“It’s the box mounted on the dash.”
Sanders located the sage-green electronic device in the bottom of the windshield. The type was different from the one he was used to. “No. The screen and control knobs are different. What do you need?”
Thompson would have to operate the GPS by himself. “Familiarize yourself with the four radios and navigation receivers on the center console. If you have any questions, ask. Don’t change anything. I’ll let you know when.”
The first waypoint approached quickly. Thompson timed the turn short of the position, compensating for the change in direction so they didn’t overshoot the desired track. At the same time he selected the second waypoint from the menu screen. The move worked as planned.
With the wind blowing directly off the tail, the helicopter moved rapidly through the thick cloud cover. Thompson maintained the same, precise heading, using the instruments for guidance to match the GPS track. He verified the heading on the note pad, written earlier by Connor, was the same. There was no margin for error.
On course and at a safe altitude above the glacier, Thompson felt more at ease but not enough to relax. Even though his outward demeanor appeared calm, inside he was as worried as anyone. They were far from being out of danger. The weather and terrain were a continuing challenge. Factoring in their reduced fuel, his limited experience, the worn-out airframe, and the stressed engine, he knew there were too many opportunities for something to go wrong.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Connor leaned in a bent posture against an outcropping of rock, watching while Bril positioned himself in front of the helicopter. The full force of the rotor wash slapped at Bril’s face, but he kept his eyes on the tail as the fuselage lifted higher above the ground.
The helicopter rocked and wobbled in a dangerous dance for position in the turbulent air, fighting for every foot of altitude as the gusts tried pushing the tail sideways. The margin of error between obstacles was slim and keeping the tail boom aligned was critical. All Bril could do was signal with his hands, but the gesture provided Thompson with another reference he desperately needed.
Bril squinted against the swirling wind with his arms extended sideways, providing corrections when the tail shifted left or right. He wasn’t sure of the effectiveness, since Thompson seemingly compensated for any movement of the helicopter immediately on his own. At least doing something made him feel better.
The concentration on Thompson’s face was intense. His gaze flashed between Bril, the ground, and the torque gauge in rapid succession, processing the information in milliseconds of thought and motion. The changing wind was quick and deceptive, but he was faster and more determined. Youth won over strength, this time. There was only a brief moment of hesitation before the helicopter was above the rocks and clear, sliding into the abyss above the glacier.
Bril gave a final wave before turning and approaching Connor. The senior warrant officer was hunched over for support, staring into the clouds where the sound of the helicopter still reverberated through the mountain air. He appeared pale and beaten but managed a smile through the pain, feeling more at ease once the helicopter safely cleared the ridge.
Connor knew Thompson could handle the takeoff. He was a good pilot. There was a deep feeling of satisfaction knowing he played a direct part in refining his skills. A heavy burden slowly lifted from Connor’s shoulders. Now he could complete what he originally intended. The rescue only delayed his ultimate goal.
“Damn, sir. You all right? You look terrible.”
Silence was the only answer as Connor stared into the distance. He cocked his head slightly to hear.
Bril realized what he was doing and turned to listen as well. The rhythmic sound was barely discernible, then increased in tone briefly before disappearing completely. In a few seconds only the din of the rushing wind reached their ears. The beat of the helicopter was gone.
“Help me sit down, will you?” Connor’s voice was steady in spite of the pain. He was relieved the helicopter made it off the mountain and acted as if being hunched forward with his hand pushing against his lower back was perfectly normal.
Bril supported Connor by the arm and slowly let him slide to the ground so his back rested against a mound of rock. “Are you going to be okay, sir?”
“I think so. Just give me a couple minutes.” He exhaled noticeably in relief.
“I’m guessing this isn’t the first time your back has given you trouble. You still did a great job flying, sir.”
“Thanks, Bril.” Connor leaned backward, trying to stretch the taut muscles. “Helicopter pilots and bad backs seem to go together. The discomfort only gets worse with age.”
“Yes, sir. I’ve noticed.” Bril didn’t mention Connor’s condition was the worst he’d seen.
“Hand me your hand-held radio, will you? I want to see how Thompson is doing and give Shultz an update if they haven’t been talking to each other already.”
Bril made sure the dial was on the correct frequency before handing the radio over. Connor hoped the reception was adequate. At least the surrounding rocks shielded the radio from the wind.
“One-one-four, this is Connor. Shultz, you read me, over?”
“Go ahead. I’m receiving you scratchy but readable.”
Shultz had become more concerned about the rescue attempt with each passing minute. Not knowing what was transpiring on the mountain made him edgy. He wanted to call several times for an update but held off, knowing Connor was busy enough without unnecessary interruptions. From the change in radio reception, he knew something was different, suddenly realizing the transmission was being sent not from the helicopter but from a portable survival radio.
“Everything okay there? What’s the status of the survivors, over?”
“The helicopter departed with Thompson and Steiner a few minutes ago. Ten survivors aboard, including three litter patients. Six other survivors remain behind.”
Connor exhaled slowly before continuing. “Bril and I decided to stay with the remaining survivors at the crash site. We gave up our seats on the helicopter. Thompson should be talking to you shortly. He’s probably monitoring the conversation now.”
