Chaos anw-1

by John O'Brien

You know, I live to just hear that line. That makes my whole life justifiable to hear that and my eyes well up with tears. “Hon, I’m the lucky and fortunate one to have been able to be your dad.”

  She steps over and wraps her arms around me, burying her head in my shoulder. I fold my arms around her and feel her shake as she releases the emotion of the storm passage and the events of the past few days. That is my Nic, in all of my life with her, it is a rarity to see her cry and that is usually only a silent sob and the shedding of a couple of tears. I hear the curtain swing back, “What’re you guys doing?” Bri lightly asks stepping out.

  Nicole steps back and I release my arms from around her. “Nothing, babe. Just picking some of this stuff up,” I say as Nicole starts for the bathroom.

  “Are you okay, Nic?” Bri asks, half turning to follow her as Nic passes by her.

  “I’m fine, Bri,” responds Nic turning her head toward Bri but continuing to the toilet and pulling the curtain closed.

  “Help me with the rest of this please, Bri,” I say.

  She turns back toward me and starts fishing loose items off the floor with an occasional glance toward the curtains and Nic. Those two have always been close.

  With Nic finished and the loose items stowed, at least as many as we could find and gather, we head back to the cockpit, settling in our seats for the final hour and a half to our stop. I attach the night vision goggles to my helmet and brief Robert on what to do if we have to resort to a night vision approach. Basically, he is to read out the airspeed and altitude on the radar altimeter. The radar altimeter gives a reading on feet above the ground when we are within 2,000 feet. The altimeters are basically worthless down low as we don’t know what the local altimeter setting is. I will be looking out front for the runway with my instrument lights turned down. Night vision goggles aren’t the best for depth perception so it is important for Robert to call out the instrument readings so I can assimilate what I see with what he tells me to better present a three dimensional picture, although my hope is to be able to just use the landing lights and the GPS.

  Having called many times on the radio and only receiving the one garbled and scratchy reply, I make one more call before beginning a long descent into Brunswick NAS, hoping to raise someone there. I call on UHF guard three times but as most every time before, am only met by continued silence. Switching to VHF, I try there, “Otter 39 on VHF Guard for anyone that can read me.”

  “Otter 39, this is Gulfstream Four Juliet Golf on guard. How do you read?” I stare at the radio almost disbelieving what I just heard. We all look at each other in astonishment.

  “Gulfstream Four Juliet Golf, read you loud and clear. What’s your position?”

  “We’re about 100 miles west of Charlotte at flight level 350. Over.”

  “Where are you out of and where are you heading? Over,” I say still incredulous about talking to someone.

  “We left Florida a short time ago and are heading up by Columbus, Ohio.”

  “Watch out for a line of thunderstorms up that way. The line is basically over the Chicago area extending several hundred miles Northwest and Southeast from there. You might be okay in the Columbus area though.”

  “Copy that. I don’t have anything on radar yet but will be looking out for them. Thanks for the tip. What’s your location?”

  “Roger that Four Juliet Golf. We’re an HC-130 a little over 330 miles west of Portland, Maine at flight level 200. We plan to bunk there for the night before refueling and continuing to Kuwait in the morning.”

  “Copy. Where in Kuwait if you don’t mind my asking? I have a sister stationed there.”

  No freakin’ way, it couldn’t possibly be, I think. Lynn had, or has I guess, a brother who was a pilot flying out of Ohio. “Four Juliet Golf, your sister wouldn’t happen to be named Lynn would it?”

  “Um, Otter Three Niner, that’s affirmative.”

  “You wouldn’t by chance happen to be Craig would you?” I ask completely amazed and a little befuddled by this seeming happenstance.

  “Okay, this is weird and perhaps a rather strange coincidence. I’m going to hazard a guess that you are Jack.”

  “Yeah, Craig, I am. This is an amazing coincidence and I’m glad we met up. I’ll tell Lynn when I see her.”

