Chapter 2

Year Two: Day Two: Tuesday

The bad thing about a weekday holiday is returning to work the day after. None of us had imbibed that much the day before; in fact as far as I knew none of the women had drunk at all, still it was hard getting up at 5:30.

The flight over to NAS Pensacola in the Sabreliner VIP aircraft was less than 15 minutes. We were met by Chuck Swanson, commander of Det Two on the ramp. He was driving one of the Ford Explorers that we had modified to run off of the vegetable bio-diesel we were producing at our own plant at Whiting Field.

Chuck was a tall man who had been hunting in the Alabama woods during the collapse. He had lost his entire family during the collapse, including twin boys that had been starting defensive ends on the Monroeville High School football team. Despite all of that he was normally upbeat and an excellent detachment leader. Chuck's situation wasn't unusual, as most of those serving on the detachments were either single or widowed.

At the moment there were six 26-person security detachments actively deployed to five important military bases other than the four that had active towns. This provided needed security on those bases to protect the military assets and support facilities from looters and vandalism. Each detachment rotated to each of the five bases and then spent four weeks at that location before moving on to the next base. At the end of a 20 week cycle the detachment would stand down at the detachments 'town' for a four-week training period. Recently we discovered that the four week training period was too short and so two additional detachments were being created to increase the training time and perhaps add another major base to the rotation.

Chuck presented me a sharp military style salute which I returned. I then shook his hand and said, "How are things over here? It's been a month since I've been onboard Pensacola."

Chuck opened the back of the explorer so Mike and Ron Simmons and the two aviation cadets could put the tool boxes in the back. As he moved he said, "It's quiet here. I thought this job would be exciting, but it's nothing but months and months of boredom punctuated by a few moments of excitement. Pensacola has been almost ghostly quiet lately. Everyone's looking forward to our next progression, back at Whiting."

I chuckled and said, "Everyone's looking forward to you getting back. You know you may be off longer than four weeks. Det Seven and Eight are almost through training. When they are commissioned they will be added to the rotation as well."

Chuck moved into the driver's seat of the explorer and said, "Surely you're not going to stand down each group for twelve weeks at a time, are you?"

I answered, "That's still being discussed. There will be a commander's conference before anything is decided. Some ideas are to add a roving assignment covering the National Guard Armories to the rotation, and then to break after three stops. We could have detachments go through Kingsville, Gulfport, and Pensacola, and then back to Whiting for four weeks and then go on roving assignment to visit major Guard locations, then to Tyndal and Eglin and back for another four weeks. There's even talk of alternating the rest assignments from Whiting to Rucker Town or Keeslerville. Like I said, it's all still up in the air. You and the other detachment commanders will have a big say-so in the final decision."

Chuck stared ahead thoughtfully and asked, "Any chance we will try to expand out of the Gulf Coast region? I know there are a lot of assets at San Antonio and Jacksonville. They're not that far outside our area."

I nodded, "That's been discussed as well, but right now we don't have the manpower for that type of move. It may end up being something that's added as one-time shots to the roving detachment."

At that point our discussion stopped as we reached the taxiway behind the museum. The Aircrane was an impressive helicopter. I had never flown one and knew that, although it flew like any other helicopter, the load master was the key to a successful lift. Our problem was that we didn't have one. The best we could come up with was a retired Army Master Sergeant who had been a crew chief on a CH-54 Tarhe, the military version of the Aircrane. He agreed to crew the aircraft if it was flyable. I knew that we would need a good deal of practice working together before we ever made any lifts.

Ralph Johnson, the retired crew chief, had been onboard NAS Pensacola for the past week, looking the aircraft over and performing minor maintenance. He had been with Det Four in Gulfport when the call had gone out for anyone with heavy lift helicopter experience and had immediately volunteered. As I pulled up to the unusual looking helicopter Ralph stepped down from the crew compartment. I hardly noticed him as I gazed up at the unusual looking Aircrane. Like most Aircranes, the helicopter in front of me looked to be missing the whole central section of the fuselage. This area of the aircraft was minimized, reducing weight and providing additional lift capacity. The aircraft was 70 feet long, but the six rotor blades had a diameter of 72 feet and could lift over 20,000 pounds.

