Bloody Basin

by John R Cuneo

  However, for now, the town locals were excited to attend the summer wildlife festival and banquet that included a parade down the main street through town, with exhibits by local craftspeople and tribal artisans. The entire town was alive with the sounds of laughing children, local bands, and carnival rides. The air carried the aroma of fresh baked goods, mouthwatering barbecue, and kettle corn.

  Carolyn and I were enjoying the festivities and getting acquainted with our new neighbors when out of the crowd there came a voice calling, “Hey, Jack.”

  It was Joe Feather accompanied by his uncle Bill and a small group of young children all enjoying caramel apples and homemade candy.

  “Hello, Joe. It’s nice to see you. And Bill, how are you doing?” I replied.

  Carolyn gave Old Bill a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “When are you coming out to the homestead to see what we’ve done?”

  “My daddy always said that you should wait until you get an invitation before showing up on someone’s doorstep,” Old Bill said.

  “Well, Bill, you always have an open invitation,” said Carolyn.

  “You’re so sweet,” said Old Bill. “Just let me know when the coffee and biscuits are ready.”

  Joe Feather cut in. “I would like to introduce you to Lank Tygard and his wife Dr. Sarah Tygard. They’re looking at several properties in the area. These folks are Jack and Carolyn Roberts. They recently purchased the family homestead.”

  “It’s nice to meet you,” I said. We all shook hands and exchanged pleasantries.

  “You don’t happen to be with the FBI, do you?” Carolyn said.

  “As a matter of fact, I’ll be retiring from the FBI next month,” Agent Tygard replied.

  “We just read about you in the newspaper,” I chimed in. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance and thank you for what you and your detective friend have done.”

  Agent Tygard nodded. “You’re very welcome.”

  Sarah smiled. “One more month, and his time is all mine. Then the only dangerous thing he’ll be doing is painting our living room!”

  Agent Tygard turned to his wife. “Now that is dangerous work.”

  We laughed and again give our congratulations to Agent Tygard.

  As we continued to walk down Main Street, it seemed that an almost natural separation took place, with the women walking next to each other and the four men branching off on their own.

  “What properties have you been looking at?” I asked Agent Tygard.

  “We would like to be within a few miles of the airport so we could be within a short drive to get to our airplane,” Agent Tygard said.

  He went on to describe a few of the properties that they liked. They were considering making an offer on one of them. He seemed incredibly happy to be getting ready to retire and spending more time with his wife. He went on about their plans to fly to the Bahamas and island hop for a few weeks before returning home.

  “That sounds like a wonderful way to start your retirement,” I told him.

  “What’s your line of work?” he inquired.

  I proceeded to tell him about my own flying career and how it had been cut short by a drunk driver.

  Agent Tygard stopped dead in his tracks. “Jack, that is a goddamn shame. I can’t imagine having to give up flying for a living.”

  I looked at him and replied, “It was a rough transition, but with Carolyn’s help and good friends like Tom, I’m making the best of it. I still have friends that let me use their private planes whenever I want, and that helps, but it’s not the same as flying every day.”

  A few feet in front of us, Sarah and Carolyn were talking up a blue streak, with Carolyn describing all the work that had been done on the homestead property and how much she absolutely loved being in the high country and away from the city.

  “After Lank retires, I’m planning on working one more year and then putting my practice up for sale,” said Sarah. “And even though we are both looking forward to retirement, I have to admit that I’m a bit concerned over what the future holds.”

  “I know that feeling,” said Carolyn. “After Jack’s accident, we were both on pins and needles, wondering what was going to happen next. Our son was in college, and even though I was still working, I was worried that Jack would deteriorate into some kind of homebound househusband. Luckily, though, we have some great friends that’ve helped us get through this, and with Jack’s investment savvy, we’re doing fine financially.”

  It seemed to the two women that something had brought them together, allowing them to discuss their situations and share a newfound friendship with one another.

  As we walked along enjoying the happy crowds of children and families, we were temporarily distracted by the local high school marching band as they made their way up Main Street, playing the national anthem. As the band member carrying the American flag made her way to where we were standing, both Agent Tygard and I stopped what we were doing and, with several other men and women, came to attention and saluted as our colors passed by.

  Agent Tygard asked, “Jack, so you’re a veteran?”

  “Yes, I am,” I replied. “I was in the air force. And you?”

  “I was in the army,” Agent Tygard said.

  “I guess we both have stories we could tell,” I said.

  Agent Tygard just nodded in agreement.

  The ladies decided that they needed to take a bathroom break, but before they left, Carolyn asked me to please get her a cold drink. We looked around and found a vendor selling treats and cold drinks. All the drinks were in a large metal trough filled with ice. A middle-aged woman and her daughter were taking care of the food booth.

  “All the drinks I have left are at the bottom of the trough, and if you want one, you’re going to have to retrieve it yourselves,” the woman informed us as we approached.

