by W. R. Benton
Alive and Alone
by W.R. Benton
ISBN 978-1-939812-17-9
Kindle Edition
© Copyright 2013 W.R. Benton
All Rights Reserved
Ebook Production by Loose Cannon Enterprises
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written permission of the author and/or the publisher. This is the work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, events or locales, is entirely coincidental.
www.dancingfoxpublishing.com
© Copyright 2013 by W.R. Benton
Cover layout and Design © 2013 Dancing Fox Publishing
Cover art © 2013 by K. O. Haberstroh, used with permission
Books by W.R. Benton
Western Fiction
Red Runs the Plains
War Paint
James McKay, U.S. Army Scout
Other Books by Gary L. Benton
Simple Survival, a Family Outdoors Guide
Impending Disasters
Bubba’s Dawg Might be a Redneck
Dedication
To Timothy "Timman" Kralik, of Creston, Iowa. Tim's the man!
To all members of our military rescue forces both past and present. As a veteran, I salute you; as a prior life support supervisor, I know your sacrifices are great.
To wife Melanie, where would I be without your understanding?
The renowned artist,
K. O. Haberstroh
created the cover art for this book.
See more of her fine work at:
http://www.westernartandpoetry.com/
She may be contacted by email at:
[email protected]
Contents
Author's Note
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Glossary
About the Author
Author’s Note
For the sake of simplicity and ease of reading, I have changed most dialogs between aircraft, the command post, rescue personnel and Rescue Center. The military uses many acronyms that would make reading difficult, or at least slow it down, for the average civilian.
While this is a work of fiction, the events very well could happen and in the way I have written them. The United States Air Force is totally dedicated to rescuing both military and civilian personnel in times of need, but there is a limit to all things. Few rescues are called off, unless there is some indicator survival is impossible, but even then, the dedicated crews want to continue. Imagine if you can, training constantly to save a life, and then one day you’re finally called to do the job! Of course, not all rescues have a happy conclusion and people die, but thanks to our search and rescue forces, each year many lives are saved that otherwise would be lost.
Our military forces, and not just our rescue teams, are the best-trained men and women in the world today. Why are they so well trained? I had an old sergeant say to me once, “We train hard in peace so we bleed less in war.” I don’t think he thought of that as a profound statement, but I do. Our Soldiers, Marines, Sailors, Coast Guard, and Airmen, train hard, and they train to win. However, this book is about search and rescue, who are in my opinion some of the best of the best.
“That Others May Live” is the motto of our P.J.’s and it’s a good one.
W.R. Benton,
Pearl, Mississippi
15 March 2013
CHAPTER 1
THE ARCTIC WIND was cold in David’s face, but his hands shook more from fear than from the cold as he forced the damaged door open on the small airplane. He could clearly see his father and while the man did not seem any worse, he looked no better. Blood had dried on his dad’s face from a severe cut to his forehead, which had occurred when the airplane crashed onto the side of the mountain. David was scared, not only for his father, but for his own life as well.
“Da . . .Dad? Are you ok?” David asked, his voice filled with fear as he peered into the dark interior of the aircraft wreckage.
A few long seconds passed before the young boy heard his father say in a weak voice, “Son, I’m . . . in bad shape. I . . . don’t think . . . I’ll make it Dave.”
David Wade felt the tears forming in his eyes and he fought back the urge to cry. He was old enough to know he had to keep his wits about him or the two of them were going to die.
“Dad, help will be here soon. I heard you send a Mayday just before we struck the mountain.”
David’s father gave a loud groan and turned his head slightly so he could make eye contact with his fifteen year old son as he said, “David . . . I don’t . . . know if the call was heard by . . . anyone.”
How can we survive in this cold and snow? The weather is getting really cold, David thought as he moved inside the small plane to get out of the cutting edge of the knife like wind.
“Find . . . surviv . . . survival kit.” His father spoke once again and the voice sounded weaker.
“I have the kit outside near some rocks and far enough from the plane I can have a fire. I only came back here to help you get out. I tried right after the crash, but your legs are caught in some aluminum sheeting or something. You have to stay strong dad. We’ll survive and this time next year we’ll both be laughing about this.”
“David . . . I want you to make . . . a shelter for you . . . yourself. Tonight it will get twenty . . . below maybe.”
“What about you? I can’t just leave you dad.” David spoke, as he felt his eyes sting from tears that were flowing down his wind burned cheeks, and then added, “Don’t make me leave you dad, please.”
“So . . . Son, I have internal injuries. You . . . seem to forget, I'm a . . . doctor.”
“Tell me what to do to make you better dad!” David suddenly blurted out.
His father, though in deep pain, gave a weak grin and replied, “Dave . . . I’m not going . . . to live . . . nothing you can do. But, son, promise . . . me, promise me, that . . . you’ll try to survive.”
