(Perhaps it’s the only way it can be told)

 

Chapter 1

Roy reached across the aisle of the DC-3 as it flew over Mexican skies. “Professor Cadwell, I presume.” He extended his hand.

The professor in his wire rimmed glasses, salt and pepper goatee, and bush helmet, looked the epitome of an academician. “Sorry I didn’t introduce myself sooner, old Boy, I was a bit flustered over this sudden soiree we’ve been assigned to.”

“Yeah, they pulled me off my regular work, and threw me onto this mission as well. They rushed me out of DC and had me flown to San Antonio Air Field where we took off from.”

“Yes,” Cadwell admitted. “I was pulled out of my think tank meeting and sent on this wild goose chase.” The professor rubbed his face tiredly as he explained.

“I assume you’re been briefed then,” Roy replied. “Don’t worry, these two fine gentle men are cleared for security, and you are….”Roy gestured to the two elite soldiers seated next to them.

“Tech Sergeant Duffy,” the stout soldier replied extending his hand to both Roy and the professor.

“Lieutenant Bennington,” the other soldier muttered. “We’re here to ensure safety of the primary personnel involved here, which would be the two of you.”

“By the way,” Roy added matter of factly, “I’ll be the mission archivist, a legal witness to document all this.”

“Why the hell are we in an aging DC-3 on a retrieval mission?” Roy asked.

“The Pentagon wants this operation to appear to be a civilian effort rather than anything military. Intentions are high, and not only the drug cartel, but foreign elements could be present!” Lieutenant Bennington snapped, as if he resented being a part of the affair.

The converted cargo plane was jolted by an updraft and all men grabbed the aisle struts that their seating had been welded to, after all it was originally a parachute troop aircraft now converted for this mission. Outside from 10,000 feet, the air was partly cloudy, and below nothing but a lush green carpet of jungle that seemed to extend to the horizon.

Roy pointed to a sinister looking black box in the professor’s lap, “And what do we have here?”

“Oh,” Cadwell explained, “This is a miniaturized combination of instruments I brought along to help detect the precise location of our objective, containing such devices as a metal anomaly detector, a Geiger counter, an EMP indicator. All standard scientific stuff. I just created an all in one easy to carry tool.”

“Pretty ingenious, Professor,” Bennington nodded.

“Yeah, it looks like something out of science fiction movie,” Roy added.

“I’ll be notifying the Captain shortly about the exact longitude and latitude when we arrive. NORAD notified us of the approximate position after the spy satellite was knocked out of orbit by something or someone,” Cadwell elaborated.

“Uh huh,” grunted Sergeant Duffy. “Dropped into a potential meat grinder with limited resources.”

“Hold on Sergeant,” Bennington cautioned, “We’re here to get in and out ASAP. The Carrier, the USS Harry S. Truman, will be in support of this mission, and they’re out in the gulf awaiting any emergency we might run into! They’re off the coast of the Yucatan peninsula somewhere out in the gulf.”

“It seems a bit vague to me, Sir. That’s all I’m saying,” Duffy, an experienced, vet added.

“You just stay alert, and maybe we’ll get out of this in one piece!” The lieutenant replied.

The black box in the professor’s lap began to blink red. He punched a button and a small screen popped up. “There’s confirmation of the debris field coordinates,” Cadwell announced. He reached for a microphone on the intercom speaker. “This is Cadwell. I have the coordinates of the crash zone! About 4 kilometers from the LZ. Do you copy?”

“Roger,” I’ll mark it now. Give me the latitude and longitude, Sir.”

The professor read off the coordinates and sighed as if relieved. Once again the DC-3 lost about 100 feet in altitude due to turbulence as everyone grabbed the railing again. Roy cursed under his breath. He didn’t enjoy flying.

A voice crackled over the intercom speaker, “This is Captain Carlson, everybody make sure you’re thoroughly strapped in. I’m going to make a series of turns to descend into the valley down there so I can level out and line up with the air strip. Might get a little rough!”

“Oh great,” Roy muttered.

“Take it easy, Old Boy,” Cadwell assured Roy. “I’ve been through this countless times. “It’ll be fine.” Roy nodded unsurely.

“Piece of cake,” Duffy snorted.

“We’ll be in a designated landing zone they call a safe harbor. It’s one of many emergency landing and re-supply sites for Air Force One or any other major diplomatic aircraft in the event of WWIII.” Lieutenant Bennington advised. “We’ll have all the comforts of home once in the bunker.”

“Warms my heart,” Remarked Duffy sarcastically.