Shultz shook his head in irritation. He was the one who allowed Bril to go along on the rescue and now he was stuck on the mountain. He didn’t like the outcome one bit. Even more troubling was Connor allowing the younger and less experienced pilot to fly off the mountain with a full load of passengers. Not an easy mission for even the most capable aviator.
Shultz was pissed and wanted to cuss in frustration but held his tongue. Stepping away from responsibility was something Connor didn’t do. There had to be a good reason. He could see Ferguson watching him and saw equal concern etched on his face.
Neither of them noticed Hovan hang his head. He already guessed why Connor had stayed behind. His physical condition had to be an issue. He hoped there wasn’t some darker reason as well.
Before Shultz could think of a response, Thompson’s clearer voice broke over the radio.
“Eight-three-zero monitors you both. I’m nearing the second waypoint at the turn in the valley. I’m in the clouds on instruments. Keep on talking to each other. I’ll call after I make the turn.”
Damn if the kid didn’t sound cool, considering the circumstances. Shultz’s pulse quickened at the thought of what he was going through. Flying on instruments in bad weather was demanding for two pilots. Thompson was doing everything himself. At least he was smart enough to mark a route through the valley on the way in. Always plan ahead and give yourself another option, Connor had instructed Shultz years ago. There was no doubt in his mind, Thompson had learned the same lesson.
Once Connor heard Thompson’s transmission, he started second-guessing his decision to remain on the ground. With the helicopter in the clouds, he knew his presence would have been an asset even if he couldn’t fly himself. He miscalculated the extent of the cloud cover in the lower valley and placed too much responsibility o
n Thompson. He only hoped the kid was a good as he thought he was.
“Gil? How’s the weather up there? You and the others going to be okay?” Shultz knew there was nothing he could do for assistance but hoped for an explanation from Connor on his reason for staying behind.
“We’ll be fine for the night. The ridge is engulfed in clouds now and the temperature is dropping. The wreckage will provide enough shelter. Most of us are in good condition, except for myself and one of the remaining passengers. I’m completely worn out. My medical condition finally caught up with me. I wasn’t much use in the helicopter. That’s why I gave up my seat. Lieutenant Hovan can fill you in on the details.”
Ferguson saw Shultz and Hovan exchange a knowing look. They were keeping something from him. Something Hovan had already shared with Shultz. He realized there must have been more to Connor being in the area earlier than a simple training flight and was suspicious but held judgment until they could tell him the truth.
The wind had increased in intensity. The tops of the trees were swaying noticeably against the backdrop of shrouded mountains. Dark clouds were spreading into the lower foothills. Tentacles of vapor hung below the solid mass like strips of clothing, moving and changing shape and clarity with the currents of air.
Shultz watched, glad for the moment he was still on the ground and hopeful Thompson was as good as Connor thought. Those left on the ridge were probably thinking the same thing.
“Okay, Gil. How are you set on food and water?”
Connor was unsure of the answer. The thought hadn’t occurred to him until now. He took his finger off the transmit button and looked at Bril for an explanation.
“Enough bottled water and MREs for a day or two. We can melt snow and ration food if we have to. There are enough blankets for the eight of us. Might be a cold night, but we’ll manage.”
Shultz knew they were in for a miserable night. On the mountain the temperature would be below freezing. Shelter and warmth were critical. If the weather trapped them for longer than a day, the next helicopter might only be needed for collecting bodies.
“We’ll have rescue helicopters on the way as soon as the weather breaks, hopefully by tomorrow. We still haven’t heard from the second medevac. We’ll fly out of here in the other Huey if we have to. You and Bril stay safe.”
“You, too. We’ll be waiting.”
There was nothing else to say. Connor handed the radio back to Bril.
“Leave the radio on awhile longer. I want to know when Thompson and the survivors are safely out of the mountains. I’ll rest easier then.”
Bril felt the same way and nodded his head in reply. He placed the radio back in his vest with the volume on and antenna extended.
“You need a hand getting up?”
“Yeah, that would be great.” Connor extended his arm so Bril could pull him off the ground. He grunted as the back muscles flexed painfully in opposition. Balancing carefully on his feet, he carried the flight jacket Shultz loaned him. The bundle would’ve been forgotten on the seat if Sanders hadn’t found it.
Bril grabbed Connor’s arm above the elbow. “We should have put you on one of the stretchers in the back of the helicopter. You’re in no shape to be spending a night on this mountain.”
“I’ll be better once I lie down and relax.” He appreciated Bril’s concern but was determined to walk on his own. “Let me try to walk to the wreckage.”
“You sure, sir? You look a little unstable.”
“Yeah, I’m sure, Bril. Thanks.” Connor pushed against the damaged tissue in his lower back again. The pressure reduced the stinging muscle spasm but did nothing for his posture. He remained hunched over and bent at the waist, gingerly holding Shultz’s jacket in his arm as he started walking carefully toward the wreckage. The small bottle of pills Steiner gave him rattled inside the pocket.
