Operation (19 page)

Seventeen-year-old Jake turned to see a burly looking Navy Chief Petty Officer wearing a sidearm leaping out of the guardhouse and running toward the truck. When he was close enough, he jumped up on the running board of the truck and stuck his head inside the cab. Jake brought the truck to a complete stop and instinctively sat back as far as he could from the leering face only inches from his.

“They…they…ah…told me to come down here to pick up a load off of the flight coming in tonight,” Jake said.

“Let me see your paperwork!” the chief barked.

As Jake struggled to explain he didn’t have any paperwork, his eyes were drawn to the large tattoos of the naked women the chief had on his upper arms. He enjoyed the way they moved when the chief moved, making them look alive.

“You like them, boy?” the chief asked pointedly. “Because you sure as hell are taking your time staring at them, when I asked you for the goddamned paperwork! If I don’t see some paperwork in the next second, I’ll have you cleaning every goddamned head on the base with your tongue!”

The smell chewing tobacco and stale coffee from the chief’s mouth permeated inside the cab of the truck. Jake’s stomach sickened and he felt himself feeling flushed and very warm all of a sudden.

“They didn’t give me any, Chief,” Jake muttered in a low voice.

“What’s wrong with you, kid?” the chief asked, obviously noticing the pale appearance of Jake.

“Sensitive stomach, Chief, that’s all.”

“Don’t you fucking puke on me, boy,” he said, backing away a few inches. “What’s your name?”

“Jake Sommers.”

“Well, Jake Sommers, sensitive stomach or not, this is a secure area, no paperwork, no entry.” The chief smiled. “Turn that truck around and get the hell out of here.”

“Couldn’t you just call them and ask?” Jake blurted out. “My boss will kill me for not doing what I was supposed to do and I’m new on the job and I have to keep this job and—”

“Jesus Christ—shut the hell up already!” The chief hit the side of the truck with his massive forearm. “Who the hell sent you anyway?”

“The petty officer in charge of the motor pool, that’s where I work. Petty officer Rodgers said to get a five ton and come down to pick up a crate that is coming in on the next flight. He said it must be really important because the lieutenant called and authorized it.”

The chief rubbed the stubble on his chin as he thought for a few seconds. “Wait right here and don’t move an inch. And I mean…not an inch,” he said, as his hand tapped the holster cover.

“Yes, sir.”

“Now don’t move,” the chief said and returned to his guard shack.

Jake could see him through the large window in the side of the shack. The chief picked up the phone and spoke harshly into the receiver. Jake leaned his head closer to the window, so he could hear parts of the conversation.

“Yes, sir, I understand,” the chief said, in a much nicer tone then in which he had addressed Jake earlier. “Yes, sir, I understand. I’ll take care of it. Yes, sir.”

The chief hung up the phone and returned to the truck. “Okay, here’s the deal,” he said to Jake. “I’m going with you. We’re going to pick the item up from the plane and then drop it off over in…a special holding area. You do exactly as I tell you to do. Don’t ask any questions. You understand?”

“Yes, chief.”

No sooner had Jake had answered the question, than the hum of airplane propellers caught Jake’s attention.

“Here’s the Gooney Bird now,” the chief said.

“Gooney Bird?” Jake asked.

“Didn’t I tell you not to ask any questions?”  

“Yes, chief.”

“It’s just the plane’s nickname,” the chief added as he chuckled. “We call and it hauls.” He walked around to the other side of the truck cab and got in.

The two men sat in silence watching the Douglas C-47 Skytrain circle the field to make its final approach.

“I’ve been in the Navy for over twenty years and it never ceases to amaze me how some officers think. Cart their shit from here to there, and back again. But if an enlisted man acts like that…all hell breaks loose.”

Jake sat in silence, listening to the chief’s ramblings as he watched the plane come in on its final approach. It came closer and closer to the ground and then the wheels touched, sending out a plume of dirt. The plane coasted to a stop near the rotary.

“Let’s go,” the chief said.

