by Richard Edde
“Yes, please. And thanks. The woman is close to seventy-five and her health has been slowly going downhill for the past couple of years. Keep me posted if anything changes.”
After hanging up, Harry sat for an hour then walked down to check on the digging.
***
Li sat in his tent, its door open, allowing the cool evening breeze that blew down off the Altai peaks and across the grassy steppe to fill its interior. He was waiting for Dixie and Harry, a meeting Harry called because he wanted to discuss the aircraft motor. Dr. Kesler had sounded tired during their conversation, somewhat curt. Maybe it was only because it was the middle of the night in California. Li hoped so. He remembered Kesler as a man of graying dignity, a scientist who had made significant contributions to the field of human evolution. If they found anything worthwhile, it would look good on Li’s resume, maybe even convince the professor to offer Li a position at the university.
He and Harry had hit it off from the start, a few minor bumps in the road along the way notwithstanding. The expedition leader had a good command of what he wanted out of everyone under him, issued precise directives, and was generally well-liked by the entire crew. The Americans paid a higher wage than anywhere he could find in Mongolia and he considered himself fortunate to be working here and alongside such amicable people. And being employed by a scientific research team afforded him a certain distinction in his hometown. He was about to doze off when heard someone outside his tent.
“Knock, knock,” Dixie said.
“Come in, of course,” Li said, waving Dixie and Harry in.
He got up, lit a small propane lantern, and returned to his chair. Harry and his assistant sat on his cot. The soft, yellow light from the lantern filled the tent with a warm glow. Dixie had worn a fleece pullover and Harry was wearing his field jacket.
“Okay, all,” Harry began, “let’s continue about this damned motor. I want to hear from each of you. Li, you first. What would a Russian plane be doing in Mongolia? It’s your country, what have you heard? Any history here?”
“In the beginning stages of World War Two, the Mongolian People’s Army was involved in the Battle of Khalkhin Gol, when Japanese forces, together with the puppet state of Manchukuo, attempted to invade Mongolia from the Khalkha River. Soviet forces under the command of Georgy Zhukov, together with Mongolian forces, defeated the Japanese Sixth Army and effectively ended the Soviet-Japanese Border Wars.
“The battle experience gained by Zhukov was put to good use in December 1941 at the Battle of Moscow. Zhukov was able to use this experience to launch the first successful Soviet counter-offensive against the German invasion of 1941. Many units of the Siberian Army were part of this attack. A year after flinging the Germans back from Moscow, Zhukov planned and executed the Red Army’s offensive at the Battle of Stalingrad. He used a technique very similar to Khalkhin Gol, in which the Soviet forces held the enemy fixed in the center, built up a massive force in the area, undetected, and launched a pincer attack on the wings to trap the enemy army.”
“I see,” Harry said. “Go on.”
“The Pei-ta-shan Incident was a border conflict between the Republic of China and the Mongolian People’s Republic after the end of World War Two. The Mongolian People’s Republic became involved in a border dispute with the Republic of China, as the Chinese Muslim Hui cavalry regiment was sent by the Chinese government to attack Mongol and Soviet positions. This area was eventually lost but the Soviet bombers aided the Mongolian Army.
“So you see, there has always been a close relationship between Mongolia and the Russians. At least until 1990, when Mongolia underwent a democratic revolution, ending the communist one-party state that had existed since the early 1920s. It was a democratic revolution, which started with demonstrations and hunger strikes, to overthrow the Mongolian People’s Republic and eventually moved toward the democratic present day Mongolia and the writing of the new constitution. Mostly younger people, demonstrating in Ulaanbaatar, spearheaded the revolution. It ended with the authoritarian government resigning without bloodshed.” Li took a deep breath and smiled.
“Very impressive summary,” said Harry.
“So it’s reasonable, and not at all alarming, that we find a Soviet airplane crashed in the Mongolian mountains. Is that what you’re saying, Li?” Dixie said.
