by D. Sallen
“No. I guess they’d see some officer, don’t you think?”
“Probably have to report into someone. I don’t know how the Army and Air Force work on things like this.”
“It’s been a long time since you were over there, Mom. Do you know anyone who could help them?”
“Not anymore. I’m sure that anyone I knew is long gone.”
“Weren’t you kinda sweet on that Captain?”
“No, no. He was just very kind helping me take care of all the details with your dad being killed. It took a long time to get everything straightened away. It seemed to take forever to get all his records corrected, and get his body back from Germany.” In the past, her bittersweet memory of Captain Munson made her weep. By the end of two years of death activities, she and the kind Captain became lovers. Only after he left did she learn he was married, and had a family back in Illinois, told to her by Lieutenant Fester, his replacement. She concealed her affair with the officer from town folks by never being seen with him off of Ft. Peck. Still bitter over the way that individual treated her, she didn’t let herself get involved with any local civilian men other than at church socials.
“It wouldn’t be hard to be sweet on Sergeant Greybull, or even Sergeant Werner, would it?”
“Oh stop it Lorena. I don’t need you to be my marriage arranger, and you stay away from Lance Werner for sure.”
“Well, it’s okay for you. But I’d like a daddy. You’re young enough. You could even have a baby. It would be nice to have a younger brother.”
“Oh dear God! That’s enough. You don’t know how much trouble men are. That reminds me. Don’t be hanging around with any of these younger airmen either. They’re still too old for you.”
“Hah. They’re just kids. I’d like a real man like Sergeant Greybull.”
“That’ll be the day. Do your self a favor and forget about men until you’re older. Much older.”
“Oh phooey.”
At four-o’clock the desk sergeant hung up his phone and told Clint and Lance. “The adjutant just called. He checked out your orders and story. I’m to let you go. The HQ First Sergeant is on the way. Adjutant said he is to give you a hand.”
“That’s good news. We can use all the help we can get.”
Master Sergeant Ripon shook hands with the Airmen. “Since a truce with the Air Force is in effect, what can I do for you guys “
Clint explained their mission.
“Well anything we can’t officially part with…maybe you can steal. Material records have been royally screwed up since the war. There’s a lot of junk we don’t know we have or who it belongs too. Lets see.”
In the disposal yard, the first thing that caught the airmen’s eyes was a two and half ton truck. A Jeep motor, with hoses mounted on the back, rested in its bed,. “What’s that for?”
“Supposed to be a decontamination truck. It’s obsolete. I believe we have new one.”
They walked all around the vehicle and examined it. “Have any idea if it works, or if it runs?”
“I don’t know. What would you use it for?”
“We’ve got to white wash the target areas…so they can be seen from the bombers.”
“Lets ask the manager what the score is on that thing.”
The Technical Sergeant told them, “If you can drive it out of here, I can arrange it’s transfer to the Air Force. Shouldn’t be a problem.”
“That’s a start. I’ll send Staff Sergeant Elsas, our vehicle mechanic over to check it out. If he can make it run, we’ll take it,” Clint said.
Time in the afternoon running out, the airmen prepared to leave. Clint said, “Anytime you guys get over to West Layover, you got some beer coming from us.”
“I’ve always heard the Air Force lives better than the Army. Does that mean your NCO club is the first building up?”
“No way, but you can’t miss us at Chet’s Saloon.”
Back in town, Clint found the rest of his crew already at Chet’s. They all started talking at once. “Hey, one at a time. What’s everyone so pissed at, Elsas?”
“That damn rancher. Tried to run us off the range. Pulled a gun on us… at the northwest corner. We left, but went back and finished the job.”
“Okay, slow down and tell me the details…in order.”
When Elsas was through, with the other two joining in, that sonovabitch….Throwing his weight around…and armed, Clint mused. “He can’t pull that shit and get away with it. Have you talked to anyone else about it?”
“Only Chet. He couldn’t help hearing us bitch about it.”
“We need to talk to the sheriff. Make it a matter of record, if nothing else.”
