deutsch shook his head. “No way you can drop bombs on that site. I’ve got steers ranging there, an ol’ Travato’s sheep camp is on the other  corner.”

“For the safety of your critters, I reckon you’ll want to move them, Mr. Deutsh.”

“Oh yeah? I don’t want to move them. That’s the only land around here fit for grazing animals. The rest of the country, for miles in every direction is planted in wheat.”

“Seems like you got a problem. I suspect you’re the kind of man who can solve his own problems.”

“You bet. And my solution is to stop you building that site.”

“Should I take that as a threat.”

“Naw. This ain’t between me and you. Your job is to build a bomb site. My job is to protect my rights. This is over our heads. I’ll let Congressman Hichaire sort out the Air Force. Don’t count on starting anything soon.” He turned to Chet. “You gonna let me die of thirst from all this chin-waggin’? The usual, Beam and branch.”

Talk being over for the moment, Clint stood, shook hands all around, said, “I’m glad to meet you guys. I’ll see you around. Right now I’m gonna run along and see about some chow, and a bunk.”

When Clint was out of sight, Deutsch said, “Well ain’t that something. You been with him most of the day, Kerns. What did you learn that we didn’t hear?”

“Not a lot. He’s got a hell of a job in front of him…if he can bring it off.”

Deutsch slapped his shot glass on the bar. “He ain’t bringing it off. I’ll see to that.”