Bril walked beside Connor at an equally slow pace, staying close so he could catch him if he stumbled. “If you don’t mind me asking, is there something else wrong with you? I mean besides the usual back problems most helicopter pilots experience.”
Connor stopped and looked at Bril before answering. Two survivors were approaching from the wreckage as he hurried an explanation.
“I guess I owe you the truth. I’ve got cancer. I’m dealing with the symptoms the best I can.” His explanation was true enough without being specific. Elaborating on the terminal details was not something he wanted to share.
Bril saw the others approaching and figured Connor didn’t want them to hear. Cutting the conversation short was fine with him. He was uncomfortable listening to people’s medical problems as much as they did in expressing them. He felt sympathy, but words always seemed hollow and insincere when all he could offer were condolences.
“They give you anything for the pain?” He couldn’t think of anything else to say.
Connor was in just as much of a hurry to end the dialogue. “Steiner gave me some pain pills. I’ll be fine. One other thing, Bril.”
“Sir?”
“As far as anyone else is concerned, I pulled my back out, nothing more. Okay?”
“Yes, sir.” He wondered if Connor’s cancer was terminal and quickly dismissed the thought. Would he have been flying if it was?
CHAPTER FORTY
Thompson turned over the second waypoint at the curve in the valley. There were no breaks in the overcast and visibility was only a few feet as he stayed focused on the flight instruments, keeping the helicopter on course with the GPS track.
“We’re picking up some moisture.” Sanders’ voice was calmer than before. Once he understood what Thompson was doing, he was more comfortable. Sitting in a strange aircraft at the mercy of another pilot was particularly hard for an airline captain. Trusting an unfamiliar person’s judgment was never easy. In this case, he didn’t have a choice.
Thompson glanced at the windshield where the drizzle peppered the outside glass. Icing was a strong possibility, and he wanted to be free of the clouds as soon as possible. They still had over ten miles to cover before clearing the outer foothills, and he had no intention of descending unless they found a break in the weather.
Only after safely passing the second waypoint and turning on a new bearing to the north did Thompson call Shultz.
“One-one-four, this is eight-three-zero. We’re out of the valley and nearing your location. Should be a few miles south of you now, over.”
The response was immediate. “Roger that, eight-three-zero. The cloud cover is a solid layer above us. Maybe a thousand feet from the ground. We started picking up some light drizzle a few minutes ago.”
“Same here, one-one-four.” Thompson had only met Shultz once and felt more comfortable using the aircraft call sign. “No icing yet. Fuel is tight. We’re heading straight for Fairbanks. Can you see the foothills?”
Shultz opened his door to look behind the helicopter. His voice was reserved. “The weather doesn’t look good. The clouds appear to be hanging near the top of the hills. I can see a higher gap above the canyon where the river cuts through but no breaks in the overcast.”
“Roger. We’ll continue at our present altitude. Any information on the second medevac?”
“Negative, eight-three-zero. The terrain is blocking reception. No contact with Flight Operations since you departed our location over a half hour ago, either.”
Shultz figured the operations sergeant was getting antsy for an update. “When you get a chance, can you contact them?”
“Roger. I’ll relay when I can.”
“I copy, eight-three-zero. Good luck. We’re standing by.”
Shultz was concerned about the second Black Hawk arriving before the ceiling dropped and being trapped at the airstrip. They couldn’t afford to wait any longer.
“Lieutenant, I think we need to leave in the Huey. If we wait much longer, we’ll be stuck here. I’ll tell Mildred what we’re doing.”
Hovan had been looking outside, thinking the same thing. He nodded his
head reluctantly. He was concerned about flying the helicopter, but as long as Shultz rode up front with him, he knew he could get them back to base.
“Okay. I’ll get the blades untied. You and Ferguson carry Mildred’s husband.”
Thompson continued on a course northwest away from the mountains, while Sanders kept busy referencing the chart and navigation receivers for a position fix. They were too far from Fairbanks to monitor any of the navigational aids, but by using the coordinates displayed on the GPS, he was able to confirm their approximate location on the chart.
“I show us about a mile south of the foothills. We’re still too far out to pick up the navigational beacon at Fairbanks.”
After departing the mountain, Thompson was skeptical of the airline pilot riding in the copilot’s seat. He was burdened enough without Connor along and thought Sanders would try to either take charge or be useless with his injury. Only after they were safely off the ridge and in the clouds did he realize Sanders’ flight experience could be a benefit. The tension became less noticeable once they accepted each other’s position.
“Okay, thanks. Glad to have you along, Captain.”
“To tell you the truth, I was reluctant to leave.” He touched the bandage on his forehead, having forgotten about the injury during the loading and tumble with Donna. His head ached when he touched the injury. He was surprised the bandage was still in place. “Just glad I can help.”
The passengers in the back had remained relatively silent since boarding the helicopter. The engine noise drowned out any normal conversation. There were no headsets and Steiner was the only one wearing a helmet. He kept busy shifting position among the patients, checking vital signs and reassuring everyone.
Most of the passengers stared outside or closed their eyes in an attempt to rest. Once they were off the mountain, they assumed everything was all right. They had no way of knowing how dangerous the flight through the valley had been.
The Last Flight Page 31