  “Have you heard from her lately?” Craig’s question comes into my earphones.

  “Not in the past couple of days. How about you?”

  “About the same,” he replies back.

  “You mentioned we, who else do you have on board?” I ask leaving the hope that she is still okay open.

  “Mom and two feline friends. Do you know how hard it is to buckle two cats up?”

  “About as hard as trying to herd them I guess,” I say chuckling. “You’re welcome to follow us into Brunswick Naval Air Station. I can give you the coordinates if you like. I’ll leave the lights on for ya.”

  “Love to, Jack, but I have to check on my other sis and dad. What’s your plan after?”

  I tell him about out plan to return to McChord in a few days and we continue to talk for a bit back and forth, at one point Mom getting on the radio, “You find my girl and bring her back Jack.”

  “Will do, ma’am,” I reply.

  We didn’t want to get off the radio after having made contact, however, each of our duties calls and we agree to meet back at McChord in five days.

  “Good luck to you Craig. I wish you and Mom the best.”

  “To you as well, Jack. Tell my sis hi.”

  “Roger that. See you in five.” And as quick as he came, he was gone.

  It is quite the miracle we came together like that. Like the bubbling realm of possibilities in my mind and the quantum world came together to form a piece of reality. The realm of possibilities are endless and don’t surface into to the realm of reality until observed in some fashion; whether through direct observation or through a conscious or sub-conscious factor. Was meeting Craig like that, and the fact that he happened to be Lynn’s brother a direct manifestation of my mind and sub-conscious want? I drift into thoughts of the quantum world and energy until my brain bleeds. I shake my head bringing myself out of my reverie and into the current reality.

  Beginning our descent, I switch our primary route to Robert’s nav instrument and the approach I designed to mine after accomplishing our checks. The moon looms large in the sky above, casting a ghostly, silver blue light on the landscape below. Nowhere does the light of man show and only the drone and vibrations of the engines keep us company.

  Having descended a little out over the Atlantic, I turn back to the west, centering the localizer needle, flying toward the naval air station. Three miles from final approach fix, where we will start down toward the runway, with our flaps at 50 percent, I call for the gear. The deep rumble vibrates the aircraft and then comes to a stop as three green lights are illuminated by the gear handle. The horizontal needle on the instrument starts its downward trek toward the middle. I pull the throttles back and flick on the landing lights as the needle centers with the vertical needle already centered. It looks much like a crosshair and that’s the way we want it.

  The moon disappears behind the clouds from the far away storm as they trek slowly eastward and the moon continues on its westward journey, leaving the land and sky around only very dimly lit by the stars above. Too dark to see any buildings or runway. I can only hope we are on the right path, that I have set up the right coordinates, and that the GPS is still accurate.

  Continuing down the glide path, Robert calls out the airspeed and altitude on the radar altimeter for practice should we need to use the night vision equipment. My eyes alternate between the nav readings, the airspeed, altimeter, and outside hoping to pick up the runway soon.

  “500 feet,” he calls out through the microphone. I can feel the tension from the girls. Well, I can feel it from me as well. I have been a long time out of the aircraft and here I am flying a night, GPS only approach to a foreign airfield that has no l
ights. What could be more relaxing?

  “300 feet.”

  Suddenly, the lights pick up the threshold of a runway with the white threshold markings, then more of the runway and its surroundings illuminate as we draw closer. “I have a visual,” I call out transitioning to a total visual approach. “We’re going to do a low fly-by to check out the runway.” For all I know, there are wrecked aircraft all over it or deer deciding the runway is a good place to gather and I have already had enough surprises for one day.

  About 100 feet off the ground, I push the power up leaving the gear down so we can have the lights. We lumber down the runway for the length of it. I try to get a visual on the wind sock but it is lost in the darkness when I realize forgot to have Robert check the nav system for wind direction and speed. Well, it’s not like I have a choice on which runway to land on. I can’t exactly circle around to an unlit runway. I mean, I could but it is just like any other dark patch of land below us and winding up on an exact final would be a matter of luck.

