John O'Brien - Return

“Frank, this here,” I say sweeping my hand around and inferring the danger from the night runners, “is only a very small taste of what it’s like everywhere else. If General Collins and his group go in unprepared, they’ll get swept away. They didn’t even see the small taste you are seeing here. How many of the personnel he took are combat trained?”

His eyes narrow as he absorbs this information and the meaning of it. “Is it that bad Jack?” Frank asks.

“Yeah. It’s pretty bad alright,” I respond.

“And if he does come back and we’re not here?”

“We’ll call all of the way across the pond. If they’re out there, they’ll hear us. We’ll let them know what happened.”

Frank turns to Sergeant Watkins. “Sergeant Watkins,” he yells.

“Sir,” Sergeant Watkins yells back.

“Get on the radio and get everyone else out here. Leave one in the tower to monitor the radios.”

“Yes, sir,” Watkins answers and ducks his head in the staff car.

I look over to Lynn and, with a quick nod of my head, I indicate that everything is okay and to truly release everyone. She calls the formation to attention and, from across the ramp, I hear her release the troops. With a last look in my direction, she heads back into the aircraft. Troops head inside only to reappear moments later with food and water, congregating in small groups on the ramp to sit and eat. Red Team is squatting at their appointed locations eyeing the area as another vehicle departs the base of the tower driving toward our location.

“Jack,” Colonel Wilson begins, “I want to talk it over with the rest of our detail before saying anything else.”

“Of course, sir, um, Frank. Sorry, old habits seem to die quickly,” I say as the light blue crew bus comes to a stop. Eight people emerge from the vehicle toting M-4 carbines and gather around Sergeant Watkins. Frank walks over to their small group and they are soon immersed in conversation.

With the warming breeze blowing across my face, I look out over the area once again. I cannot help but notice that some of the soldiers from our outfit, still enjoying their meager breakfast, glance curiously over at the other group locked in conversation. The sun has climbed higher into the morning sky warming the air rising from the ramp surface.

I look across the ramp towards the once lively base. It’s so quiet . I think. Just like being out in the country . The quiet that was so peaceful out in the country seems so alien here. The brain carries the association of man-made objects with the noise that went along with them. People scurrying on errands, the sounds of vehicles passing, construction, doors opening and closing, everything that made sound within that environment combine into one solid noise that defined any congregation of people. The silence is what makes the quiet here so alien. There is a disjointed feeling in the mind between what the eyes see, what the ears hear and what the brain is used to. It’s as if the brain is trying to reconcile the difference and leaves behind a sad, almost lonely feeling.

Nature reclaiming what was taken from it. We take and so we must give . The thought passes through my mind as I look over the tranquil setting . And we must have taken a lot as we surely gave a lot . The natural order of things seeking its balance. Not a balance in one particular moment in time but a balance spread over time. And here we thought it would be something like global warming. Mankind knew something was coming. There was just that feeling in the air yet we did nothing as if we were powerless to stop it . We weren’t though. We just decided to do nothing about it. The further along we went on our path of control and seeking to make it easier for us, the harder it became to stop and correct the path. We were always leaving it up to others to correct . How do we know when we have been deflected and are diverting from the right path? Is it a feeling inside that something feels wrong? Or is it when our industrial thought wends its way towards a purely service-oriented society feeding our selfish whims? Perhaps a bit of both. We became a society where a majority of our thought and industry was geared around being pampered rather than fostering goodwill and helping others; rather than helping us to become more harmonious with our little home in space or to improve as human beings. Our base needs were obviously taken care of just by the pure nature of becoming service-oriented . We’ll just have to do better this time around. If there is another time around .

The bubble of reverie in which I wrapped myself diminishes with the sound of footsteps approaching behind. I turn and see Lynn approaching. “Well?” She says stepping in front of me.

“I told him everything and I guess they’re discussing whether to come with us or not. Or maybe whether to shoot me. Apparently, they were ordered to stay here while the others headed to the states to find supplies and information.”

“How’d he take it?” Lynn asks meaning about my pretending to still be an officer and on a mission.

“Not all that well initially. He doesn’t really seem to enjoy being hoodwinked like that,” I reply chuckling. “But he came to understand the why given our circumstances.”

“Jack, you could talk a noodle into believing it was a tree.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask but Lynn merely gives me that look of innocence.

“How are our supplies?” I ask after realizing I am not going to get a response.

“We’re going to need water. Especially if we add more to our herd. Food is okay for a few days but we could always use more. We have plenty of ammo for the time being.”

“We’ll see if they still have running water and fill up here. If not, we’ll have to go to the BX and see if there’s more bottled water. We need to keep our empty water bottles and caps and fill them when we can.”

“You mean the PX, right flyboy?”

“We don’t speak ‘hooah’ here so it’s a BX,” I say smiling at our always present and friendly Army-Air Force rivalry only to get another of her looks. The look that says ‘you’re going to owe me for that one’ which, in times past, meant that I was going to have to go first when the lights were turned off. Not that I minded that at all!

“As for ammo, you can never have enough right? If they decide to head out with us, we’ll pay a visit to the armory here,” I continue.

Frank breaks away from their group and walks our way with Sergeant Watkins in tow. Lynn salutes as they come to stand with us. Introductions are made and Frank says, “Jack, we talked about it and we’ve agreed to come along with you if you’ll have us. Frankly, given the state of things, I can’t afford to take the risk and have my men and women stranded here.”

I must have been wearing a look of worry or consternation as he continued on, “And, Jack, we’ve also talked about you staying in charge and to fold in under your command.”

“Glad to have you aboard Frank, Sergeant Watkins,” I say shaking their hands. “Sergeant Connell here is the First Sergeant and will organize your men and women into fire teams. Are they all trained?”

“They are all part of the base security team, sir,” Sergeant Watkins responds.

“Are they already organized into squads?” Lynn asks.

“They are. Alpha and Bravo teams,” Watkins answers.

“Okay, we’ll keep them that way for now. I’ll want to talk with your team leaders afterwards,” Lynn says.

“I’m one of them,” Watkins says.

“Frank, are the generators still online?” I ask.

“The tower generator is still functioning but it looks like the base generators went out this morning,” he answers.