Chapter 7

What a bummer! I was so embarrassed to sound a false alarm like that. When I got home and shared the events of the day with Mum she darkly said.

“Winston warned us of the Russians, I just hope this is nothing.” The way she said, “Winston,” gave me pause.

“Mum did you know Winston Churchill personally.”

“Of course I did, Elizabeth and I would stop at Number 10 Downing almost every night; they always had good hot tea on, all through the war. He usually was down in his hole, but he frequently would come out and join us.”

“What was the ‘hole’?” I asked.

“A deep bomb shelter; where they did all the planning for the war. It was an ugly dreary place, I only went down once, and never cared if I saw it again.”

What you don’t know about your parents!

I puttered in the garage with my hairdryer the rest of the afternoon trying different fan speeds and temperatures. I must have wetted and dried the hair from Mrs. Baily fifty times. Well actually according to my notebooks it was forty-one times.

Dinner was a quiet affair, we had pork chops and mashed potatoes. Dad was on the train to Cleveland and wouldn’t be back till tomorrow. It was supposed to get really cold tonight; I hoped he didn’t freeze in that caboose. They had a little coal fed stove, but the car was so drafty that it wasn’t much help.

Dad said they used to be in good condition but the railroads were losing so much money they weren’t repairing their equipment.

I had to talk to Dad when he got home. I know he was a little touchy about using the money I had given the family, but he really didn’t have to work on the railroad anymore. He should quit and focus all his efforts on getting the rental housing business going.

Just as we finished dinner the phone rang. Mum answered it, “Jackson residence.”

She turned to me, “Ricky it is for you,’ handing me the instrument.

“Hello, Rick Jackson here, who is this?”

“Rick it is Lou Sperry at the motel. The guy that you were asking about just checked out, that is a little strange because he was booked until the day after tomorrow. People don’t check out late in the afternoon, just thought I would let you know. Oh yeah, and he was dressed all in black.”

“Thanks, Mr. Sperry, I owe you one.”

“Now what to do,” I wondered.

“What was that about Ricky?” inquired Mum.

I relayed my conversation with Mr. Sperry.

She told me, “I think it is time that you took a little run, it is dark out; why don’t you run up by the airbase and see if any strange cars are parked there. If there are you might want to let the Officer of the Day know he might be having a visitor.”

“Good thinking Mum, and if it is nothing I will come right home.”

Before I left I made a quick stop at the gun cabinet and retrieved one of my Colts and checked that it was loaded. I put it in my coat pocket. Mum saw this but said nothing.

It was a ten-minute trot up to where I had seen the Bel Air parked before. While running up to the parking spot I realized I was missing my first Spanish lesson. When I got there, the car was parked there, and this time I knew the license plate number, it was the car from the motel. No one was in it.

I flat out ran, to the front gate and asked to see the Officer of the Day. I thought I might be given a hard time but the airman just picked up his phone. The officer who showed up was someone who I hadn’t met, a Lieutenant Foster. I quickly told him my story.

He had been brought up to date on the events earlier in the day and made some decisions quickly. He first put in a call to Colonel Manning. He then detailed a couple of airmen armed with 38 revolvers to accompany us. We went to a vacant building next to the fence with a clear view of the radomes. No lights were turned on.

I heard one of the airmen, whisper; “I hope the Colonel gets here with the key to the armory.”

I gave him a searching look which he took as a question.

“We don’t have any bullets, they’re locked up.”

“Huh?” I brilliantly went.

The lieutenant explained, in peacetime, there is a greater danger of gun accidents rather than actually needing them loaded, so the procedure is to keep the bullets locked up until needed.”

I almost got a headache thinking of it.

I didn’t get a chance, the other airman urgently whispered, “Sir,” and pointed out the window.

We could see a shadowy figure at the fence. It appeared to be doing something to the fence. The figure raised its arms I could see that it was a pair of bolt cutters. They were large, like the ones the janitors used at school to cut old locks off lockers.

We watched as the figure continued cutting.

The lieutenant said, “Let’s wait till he is on our side of the fence before taking him. That way there is no question he is up to no good.”

I liked this lieutenant’s attitude a whole lot more than the FBI’s.

It didn’t take long before the figure lifted a portion of the fence and crawled under it. We went outside and came up behind a man who was fastening something to the base of the largest radome.

The lieutenant said, “Halt, hands up.”

The airman had their unloaded weapons out. I eased my loaded Colt peacemaker out of my pocket.

The man turned and pulled a pistol. As he was turning I shot at him. We were both lucky. I missed him; I also missed the dynamite he was attaching to the tower leg. He quickly lowered his pistol when he saw all weapons facing him.

The airman marched him and his bag full of equipment to the dayroom. The Colonel arrived about that time.

He took one quick look at the contents of the bag and said, “Go on High Alert, lock the base down, no one in, no one out.”

Turning to the lieutenant he handed him a key.

“Arm all guards; set two guards at the breach in the fence. Set up the floodlights to illuminate the breach at the fence.”

He then picked up a phone on the day room desk. He identified himself and told whoever he was talking to that the base had an attempted breach and was on High Alert. He recommended that Wright Patterson and Lockbourne be scrambled.

He said, “Yes Sir,” and hung up.