Chet said, “You’ll be lucky is he does that much. He and Fritz are old buddies.”
“We’ll see. Lets go talk to him.”
The airmen shuffled their chairs back and followed Clint. Sheriff Radecker looked up in surprise when the six trooped into his office. “What’s this, an Air Force invasion?”
Clint said, “No way, Sheriff…got a little problem to discuss.”
When Elsas was through relating their experience with Deutsh, Radecker said, “Let me get this straight. Fritz thought you was on his range and pulled a gun on ya.’ Did he point it at ya, threaten to pull the trigger?”
“Well not exactly. He pointed it at a tire, and threatened to strand us out there.”
“He was a belligerent bastard, Sheriff,” broke in Alcocke.”
“That sounds like Fritz,” said Radecker. “I can’t see where he actually harmed you any. Maybe got your dander up, but that weren’t much of a crime.” He turned to Clint. “Don’t sound too serious to me. What do you expect me to do about it?”
“You know, there could be a conflict between Deutsch and the Air Force. We’ve given you the facts of his actions. Aren’t you obliged to make a report of an incident?”
Well, I would if a crime has been committed. But I don’t consider hurtin’ your feelings is anything I can charge him with.”
“I see. He has to do something vile to be reported. We’ll keep that in mind. Okay, guys, back to the hotel.
“Radecker won’t accept our complaint, but I want to keep a record of it, and anything else we do. Alcocke, since you’re the one with all the education, I’ll assume you are a competent writer. Get a spiral notebook from McCunes. Write up the way things happened with Deutsh. When you’re through, all of you look it over and sign it. Then keep a running log of our activities, Alcocke, day by day.”
The airmen, in their civilian work clothes just finished eating supper when a stranger walked into the restaurant. He wore the new Air Force blue uniform. He looked around, while the airmen stared at him. Mitch Kline said, “Hey, are you some kind of movie star in that fancy uniform?”
The short blonde baby-faced Corporal’s face turned red. “No, I’m lookin’ for a Sergeant Greybull, do any of you know him?”
Clint stood, walked over to the Corporal and offered his hand. “I’m Sergeant Greybull, and who are you?”
“Airman Second Class Peter Jewel. I’m assigned here, I think.”
On Jewel’s blue uniform, Clint took in the two upswept bars that surrounded a star, and denoted his rank. “Airman Second Class?”
“Yessir. All the enlisted ranks are being changed from Army to Air Force ranks.”
“I knew it was coming. Just hasn’t got to us yet. “Let’s see your orders.”
Clint read them. “You came from Grand Eclipse. How did you get here.”
“I drove a carryall. Got a lot of supplies in it for you.”
“Well hey, you’re doubly welcome. That it outside? Get some chow, and then we’ll take it up to our headquarters to unload it.”
While he ate, the others questioned him. “
What’s your MOS, Jewel,” Clint asked.
“I’m a supply clerk. That’s how I scrounged some of this stuff. A LC Jenner walked around the ‘country store’ picking out things he thought you needed. I found a few extras.”
“Good thinking, Airman. I can use someone who is on the ball.”
“Hey, Jewel. Where’d you get that jazzy uniform?” Kline asked. “We’d heard they were coming out, but I never saw one before.”
“A few have been sent out to the field for evaluation. Being in supply, I was one of the lucky ones.”
Kline whispered to Alcocke. “How did he get in the Air Force? He don’t look over fourteen.”
“Yeah, and already made corporal. Maybe he’s got some pull.”
“He’s so perty in that blue uniform, he could be someone’s fair-haired boy.”
“You don’t think so do ya’ ? Not who ya’ know, but who ya’ blow?”
“Naw. If he’s queer. He’da been kicked out, instead of promoted.”
“Maybe so, but I don’t want to share a room with him.”
“Why? You think if he’s a fairy, he might cast a spell on you? Make you one too?”
