Circles in the Sand (8 page)

“Yes Sir. I have plenty of requisition forms. Right now I don’t know how much gas we’ll need. I don’t know for sure how many vehicles we’re going to get. I believe Air Div will be contact with you about the gas too.”

Prescott looked at Clint’s orders again, frowned, bit his lip and then curled it. “Sergeant, yours is the most ridiculous story I’ve ever heard. I just can’t believe your tale. These could be phony orders. You’ll have to remain here until I can determine this is not some sort of chicanery.” He turned to the Army Sergeant. “Have the military police send an escort to take these men to the guard house. They stay there until I order them released. Be sure their vehicle is impounded too. Hah!” he sneered at the two airmen.

After he walked out, the Sergeant behind the desk, threw his hands out wide and rolled his eyes. “Ain’t you guys lucky. No officers. Particularly no Second Lieutenants. You got it made.” Then he called the Military Police.

On the way to the guard house, Clint said to the buck sergeant escorting them, “Hey, what’s with this chickenshit Lieutenant?”

“You mean our hero, Lute Prescott? He graduated last in his class at West Point. Seems to think he’s got to be super military to make up for it. He can be a real pain in the ass.”

At the guard house, the desk sergeant, having been informed by the HQ Sergeant, told the airmen. “I don’t have any good reason to lock you up. Lute Prescott just said to have you escorted down here. Just wait in the day room until Lute Prescott gets over his snit.”

By late afternoon, and still no word on release, Clint wondered if Lieutenant Prescott had a hard-on for the Air Force in general. 

“Hey, Sergeant Elsas, is this trip really necessary?”

“Of course. You heard Sergeant Greybull. Any boundary markers that existed are gone. We’ve got to draw our own lines and circles in the sand.”

“What a way to run an Air Force. I can’t believe we’ve just been dumped out here to construct a bomb site. Where the hell are the construction people? Civil engineers, civilian contractors or somebody else that should be doing this job? Not us poor peons.”

“You’re a natural born pisser, Alcocke. When have you had it so good? A pleasant drive in the sunshine, out in the country. Fresh air. Do ya’ good.”

“You don’t mention choking in all this dust, busting our ass every time this clunker hits a hole or hill.”

“Can’t have everything. You could be doing this in Korea…with some nasties shooting at you all the while.”

“Yeah, yeah. Speaking of nasties. These two guys riding up on horses are friendlies?”

Just stopped at the six mile point out from the center of the north road, they watched the riders approach. “Don’t look like Chinese or Koreans…Russians maybe.”

Fritz Deutsch and Basil Tree reined up to look at the airmen sitting in the weapons carrier. “You dudes lost out here in the wilderness?” Deutsch said.

Elsas squinted up at him. “No, as a matter of fact, we’re just establishing some territory.” To Kline and Priebe in the back, “Okay, troops. Here’s were we plant that stake…on that little knoll.”

As Priebe and Kline jumped out, Deutsch said, “Hey, hold on a minute, guys. What do you mean…you’re setting out your territory? You gonna piss on that stake like a damn catamount?”

Elsas grinned at Deutsch. “Ain’t necessary. What’s it to ya’ cowboy?”

“Damned if he ain’t a smart ass, Fritz.” Tree rode around to the other side of the carrier. “Want me to teach him a lesson in manners?”

“Back off, Basil. What it’s to me, is you’re trespassing on my range land. I don’t cotton to you settin’ any boundaries on my property. Now you just draw that stake back up…and get the hell out of here!”

“This is government land, cowboy. We’re gonna build a bomb range out here. If you got stock out here, you might want to move them somewhere else.”

“I’ll be god-damned if you ain’t a sassy one. Basil pull up that stake!”

Forcing the Airmen aside, Tree rode his horse up to the stake. He dropped his rope over it and galloped off to pull it out of the ground. When he stopped, he coiled his rope in, broke the stake over his knee and threw it down.

“You guys are crazy! You don’t think you can stop the Air Force from building this site do ya?”

“Yeah, well the whole damn Air Force is not here…and you guys git too.” Deutsch drew his pistol and aimed at the front tire. “Now you can get while ya’ still got wheels, or  piss me off some more…and you’ll be walking back to town.”

Alcocke, the shortest of the men out there, stood and piped up. “You’re some hero with your gun cowboy…Lucky we’re not armed or you wouldn’t strut so big!”