Mike Jr. was shaking hands with Ralph as I stepped out of the car. Ralph noticing my gaze at the aircraft walked over and said, "It flies just like any other helicopter. It just looks strange."

I shook his hand and asked him, "Is it flyable?"

Ralph answered, "Won't know for sure until we try. I purged the hydraulic system, which had nearly bled dry during the year it was down. I've topped off the main and tail rotor gearbox oil and performed a contamination check on the fuel from all the low point drains. I turned it late yesterday afternoon and all of the engine readings were fine. If the logbooks are accurate it should fly fine for a long time. It just had a major overhaul and was sitting here after delivering a CH-47 fuselage to the aviation museum from a cargo ship in the harbor. If the collapse had happened a week sooner or later it would have been somewhere else."

I was surprised and answered, "So this aircraft wasn't going to the museum itself."

Ralph laughed and said, "No sir, it was a working aircraft up until it flew in here three days before the collapse."

We spent the rest of the morning completing a second ground turn and doing basic hover tests. While we were hovering, Chuck, Mike Jr. and a squad from Det Two found the lift cables that had been used to lift and transport the CH-47 fuselage over a year ago. They had the test weight tags indicating that they were rated for a 25,000 pound lift, well over the lift capacity of the aircraft. Mike consulted with the project engineer who had assembled the wind turbines and determined that the largest piece that needed shipment weighed only 8,500 pounds.

Flying a helicopter with an external load is not as easy as it sounds. I saw a video once of a Marine Corps CH-46 Sea Knight carrying a pallet of milk from a supply ship to an aircraft carrier flight deck, where the milk started oscillating so badly that it caused the helicopter to crash before it could be released. The point is that the external load must not be allowed to begin to swing, which means that each movement of the helicopter must be precisely choreographed.

Since I didn't want to drop any portion of the wind turbine, hadn't flown a heavy lift helicopter under load before, and had an afternoon to kill, I had the squad rig the cables and practiced moving concrete load-test weights for the balance of the afternoon. By late afternoon Ralph, Mike Jr. and I were a well-honed team. Okay, by late afternoon Ralph, Mike Jr. and I were fairly competent moving a load with the mammoth aircraft. At that point we had a crew meeting and determined that we would continue practice in the morning.

Chuck billeted us overnight at Pensacola in rooms in the BOQ which is along the bay front. The balmy fall weather was very pleasant. We walked over to the old chief petty officer's club, which had been taken over as a hangout by the detachment. Dinner ended up being hamburgers on real hamburger buns. Someone obviously had a stash in a freezer somewhere. Even more surprising than the hamburger buns was the draft beer. All the draft I had tasted over the past few months at Whiting had acquired somewhat of a skunky taste. This beer tasted as if it had just come off of the beer truck. As I drank the beer, I raised my eyebrows at Chuck. His response to that was, "Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies."

I laughed and decided to try to enjoy myself. It should be easy to do that here, away from the pressures at Whiting. The only problem was that any time my mind wasn't occupied it still drifted back to the image of Julie dying in my arms.

Chuck noticed immediately when my visage changed and asked, "Steve, are you alright?"

I looked up at him with a blank look on my face, not knowing whether I would ever be alright. Having four loving wives, I should be happy and content, surely one of the most blessed of all men. I had heard it a million times. 'Be thankful you still have four women to love." Well-meaning people said that. I hadn't loved Julie any more than the others, and yet it wasn't twenty percent of my love vested in her. She had all of my love, an infinite amount, the same as any of the others, and yet that infinity was ripped from my soul.

How could I assure any of the others that I could protect them when I had failed so miserably with Julie? I needed to get back to the base; somebody else should be out here doing this. I looked over at Chuck finally seeing that look of concern on his face. I knew he was wondering if his leader was all there. I had seen that look often lately. I smiled a weak smile and downed the rest of the beer. I didn't need any more of that.

"Chuck, I've had a long day. I think I'll turn in so we can get an early start in the morning."

Chuck smiled and said, "You look tired. Want me to walk you over to your room?"