“That’s correct. In fact, since Mongolia was so strongly linked to the Soviet Union in every way--from the military to civil services to governmental infrastructure--the fall of the USSR left Mongolia almost completely cut off from the rest of the world. Russian personnel, assigned to Mongolia for a tour of duty, staffed many military and some governmental professional specialty positions, such as medicine and engineering. When the Soviet Union became engulfed in political turmoil, most of these professionals either returned to their home republics of their own will or were reassigned by the Soviet military. This mass exodus of trained people left Mongolia extremely deficient of medical, dental, veterinary, legal, aviation, engineering, and scientific professionals. Most Mongolians with a college education had elected to go into governmental administrative professions, as these were the most promising for advancement in the Communist system. In fact, only about thirty per cent of all physicians in Mongolia were Mongolian citizens.
“The usual Russian domination,” Li continued with a nod. “Though Mongolia was a communist state, democratic uprisings had been sweeping through the nation, beginning that summer. The Soviets desired to put these uprisings down. Also, the Soviets greatly desired the oil and mineral rich lands on which Mongolia rests. As the Soviet Union grew, more materials were needed to feed its growth, and Mongolia could provide that.
“The Soviets crossed the Mongolian border at 4:00 a.m. on 7 October 1967, as T-55 tanks and fifty thousand Soviet troops marched across the border, virtually unopposed. There was sparse fire from scattered Mongolian troops stationed in the area, but the Soviets only suffered one casualty during the initial border crossing. The Soviets made their way southwesterly along the Orkhon River, unopposed as they advanced toward the forty-five thousand Mongolian troops stationed just outside Orkhon.
“Surrounded, the Mongolians held out for two days, but heavy casualties eventually forced the Mongolian forces at Orkhon to surrender. The Soviets suffered only thirty-four deaths and ninety-five wounded during the battle, while inflicting over twenty thousand casualties upon the Mongolians. A few thousand Mongolian troops escaped the encirclement, but the remaining twenty-thousand-plus troops surrendered to the Soviets on twelve October.”
“What happened then?” Dixie asked, seemingly mesmerized by Li’s story.
“Well, NATO strongly condemned the invasion, but no repercussions were introduced. While NATO did not wish to see the Soviets invading nations such as Mongolia, they also were not interested in starting World War Three. Thus, a policy of appeasement was followed as the Soviets got nothing more than a slap on the wrist.”
“Things are sure different now,” Dixie said. “Ulaanbaatar looks like LA.”
“Funny you mention that,” Li said. “The city’s Sukhbaatar Square--where a bronze statue of Lenin once stood--is now home to a luxury mall featuring outlets for Louis Vuitton, Armani, and lots of others. Our nation has gotten rich quick--well, at least its elite have--because of the vast mineral wealth buried in its ground, comprising deposits of eighty different minerals, from coal and copper to gold and uranium. Mongolia’s extensive mineral deposits and attendant growth in mining-sector activities have transformed its economy, which traditionally has been dependent on herding and agriculture. In addition, molybdenum, fluorspar, tin, and tungsten deposits have attracted foreign direct investment. Not to mention oil.”
Harry stood and stretched. He stood in the tent’s doorway and watched a meteor blaze its way across the black, velvet sky. “I appreciate the history lesson, Li, but I, for one, have heard enough. I think we need to rededicate ourselves to our original mission, the reason we’re here--hominids. To
morrow we put this Russian plane business behind us. I’ll see you both at breakfast.”
With that, Harry disappeared into the inky darkness, leaving Dixie and Li alone. Dixie stared at the empty doorway.
Li shrugged. “Do not worry, Dixie,” he said. “Harry is right. We came here for hominids.”
Chapter 4
The satellite phone rang continuously until Harry ran into the command tent and picked it up.
It was his brother, Maxwell. “Harry,” he said. “I finally caught up with you.”
“Good to hear from you, Max. It’s been a few years. You at the folks’ house?”
“Yes, I’m staying here a few days. At least until I know Mom’s going to be okay. I hadn’t realized it had been quite that long since we last saw or talked with each other. Really, a couple of years?”
