Alive and Alone (15 page)

“So, you think this Wade boy would walk off that mountain?”

Colonel Wilcox thought for a minute and then replied, “No, not unless he had a good reason.  If something forced him to move, then he’d move, but I don’t think under normal circumstances the boy would leave the aircraft wreckage.”

“What makes you so confident in this kids abilities and thinking Frank?”

“I know him very well and his father was one of the best when he taught survival.  I’m confident we’ll find David near the crash site or someplace safe and sound.  I just don’t see him walking off that mountain for no reason.  Besides,  I don't think he'd want to leave his father's body.”

“When the high winds drop, and what I mean is at any time you have a safe window to fly, you get a bird over the crash site and try to contact Sergeant Banks.”

“Yes sir, I’ll do that.  If Banks is safe he’ll come on the radio at fifteen minutes after and prior to each hour, just to monitor the frequency.”

The general chuckled once more and said, “Uh-huh, I remember the radio routine well.  I can assure you, when you do contact him that first message you send will make his day.”

“Will there be anything else sir?”  Colonel Wilcox started to stand.

“Sit back down Frank and let’s discuss Sergeant Banks for a moment.  Now, you know I don’t just give medals away and I’m a firm believer the recipient has to earn each of them, but Banks will deserve something once this is all over.  Perhaps even a promotion.”

Wilcox nodded and said, “Sir, I think he’d be pleased with whatever medal you pin on his shirt.  He's not in his job for medals.”

“Well, you give the medal some serious thought and let me know later which ones you’ve decided to submit him for.  I’ll not hesitate to endorse it, because any man who’ll spend days out in minus twenty degree weather looking for a survivor surely deserves to be recognized officially.  And, you make sure his next performance report is routed though this office, I’ve some good things to say about Sergeant John Banks.”

“I’ll do that sir, in both cases.”

“That’s it Frank.  Keep on top of the weather and keep it safe.”

Colonel Wilcox stood, saluted the general, and quickly left the office.  Once back in his office he called the weather station, got an update, and then notified Zlotkowski and Baldwin of the mission to fly over the crash site.  

He heard Zee’s voice on the phone reply, “Roger that sir, as soon as we have a clear window we’ll leave.  I’ll keep it safe too sir, just keep me informed of the weather so I don’t get trapped out there.”

“Zee, just do your best and I’ll be satisfied.”

“Will do, sir.”

“Take care and good luck.”  Colonel Wilcox said as he hung the phone up.

Picking the phone up, the colonel called the life support shop and heard a voice answer, “Life support, Sergeant Hopkins speaking, may I help you?”

“Sergeant Hopkins, this is Colonel Wilcox of SAR, can you tell me the battery life of a PRC-90 radio.”

“Sure sir, it’s usually six to eight hours, but high and low temperatures can affect that time zone.  See, if it’s too cold the battery may die for a period of time, but if the survivor warms it up it can be used again.  We teach downed aircrews to keep the radio warm at all times, so they can use the radio when they need it.”

“How many batteries come with the PRC-90?”

“That depends on which survival kit or gear it’s packed, sir.  In the MD-1 survival kit there isn’t a spare, while the SRU-21/P survival vest has one spare.  Of course the large life raft survival kits have two spares.”

“Thanks Sergeant Hopkins, but one last question.”

“Yes sir?”

“Do the P.J.’s get their survival equipment refresher training from you guys and gals at the life support shop?”

“No, sir, the P.J.’s have a life support technician detached to them.”

Of course,
the colonel thought,
I knew that.  The position just opened a few months back.  
But, he said
,
“I appreciate your information sergeant.”

“Not a problem colonel and feel free to call us any time.”

If the P.J.’s have their own life support section I don’t have to ask how well Banks does in training. Obviously, he’s good or the instructor would have said something to me.  I’m just surprised I forgot Airman Wilson and that’s not good at all.  It just goes to prove I’m too far removed the real action and missing a lot of information,
Colonel Wilcox thought as he picked up his cup of coffee and took a sip.

“Sir, I hate to bother you, but there is a newspaper man out by my desk asking to speak to you.”  Technical Sergeant Malory said as he stuck his head in the doorway.

“A what?”

“A reporter sir and he said he wants to speak with you, about the Wade rescue.”

“Keep him waiting until I clear this through public affairs.”  Colonel Wilcox replied as he picked up the phone once more.

“Major French, public affairs, how may I help you?”

“Major, Colonel Wilcox here, did you authorize a newspaper reporter to interview me today?”

“Uh, yes sir, but that was just a few minutes ago and I didn’t have time to let you know.”

“The next time you
will
call me first and coordinate all interviews, won’t you Major French?  I dislike surprises, major.”

“I’m sorry sir, except I thought one of my people had already spoken with you.”

“Well, they didn’t.”  Wilcox closed the line and thought,
A newspaper reporter! This is not good at all.  I’ll have to be careful how I answer this man’s questions or I’ll be misquoted in print.

Finishing his coffee, he called Sergeant Malory on the intercom and had the reporter sent in.  The man was dressed in a military surplus parka, had snow boots on, and his mittens were hanging on cords tied to his sleeves.  He was a young man, not over twenty-five, good looking, and his eyes spoke of a deep intelligence.

“Glad to see you colonel. My name is Williams and I work for the Anchorage Daily Dispatch.”  The reporter spoke with a Midwestern twang.

“Have a seat Mister Williams.  Now, what can I do for you?”  Colonel Wilcox said and pulled a pen from the top middle drawer of his desk.

“I have a few questions about the Wade crash.”

“Okay, I’ll answer them if I can.”

“Would you say Doctor Wade was a good pilot?  I ask this question because I understand you knew him personally.”

“He was certified and qualified to fly and as far as I knew he was an excellent pilot.”

