Chapter SEVENTEEN


For a few days the messages flew back and forth, Europe to Tokyo, then Osaka, then a zig zag tour across Asia as more and more venues were added.

They talked briefly about getting married, Urs wanting to do it very soon, Honey wanting to wait a bit, at least long enough to have a few face to face conversations about such a big step.

She heard back from the NATO officer and after much discussion during which they managed to guilt her into helping the Allied forces, she agreed to go to Ramstien if they would provide her with adequate transport, not really eager to take her bulk and tricky bladder on another bus ride to an airport. She sent Urs a chatty e.mail telling him how excited she was that NATO was sending a helicopter for her. It would be her first time and she was looking forward to it.

Because of the sensitive nature of the work she wasn’t allowed to discuss it with anyone else, nothing, location, duration etc. so she just said she would send him an e.mail the second she got back.

Her last e.mail was February 6th and then there were no more.

**
Honey discovered that she really liked riding in a helicopter, except for the noise. The big military heli landed in the field behind the house and Jonas took her out to it in his own snow-mobile. The pilots and crew man were very attentive to her every need, let her sit in the co-pilot seat for a better view and they were airborne immediately, flying over the village and following the mountain passes out of Switzerland.

Very soon it became old hat but she was fascinated by the great view, much better than flying at 30 thousand feet or higher. There wasn’t much talking during the flight because of the noise of the rotors but she didn’t really care. All too soon they were at Ramstien Armed Forces Base in Germany and she was helped onto the tarmac to meet Captain Mulvahy.

“I’m so happy that you were convinced to give us a hand, Miss Harper. We’re having real difficulties and our techies don’t know what’s wrong. How was your flight?” He was a pleasant blonde haired officer, a 20 year man by the look of all the ribbons on his uniform.

“It was fine, though I will be happy to find a head. They don’t have them on the helis as I’m sure you know.”

He laughed and beckoned a uniformed woman to come over to them.

“Corporal Stevens, this is the technician for the 359-B Translator, Miss Harper.” The tall slender Corporal shook hands with Honey and smiled as she welcomed her to Ramstien.

“Corporal if you would please show Miss Harper to her quarters and consider yourself at her disposal for her visit with us.”

“Yes Sir,” the corporal answered with true military obedience and saluted.

They went out of the one floor administration building and got in the jeep that was parked outside, apparently issued to Honey for her stay as was the corporal.

They sped through the base, past the recreation centre, the PX, the chapel, the base commander’s home and entered a street of small houses with miniscule yards, civilian employees quarters Denise told her{Honey had asked her first name the minute they were alone}. Denise pulled into the narrow drive beside one of the compact houses and unloaded Honey’s bags, unlocked the door and handed her the key.

The quarters were adequate, if you didn’t spend much time in them. Small kitchen with the basic supplies for making coffee or tea, tinned soups, tuna, crackers and not much else in the kitchen. The lounge had a rather hard looking sofa and one easy chair, coffee table, some very old books and magazines and one lamp on an end table, plus it served double duty as a dining area with a small gate legged table and two chairs.

The bedroom was just as stark, but like everything else scrupulously clean, even the bathroom just off the sleeping area, shower, toilet, sink, just the necessities.

“They don’t go in for soothing décor in the army, everything is strictly utilitarian,” Denise said as she put Honey’s bags in the bedroom.

“Actually I think it’s an improvement over the first apartment I ever had…. Not much though,” Honey said with a laugh.

“You’ll be entitled to eat in the Officer’s Mess which is just one street over on the right. They’re always open since we work such crazy shifts here. When you’re ready I can show you where you’ll be working.”

Honey laughed again. “I’ll be ready in about 3 minutes. Just need to tinkle and wash my face and hands. Air travel always makes me feel dirty for some reason.”

On the way to the communications center Denise gave Honey a cell phone so that she could text message her if she ever needed anything. Honey was issued an I.D. pass which she was to wear on a cord around her neck at all times. Then she was introduced to the technicians who were trying to get the Translator, which Miles had named Babel, to work. She suggested that Denise go do something for a while or just relax in the coffee room and she would text her when they were finished.

After a demonstration of the equipment Honey was no wiser as to what the cause of the problem was and she started to delve into the equipment carefully. Three hours later she had found the source. When the components were assembled in the centre, someone had assumed that a couple of the wires in the kits were spares and had never connected them. It took her another hour to put everything right and they tried a test run. It worked perfectly.

She was a little ticked when Captain Mulvahy came to congratulate her on the swift solution to the problem.

“You know, we were very careful to write out the instructions for assembly so that a 10 year old would understand. Did anyone even read the manual? I found a couple of other things that were done very slipshod. You would have had more problems in the near future.”

The Captain was beet red as he admitted that the manual had been discarded by accident but the technicians had been sure they could do the assembly without one.