“Three years this Christmas,” Harry said. “Pop was even sober that time.”
“Harry, please don’t start in on him. I know you two didn’t really get along very well, but save it for another time.”
“You’re right, Max. Of course. You said something about Mom. Is she all right?”
“She went to see her doctor last week because she was having difficulty breathing and her legs were swelling. After getting an X-ray of her lungs, he told her she had congestive heart failure and prescribed some medicine. So far it hasn’t helped all that much. She spends most of her time in her chair, reading. Dad does most of the cooking and cleaning now.”
Harry blinked in disbelief. “No. You’re kidding. He always said that stuff was Mom’s work. When does Mom see the doctor again?”
“Not until next week. I have an important meeting later this week so I’ll have to fly back to New York in two days. You’re stuck in Mongolia for a while, then?”
“Until the end of summer or unless you think I need to come home now.”
“No, you stay put. Dad is bitching a lot but, for now, he has calmed down quite a bit from when you were around.”
“The sonofabitch used to scream at her. I’ll never forget that,” Harry said, his stomach twisting into a knot at the memory.
“Now, Harry. Calm down. We don’t need to rehash the past. I just wanted to fill you in on Mom’s condition. How’s the research going?”
Harry smiled at his brother’s question. In all the years of their life his brother, Max, had never voiced any interest in his career. Max was all about himself, Wall Street, and the size of his bank account. Living in a big house out on Long Island, his brother usually felt the world revolved around him and he never called Harry. At family gatherings, he bored Harry with long tales of money made and deals accomplished. Harry thought Max was a jerk.
“Going pretty well, Max. Thanks for asking. Haven’t made any earth-shattering discoveries but such is the nature of academic research.”
“Okay, brother, I’ll sign off. If there’s any change in Mom’s condition, I’ll let you know. Bye for now.”
Harry switched off the phone and relaxed in his chair. He replayed the conversation with Max over again. His brother, although meticulous and organized to a fault, was intolerant of differences, fearful of doing the wrong thing, and disliked change. He was their father’s favored son and for that, he’d earned Harry’s jealousy and resentment. Early on, Max realized that he could do no wrong in the old man’s eyes and used it to his advantage. Being the favored son inflated Max’s ego to supercilious heights and any mistake he made became Harry’s fault. The bile that road in Harry’s throat burned and the fire spread to his brain as he remembered the past. His abusive father, drunk most of the time. His arrogant, condescending brother.
Once in high school when Harry was playing in a basketball game with a crosstown rival, his father showed up drunk and disorderly, yelling obscenities at everyone present. Harry hid out in the locker room until the school principal called the police and his father was taken downtown to sleep it off. But his friends never forgot the day Harry’s father turned up at the game. It was an embarrassment that he never forgot. And Max never forgave Harry.
When he left for college, he and Max went their separate ways and rarely communicated, except once or twice a year, at a holiday, when the two brothers gathered at the family home. There, under their mother’s watchful and encouraging eye, they talked as brothers with each other. Otherwise, they simply didn’t have anything in common.
As Harry got up to leave the command tent, another commotion was being raised from the direction of the diggings. He donned his cap and went to investigate.
***
A much larger hole than previous one had been excavated and Harry pushed his way to its edge. A long rectangular pit greeted him, glints of green flashing in the bright sunlight. In its depth lay the broken, rusted, fuselage of an airplane. The moss-and-dirt-covered metal body was missing its wings and tail and had several large cracks where the plane had come apart on impact. Workers milled around the crater, speaking with garbled excitement, pointing and nodding. Harry climbed into the hole and worked his way over to the metal beast. It looked like a giant insect pupa at rest. The soft earth sank around his boots, causing him to stumble.
Harry worked his way over large rocks of limestone and piles of dark earth. At the wreckage, he was greeted by the musty smell of damp earth, mold, and decaying matter. Although most of the plane’s markings were worn beyond recognition, its olive green exterior contrasted sharply with the surrounding soil.