  “My arms are too short to reach the drinks at the bottom,” the young girl said. She pointed down to the ice water. “The really cold ones are right here.”

  I gave the young girl enough money for two cold drinks and then rolled up my right sleeve above my shoulder so that it wouldn’t become soaked in the ice water.

  The little girl burst out in laughter. “Look, Mommy, the man’s going to put his arm into the ice water!”

  We all laughed, and slowly I lowered my arm into the absolutely freezing water. “I don’t think this was a good idea,” I said, eliciting another laugh from the people around the trough.

  Soon I brought up the first bottle of soda, and it was followed by a second dive into the frigid pool to retrieve another one.

  Then, from behind the crowd, I heard Carolyn say, “What’s so funny?”

  My right arm was completely soaked from the ice water and turning red from lack of circulation. I happened to glance up at Agent Tygard, who was staring at the tattoo on my right shoulder.

  He looked at me. “Is the mark on your shoulder from the accident?”

  “No, it’s not from the accident,” I told him. “It’s from my air force days.”

  Agent Tygard nodded but had a puzzled look on his face as if he was trying to solve a riddle.

  After that, it did not take long for the four of us to make our way to the end of Main Street.

  It was Joe Feather who asked, “Are you all going to the banquet this evening?”

  We all acknowledged that we were and that we were looking forward to the evening’s festivities.

  “Then let’s sit together at the same table for the banquet.” He looked at me. “Maybe some of your luck will rub off on the rest of us.”

  “If you would buy a few tickets for the grand prize, drawing it would increase your odds of winning,” I said. “And besides, I think I’ve used up all of my luck for the year.”

  Carolyn noticed the time. “We should head back to the homestead to get some rest
before the evening’s festivities begin,” she suggested.

  We bid our companions goodbye and said we looked forward to seeing them later at the banquet.

  Back on the homestead, Carolyn and I grabbed a snack before putting our feet up and relaxing.

  “Isn’t it interesting how we were just reading about Agent Tygard in the newspaper and then met him and his wife today at the parade?” said Carolyn.

  “I guess the old saying that it’s a small world still applies,” I commented.

  Then we were off to the shower to get ready for the long evening ahead of us.

  The banquet hall was beautifully decorated, with a large stage for the auctioneer and the evening’s musical entertainment. Off to the sides of the room were silent auction items that could be seen and bid on throughout the night, and of course there was a grand prize. This year, it was an all-expenses-paid fishing trip for two that included airfare to Homer, Alaska.

  Through the crowd of people, I saw Joe and Old Bill Feather sitting at a round table for ten. Agent and Sarah Tygard were accompanying them in addition to Tom, who was sitting next to Old Bill. Joseph waved to me and indicated that two of the seats at the table were saved for us, but before we made our way to the table, we stood in line to buy tickets for the grand prize.

  After purchasing the tickets, we made our way to the table, where Carolyn invited Sarah to go and look at the “ladies only” table of items that were being raffled off that evening. The two women disappeared through the crowd of people.

  “I would like to go and look at the silent auction items,” I said.

  “Can I join you?” Agent Tygard asked.

  “Of course. That would be great. Let’s go and see what we have to bid on this evening,” I said, and we made our way to the first table.

  It didn’t take long for Agent Tygard to break the silence and ask me questions about the scar on my right shoulder. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stare, but when I saw that scar on your shoulder, I started thinking where I had seen that before.”

  I looked at him. “It’s not a scar but a tattoo. I got it just before leaving the Air Force.”

  Agent Tygard shook his head. “I’ve only seen one other tattoo like that, and it was on an air force special warfare officer. I’ve never really been able to find out the sorts of operations that the special warfare people were involved in.”

  “That’s because everything we did was above top secret!”

  After viewing the auction items, we made our way back to the table and were surprised to find that, except for Tom, everyone else was off purchasing raffle tickets and getting drinks. I could see that Agent Tygard was chomping at the bit to ask questions, so I looked over at Tom.

  “Lank was interested in hearing about my old military days,” I said.

  Tom laughed. “It’s probably alright to tell a few stories. Our oath of secrecy is probably expired.”

  Agent Tygard said, “It’s okay, fellas. I’m with the FBI, and you can tell me anything.”

  Tom and I both laughed.

  “What I am about to tell you is completely off the record,” I said, and I started at the beginning.

  “When I was in high school, I worked part time at a flight school in Detroit that was owned by an ex-World War II navy fighter pilot. In addition, my flight instructor was an ex-marine pilot. These guys were strict, but they were fair, and not only did they teach me to fly but they also taught me to fight. By the time I graduated high school, I could fly the majority of Cessna aircraft, from the smallest single engine airplane up to the twin-engine 310. I was licensed to flying both single and multiengine aircraft in addition to receiving my instrument rating.