David lowered his head and thought of his mother and his sister back in Anchorage. He knew he could fix his dad up, if he would only tell him what to do. However, the young boy didn’t think he could get his father from the aircraft without help, because his legs were mangled in the wreckage. How can I go home without my dad? David thought as he raised his eyes and made eye contact with his father.
“Shelter, David . . . fire . . .get out of wind.” His father spoke through clenched teeth, as the pain in his stomach grew larger.
“What about you?”
“David! Lis . . . listen to me. I'm a dead . . . man! Son, save yourself . . . now.”
David picked up the casualty blanket he’d brought from the first aid kit, wrapped it around his father’s shoulders, and then tucked it in at the floor. The blanket appeared to Dave as being made from a lightweight metallic material, but he wasn’t sure. It was dark green on one side and shiny silver on the other. He made sure the shiny side of the blanket was toward his father, so his body heat would reflect back at him. He didn’t want to leave his father, but he knew that the airplane would get too cold during the night and the temp
erature was already dropping. The young boy leaned over and gently kissed the top of his father’s head as he fought an almost uncontrollable urge to cry.
“Dad, I’m going now to fix a shelter, but I’ll be back in less than an hour. I’ll get a shelter up, a fire going, and maybe fix us both some instant soup from the survival kit.”
“Good . . . boy. Don’t let . . . your mother . . . down. Survive . . . David. I love . . . you.” His father spoke, but his voice got lower and lower as he grew tired from the simple task of just speaking.
David turned, wiped the tears from his eyes and cheeks, glanced back at his father, and quickly said as he opened the door to leave, “I’ll be back soon dad and with a hot drink for you too.”
The wind struck him with much more force than it had just a few minutes earlier when he’d gone into the airplane to check on his father. Looking up at the sky, David noticed the clouds were darker and the sun was sitting in the west. He knew he would only have about five hours of daylight every day now, so he had to use his time wisely or he’d end up dead.
David’s right leg hurt and while it had a long deep scratch on it, the bleeding had stopped a little over an hour ago. His whole body was stiff and sore from the impact of the small plane onto the side of the mountain. It’s a good thing dad is such a good pilot, or we’d both be dead right now, the young man thought as he made his way to a group of rocks about a hundred feet from the crash site. David didn’t realize his father had pulled the nose of the aircraft up at the last second to allow the force of the impact to be evenly distributed throughout the aircraft frame, reducing the force of impact for the occupants.
The survival kit was small, perhaps the size of an undersized microwave oven, but filled with all sorts of things a person would need to say alive in the wilderness. David was instructed on the survival kit a few months earlier by his father and he remembered well his father’s words, “David, this kit can keep you alive in any kind of weather and it has everything you’ll need to live until rescued. The kit is divided into different categories for different uses. You’ll find stuff for shelters, fire, water, signals, first aid, food, and then some odds and ends.”
The survival kit was packed in a plastic container and it opened like one of his mom’s food plastic storage containers, once the two-inch wide duct tape that went around the kit and kept the lid watertight was removed. I can use this container to store water in, David thought as he started pulling components out of the kit. The young boy noticed each divided part of the kit had been packed in what looked like large compressed sandwich bags and labeled, food, fire, shelter, signals, water, first aid, and miscellaneous. They must have double packed all of this stuff to keep it protected from water or snow, he grinned as he realized someone had done a lot of work to make this kit.
Opening the bag marked shelter, David was surprised to find a large piece of tarp, some parachute cord, and some small metal tent pegs. The young man understood a few minutes later that he would have to use the tarp to make a tent. He’d done it lots of times with his mother’s blankets in the back yard, so this should be no harder. Lying under the shelter bag, at the bottom of the survival kit, he discovered a sleeping bag and a wool blanket, but he knew his first task was to get a shelter up, and then he’d worry about comfort. He placed the items aside for the time being as he stood on tired legs and then pulled his hunting knife from his sheath.
David had been born and raised in Alaska, which gave him an advantage that he didn’t even consider. All of his life, as far back as he could remember, he’d been camping, fishing, hiking, and hunting. His serious hunting had actually just started the year before, but he’d downed a nice caribou and later in the same season he’d been able to get a moose. For years he’d gone on hunting trips to help around the campsite as the older boys and men hunted. His father had been responsible for teaching David how to live with nature and how to live in the wilderness in comfort.
Doctor James W. Wade had spent four years in the United States Air Force as a survival instructor and after his discharge he’d used the educational benefits from his military service to go to college and then on to medical school. He’d done well in Anchorage and his practice was large. Since he’d left the service while stationed at Elmendorf Air Force Base near Anchorage, James had stayed in the area because he’d fallen in love with not only the beautiful country, but David’s mother as well. That had all happened many years past and during that time James had added both David and Marie to the family, become qualified as a private pilot, and spent as much time in the bush as he could.