Jake drove the truck toward the plane and parked. Six heavily armed guards exited the plane and took up position near the cargo ramp. When they were all in place, a lieutenant nodded and the cargo ramp descended.

The chief, watching the activity, sighed sarcastically. “God, you think it was something like King Tut’s shit on board the plane.” The chief turned toward Jake. “I’ll talk to them, you get the truck turned around and backed up to the ramp. And don’t hit anything.”

The chief jumped out. Jake carefully turned the truck around and backed up. When he had it in position, he saw the chief talking to the lieutenant in his side view mirror. He watched the chief’s facial expression change from his earlier frustrated disposition, to a more serious nature as if he was just tasked with doing something of significant importance.

The chief looked in Jake’s direction and shouted, “That’s good. Keep it right there.” Jake opened his door and prepared to get out and help load whatever it was. But before his foot touched the ground, the chief yelled to him.

“Stay in the fucking truck, Sommers! If I see your skinny little ass leave the cab, I’ll shoot you myself!” 

Jake quickly closed the cab door. But in a few seconds, his curiosity became an itch that he could not help but scratch. Slowly, he leaned over enough so that he could see in his side rear mirror. The chief was still talking to the lieutenant and they were close enough for him to hear parts of their conversation.

“Yes, sir, I understand,” the chief said.

“What about the driver?”

“Just a kid. No problem there.”

“You understand where we are to go?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You don’t think the kid will ask questions?”

“No, sir. I’ll ensure that. Besides, he won’t really see anything, just a box.”

“Very well, Chief. Let’s get it loaded so we can get going.”

“Yes, sir.”

Jake saw the large container manhandled off the plane and onto the bed of the truck. He guessed it to be twelve feet long by twelve feet tall, similar to the containers used by the medical people, except this one was green and didn’t have the large crosses painted on the sides.

Next, the cargo gate was slammed into place and locked. Jake sat back and thought how he would be glad when this was over and he was back at the motor pool. He didn’t really like the chief; the man stunk of tobacco, coffee and sour sweat.

The six guards jumped into the bed of the truck. Now Jake was curious what was so important that it took six armed guards to escort it, while on the base. But he remembered the chief’s words: there would be no questions. Jake didn’t want any trouble that might cost him his job. He was here to drive the truck and that was what he would do.

The day was just beginning to fade into dusk as the chief got back in the truck.

“Let’s go,” he said.

Less then a minute later, they pulled away from the rotary and headed inward toward the base.

“I want you to turn off up here.” The chief pointed with his finger. “See where the odd-shaped dune is off on the right?” 

“Yes, chief.”

“Turn right there. It looks like there isn’t anything there, but just keep going straight.”

Jake made the turn, then kept going straight as he as instructed. There was no road, but the ground was level and felt solid enough. They were heading toward a stand of trees off in the distance, maybe a hundred yards or so.

Where the heck are we going?
Jake thought.
Off the base?

 
“Just keep going,” the chief said, as if reading his mind. As the trees got closer, Jake could see an opening. Without being told to, he steered towards it. The chief said nothing. As they approached the opening, the chief turned toward him.

“Listen now. I don’t want to know and I don’t care how you do it, but from this point on, you forget everything you hear or see. You got that?”

“Yes, chief,” Jake answered, feeling a cold chill run down his back. 

“After you go through the opening in the trees, there will be a clearing. Head for it. When we get there, turn the truck to face the way you came in. Stop it and turn it off. Understand?”

“Yes, chief.”

At the clearing, Jake did as instructed; turning around and facing the other direction, his hands shaking as the truck fell silent.

“Now,” the chief began. “I’m going to make sure you don’t get yourself in trouble. I’m going to blindfold you so that you don’t see anything. Can you handle that?”

“Yes, chief, but—”

“No questions, boy! Remember that.” The chief eyed a shirt hanging on a hook in the back of the cab.

“Give me that t-shirt you have hanging up.” The chief took the shirt and folded it lengthwise. “Listen to me and don’t get nervous, boy. This is for your own good. You seem like a good kid, and I don’t want you to get into something you shouldn’t. Now lean over here so I can get this on you.”