“Does the Air Force have any idea of what caused the crash?”

Careful here, he’s fishing for a reason for the crackup,
the colonel thought but said, “The United States Air Force is only assisting in the rescue efforts and the FAA will determine the cause of the crash, not us.  The cause of the crash is actually a civilian matter.”

“I understand.”  Williams replied as his pen moved on the small tablet he held on his right knee.  And then, he asked, “Has there been any word of David Wade and the pararescueman left behind?”

I wonder where he found out about Banks,
Wilcox thought.  “At this time the weather has us socked in and we’ve not been able to get airborne to continue the rescue.  So, to answer your question, no, we’ve no word since the man was left behind to look for the lone survivor.  By the way, Sergeant Banks requested to stay behind to continue his mission.”

“Do you think you could arrange an interview with Doctor Wade’s wife for me?  I have a few questions I’d like to ask her.”  William asked and then gave a shy grin.

“I’ll ask Cathy Wade, but I can make no promises.”  The colonel replied quickly, knowing he'd not ask.  She had enough on her plate without dealing with reporters.

“One last question sir, when will rescue efforts resume and how long will it take to get the two people out?”

“We cannot get into the air until this front passes.  How long the actual rescue will take depends on a number of factors, such as wind, weather, where the rescue takes place, as well as the physical and mental condition of both people on the ground.”

Standing, Willis said, “I think I have enough to do a story.  I’ve interviewed some of Doctor Wade’s friends, the FAA, the control tower, and of course, you.  The tower folks didn’t tell me much, except to say the crash was under investigation and they couldn’t talk about it.”

The next morning over breakfast, Colonel Wilcox almost choked on his coffee when he read the headlines, ‘USAF Leaves a Man Behind During Rescue Attempt.’  He felt his face turning red in anger and heard Carol ask, “What’s the matter Frank, you’re as red as a beet.”

Holding the paper so his wife could read the headlines, he said, “It makes it look like we left Banks behind by accident and that’s not the way it happened at all!”

CHAPTER 12

F
OUR
HOURS
LATER
the storm was still blowing hard, but Banks had determined David’s skin tissue was just a little frost nip and not anything serious.  When the young man had awakened most of his normal color had returned to his face and hand, indicating all he needed was to warm up.  Over a meal of MRE stew, the two talked of what was to come.

“I’ve only one pair of snowshoes, so the going will be slow.  From what I could tell, we are less than three miles from where the smoke was,” Banks spoke as he leaned back on his casualty blanket.

“We’ll just have to go slowly then.  I know with you along we’ll get there, but I wasn’t so sure when I was alone.  I’ve never been as frightened in my life as I was when I realized my father was dead.”

Banks gave the young man a weak grin and said, “That’s to be expected.  We grow up with our parents taking care of us and in a situation like the one you faced; your survival security disappeared with the death of your father.  David, I know your father would be proud of you, because I am.  Of all the environments in the world to survive in the arctic cold and desert heat are the two extremes.  But, you not only survived, you took actions to make sure you survived and that makes you different than most folks.”

“Different?  How so?”

The P.J. chuckled and replied, “Most folks simply live until they are rescued, but you did what needed to be done to insure you’d survive.  Things like killing the moose, making a shelter, building a fire, making jerky, and the list goes on.  You’re different than many survivors, because your actions directly resulted in your survival.”

“I just did what needed to be done, that’s all.  I have to admit though; I did some pretty stupid things at first.”

Once again, Banks laughed and said, “It was your first time as a survivor, so it’s expected.  Not to mention you were facing the death of your father, extremely low temperatures, and your first night in the woods all alone.  You did very well, all things considered.”

“How will my mom be notified of dad’s death?”  David asked seriously.

“Colonel Wilcox and a priest or minister will go to your home to inform her.  Then, if she wishes, the religious representative will stay with her so they can pray or talk.  It’s a terrible job, filled with lots of emotions, but the colonel has been doing it for years.  I suspect in your case he’ll have a rough time of it, since he was a friend of your father.”

David said, “I like the colonel and he’s been a friend of the family as long as I can remember.  I think he’ll help my sister and mother as much as he can, but they’ll be worried sick about me.”

“There is nothing I can do right now and no way to let them know I’ve found you either.  We’ll go to the smoke, stay there until the weather breaks, and then I’ll signal a rescue aircraft.  The Air Force knows I’m out here, so they’ll be back.  We try to never leave a person behind, even in combat situations.”

Silence filled the small shelter until Banks reached into his backpack and removed a pair of wool socks.  Handing them to David he said, “Change your socks and put these on.  They’re made of wool and will keep your feet toasty warm even if they get wet.  In the morning before we head out I have some other clothing items I want you to wear.”

David removed his hiking boots, pulled off his old socks and was surprised at how comfortable the new wool socks were.  His old socks were cotton and his feet had felt frozen as he’d walked.  He knew immediately the wool would be much warmer and he smiled as he felt his feet warming up.

The rest of the evening went by with the two making small talk, snacking on candy and sipping hot drinks.  Finally, Banks and David went to sleep, with the young man in the sleeping bag and the P.J. in the casualty blanket.  Just before he drifted off to sleep, Banks looked over at sleeping David Wade and said in a low voice, “Thank you, God.”

Morning came with the air bone chilling cold and thick clouds overhead.  Standing by the shelter, David was wearing a bright orange jacket that kept him warm, along with a facemask, mittens, and his wool socks.  While Banks only had one pair of goggles, he gave them to the young man and smeared some soot from a candle under his eyes.  David had lost the pair he’d started with, so he appreciated the eye protection.  Banks knew the dark line under his eyes would protect him from snow blindness if the sun made even a token appearance.  Turning to David he asked, “You ready to go?  If the weather holds we should be at the smoke before noon.”