  We climb away after seeing the runway clear and clean up the aircraft, turning once more towards the markers I set in the nav and align with the runway again, this time with the intention of landing. I pick up the runway at about the same point as the last time with our gear down and call for full flaps. Robert checks on the wind and it shows that we have a very slight tailwind. Nothing to worry about. This time, rather than powering up, I pull the throttle and control wheel slowly back, flaring over the threshold. I wouldn’t so much call what we did scant seconds later a landing but more of an arrival. Thump! Welcome to Brunswick! Night landings can do that but at least the wheels stay on the ground and the wings are still attached. Lowering the nose, I pull the throttles over the detent and apply reverse thrust. The aircraft leans forward and our airspeed diminishes.

  “Holy shit!” Both Robert and I say at the same time as there is suddenly someone standing in the glare of the lights. I mean, just standing right on the runway and just to the left of our path. Idiot, I think pushing on the brakes. We still have a bit of momentum and they can overheat in a hurry causing the tires and gear to disintegrate. There’s no way I’m going to stop in time, and, as quick as they appeared, they are lost below the windows and down the left side. The aircraft lurches slightly to the left and, very quickly, so quick as to almost be non-existent, a vibration and buzz saw noise comes through the cockpit. I quickly correct the direction and take the throttles out of reverse, applying brakes to bring us to a taxi speed.

  “Was that what I think was?” Michelle asks from her seat.

  “Yeah, I think so,” Robert responds.

  “Should we go see if they are alright?” Nicole asks.

  “I’m not sure that’s going do any good Nicole,” Robert says still incredulous.

  “Besides, we’re not going out at night. I’m pretty sure that was one of those things because no sane person would be standing in the middle of a runway with a plane landing,” I add.

  I exit off the at the end of the runway and turn the aircraft around so we are facing the runway. I would just park on the runway ready to take off again but there is the off chance that someone could come in and try to land. The runway wouldn’t be the best place to be if that were to happen as they won’t see us until too late. Shutting down but shunting the electrical power to battery and setting the parking brake, we head to the cargo area. Drawing curtains across the cockpit, I also put covers over the cargo compartment windows. The covers are for blackout operations and allow lighting within the cargo area without emitting any outside. With the cargo compartment lights on, I check the doors and have everyone else ready the sleeping bags and get some food out. There are three cots available within.

  “Bri, Nicole, you have the two middle cots between the tanks,” I say pointing. “Michelle, you have the one over the window.”

  They take out their bags, unfurling them on the cots with Robert unrolling his under Michelle’s location. Smiling inside, I unroll mine in the aisle by the front door. We find some small pillows in the storage compartments and heat up some canned food after arranging our beds and hunker down for some dinner. We are all exhausted so eat mostly in silence with little small talk.

  “We’ll get some rest and head out of here in the morning,” I say as we finish dinner. “Flashlights by your bed in case you need to get up in the night. I’ll take the first watch.”

  With everyone in their bags, I head up to the cockpit and flip the electrical system off plunging the aircraft into darkness. My path illuminated by flashlight, I head over to my bag and climb inside, laying the M-4 and pistol by my side and switching off the light. We all say our goodnights in the darkness.

  I am just about to lay my head down and keep watch from inside my bag when a loud thump reverberates through the aircraft. Nicole gives a small yelp. “What was that?” Robert asks sitting up in the darkness. A shriek sounds outside.

  “I guess that answers your question,” I say climbing out of my bag and grabbing my weapons.

  Another thump as something slams into the side from outside, this one close behind me by the front crew door. It is followed by another close to the rear of the aircraft on the other side. Several shrieks sound out in the night and I hear growling outside, muted by the metallic skin of the fuselage. The thumps against the fuselage increase with the shrieks and growling growing in intensity and numbers. Apparently more are arriving outside the aircraft.