David pulled the hood up on his jacket and moved into the nearby trees to find some long green limbs. We’re lucky we crashed here and not above the tree line up north. At least we have trees and some shelter from the wind, the young man thought as he cut six long green poles and pulled them back to the protection of the rocks. Once in the rocks and out of the wind, he trimmed the poles carefully to keep the small limbs from puncturing his tarp once placed over the wooden frame.
Dave, you're pretty stupid! He suddenly thought as he felt a deep shiver go through his whole body, you need a fire and now. He removed the lighter and fire-starting materials from the bag marked, fire. He noticed he also had two boxes of windproof matches, flint and steel, and a magnesium match. He removed the flint and steel from the container and placed it in his inside jacket pocket.
Since David had selected a shelter out of the wind in the trees and behind some large boulders, his fire was easy to start and in a matter of a few short minutes, he had a small fire burning. His father had always warned him to keep his fires small, because they used less wood, and for safety purposes to never leave it unattended for very long. Dave kept his fire very small, not much bigger than a dinner plate, and as the damp wood snapped and popped, he walked around his campsite picking up fuel to burn later. He’d indeed been very lucky where they’d crashed the plane; dead wood was all around him.
As soon as he’d gather enough wood for the fire to burn all night, he laid the green poles over three large boulders and then draped his tarp over the wooden frame. With the rocks pretty much covering the sides and his trap on top, David felt his shelter would do for the time being. He quickly tied the parachute cord to the metal grommets in the tarp and tied the cord to the tent pegs. Then, he used a rock to hammer the pegs into the hard half-frozen ground.
Well, it’s crude, dude, but it should hold, Dave thought as he pulled on the tarp to see if it was secured. He knew if the weather turned nasty and it started to snow, he would cover the tarp with boughs from the evergreen trees and then plaster it all with snow. He and his father had once camped during a bad blizzard in a snow-covered shelter just like this and had been warm with only a candle burning inside.
With his shelter up and his fire burning, David opened the pouch labeled food and shook his head in disbelief. He had expected much more, but he knew a person actually needed little food to survive on, as long as they had water. In the bag, he found two dehydrated meals, four chocolate candy bars, and a small bag of hard candy, four containers of dried soup, and four high-energy bars. It was then he remembered his father saying that most rescues happened well within forty-eight hours, so a lot of food was not needed. I hope you were right dad, Dave thought as he pulled out a metal canteen cup and added the last of his bottled water to the container. He placed the cup near the fire and glazed into the dancing flames as he waited for the water to heat.
As soon as the water started dancing in the cup, David added the dried soup base and stirred it with a plastic spoon from his emergency rations. While he was hungry and scared, he knew his father needed the heat and energy the soup would give him more than he did, so David stood and made his way toward the aircraft wreckage with the metal cup in his right hand.
The young man pulled the door open and didn’t notice the loud groan it gave in protest at being moved. It was darker now, almost dusk, and it was hard for him to see inside the aircraft.
&n
bsp; “Dad, are you alright?” David asked, as he moved awkwardly into the wreckage to avoid sharp pieces of jagged metal.
Long seconds passed before he heard his father say, “Dave . . . not long . . . now.”
David moved to his father’s side and still holding hot cup in his right hand he used his left hand to raise his fathers head from his shoulders. “Dad, try to drink some of this, it’s hot.”
“No . . .Dave, I . . . cannot drink . . . with inter . . . nal injuries. You . . . drink.”
David suddenly remembered the small flashlight he had in the pouch behind his father’s seat. The pouch also had some candy and another bottle of water. Dave moved his body to the left and using his right hand pulled the flashlight out. Sliding the switch on, the light was bright in the small confines of the wreckage.
Moving the light toward his father’s face, the look in his eyes shocked David. His face was deathly pale and his forehead was beaded in sweat. Dried blood covered almost every inch of his dad’s face and neck. Fear grew like an over inflated balloon in the young boys mind as he looked into the eyes of a man he both loved and respected. David knew instantly when their eyes met, his father was dying.
“Dad, you hang tough man. Someone will be here soon, you’ll see!” The young man suddenly blurted out, his mind about to snap.
“I . . . am tryin’, son. I . . . hurt Dave.” As his dad spoke, David saw his father’s eyes lose focus and then abruptly roll back in his head.
“Dad, don’t you die on me!” He screamed as panic filled his very soul.
His father’s eyes opened once more and he placed his right hand on David’s left arm, which was still holding his head erect, and said, “Dave . . . I . . .love . . .you.”