Chapter 46

The flash did, indeed, identify the crates as containing Grumman Widgeons; J4F-2s United States Navy version of the J4F-1 but a with 5-seat interior. The J4F-1 was the United States Coast Guard version. It had three seats.

The J4F-2 was more of a VIP hauler, Admirals and such, than a combat aircraft.

The Coast Guard version flew regular U-Boat watch patrols of the Atlantic coast of the United States. The Coast Guard planes flew with a load of depth charges. Sometimes a crew chief finagled a ride and brought along an M1 rifle. Combat aircraft.

The Ranger inverted inline straight six engines in their crates must be spares. Junior was very happy.

"Company?" she asked.

The expandable UFO AI (A.I. Artificial Intelligence. An alien construct that had driven the American Intelligence Community starkers.) answered in that sweet voice she had adopted after she started eating meat. "Yes?"

"I need to get these home in the most unobtrusive way possible. Might I get your assistance?" Junior wasn't begging ... but it was close.

So, the early night was spent with the UFO acting as a portable roller stand, with Junior and Connie handling the wrenches. Soon all three crates of aircraft were sitting on the seaplane ramp.

The ramp was a little crowded ... there were three wounded Elco PT boats drying on the ramp, a Grumman Goose was pointed out to sea, and there were spare parts for all of them.

"What do you think, Company? Is that too big a load?" Connie asked. She wasn't asking about the boats ... just the Widgeon crates.

Both Connie and Junior were extremely comfortable with the UFO ... they considered each other as more than friends.

"Oh ... I can take more ... it's not the weight of an object ... it's the size. Do you want to take the engines, stands and tools?" The UFO could expand but there were limits. It's doubtful that she could lift ... say ... the wreck of the Lexington, sunk during the battle of the Coral Sea. But she could haul a German U-Boat without much difficulty.

"There are tools? Special tools?" asked Junior.

"Not exactly ... in the farthest Quonset Hut there are several tool boxes marked Widgeon."

"Well, Hell ... lets go see." said Junior.

Andrea called out, "Don't go wandering off girls!" She looked at David.

"Ok ... I'll go with," he said, agreeing with her unspoken request. Poor guy ... he was wanting a little loving ... but it would make mama happy if he went with the girls ... and we all know what happens if mama ain't happy. "Wait up, Ladies!"

With Company to light the way the last hut was soon reached.

On the other side of the line of hills, the Aborigines were still communicating. The lights were distressing. Nature was being abused. The white soldiers were leaving their country but they were also leaving all their trash. No one knew if the camp on the other side of the hills was still in possession of the whites.

Mr. Binbingha said to Mr. Bing Binga, "Mr. Bing Binga, do you think we should determine the cause of the lights."

Bing Binga was very happy to be asked his opinion. That meant he would not disappear.

Both Bing Binga and his elder, Pinbinga were from a smaller clan, the Binga, of the larger tribe, the Bingha, They had a fear of becoming 'not persons, ' Being recognized on a regular basis ensured their continued existence. The most severe punishment the band could make was to stop recognizing a recalcitrant member. He no longer existed ... and soon the fiction became reality. He wasn't there.