Chapter 440

Sunday afternoon Ben-David brought over the items he wanted to send to Ambassador Dansky. All the boxes were labeled and sealed as diplomatic cargo, the same as Frank’s.

The C5 crew was there going through last minute items. The cargo master loaded Frank’s and Ben’s freight and secured it. There were 20 crates of supplies and requested frozen foods - packed in dry ice - for my men at Kampala.

The fuel trucks loaded the tanks to 80%. Tomorrow morning before the plane hit the taxi way they would be filled to the brim.

The flight was leaving at 4AM; with the flight time and time changes - with good luck - we would be on the ground at Entebbe at 11PM their time. I made one phone call and told Hanna that she needed to be at Morton at 3:30.

Hanna and her camera man were going; she had expressed interest when I returned from Kampala the first time. Her station was changing its format, trying to find a niche to separate itself from the competition.

When I made the decision to bring the group, I invited her on the condition that any video needed to be approved once we were in Uganda and she could not say anything until the plane was off the ground. Hanna and Walt got the shots the next day at our Docs.

I was hoping that with Hanna along it would make good public relations piece and help donations for the next humanitarian flight.

After some intimate family time, all of us turned in early and also Vicky and I planned on sleeping on the plane after takeoff.

At 3AM Vicky and I were dressed and had plenty of help to load all the bags into the Suburban. We loaded all the fancy dresses and our jewelry and shoes. I had Rachael’s and Robin’s dress and shoes; the girls had bought them. This time since I was just visiting, I took along a couple pairs of my camo as well as the pant suits. Because of the sleeping boys, we said our goodbyes with hugs and kisses at home.

At Morton I picked out an extra armored vest for our guest along with hardware for Bob and drove to the plane. The crew was already loading their things in the plane and helped us put our things in the plane. I carried my portable office to the front where the seating was set up. The fuel truck was topping off the tanks. I stopped at the restaurant to pick up the subs I had ordered for the flight and a couple of the thermal cartons of fresh coffee.

Hanna was filming the preparation for departure - including close ups of the plane and JBG decal on the side of the fuselage - and going through a dialog for her station to use if they wanted. I let her cameraman do a sweep of the full cargo bay.

I had things done a little differently this time; there were large labels on all the food and medicines pallets with the company names that had donated them. I was pushing hard for good PR and hoped that the companies would continue support.

There was a communication link to an internet satellite that she could use to send it and I could also use it for my portable office.

Bob, Phil, Robin and Rachel were there; as soon as we boarded we could leave. The last question I asked was “Do all of you have your passports?”

Major Culpepper was there with his bags; I guess he decided to go along on this last flight.

At 4 on the nose, the pilots went full throttle on the engines; our long trek had begun. The guest, Andy and my 10 body guards, Vicky and I settled in the seating area over the cargo bay and tried to nap.

Seven hours into the flight a chime went off and the phone was blinking, “Hello.”

“We are just off the coast of Africa, the tanker is meeting up with us in less than ten minutes. I did not know if you wanted your TV lady to film out the window for a few minutes or your guest to watch; also, you need to call home,” Adam said.

All the visitors wanted a look so down the cargo bay we went and then took the ladder to the cockpit. It took some finagling to get everyone in and the camera into position; the KC135 tanker and the C5 were maneuvering into position.

The boom was already moved from its stowed position, elevated high and extended to give Adam a mark to aim for. The planes played a cat and mouse game, carefully closing until things were in place. Less than a minute later the planes were joined by the boom and fuel was flowing.

After what seemed too quick, the KC boom controller came over the radio, “That’s the 20,000 gallons you wanted; we will be waiting for the return trip. What credit card number do you want to use for this?” he asked, laughing into the mike.

“Hanna, give me your gas card,” I asked to carry the joke further. The camera was still rolling.

“How much is it going to cost? I don’t think there is a high enough limit,” she replied.

“$80,000 for the half a tank of fuel,” I replied.

“Boss, you might need to increase the limit on my gas card,” Hanna was now looking into the camera. “Hanna Page signing off close to African coast,” she said.

We went back to our seats, and I made a satellite call to the office and hooked my portable office to the internet through the communication system.

I had a list to call: Marcy, Lorrie, Eric, Kent Dalton and Victor. I started with Marcy; she had started working on the items from our meeting Friday. I listened while she related the conversations among Jenna, Robert Alderman and herself.