- Mission Accomplished

Jim spoke into his radio as his truck negotiated a quickly executed sharp right turn onto another dirt road a few miles northeast of Hebron and parallel to Highway 81.

“Where are you?” He said.  The tin can tone of Jon’s voice replied:

“I’m with the trooper.  Were on some farm road in the vicinity of the main dirt road intersection,” Jon said, referring to another intersection crossing the road he had just turned into.  “I just ran into a dead end.  I’ll have to find my way around to get back to you, over.”

“Roger,” Jim replied. He glanced over at Don who was listening intensely to the DF headset.  Without looking up, he pointed down the road, motioning Jim to keep going.  They were close. 

Behind them, the other CAP truck followed closely, obscured in the cloud of dust Jim’s truck kicked up, tinted red by the tail lights as they barreled along the road.  Jon and the trooper were behind them somewhere, and coming up fast, but Jim couldn’t see them yet.

“Let me know when you’re back at the intersection,” Jim said into the mic.  “The DF is almost pegged out.  We’re definitely in the right place, over.”

“Roger.  Out.” came the reply from Jon. 

Jim set the mic down and stared into the blackness all around them, the brown earth of the dirt road zooming under them, each bit reflected for a moment in the bright yellow headlights.  He tried to scan the area ahead, trying to pick up some sign of the plane.  He was no longer looking for burn evidence, or a large debris field, just a wreck.  If that plane had burned, there would be no one going to no hospital, that was for sure - unless it was for the morgue. 

That was good, but it made the search difficult to do in the dark, but that’s why they started putting ELTs in planes in the first place. 

To his left he could make out a stand of trees some distance off, silhouetted against the black backdrop.  Another small road appeared on the left ahead.  He began to slow as he approached it.  Just then Don shouted:

“Whoa! Stop here!” 

Jim hit the brakes and brought the truck to a skidding halt across the rough surface of the road.  He grabbed the radio microphone.

“This is CAP-1!  CAP 2, hold your position!” he barked into it. 

Don jumped out of the truck as soon as it stopped, and stood in the middle of the intersection.  He held the DE in front of him, swinging it slowly back and forth and listening to the intensity of the tone waver in his headset.  He stared straight ahead, into the blackness beyond the roads, washed by the headlight of the other truck which was rolling up in a cloud of dust to stop on the side of the road behind Jim.

Jim threw the truck in park and jumped out.  This road had to be the one Larry had identified, he thought.  Don turned to face roughly southwest and stopped, standing perfectly still for a few moments.  Then he lifted his finger and pointed to an unseen spot somewhere in the distance directly ahead.

“There it is,” he said.  Jim stared at the spot shrouded in darkness for a second, momentarily relieved. 

They found it. 

He turned to address the team members that were dismounting the two vehicles.

“Alright Team, let’s form a line south from this intersection! 25 foot interval!” he shouted.  “Keep up good verbal communications!  Report anything you see immediately!  Stay on line and keep good visual contact with your right and your left! Understand?!”

A chorus of ‘Yes Sir!’ was shouted from the team. 

They quickly finished their equipment checks and the beams of several high power flashlights popped on, one by one, piecing through the dust that was held suspended in the frozen air around them.  They began to work their way down the road to their relative positions roughly 25 feet apart until they each stood in place facing silently into the darkness in front of them, waving their lights from side to side, each one in their own secret way hoping they would be the one to find it. 

Jim hurried back to the cab of his truck and called Jon on the radio.

“We’ve got the signal strong on the DL, and are organizing the ground sweep right now,” he said.  “What’s your twenty?”

“I’m still working my way to you about 2 miles south,” Jon replied.  “I’ll see you there.”   

“Roger that.  I am starting the sweep.”  Jim replied.  “Out.”

He made his way down the line to where Don stood facing into the dark. 

“Move out!”  Jim hollered.  He watched as the team carefully made their way into the shallow ditch beside the road.  Voices began to call out through the dark, warning others about the barbed wire fence bordering the field on the other side of the ditch and other hazard as they moved onto the plowed field. 

They moved slowly, but with purpose.  Everyone was trained here.  They all knew what to do.  After several minutes there came a startled cry from one of the cadets just off to Jim’s left.