  “Then in air force basic training, I had an instructor who, for some reason, made it his life’s mission to make my life a living hell. One weekend just before graduation, the instructor and a friend of his decided they were going to teach me a lesson, but instead I ended up putting both of them in the hospital.”

  Upon hearing that, both Agent Tygard and Tom broke into hysterical laughter.

  “I’ve heard this story before, but that always makes me laugh,” Tom said.

  “Well, the Air Force didn’t quite know what to do, so they offered to send me to officer candidate school, which I went to after graduating from basic training. Then they began to notice my flying abilities, so after graduating as a second lieutenant, I was sent to flight school, where I learned to fly the O-2 sky master and the military version of the King Air.

  “It was about that time that the Air Force thought they should get into the special warfare business, so I was recruited to attend the newly formed special warfare unit based in Florida. It was basically twenty-four hours a day of hand-to-hand combat training in addition to living in the swamp with occasional flight training that included both fixed-wing aircraft and helicopters. At the end of twenty weeks of training, the few of us that were left were sent to continue training with the Foreign Legion at their French Guiana facility.”

  Even though Tom had heard the story before, he and Agent Tygard were both sitting on the edges of their chairs, listening intently to every word I spoke.

  “At first, we couldn’t make sense of why they were sending us to train with the Foreign Legion, but it soon became clear after we arrived at their training facility that we were being groomed for jungle warfare, and that meant we were going to Southeast Asia. We spent the next five months training in French Guiana with Vietnamese Special Forces, learning their tactics and picking up as much of the language as we could. This was the toughest training I have ever had. It included living off the land and hiding under the water in the filthiest, dirtiest swamps you can imagine. They had us spend two hours at a time underwater, breathing through bamboo reeds, hoping that venomous snakes and alligators would leave us the hell alone.”

  It was difficult for Tom to contain his laughter, knowing that few other people in the world had gone through the training that I had.

  “The best part of French Guiana and the Foreign Legion was that every week or so, I was allowed to fly their helicopters so I could learn their night operation tactics. They included flying so close to the jungle canopy that the skids on the helicopter would be full of vegetation by the time I landed at the end of my training mission.”

  “How long were you deployed to Southeast Asia?” Agent Tygard asked.

  “I spent just over eighteen months there with the rest of the special warfare team, where we would spend up to six weeks in the field, carrying out our missions.”

  Agent Tygard sat back in his chair. “Are you seriously telling me that they kept you in the bush for six weeks at a time?”

  “That’s right,” I told him. “Six weeks was the length of the standard mission. But one time my team spent four months slugging our way through the swamps of Southeast Asia, carrying out an ongoing hit-and-run war against high-level enemy targets. And another time our team walked for over a month to reach a small enemy outpost that had a couple helicopters used for transporting high-ranking officers. Once we got there, we took out the entire group of men including their regular army and Russian advisors. After we did that, we took both of their helicopters and, fully armed, flew into one of their larger jungle command centers and destroyed it. Then we used the helicopters to fly as close as we could back to friendly forces.”

  Agent Tygard looked at me. “I have to tell you I heard this story years ago, but I didn’t believe it. Now that I’ve heard it again from you, I must say I have a new respect for the Air Force.”

  “Go ahead, Jack. Tell him the best part of the story,” Tom said.

  I proceeded to recount the helicopter flight just after we had destroyed the jungle command center. “Not knowing what we had done, two Russian MiGs flew alongside us, thinking we were friendly. The jets made slow passes on either side of our helicopters. Then our window gunners opened fire w
ith our machine guns and blew them both out of the sky! I think it’s the only time during the war that helicopters shot down Russian MiGs.”

  Agent Tygard sat there in disbelief and attempted to take it all in. “I sure could have used you people on a couple of my missions back in the day. And when did you start flying commercial?”

  “I had the opportunity to train with one of the big airlines, but I couldn’t see myself flying businessmen and tourists across the country, so I looked into flying airfreight. That’s when I hooked up with Tom down at Sky Harbor.”

  “Jack is the best pilot I ever hired. We had him flying Beech 1900s and the Metro III in a hurry,” Tom said.

  Agent Tygard started to tell us about some of his exploits in the Army and how he and other soldiers were trained in covert operations and how that led to him joining the FBI.

  “What about your aircraft?” I asked. “You mentioned that you and Sarah are flying to the Bahamas after you retire?”

  “That has been a dream of ours for more years than I can remember,” said Agent Tygard. “Sarah and I met at a flight school in Florida just after I joined the FBI, and it was love at first sight, both for her and for aviation.”

  “Speaking of love at first sight,” I said as Carolyn and Sarah returned to the table.

  “It looks like you boys are all getting along famously,” said Sarah.

  Agent Tygard said, “I think I’m going to enjoy having a home in the high country.”

  “That is great,” said Sarah, “but let’s not forget we have a lot of flying to do in the Bahamas.”

  “Dinner is ready,” we heard over the loudspeaker. Our table was first in line for dinner.