Elsas told Alcocke, “Sit down and shut up. This ain’t our inning.”

Deutsch laughed and cocked his pistol. When Elsas started the engine, Deutsch uncocked his weapon and reholstered it.

The smoldering airmen were silent all the way back to the north road. As they turned south, Priebe said, “What we gonna do now, Sarge?”

“Finish the job, naturally. By the time we get back to that stake point, those clowns should be long gone. Just because they had the upper hand back there, damned if they’re going to stop us.”

Back in West Layover, Lorena helped her mother with the laundry. “Doesn’t Sergeant Greybull look sharp in his uniform?”

“Yes he does…surprised me. I thought they didn’t have to wear uniforms while working on this job.”

“Usually they don’t. I heard him talking to Lance. They were going over to the Ordnance Depot at Ft. Peck.”

Dorris Gilman caught her breath. “Oh?…I wonder why?”

“Sounded to me like they were going on a scrounging party.”

“I suppose. They need everything you can think of.”

Strain in Dorris’ voice, “Did you hear them say…who they would see over there?” While folding a sheet, silently she wondered if Captain Munson could be stationed there again.
I hope they don’t run into him.

“No. I guess they’d see some officer, don’t you think?”

“Probably have to report into someone. I don’t know how the Army and Air Force work on things like this.”

“It’s been a long time since you were over there, Mom. Do you know anyone who could help them?”

“Not anymore. I’m sure that anyone I knew is long gone.”

“Weren’t you kinda sweet on that Captain?”

“No, no. He was just very kind helping me take care of all the details with your dad being killed. It took a long time to get everything straightened away. It seemed to take forever to get all his records corrected, and get his body back from Germany.” In the past, her bittersweet memory of Captain Munson made her weep. By the end of two years of death activities, she and the kind Captain became lovers. Only after he left did she learn he was married, and had a family back in Illinois, told to her by Lieutenant Fester, his replacement. She concealed her affair with the officer from town folks by never being seen with him off of Ft. Peck. Still bitter over the way that individual treated her, she didn’t let herself get involved with any local civilian men other than at church socials.

“It wouldn’t be hard to be sweet on Sergeant Greybull, or even Sergeant Werner,  would it?”

“Oh stop it Lorena. I don’t need you to be my marriage arranger, and you stay away from Lance Werner for sure.”

“Well, it’s okay for you. But I’d like a daddy. You’re young enough. You could even have a baby. It would be nice to have a younger brother.”

“Oh dear God! That’s enough. You don’t know how much trouble men are. That reminds me. Don’t be hanging around with any of these younger airmen either. They’re still too old for you.”

“Hah. They’re just kids. I’d like a real man like Sergeant Greybull.”

“That’ll be the day. Do your self a favor and forget about men until you’re older. Much older.”

“Oh phooey.”

At four-o’clock the desk sergeant hung up his phone and told Clint and Lance. “The adjutant just called. He checked out your orders and story. I’m to let you go. The HQ First Sergeant is on the way. Adjutant said he is to give you a hand.”

“That’s good news. We can use all the help we can get.”

Master Sergeant Ripon shook hands with the Airmen. “Since a truce with the Air Force is in effect, what can I do for you guys “

Clint explained their mission.

“Well anything we can’t officially part with…maybe you can steal. Material records have been royally screwed up since the war. There’s a lot of junk we don’t know we have or who it belongs too. Lets see.”

In the disposal yard, the first thing that caught the airmen’s eyes was a two and half ton truck. A Jeep motor, with hoses mounted on the back, rested in its bed,. “What’s that for?”

“Supposed to be a decontamination truck. It’s obsolete. I believe we have new one.”

They walked all around the vehicle and examined it. “Have any idea if it works, or if it runs?”

“I don’t know. What would you use it for?”

“We’ve got to white wash the target areas…so they can be seen from the bombers.”

“Lets ask the manager what the score is on that thing.”

The Technical Sergeant told them, “If you can drive it out of here, I can arrange it’s transfer to the Air Force. Shouldn’t be a problem.”

“That’s a start. I’ll send Staff Sergeant Elsas, our vehicle mechanic over to check it out. If he can make it run, we’ll take it,” Clint said.

Time in the afternoon running out, the airmen prepared to leave. Clint said, “Anytime you guys get over to West Layover, you got some beer coming from us.”