The next day, out at Quonset number one, Clint put Corporal Jewel in charge of writing an inventory of the material he brought, and storing it in some semblance of order. Except for some surveyor’s equipment, hammers, saws, pliers, shovels and large buckets of long nails appeared to be the most valuable items. Lance picked up the instruments and asked, “Anyone know how to do any surveying?”
No one did. Five, five-gallon pails of white wash, along with several miscellaneous items such as rope, tape, work gloves, pencils, paper, large paint brushes and tape measures completed their treasure. “This is still pretty bare bones for the job we’re gonna have to do.” Lance said. “As far as I know, the towers we gotta build probably going to have their supports set in the ground. Quite a job with shovels. We need some posthole diggers at least.”
Clint showed up with a line man from Valley Power. That individual scratched his head and said, “No problem bringing electricity back into this hut. Where else you gonna need it?”
“To both of the other Quonsets, and eventually somewhere out near that circular track. Air Force plans to install some aircraft turrets out there, but I don’t know their electrical requirements now. In fact, chances are, they’ll probably come with their own power.”
“We’ll worry about that later. I expect we can have you set up in this hut with in about two weeks.”
“Two weeks? You guys have such a backlog of work?”
“Not up to me. Scheduling shop arranges that. You might want to give them a call. Good luck.”
“Hey, do us a favor. Mention to scheduling there’s a war going…and we’re part of the effort. We really need their help.”
The power man smiled as he drove off. Clint looked around. “We can’t do anything until I figure out where those four bomb targets are going to be. The RADAR target has to set just off to the side of the center of north road, so that’s easy to place. Not having any markers other than those we plant, make it pretty awkward to site the other four. Anybody got any ideas?”
No one did. “Okay. I’ve got a half-assed idea. We’ll try it anyway. Be easier if we had the Jeep, but Elsas took it to Ft. Peck. I don’t think that carry-all will be much use off-road.
“Right now I’m going to work with target area one, the nearest one, to see if my method will work.” He explained what he wanted Lance to do with the weapons carrier. “That should put you close to where you and I went before. Drop Kline and Alcocke to remain right there. From the south road center marker, Jewel and I will drive back east three miles. We’ll start north at that point as far as we dare in the carry-all. If we don’t meet up, assume we can’t make it, you come back and follow our tracks. One way or another, we should come close to where the other two are waiting. Any questions?”
Alcocke said, “What if you don’t find us again? Do we camp out in the sand?”
“Don’t sweat it. We’ll find you. Take plenty of water along.”
At the three mile mark, Clint looked over the countryside he’d have to cross with the carry-all and decided against it. When Lance eventually showed up, Clint told Jewel to return to the hut with the carry-all. Clint joined Lance and headed north. Three miles farther, there was no sign of the airmen.
“Geez, I didn’t think we’d be so far off we couldn’t see them. Did you tell them to be standing up?”
“Well hell. I assumed they had sense enough to do that.”
Generally flat, the countryside had enough in the way of swales and small rises to conceal something as small as a man over the distance of half a mile. “No, buddy, never assume anything. Breaking that word down, it makes an ass out of you, and an ass out of me. If they decided to sit down, they’ll be hard to see. Go ahead and plant a stake here. We can adjust our position when we find them.”
Clint studied the horizon with field glasses. “I’m afraid sitting these targets is going to involve some guess and by-gosh. Here, take a look, maybe you can see them.”
Lance stood and peered around through the field glasses. He couldn’t see anything until he caught sight of some dust raised just northeast of their location. “Hey! I’ll be damned. I see them…and they’re running this way.”
“Huh? What the hell? I told them after you dropped them off not to leave.”
“Well, they’re sure as hell moving now.”
“Balls. Well lets go find out what the hell is going on.” Clint started the vehicle and headed to a point south of where the men were running. The runners spotted them and veered their course toward the vehicle. Clint stopped in front of them and said, “Where the hell do you think you’re going? You were told to stay where you were dropped!”
Trying to catch his breath, Kline said, “Yeah, but you didn’t warn us about any hostile Indians? He threatened to scalp us!”