I gave Chuck a smile and answered, "No, you stay and enjoy yourself, I'll be fine. I just need a good night's sleep." I shook everyone's hand as I left, trying to be pleasant, and yet really just going through the motions.

Even the beautiful North Florida sunset wasn't enough to lighten my mood during the long walk back to my room. Depression seemed to be an invisible cloak around my shoulders, wrapping me tighter and tighter as the sun descended. I wasn't looking forward to sleeping alone and yet I was glad somehow that my mood wouldn't cast its somber reflection on others that I loved.

I was almost stumbling as I reached my door. I put the key in the lock and opened the door to hear soft music playing from somewhere in the room. The curtain was drawn and yet there was a soft glow coming from the suite's bedroom. I looked up at the room number to make sure I was in the correct room as I voiced my 'hello.' Hearing no answer I cautiously moved toward the bedroom.

Peering around the doorway I caught glimpse of a sight that caused me to stagger back and had me rubbing my eyes. In the dim light of the small lamp there was a naked woman spread eagled sideways on the bed facing the door. The giggle from the bed aurally verified that this erotic vision was not in fact a mirage. Laura's voice answered the 'who' of my question next as she asked, "Well, are you gonna' just stand there, or are you gonna' come in and give me some lovin'?"

Of course I rushed forward and crushed her in an embrace that immediately rocketed my spirits out of the doldrums. After we paused our passionate and frenetic lovemaking to catch our breaths I asked, "How did you get over here?"

Laura laughed and said, "The same way you did, I flew. Mike Jr. needed to get back and you obviously didn't need his maintenance expertise after this afternoon. I was off and volunteered to fly a T-34 over so he could fly back and make his syllabus flights tomorrow. Kari called me as soon as she found out Mike needed a way back. You didn't think we were going to let you mope around in a strange room all alone for three days, did you?"

I buried my face in her chest as I hugged her to me. She rocked me slowly back and forth as she softly whispered, "It wasn't your fault. You have to get past this. If it had been me who was killed and Julie was here holding you, she would be telling you the same thing. It's time to move on. We all miss her but we all need to focus on our future."

The last thing I remember from that evening was Laura's voice as she slowly rocked and hugged me and whispered her love to me.

The next three days were spent flying the windmill parts to the waiting cargo ship. Each load was precariously slung beneath the giant cargo helicopter. To someone experienced in this type of operation the entire cargo lift might have been completed in a day. All I know is that we came close to crashing a couple of times when the load began to swing due to a gust of wind or too sharp a movement of the flight controls. By the end of the operation I was a nervous wreck, looking for a few days off. The only thing that kept me in the air was having one of my wives nearby to steady my nerves.

Laura had to go back after the first night but was replaced with Kari, who was replaced by Lana and then Irene, who, as nervous as she is about flying, flew over with Norma Harrison and then flew back with me after the mission was over with. By the time we were finished I knew I was going to be okay. Somehow the hectic flying and soothing ministrations of my wives acted as a catharsis for my troubled soul. I wasn't over Julie's death by any means, but the love of my other wives sheltered me from most of the dark days after her death. Sometimes it's as the songwriter said: 'Love is the only answer.'

Year Two: Day Six: Saturday

I awoke early Saturday morning feeling that I had not rested. After consecutive evenings of love making with each of my wives individually, we consummated our plural bond well into the wee morning hours. There was a certain synergy in our group sessions that seemed to motivate us beyond what I would have considered possible before the collapse. Even with the renewing of our bonds the stress of flying close to the edge for most of the week had permeated to my core. Saturdays were normally work days. Weekends were given up nowadays along with other trappings of civilization to the reality of post-collapse life. I unwound myself from my nest and moved lethargically, readying myself for another day.

Today I was to teach an aeronautics class in the morning and perform familiarization flights in the afternoon. Kari had prevailed on me to make myself available to fly all of the fam flights for new flight students. She had said, "Honey you don't realize how motivating it is for a young, impressionable student to have the senior aviator give them their fam flight." Okay, it wasn't what she said; it was that she said it with her fingers intertwined behind my neck, kissing my chest while lightly moving her sexy body against mine. How could any man refuse?