  “Don’t worry guys and be absolutely quiet,” I whisper loud enough for everyone to hear just as two simultaneous thumps echo inside from opposite sides of the 130. “This thing took the beating the thunderstorms gave it so we are quite safe here. And, unless they know how to manipulate the doors, they can’t get inside.”

  The slams and shrieks become a constant with the muted growls filling any void in-between. Exhaustion fills us but we are unable to sleep with the noise outside coupled with the tension that so many things prowling around brings.

  “Okay!! Enough of this crap!” I say after three solid hours of this constant barrage on our senses. “This has got to stop!”

  “What are you going to do?” Robert asks as I turn on my flashlight and start toward the curtains at the bottom of the cockpit stairs.

  “End this shit,” I say drawing the curtains back enough to slip inside and up the stairs.

  I sit, buckle in, and put my helmet on. Robert slides into his seat and buckles in. “Are we taking off?” He says after plugging into the intercom.

  “No,” I reply switching on the battery and ensuring the fuel control panel is set correctly.

  With the helmet on, the thumps and shrieks are muted even further; the thumps more felt than heard and the constant growling muted altogether. If the helmets muted everything altogether, perhaps we could just put them on and enjoy some quiet, but well, that’s just not the case. I don’t know how many are gathered outside trying to bash their way in, but from the sound of it, there are quite a few.

  “Are we just going to move then? Won’t they just follow us?” Robert asks as I attach the NVG’s to my helmet and rotate them over my eyes.

  “We’re going to move alright and I hope they do follow us.”

  I glance out my side window. The runway and surrounding area is bathed in a greenish glow. Depth perception is a little off but details are not. I see at least fifty gathered on my side and in front; some just milling around but others running at the aircraft only to disappear below my line of sight, the only indication that their run continues is a solid thump against the aircraft. My line of sight cannot see much past our inboard engine toward the fuselage but I imagine it is the same all around us.

  “There are about fifty over here. How’s your side?” I ask looking over at Robert to see he has put his NVG’s on.

  “About the same I think,” he answers as the girls step into the cockpit and buckle into their seats.

  “Are we leaving?” Bri asks once she attaches her comm cord.

  “Nope.”<
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  “What are we going to do then?” She asks only to be interrupted by Robert. “How are we going to start the engines with those things around them?”

  “We just are,” I answer back as four sets of eyes turn toward me and I raise my NVG’s.

  “I’m not even going to ask if it’s clear right,” I say moving the throttle lever to run and reach up to the number three engine start button.

  Robert looks back in but keeps sneaking quick glances outside, both curious and appalled at the potential of what will happen when the engines start. I push the button and hear the turbine start spinning up and see the gauges on number three rise.

  “Oh sick!” Robert says but he continues glancing outside.

  I feel a couple of thumps as the props spin up to speed and the engine stabilizes smoothly at idle. I run up the engine a little and begin the start on number 4. I feel thumps along my side of the aircraft and some on Robert’s but they are distinctly lacking on the right rear. The hurricane force winds generated by the engines and giant props prevent anything from being able to exist behind.

  “They’ve moved away from the engines but are bunched up below me,” Robert says.

  I start the remaining engines and the drone drowns out all but the slams against the front. With everything stabilized, I flick on the landing and taxi lights flooding the area in front in light. The crowd around the aircraft comes into full view, their mottled skin showing up brightly. They are clothed in a variety of manners; some in flight suits, others in fatigues and other uniforms, and still others in civilian clothing; shorts, jeans, t-shirts, button up shirts; some shredded, some whole. The intensity of the lights causes them to appear as if in black and white with little color being reflected back to our eyes. They are milling about anxiously with only the occasional one slamming into the side but all give the blur of the props room. In the lights, more are running toward our front and sides from around the wind edges.

  I release the parking brake, move the throttles up and the aircraft starts rolling forward. “Are you going to do what I think you’re going to do?” Robert asks staring at the immense crowd outside.