“Next time, just fax the office and ask for another manual,” Honey said with a bit of acid in her voice as she text messaged Denise to come get her.

When they were driving back to the quarters Honey learned that Denise would not be allowed in the Officer’s Mess. She was starving but wanted company and asked if she could eat in the Enlisted Men’s Mess and when Denise grinned and said yes, that’s where they went.

It turned out that the two women had a lot in common. Denise was from Kenora in Ontario and was very familiar with the Long Lac area. They talked for a long time after dinner, tales about the stupid tourists who dared to honk their horns at moose, not knowing that moose have terrible eyesight and hearing. The sound of a horn tooting for some reason makes them think they are being challenged by another moose and they have the tendency to charge, not a great idea when you consider that the moose outweighs most vehicles 2 to 1.

Honey told her about the tourists she had guided in the summer months as a young teen and Denise laughed as the tales were so familiar: tourists who knew nothing about fly fishing and hooked themselves in the butt, the ones who acted like they had caught a whale when they brought in an inedible Pike in the hot weather, {wormy except in cold weather} or wanted to ‘feed’ the bears around camp sites…until one chased them.

Honey mentioned that she had claw scars on her back because of one such tourist who didn’t run fast enough until Honey passed him with only half her shirt intact. Then he could likely have broken the 3 minute mile.

Denise told her she was due to rotate out in another month and would be happy to go home.

“I love my country and I love the army, but…I’ve done two tours and I need a break. People don’t realize how truly awful it is in Afghanistan for the Armed Forces. The conditions are appalling, dirt, dust, extremes of cold in some areas, hot desert in others. Women are so terribly oppressed there by the rebels. It’s really disheartening when we read about people saying we should pull out. How can we? The slaughter of the innocents would escalate until only the rebels were left.”

They changed the subject to more upbeat things, the twins, the musical groups Honey had met while working for Sony BMG, though Honey didn’t even hint at how well she knew Il Divo. She did learn though that Denise was a big fan and hoped someday to see one of their concerts, live.

They went back to the billet around ten P.M. and arranged to meet in the morning for breakfast.

Honey had just changed for bed when there was a discreet knock on her door and she opened it to find Captain Mulvahy on the step.

“More problems, Captain?” she inquired.

“No ma’am. The same one but in a different location. Colonel Hebert would like to talk with you at 0600 tomorrow if you don’t mind?”

Honey felt an ominous chill when he asked for the meeting but she was also curious and just a little bit full of national pride after talking to Denise.

“That’s not a problem, Captain. I’ll call Corporal Stevens and ask for an early pickup.”

He said good night courteously and she shut the door. A few minutes later she was in bed with her travel alarm set for 0500.

**

She crouched low to go under the rotors, though at her height there wasn’t much danger. Still the instinctive move was to crouch. One of the burly enlisted men lifted her easily into the heli and followed her in, sandwiching her in the middle between him and his buddy.

This time she knew enough to put the head set on immediately to combat the rotor noise but it was still deafening as they took off. Once in the air they switched to something called Stealth mode which was much quieter.

‘How did I let myself be talked into this?’ she thought as they skimmed over the border into Afghanistan from the airfield in Turkey. Well, she knew how….it was guilt. The colonel had talked to her about how quickly she could solve the problem, how vital Babel was to translate the information that many Afghani gave the Allies, people who risked their lives to tell of the Taliban’s movements. Many lives could be saved if this information was made available more rapidly to the forces. By the time he had finished she knew she couldn’t say no, IF they promised only a quick in and out trip and fairly adequate transport to get there and back. And she asked to see the base doctors to be sure her health was good enough that the trip would not be dangerous to the boys.

The Doctor had been very thorough, even insisting on an ultra-sound, then gave her a clean bill of health, in fact said she was healthier than a lot of the non-pregnant women officers he tended to.

So here she was 2 days later, dressed in army fatigues, complete with an uncomfortable helmet, on the last leg of a long trip. She was to go to a Base at Herat, properly install Babel there and train one of their very best technicians to do the others since none of the ones in Ramstien could be spared…..one days work then a day of rest before going by heli first, then transport back to Ramstien.

She was dozing off about three quarters of an hour into the trip when suddenly she heard the pilots yelling and the sound of a rocket whizzing past, very close.

There was a lurch and a flash, then smoke started to rise from the rotor assembly. It hadn’t been just close, it had taken part of the assembly out. There was a sickening feeling of falling, the pilot screamed “We’re going down!!”, and the soldiers on either side of her leaned across her body forming a barrier to protect her. They hit with an impact that drove the breath out of her and she felt herself flying, felt the cold of snow when she landed and a hot pain in her leg, then knew nothing more as blackness overwhelmed her.

****