John O'Brien - Sanctuary

“I’d really like to formulate urban and building ops training as well,” I tell Lynn after we finish.

“I thought about that and will come up with something while I’m building the training program today. I’ll incorporate that into a daily training plan for the teams,” she says.

“Switch,” Lynn calls out and the teams that were firing changes places with those that were drilling. I fire several rounds making sure my sights and lasers are still centered.

We finish a short time later and adjourn. The teams take turns showering and then we all eat as a group. Afterwards, Lynn pulls a table and chair outside and begins writing furiously on several notepads. The teams circle around Bannerman for assignments and Red Team gathers with me outside.

I tell Red Team of our plan to go to Fort Lewis and find a scout chopper which they find mightily amusing for some reason. “Can we watch, sir? I haven’t seen an officer make a complete ass of himself in about a week,” Gonzalez says at one point with a grin. “Of course watching will be from a considerable distance but we’ll have fire extinguishers on hand and come a runnin’.”

“Yeah, highly fucking amusing,” I respond jokingly back.

We pile into a Humvee and start out with other vehicles beginning to pull out on their assigned errands. The sun has just crested fully over the mountains covering the land in its golden glow. It’s been nice to have so many nice days in a row without even the clouds coming to visit and no rain. That’s unusual for the summer here and I hope it’s because someone is looking out for us. I’m hoping this weather continues but I know we’ll have our share of the rain. I’m also hoping the night runners will still be affected by the sun being out, cloud cover or not. If that’s not true, then we’re in for a world of hurt, especially come winter time. I can’t assume anything so our first day under heavy cloud cover will be a down day just in case. Or at least starting later after assuring ourselves that we still own the day. That’s just something we’ll have to find out.

Pulling onto the base, we head directly to the small flight line associated with Fort Lewis. Several helicopters line the tarmac to one side of the runway with others parked in open hangars. I still can’t get over the eerie feeling of seeing so many man-made objects without the associated sounds or activity. The movement of crew chiefs on the ramp, the sound of engines cranking up or winding down, vehicles moving crews to and from aircraft, just the bustle of activity. It’s all gone leaving behind a surreal quiet; especially after coming from the activity around our sanctuary.

We step out onto the gray pavement where papers, leaves, and other debris are blowing across the surface in the light wind. It’s like stepping onto a surface of an archaeological site from a previous civilization; all of the objects and structures are here but the people who hovered around them are gone. It’s not far from the truth, but damn!

I stroll over to one of the Oh-58 Kiowa helicopters sitting on the ramp close by and, with Robert by my side, peek in. The rest of Red Team is looking around the area but they also seem to be getting ready for a show. It actually looks like they’re placing bets on which tree I’ll end up in by the way they are gesturing and pointing.

“Ever flown one of these?” Robert asks over my shoulder.

“Nope,” I answer.

“Ever flown a helicopter?”

“A couple of times but only in the air.”

“Hmmmm…” is all he says to that.

Looking inside, it’s not that different than a normal aircraft cockpit but I know different. Flying a helicopter is worlds apart from buzzing around in something with wings attached. I know the fundamentals and basic aspect of flying something with a propeller over my head, but I also know they’re tricky little buggers and take a lot of finesse. I’m beginning to wonder if this is actually a good idea. I rummage around the cockpit and come up with a checklist and start leafing through it. I’m not all that enthused about taking something up that I’m not familiar with; emergency procedures, systems, etc. However, this will be handy as long as I don’t wrap it around the nearest pole.

“Well, there’s nothing like the present,” I think getting in the pilot seat, yes, it’s also on the opposite side of where it should be, and sit looking at the instrumentation while going through the check list.

“Am I going with?” Robert asks.

“Oh hell no. This may be the shortest and warmest ride in history. I don’t think you should be within a mile of me,” I answer.

“Are you going to take it up now?” He asks.

“I was thinking about it,” I reply.

“You sure about this?” Robert asks looking over the cockpit with me.

“No, not really,” I say finding the various switches and trying to become familiar with them.

I run through the start-up checklist finding the switches as I progress through it, making dry runs to get acquainted. It’s not like I’m going to hop cross country right off the bat but I want to get familiar with their locations so I don’t have to do the hunt and peck thing while airborne. And, it’s not like I’m thinking I want to get more than six feet off the ground for a while either.

I spend a couple hours going through dry runs with the check list and visualizing flying with my hands on the controls. Robert hasn’t lost interest and has climbed in the other seat observing. The interior is heated as the sun pours through the Plexiglas windshield; the angle of the sun once bounces off at the right angle, blinding me at times. The smells of the interior are familiar; the smells of use. Sweat mixed with oil, fuel, and the cloth seats. Anyone who has sat in a cockpit knows those odors well.

I take a break and head over with Robert to where the rest of the team is milling about the vehicle. They’re alert for anything moving in the area but also have that “I’m bored” look of standing around. We break out some rations and water we brought for a quick lunch.

“Having a hard time getting it started, sir?” Henderson asks. “If you want, I could spin the blades around if that’ll help.”

“Or, we could go find a large rubber band to wind it up for ya,” McCafferty chimes in.

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary. Be careful though or I may make you go up with me for the first time,” I reply to their quips.

“No, no I’m good thanks,” McCafferty says.

We eat in silence watching the stillness of the area around. Watching as scraps of paper are lifted from the tarmac to flutter momentarily in the light breeze before being deposited back down a short distance from their starting point. Birds sail over the area from time to time. At one point, two dogs trot across the runway in tandem. The stillness, that was once so surreal, begins to become common place and peacefulness settles in. All of us are enjoying a quiet lunch under the clear, blue skies with the sun warming our shoulders. The calm has an underlying quiet stillness to it as if it is just holding its breath. The peace is only a temporary one and there’s a storm and violence brewing just behind it. The day knows that night will come, bringing the night runners with it. There’s also a measure of hope with it that knows another day will come. It’s just that you have to make it through the tempest before you can enjoy the peace once again.

Lunch ends and I clamber back into the cockpit with a renewed focus. Part of me is worried about trying this little adventure. I’m not even remotely qualified to be doing this and worry about not knowing the systems. Like at all! I always thought it would be nice to drive a helicopter where, if you got into trouble, lost or otherwise, you could just set it down anywhere. Kind of like pulling over to the side of the freeway. That was youthful thinking and I certainly know better now. Anything that leaves the ground has an inherent danger associated with it and has the ability to come back to the ground in ways not desirable.