The Captain maneuvered the DC-3 into a slow spiral downward until he could line up with the tarmac. It consisted of red earth over a system of interconnected metal mesh plates. It was anything but smooth or comfortable as opposed to landing on a concrete runway. The aging cargo plane bounced initially then finally settled into a stable landing. The cross winds traveling over the valley had made the descent feel a bit dicey.

Carlson taxied the DC-3 to the end of the air strip and turned the aircraft around for takeoff when it would be time. There was nothing but a wind sock on a pole and, what appeared to be a storage building near the end of the field. They all grabbed their gear and exited via a belly ramp from beneath the cargo plane. Two things were clear to Roy. Carlson was not only a pilot but the commanding officer, and Duffy and Bennington quickly snapped to when the Captain spoke.

“Duffy! Get a drone up and running. I want to find out if we got company anywhere near this LZ (Landing Zone). Lieutenant, walk the perimeter and make sure everything is secure!” Carlson barked. “We’ll also need a visual on the crash site before it gets dark!”

Carlson led the professor and Roy into the small building. “Watch your feet, “Carlson warned and then pressed against a wall panel. The floor of the storage building retracted revealing a stair case that descended down into a yellow painted living area with a kitchen and all the essentials. The interior walls were painted concrete, all clean, and neat.

“Like I said. All the comforts of home. We got 12 bunk beds, A/C, a septic system, food, filtered water, a fridge, a freezer, solar electricity, and a backup diesel generator. Here’s the observation room, he gestured. Sadly, no party girls, but we do have a liquor closet, ice cubes, and soft drinks as mixers!”

“A virtual tropical vacation!” Roy quipped.

“I wish,” The Captain replied. “Let me rummage through the freezer see if we can rustle up some grub. No C-Rations for us! “

The professor spoke as he dropped his gear on one of the bunk beds, “Mind if I get myself a drink?”

“Better wait until we’re completely situated. Let’s not get inebriated yet! Oh, great! I found frozen beef stew and rice! Fit for a king.” The captain laughed.

Roy walked over to the professor. “So, what’s the scuttlebutt on this mission, Professor?”

Cadwell drew out a long sigh, “You know I’m under an oath of secrecy, but what the hell. You’re the archivist you’re going to know anyway!”

The Captain walked into the darkened observation room filled with flat screens and watched the aerial drone footage as the professor explained, “We lost a brand new top of the line spy satellite that wouldn’t have entered into a decaying orbit for another 30 years! According to NORAD a UAP was detected in the same orbital altitude as our satellite. Whatever or whoever it was not only knocked out the spacecraft, but precisely landed it in a clearing in this Yucatan jungle! I think NASA acknowledges that we don’t have that capability. There was speculation when I left the think tank in DC that this was an extraterrestrial intervention of some kind so recovering the hard drive of that satellite will give us all the information we are seeking. So you can see why this mission is of paramount importance!”

“Wow!” Roy gasped, “I was briefed but they kept me in the dark over this.”

“Yet, you’re supposed to be documenting this whole mission?” Professor Cadwell nodded his head, “Typical government bungling! Don’t worry, my Boy, I’ll make sure you’re covered.”  

“Roy! Do you want to heat up the beef stew and boil some rice? The men are going to be pretty hungry and tired.”

“Sure,” Roy replied as he searched the galley for pots and pans.

Just then Duffy entered from outside, “Got the drone footage on the crash site. The satellite appears damaged but relatively intact. The immediate area seems quiet. No intruders. Maybe nobody saw us land!”

“Okay, we’ll leave here at the crack of dawn, everyone, to recover that package!” Carlson chimed in.

Carlson walked over to a console transmitter to radio the carrier group in the gulf. “Blackjack this is LZ 3031. This is LZ 3031. Can you read me, over?”

“This is Blackjack. This is Blackjack. We read you loud and clear! Over.”

“Will commence operation in 0500 hours. Repeat, will commence operation in 0500 hours. How about chopper availability in the event we need backup? Over.”

“Will make course adjustment. We’re too far out in the gulf to launch yet. Keep us advised!”

“Roger, Blackjack. How long will that take? Over.”

“24 hours from now, LZ 3031. Keep us advised. Over”

“Shit!” Duffy blurted out. “A lot can happen in 24 hours!”

“Can it Duffy!” Lieutenant Bennington shouted! “One more out of you, and I’m going to put you on report! Is that clear?”

“Aye, Sir!” The Sergeant saluted.

“Alright! Alright!” Captain Carlson called out. “Everyone chill out and that’s an order! Everyone get yourself a drink. Let’s keep an eye on the camera monitors just in case!”