“Huh? What hostile Indians. Are you guys nuts? I outta have you court-martialed…for leaving your post!”
Alcocke recovered his breath. “Yeah, well you weren’t there. We’d just pounded a stake in the ground when this guy shows up. He’s wearing a coyote mask over his head and eyes, carrying a mean looking tomahawk. Says we’ve disturbed ancient burial grounds, and we’d better get out of his sight.”
“Oh come off it. That’s some sorry excuse for leaving your post. What you guys been drinking?”
“Sarge, we ain’t kiddin’. That guy meant business. He swung that tomahawk like he wanted a piece of me.”
“Yeah, well just where did this mysterious Indian come from?”
Kline said, “I don’t know. Just all at once he was there. Like pounding that stake turned him up out of nowhere.”
Clint said, “What do you think, Lance?”
“They sure act like they’re scared…and running like they were in this heat…I dunno…Why don’t we back track their trail, and take a look around the stake.”
“Come on, git in. We’ll check out your hairy story. Your mysterious Indian ain’t gonna scare all of us.” The trail left by the running airmen stopped in a shallow swale. Their stake was not visible. “This were you were?”
Glumly, the airmen looked around. “Could be.” Kline said. “So much of this range looks alike.”
Lance got out and looked around. “I think these are your foot prints all around. What was the Indian wearing on his feet.”
Alcocke said, “I didn’t notice…had my eyes on that tomahawk.”
Lance said, “The boot prints from you two are obvious. I don’t see any other tracks. You guys sure you weren’t seeing a ghost? That he didn’t just appear out of clear air?”
“No way, Sarge. I could feel the air swish by from his tomahawk.” Kline said.
“I ca
n’t believe you guys, but lets all get out and walk around here. See if we can find any foot prints coming into this swale, or walking away from it.”
Diligent searching didn’t turn up any evidence of a third party around the site. “Well Indian or no, plant another stake, Kline. We’ll know where to come back to.”
Kline reluctantly held a stake while Alcocke pounded it in. Both continued to glance around. “Hey!” Kline shouted. “Watch what you’re doing with that maul!”
When they finished, no Indian had appeared. Clint said, “Looks to me like the two stakes are less than a quarter a mile apart. About half way between the two, we’ll plant another stake. That’ll be the center of target number one.”
Back in town, Clint went to see Oliver McCune. Except for the sheriff’s rigid attitude, Clint would have gone to Radecker. Now he was reluctant to be any more involved with the sheriff than necessary. “Mister McCune, I reckon you know as much about this area as anyone. Are you familiar with the Indians around here?”
“You do know there’s a large reservation on the other side of the Possum? We don’t see too many around here. Most of their trading, buying, they do in towns over there. What do you want to know?”
“Ever hear of an Indian burial ground up north of here, in the old gunnery range?”
“No, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t one. Indians used to move around a lot. Now most of the Sioux and Assiniboine occupy the Fort Peck reservation. I understand there’s also a small bunch from some other tribe, called the Coyote Clan. They may be the remnants of survivors… terrible small pox epidemics devastated many tribes in the past.”
“I’m mainly concerned about a burial ground. Don’t want to be messing with someone’s bones.” No use in mentioning the airmen’s story.
Lilith hovered behind Ollie while the men talked. She didn’t say anything, but after Ollie turned away, she followed Clint to the door. Tentatively she reached out to touch his back, but withdrew her hand, when, feeling her presence, Clint turned his head slightly. He kept on out the door. I wonder what that’s all about?
The airmen leaving their post, and the reason, created a problem for Clint. Their story was unbelievable, yet their behavior seemed to bear it out, unless it was a grand hoax. It had to be! Spooky Indians? C’mon! To have them court-martialed, or even given an Article Fifteen, meant shipping them back to Grand Eclipse. With the amount of work that faced him, he couldn’t afford to lose any bodies. I’ll have to check with LC Jenner and see if, as commander, I don’t have Article Fifteen authority.