The others on the flight crew begin to arrive singly or in small groups. I brief the overall flight for our practice runs up at Fort Lewis and for the night. Robert briefs the systems and changes for selecting and firing on two targets simultaneously. That will be utilizing both the 40mm auto-cannon and gatling gun in unison. The 105mm howitzer will be used for single targets, those being the buildings. With everyone hovering around the large map with the buildings for the night marked, I point out the targets mentioning Frank’s briefing about where the night runners emerged from and his estimate of numbers.
“We’re going to conduct practice runs this afternoon over the ranges, land to refuel and rearm, and then we’re taking off again during daylight to destroy the campus buildings in the hopes of catching those night runners we witnessed last night inside,” I say. Smiles light up around the table thinking of being able to catch that many night runners indoors.
“We’ll then patrol the rest of the evening looking for night runners on the prowl and taking out the remainder of the marked buildings. The weather looks better than last night but we’ll be keeping an eye on it. Be ready as night falls to engage any night runners emerging. Any questions?” I ask. There aren’t any so we gather our gear and fold into the vehicles the same as last night.
Taking off, we circle one of the large Fort Lewis ranges. It takes a while to get the coordination for multiple target selection and firing. After quite a few runs, the crews are able to put their rounds on the selected targets. It’s not as good as when we run the single targets but our rounds eventually impact close to the ones selected. I’m not too sure about using this as our first option, but if the night runners emerge like they did last night, then close is good enough. Our 40mm and 20mm rounds will decimate their ranks. I’m eager to see the devastation we’ll bring upon the night runners. This time, we’ll be ready for their emergence. They kind of took us by surprise last night and, although Robert reacted quickly, we could have taken out a far greater number. Their numbers worry me, okay, scare the shit out of me, and I’m all for reducing those. Zero would be good number.
We land to rearm and refuel. The cloud cover has broken letting the sun shine through in intervals. If it clears and the winds calm down, there is a chance of fog forming so we’ll have to watch for that. It will be easier given that we’ll be able to fly under the weather and have a clear visual of the region. Feeling the sun warm my shoulders as it casts its rays through a break in the clouds, I hook up the fuel lines from the truck Robert drove over. We stand next to each other as the volatile fuel runs through the thick, rubber hoses and into the selected tanks. The high-revving truck is loud but we manage to shout about the noise.
“Are you sure about running multiple targets tonight?” I ask, shouting above the truck noise.
“Yeah, I think we have it down,” he answers.
“You know we can’t afford to lose any time or be off target if they emerge suddenly like last night,” I say.
“Dad, we’ve got it. It took us a while to work the coordination but we can do it,” he replies.
“Okay. Just don’t forget the leads.”
“No worries, Dad, we’ll handle it and bring the rain down on their heads,” Robert says with a smile.
I shake my head remembering my own youth and enthusiasm and it’s hard to hide a smile hearing it from my own son. There was a time when I used to use those same words. The others return with a fresh load of ammo just as we are reeling up the last of the hose. Bri walks out from the rear of the aircraft readjusting the M-4 on her shoulder, a weapon she has used several times.
“The gauges all show fuel although the right wing outer fuel gauge stuck for a moment. I tapped it and it ran up to full,” she says as Robert drives the fuel truck over by the base operations building.
“Keep an eye on it. It may stick on the way down as well,” I say, thinking we may have to switch the gauge out with one from the HC-130 parked next to us.
The specific fuel tank and gauge are the same between the aircraft so it should be an easy change out. It is, however, a reminder that everything will eventually fail and that the fuel becoming unusable may not be the only limiting factor on our ability to fly.
“I will, Dad,” she replies.
Loaded up again, we climb into our positions and take off into the afternoon sky. It’s going to be another long night but at least we’ll have some action to keep us occupied rather than just boring holes through the sky. I feel a heightened degree of anticipation knowing we are about to hammer a large night runner lair. I’m also looking forward to the start of the night when we may have the chance to ‘bring the rain’ with the emergence of the night runners. With the hope of a seeing a large number of them again, I turn the Spooky south listening to Robert and the crew run through their checks and bring the systems online.