Muddling along the body of the aircraft, he found a door located toward what could have been the rear of the plane. The odor that emanated from the excavated skeleton tickled his nostrils, which caused his eyes to water. Harry wrapped a large hand around the handle and pulled. Nothing. He pulled harder and the handle popped off in his hand.
“Li,” he called. “I’m going to need a crowbar and a flashlight.”
No sooner had he turned back to the rusted door than Li was beside him with the requested items. Harry took the crowbar, fitted it into the narrow space around the door, and began to pry it open. With a loud screech, the door budged a fraction of an inch. He shoved the crowbar in farther and pulled again. The door creaked as it opened slightly more with his effort. After several minutes of work, the door was open enough for Harry and Li to grasp its edge and, together, they yanked it open.
Slowly, with each labored pull, the door gave way, allowing enough room for entry. A rush of stale fetid air, prompting Li to pull his bandana over his nose, greeted the men. In the dark interior of the cabin, Harry switched on the flashlight and began making his way forward. The beam of light danced eerily off the aircraft’s walls as Harry and Li stumbled over a myriad of wires and rotting boxes strewn throughout the wrecked fuselage. Working their way through the dim light, the pair managed to get to the cockpit and peered into it. Amid cobwebs, spiders, and numerous cockroaches, two desiccated skeletons were strapped into the pilot and copilot seats, their heads cocked at an acute angle. A large insect, unknown to Harry, scampered out of the eye socket of the pilot’s skull.
“Christ,” exclaimed Li. “They have been sitting here all these years, just like that.”
“I wonder why no one ever located them or the plane,” said Harry. “Surely it was reported missing and a search party sent out.” He began searching through the ragged, decaying pockets of the mummified corpses’ flight jackets.
“It gets pretty bad here during winter. Place is mostly inaccessible.”
“No identification on them,” Harry said, moving his search to the remainder of the cockpit. “That’s odd. Why wouldn’t they have some sort of identification?”
Li turned and started back into the fuselage. “I’m going to look around in the back. There might be something of interest.”
“I’ll follow,” said Harry.
The two returned to the main cargo area and began rummaging through the wreckage. They talked as they worked.
“Know what kind of plane this is?” Harry said.
“A Lisunov Li-2. Basically,
it’s a DC-3. The Soviets bought a license from Douglas Aircraft sometime during World War Two. The aircraft were used for transport, partisan supply, bombing, and as ambulance aircraft. Some, I think, were even equipped with machine guns.”
“How come you know so much?”
“Well, there was a time I wanted to be a pilot. I read everything I could get my hands on about airplanes.”
“It puzzles me that neither of the pilots had identification, Li. Any ideas why that might be?”
“Maybe they were on a secret flight of some sort. The Soviets were famous for that, you know.”
Toward the rear of the main cabin, Harry moved a brittle wooden crate to an empty space on the floor. Dirt and dust powdered the stagnant air.
“Shine that light over here, Li. Let’s see what this is.”
Li complied and the two men peered at a box the size of a footlocker. There were no markings on it. It was covered with dirt and dust. Harry pried open the crate with the aid of the crowbar while Li held the flashlight. Dust filled the cabin and the dank smell made breathing difficult. The two gazed into the box and took a deep breath.
“Bones,” Li said.
“Let’s have a closer look.” Harry fumbled around in the crate and produced several long, heavy bones, which he handed to Li. Reaching back into the box, he retrieved a smaller, black metal box with the Soviet hammer and sickle stamped on its cover.
When opened, the small box contained numerous teeth. To Harry they looked human but they were much larger than any teeth he had ever seen.
Li stared over his shoulder. “Teeth?” he asked Harry as the expedition leader handled a few of the items.
“Looks like it. More human than anything but unlike anything I’ve come across. Let’s move this crate up to the command tent so we can get a closer look. I need to get Dixie down here to shoot a series of pictures for photogrammetric mapping and modeling. Get some men here now while I share the news with Dixie.”