“Plane!” the voice shouted excitedly.  “We have the plane!  We have the plane!!” 

Other voices called out excitedly in acknowledgement, and the rest of the team began to converge on the source of the call.  Jim stood and called out:

“Everyone!  Assemble on the plane!” he called out towards the team.  “Watch for debris and be careful!”

 “I’ve got something here..!”  Another young voice yelled out.  “Jesus! I think I found someone!”

Jim jumped over the fence and quickly made his way over to the young man, standing still and staring at the dirty and bloody blanket spread across the top half and head of the woman, lying frozen to the ground.  He picked his way over the debris that scattered around the area until he got to him.  When he saw the body, he bent down and touched her hand.  It was ice.

There was nothing they could do for her. 

Jim turned to go toward the plane, but as he did he noticed the cadet who discovered the body was still staring at her, as if in a trance.  Unfortunately he had seen that before.  The horror of death when a young cadet sees it for the first time can freeze you up.  It just sucks you in like a vortex and won’t let you go.  Jim patted him on the shoulder.  It was a hard part of the job, but an unfortunately necessary part, nonetheless.

“There’s nothing we can do for her,” he said gently.  The cadet glanced at him nervously and swallowed hard. 

“You did your part for her, okay?” he said.  “You found her, and that’s your job.  That’s what we do.”

 The young man nodded, the horrified look still embedded on his face like a mask.

“Let’s assemble the team.” Jim said, and took the cadet by the shoulder, guiding him away from the poor woman.

The young man nodded, his eyes still fixed on mom for some time as they both walked over toward where the rest of the team had assembled near the motionless corpse of our shattered airplane.  Their lights washed over the wreckage, illuminating it fully.  Down the road, Jim could see Jon’s truck and the blue and red lights of the State Trooper flashing through the fog of dust suspended on the road, coming toward them.  They pulled in near the other vehicles and dismounted, making their way towards where the rest of the team stood

Jim was awestruck.  The area around the crash was littered with clothing, as if it had exploded from the plane on impact.  The plane itself sat dug into the ground, and was entirely twisted and ravaged.  The entire empennage was buckled and bent down from the fuselage at a weird angle.  Various chunks of assorted debris littered the path it had traveled.

The right side of the nose and the copilot compartment were peeled open exposing the gaping wound that mom had been flung through.  The left side was crumpled and shoved inward.  Both wings were gone just past the engines.  The propellers were still somehow connected to the engines but were bent into spirals from whipping into the ground as they impacted.  The right windshield was shattered out, and the remaining plexiglass fragments hung jaggedly inside the frame.

The entire plane was wrapped in barbed wire.  Near the rear, the small cargo door was open and bent forward.  The plane was a mess, but somehow had stayed together and didn’t burn up.  How that happened was anybody’s guess, Jim thought.

Don made his way toward the hole in front of the right wing and gingerly worked his way into the wreckage, sliding into the pilot seat. He shined his light around the interior of the cockpit pausing at the smears of blood and dirt that commingled all around him.  Then he reached down to the left of the pilot seat on the bulkhead, to where the ELT silently pulsed its signal into the air.  He felt underneath it for the override switch, found it, and toggled it to the opposite position. 

The signal went dead. 

Thousands of feet above them, Looking Glass heard the signal cease and knew the CAP had gotten them.  Their task complete, they disengaged, turned toward Washington D.C., and headed home.

Jim looked at the team moving slowly around the area searching for anyone else.  Voices called out to each other as they systematically searched.  They all knew what to do.  They had done one hell of a job tonight that was for sure.  He was very, very proud of them all.

Mission accomplished.

Jim continued to take in the scene as Jon made his way to him.  They both stared in silence as the cadets continued to search around the plane for other victims.

“People survived this?”  Jon wondered aloud.  Jim nodded encompassed in his own disbelief of the fact.

“So far,” he said.

Jon shined his light on the plane slowly looking over the paint and markings.  He carefully walked around it, and then returned to where Jim stood.

“I know this plane!” he said, realizing that he recognized it from the Lincoln airport.  He had seen it there often, and had talked to dad on several occasions about it.  It was a nice plane. 

He shook his head.  “I think it belongs to a guy named Styner…”