We set up and orbit around the Saint Martin’s campus. It’s daylight with the clouds breaking farther apart. The late afternoon sky drifts through the windshield as we circle. I glance down at the large arena that Frank indicated housed a majority of the night runner horde we saw. The light of day will allow me to watch the awe- inspiring sight of the 105mm rounds impacting.
Robert sets up the target and clears the gunner to fire. Making sure to keep a stable platform for the crews in back, I look down just in time to witness the impact. With a yellow and orange flash, the first round collides against one side of the structure. The point of impact disappears in a cloud of smoke and dust that rockets upward quickly. Brick and large chunks of the building are hurtled outward into the surrounding parking lot. As we circle, gaining a different vantage point, I see a portion of the building has collapsed into a pile of debris. Robert waits for the call that the weapon is reloaded and clear before issuing the command to fire once again.
The picture is repeated until nothing is left of the facility except a smoking pile of debris. Small and large chunks of the building are scattered over a vast area of the parking lots. We move onto the other campus buildings leaving the area around the library intact.
“Any sign of bodies?” I ask, watching the devastation below.
The repeater scope I have dialed in zooms for a closer look at the rubble. I can only glance down at it in intervals but I don’t see anything that resembles a body or parts of bodies amongst the wreckage.
“I don’t see any from here,” Robert reports after a moment.
“Alright. Keep an eye out but let’s move on,” I say.
The sun moves on toward the western horizon turning from a yellow to an orange ball sitting just above the silhouette of the Olympic Mountains. The waves of the South Sound sparkle as the rays bounce off their crests. The campus below lies in smoldering ruins. I radio the base notifying Frank of our progress and for him to have a team prepared to recon the campus below us tomorrow to search for bodies. Although we don’t see any through our cameras, we need the intelligence to see how successful we are. Frank will need that info to update his intel on the remaining night runners in the area. I cast my thoughts outward and ‘see’ nothing. It’s blank without even a hint of a night runner about. I wish I understood this ‘ability’ better.
We drone on, taking out some of the marked buildings as the sun sinks lower behind the mountains. My eagerness to catch the emerging night runners increases with each inch the sun lowers. It vanishes with a bright orange band of light spreading behind the hills, highlighting the underside of the remaining clouds. I tell Robert and the crew to be ready. The guns are loaded and wait for the order to rain death below. The cameras zoom out ready to catch the appearance of the packs. Seeing we may have taken down a central lair, the remaining packs could materialize from anywhere. The orange sunset changes to purple and then darkness dominates the landscape.
I can almost feel everyone holding their breath expecting the screens to light up like last night. The silence within the aircraft matches the quiet that seems to emanate from the ground. It’s as if the world is having a final silent moment waiting for two forces to collide. The sunset fades into darkness yet the screens remain empty. There is no sign of any night runners escaping their lairs to run into the night. I cast outward once again and feel the same emptiness. We’ve either annihilated the night runners in their vast lair or they’ve moved somewhere else. Or it may be something altogether different.
“Okay folks, let’s press on to the other buildings. Stay alert for any night runners on the prowl. Be ready but it’s apparent we aren’t getting the show we had last night,” I say over the radio. I listen as Robert sets up the next target and I contact Frank with the news.
The remainder of the evening is clearing building after building. We don’t see a single night runner all night and I don’t know whether I should feel worried or relieved. Depleting our 105mm rounds, I head over the base area searching for any night runners out hunting but we come up empty. To all intents and purposes, the area seems to be clear. I know that can’t be true given the numbers that Frank said must still be around. I open myself and push outward in the hopes of feeling something, even lowering our altitude in case the distance is a factor. I don’t sense anything all night. We land and shut down a little after midnight, sealing the aircraft up and stretch out where we