“I’ve always heard the Air Force lives better than the Army. Does that mean your NCO club is the first building up?”

“No way, but you can’t miss us at Chet’s Saloon.”

Back in town, Clint found the rest of his crew already at Chet’s. They all started talking at once. “Hey, one at a time. What’s everyone so pissed at, Elsas?”

“That damn rancher. Tried to run us off the range. Pulled a gun on us… at the northwest corner. We left, but went back and finished the job.”

“Okay, slow down and tell me the details…in order.”

When Elsas was through, with the other two joining in,
that sonovabitch….Throwing his weight around…and armed,
Clint mused. “He can’t pull that shit and get away with it. Have you talked to anyone else about it?”

“Only Chet. He couldn’t help hearing us bitch about it.”

“We need to talk to the sheriff. Make it a matter of record, if nothing else.”

Chet said, “You’ll be lucky is he does that much. He and Fritz are old buddies.”

“We’ll see. Lets go talk to him.”

The airmen shuffled their chairs back and followed Clint. Sheriff Radecker looked up in surprise when the six trooped into his office. “What’s this, an Air Force invasion?”

Clint said, “No way, Sheriff…got a little problem to discuss.”

When Elsas was through relating their experience with Deutsh, Radecker said, “Let me get this straight. Fritz thought you was on his range and pulled a gun on ya.’ Did he point it at ya, threaten to pull the trigger?”

“Well not exactly. He pointed it at a tire, and threatened to strand us out there.”

“He was a belligerent bastard, Sheriff,” broke in Alcocke.”

“That sounds like Fritz,” said Radecker. “I can’t see where he actually harmed you any. Maybe got your dander up, but that weren’t much of a crime.” He turned to Clint. “Don’t sound too serious to me. What  do you expect me to do about it?”

“You know, there could be a conflict between Deutsch and the Air Force. We’ve given you the facts of his actions. Aren’t you obliged to make a report of an incident?”

Well, I would if a crime has been committed. But I don’t consider hurtin’ your feelings is anything I can charge him with.”

“I see. He has to do something vile to be reported. We’ll keep that in mind. Okay, guys, back to the hotel.

“Radecker won’t accept our complaint, but I want to keep a record of it, and anything else we do. Alcocke, since you’re the one with all the education, I’ll assume you are a competent writer. Get a spiral notebook from McCunes. Write up the way things happened with Deutsh. When you’re through, all of you look it over and sign it. Then keep a running log of our activities, Alcocke, day by day.”

The airmen, in their civilian work clothes just finished eating supper when a stranger walked into the restaurant. He wore the new Air Force blue uniform. He looked around, while the airmen stared at him. Mitch Kline said, “Hey, are you some kind of movie star in that fancy uniform?”

The short blonde baby-faced Corporal’s face turned red. “No, I’m lookin’ for a Sergeant Greybull, do any of you know him?”

Clint stood, walked over to the Corporal and offered his hand. “I’m Sergeant Greybull, and who are you?”

“Airman Second Class Peter Jewel. I’m assigned here, I think.”

On Jewel’s blue uniform, Clint took in the two upswept bars that surrounded a star, and denoted his rank. “Airman Second Class?”

“Yessir. All the enlisted ranks are being changed from Army to Air Force ranks.”

“I knew it was  coming. Just hasn’t got to us yet. “Let’s see your orders.”

Clint read them. “You came from Grand Eclipse. How did you get here.”

“I drove a carryall. Got a lot of supplies in it for you.”

“Well hey, you’re doubly welcome. That it outside? Get some chow, and then we’ll take it up to our headquarters to unload it.”

While he ate, the others questioned him. “What’s your MOS, Jewel,” Clint asked.

“I’m a supply clerk. That’s how I scrounged  some of this stuff. A LC Jenner walked around the ‘country store’ picking out things he thought you needed. I found a few extras.”

“Good thinking, Airman. I can use someone who is on the ball.”

“Hey, Jewel. Where’d you get that jazzy uniform?” Kline asked. “We’d heard they were coming out, but I never saw one before.”

“A few have been sent out to the field for evaluation. Being in supply, I was one of the lucky ones.”

Kline whispered to Alcocke. “How did he get in the Air Force? He don’t look over fourteen.”

“Yeah, and already made corporal. Maybe he’s got some pull.”

“He’s so perty in that blue uniform, he could be someone’s fair-haired boy.”