Basher Five-Two (7 page)

I stepped into a nearby clearing and opened my rucksack to see what it contained. I might have lost my flashlight, but I had a penlight in the shoulder pocket of my flight suit. Its white beam seemed brighter than the sun. Afraid of being seen, I dared using the light only once or twice, and for the briefest of seconds. In my rucksack I found eight small containers, called flexipaks, of water. This was about a quart of water in total. I also had an empty plastic water pouch, a gray wool ski hood, a yellow sponge, a pair of green wool socks and a pair of wool mittens, a floppy orange hat, a tarp that was green on one side and silver on the other, a large square of camouflage netting, a silver-foil space blanket, sun goggles and sunblock lotion, a fire starter, a five-inch knife, and a 121-page booklet titled
Aircrew Survival.

If I found any humor in my situation, the thought of reading
Aircrew Survival
was it. When you’re trying to avoid being captured, you don’t have the time to sit around and read a book the way you would in a library. The other items in the rucksack had different degrees of usefulness to me. Since I was trying to hide from the enemy, I had serious doubts about the floppy orange hat and the sun-reflecting space blanket. Stuck in the damp
cold of the mountains, however, I found the wool socks and mittens a godsend. Some items I had in my survival vest were also of value: a compass, a medical kit, iodine tablets to purify dirty water, rescue flares, camouflage paste, a tourniquet to stop the bleeding in case I got hurt, and most important, my battery-operated GPS navigational receiver. I had a 9-mm Beretta pistol in my holster, but it would have been foolish to use it. The enemy had had me outgunned from the moment they’d shot down my plane.

I donned the fresh pair of wool socks as well as the ski mask for warmth, and took out my GPS. Next to my radio, the GPS receiver was my most critical piece of equipment. It, too, operated on batteries, and I had to be careful not to run them down. The size of a Walkman, with a liquid crystal display screen, the GPS could calculate my longitude and latitude within 100 feet of my exact location. It did this by picking up the signals of at least three separate satellites, then triangulating, or fixing, my position on the ground.

Impatiently, I turned on my GPS receiver and waited. It seemed forever before the screen indicated that the first satellite had been found. After fifteen agonizing minutes, I had my three satellites in line, and the readout indicated my longitude and latitude. My spirits improved. Now I could communicate to somebody where I was. I brought out my radio and turned to the Guard frequency. Again, I
knew the risk of my signal’s being picked up by Serbs, but I also wanted the greatest chance of being rescued. Maybe, I hoped, there was a pair of friendly ears in the sky.

“Anyone, Basher Five-Two,” I called.

With a heavy heart I listened to the crisp sound of static.

“Anyone, Basher Five-Two,” I repeated.

More static. I tried not to feel discouraged. The radio worked by line-of-sight contact. At night, I had no idea what the landscape around me was like. If a mountain I couldn’t see was in the way, the signal wouldn’t go anywhere. I thought how great it would be if I had a different type of radio—one that was satellite based, like my GPS, with virtually unlimited range and secured channels. I planned to try my radio again in a few hours. If I still couldn’t get any reception, I’d find a clear and secure place for sending my signal tomorrow.

I put the radio and the GPS receiver away, zipped up my rucksack, and nestled into my new hiding place in the cove. I was exhausted but much too pumped up for sleep. It would be light in a few hours. All I could do was wait to see what the day would bring and thank God that I was still alive.

Here I am, only a few months old.
(Courtesy of Mary Lou Scardapane)

I’ve always enjoyed doing things with my dad. I learned a lot from him about the importance of working hard and taking pride in whatever I did. My dog’s name was Pepsi.
(Courtesy of Mary Lou Scardapane)

When I was four years old, my family lived in New York City. One year I was Batman for Halloween. That’s my sister, Stacy, beside me.
(Courtesy of Mary Lou Scardapane)

Christmas 1971 with my mom, my brother, Paul, and my sister, Stacy.
(Courtesy of William O’Grady)

My first horse ride, at age six, on Brownie at Joe’s Stables in California.
(Courtesy of William O’Grady)

In Cub Scouts, I really enjoyed learning about animals, nature, and wilderness survival.
(Courtesy of William O’Grady)

We moved to Spokane, Washington, when I was nine. I’m the kid in the middle.
(Courtesy of Mary Lou Scardapane)

When I was ten, I began skiing. Here I am at Mount Spokane with my sister.
(Courtesy of William O’Grady)

In the F-16 with the bubble canopy up.
(Courtesy of William O’Grady)