Jake hesitated.

“Look, son,” the chief said, in a conciliatory tone. “These are difficult times and we have to do some things and…well, it’s best you don’t know.” 

Jake nervously leaned toward the large man. The chief placed the blindfold on him and tied it off in the back. “How’s that?” the chief asked.

“Okay,” Jake answered nervously.

“Just sit here. This will be over in a few minutes and we’ll be on our way.”

Jake listened as the chief left the truck. Next, he heard the men in back getting out, the box being slid across the floor of the truck, followed by a sound that Jake didn’t know. It sounded like some kind of machinery: a winch, pulley, or something. It ran for about ten seconds and stopped. All was silent for about ten minutes. The next sound was the cab door opening.

“Okay, you can take the blindfold off,” he heard the chief say. Jake removed it and looked toward the chief.

“Drive,” was the only word offered.

Jake placed the truck in gear and began to drive forward. He stole a quick glimpse in his rear view and side view mirrors. There was nothing. No container, no armed guards and no lieutenant. He continued to drive in the direction of the way he had come in. He tried not to think but the mystery crept back in.
What had happened there? Where did the container and the men go? What was in the container?

“Don’t wonder, don’t ask,” the chief said. “Take me back to the rotary.”

They sat in silence as they made their way back to the rotary and the chief’s small runway office. When they arrived, Jake stopped the truck. The chief opened the door and got out, turning to Jake. “You seem like a good kid who needs a job. If you want to keep it, just drop the truck off and call it a night. Go home, have a beer, get laid and just forget about this evening. You ask a question or say something to someone, you’ll be out of a job and maybe even…well, I think you get my drift.” 

“Yes, chief,” Jake said.

“Good. Now get lost.”

Jake took his five-ton truck and headed back to the motor pool. When he arrived, petty officer Rodgers was just coming out of his office and locking up.

“Everything go okay?” he asked. 

“Sure, no problem,” Jake said, remembering the chief’s final words.

“Good. Well, park her and call it a night. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Jake parked the truck, but he didn’t get out. He wanted to let the evening’s events fade away as the chief suggested, but questions kept haunting him.

Where did the container go? What was in it that was so important? Where did the armed men and the lieutenant go? What was all the mystery about? Why was the chief so serious about keeping his mouth shut? Surely, they wouldn’t do anything if he didn’t?

Chapter Four

P
RESENT
D
AY

“Car 156, this is control. Come in, please,” the radio in the police cruiser squawked. Jake jerked out of the past, and stared at the police radio for a few moments without moving, wondering how much time had passed.

“Car 156, this is control. Come in, please.”

Jake looked at his watch, trying to remember when he had met the police officer at the main gate .
When was it…10 a.m.?

He looked at his watch: almost noon. Two hours. He would have to get moving or be caught with the car

“Car 156, this is control. Come in, please.”

Jake turned off the radio. He increased his speed as much as the road would allow. The cruiser bounced and bucked, causing Jake to hit his head on the ceiling a few times, and he cursed. When Jake came to the turn, he slowed. There had never been a road here to begin with, so he wasn’t able to go very fast. The growth was tall, filtering out much of the light. Time was running out.

He drove on until he reached the clearing. He stopped the car and looked around to make sure this was the place. Many things had changed since the last time he’d been here, but the main landmark he recognized immediately: the small hill where the entrance had been.

This is it…just as I remember it. I was looking for answers…but I got something else. Can’t remember all of it—it’s a little fuzzy, but I do know that a part of me wishes I hadn’t. Should have left it alone…

1944

Jake rolled up the sleeves of his T-shirt. At seventeen, he was tall and skinny as a rail, weighing maybe a hundred and twenty pounds. He could easily wrap his hands around the largest part of his arms. Many of the Navy people working at the base were kidded him about putting on some weight before he blew away in the next storm. Some called him a scarecrow, some a stickman. Someone was always telling him to eat something. At lunchtime, people would drop off food for Jake, even though he had brought his own with him.