Luckily, the food heated up fast and the rice was done so everyone could dig in. Chunks of beef in gravy with vegetables over rice really hit the spot, Roy thought.

“Good job!” Carlson grinned as he took another bite. “Maybe you should have been a cook instead of a combat journalist,” he quipped.

“Ah, I came from a big family and Mom showed me how to cook. That’s when I was convinced not to pursue the culinary arts!”

“How big a family did you come from?” Duffy asked.

“Five boys and two girls,” Replied as he scooped up another mouthful of the dinner.

“Well, your Mama and Papa sure knew how to spend their leisure time together didn’t they?” Duffy laughed.

Bennington slugged the sergeant in the shoulder. “This man just cooked you a tasty dinner and you’re going to insult him?”

“Shit! I was just kidding. That’s all!” Duffy shrugged. “I didn’t mean anything, kid.”

Carlson smiled at Roy with his long hair and beard he looked more like a musician than a civilian military contractor, “You did good! That beat the hell out of our MRE’s!”

The captain stood up and stretched his arms out. “I’m going to check out the plane. That landing was pretty rough. I don’t want any surprises when we exit out’ve here. I’m going to check out the landing gear and stuff before I hit the sack!”

Bennington’s booming voice echoed through the room, “Alright men clean your own plates, drink your own drinks, and sleep by yourself in your own bunk!” He snickered.

 

Chapter 2

The Yucatan jungle night had crept across the land and long shadows now hung in the air. Everyone was settling down for a much needed rest when the unthinkable happened. The bunker was rocked by an outside explosion! A flash of fire and black smoke flooded the air strip outside the entrance to the bunker! Duffy sprang to the monitor screens to see what had happened! The men were suddenly aroused from a mellow, alcohol induced, sleepy mood into an adrenaline ignited sense of paranoia! Roy ran to the kitchen and splashed water on his face to sober himself!

“Jesus Christ!” Duffy angrily yelled!

Bennington grabbed a rifle from the weapon storage rack and climbed the stairs to the outside, hitting a button that would open the floor of the storage building. He could feel the heat from the fire and his worst fears were realized! The damn DC-3 was ablaze!

“Oh hell!” he cried! The Lieutenant crept slowly forward and looked for Carlson! The captain was nowhere to be found which meant that he had been most likely inside the aircraft! However, he’d have to make sure! In order that he would know whether or not the Captain had sabotaged their plane or not! In all likelihood Carlson hadn’t but still he had to make sure! There was only one good thing about this. In the darkness of the Yucatan night less of a telltale fire could be seen, but still the flames themselves could attract searching eyes. They were in deep shit now. No way to ignore that!

Any camera that had infrared capacity was knocked out by the intensity of the radiance of the fire! Duffy tried to make adjustments, tried to move the motorized ones away from the blaze, but all in all they were now 50% blinded of security camera coverage! That was something to worry about! Liquid melting Plexiglas, rubber, and other materials dripped from the burning DC-3. The fumes were enough to overwhelm a man. Then it occurred to Bennington that the fuel tank could blow at any time! He raced back down the steps and closed the mechanical entrance! From outside another explosion rocked the bunker! That was the fuel tank, he thought!

“Ah, hell!” Duffy groaned that did the rest of the cameras in! We’re blind now!” He walked over the weapons rack and grabbed a rifle and ammunition! “Damn it! I knew some kind of shit would go down!”

Professor Cadwell who had been stunned into silence walked over to Duffy, “Didn’t you say that the drone footage showed no enemy troops or drug cartel anywhere near the airstrip?”

“Yeah,” Duffy replied, “So?”

“Don’t you see?” The professor pointed out, “The explosion came from either an aerial delivered cellulose guided missile, or it was internal. There was a bomb planted inside the plane. If it had been a guided missile that’s just about impossible, but if it were a time bomb.”

“If it were a time bomb then someone definitely miscalculated,” Duffy concluded.

“Maybe it was a defective timer. Maybe there was some kind of electronic interference,” The professor theorized.

Bennington slammed a fist against the kitchen counter, “That wasn’t from an RPG or missile. That fire looked to have come from inside the DC-3 and that’s where Captain Carlson is!”

“It couldn’t have been from an aircraft. Anyone approaching the North or South American continent would be intercepted by radar guided jet fighters from the US Air Force especially that carrier group that’s’ in the Gulf right now!”

“That would be by F-18 Super Hornets off the USS Harry S.Truman!” The lieutenant determined grimly.

In Part Two we will conclude the outcome!