The Dedication

     “You handled that new runway like the professional you are,” Marta had said.

     “It was a pleasure. We worked hard, and it paid off. I’ll try out the takeoffs, as soon as I get some of the weight out.” Steve had pointed to his plane.

     “You mean there is more?” Marta had marveled at the supplies Steve had already unloaded.

     “Just come back to the plane with me and see,” Steve had said, smiling mischievously.

     Together, Steve and Marta had walked back to the plane.

     “Do you remember when I told you I had another project to take care of?” Steve’s eyes had hardly contained his excitement.

     “Yes, I guess you got it all done. What did you need to do?”

     “Only this.” Steve had reached in and with both hands had struggled with a heavy burden. He pulled half of a canvassed object out and asked one of the men to help remove the covering. “I don’t think an airfield should be without a dedication.”

     Marta’s heart had stopped. Her sparkling eyes had blinked rapidly in an attempt to dam the welling tears. She had bitten her lip hard to stop her quivering chin, but all efforts had failed her. She had read the sign over and over again in those few seconds to capture each letter in her mind. Her tears had fallen, but her face had beamed with pride and approval.

     “Oh, thank you, Steve, thank you. It is so wonderful.”

     One of her closest friends, Numah, who had also lost a husband in the same battle as Raymond, had come to Marta’s aid. Numah did not understand the reason for the happy crying, but had known Marta needed a hug.

     “It’s okay, Numah, this is a wonderful gift from our friends in Tiom,” Marta had said.

     “I hope you like it, Marta. I took a collection up and had this made,” Steve had said.

     “It’s truly beautiful. I know the perfect place for it.”

     Together they had erected the sign reading, “RAYMOND SPRINGER MEMORIAL AIRFIELD.”

     Marta returned from her thoughts as she focused on the plaque. It looks as if it had been made yesterday. She wiped tears and memories away as she forced her mind to the present, then stooped to pull some weeds from the base of the sign and nodded with approval.

Jeffrey W. Bennett, is the author of Commitment-A Novel and other non-fiction books, novels and periodicals.

Beautiful Tarampura

     Time never stood still in the small village of Tarampura, one in a chain along the Great Baliem Valley. This was the home the ornamental Dani. Marta Springer knew her link of the chain all too well. Two years ago next month, she reminded herself, shivering at the repulsive thought. She shook her head trying to escape sadness as she set out to inspect the airfield. I want to make sure it is neat for the new guy. Viewing the landing strip so critically brought back painful memories.

“This is the best way to remember Raymond,” she had said two years before, upon return after burying her late husband. “He had always spoken of making a runway near the village. You know how slow the boats are.” She reminded Jason of the 25 miles from Tiom, forever by boat but only a few minutes by air.

Within weeks some of the pilots had traveled by boat, surveyed the area, and found a place that would be suitable for a runway. They had hired some men from the village who worked with stone axes to clear an outline of what would be a 25 foot by 1700 foot airstrip.

“I’d always wanted to land in your village. You have no idea how beautiful it looks nestled between the mountain and the Baliem River,” Steve had said as he and his crew spent the night.

“How long do you think it will take? I mean, I can’t believe this is all happening. I wish Raymond could be here to see his dream.” Marta had said.

“Raymond would be proud. Proud of the strip, and proud of your hard work. We should be done in about six months provided the weather holds out and the workers keep their interest,” Steve had said.

“I don’t think the Dani will be a hard sell for the idea of a landing strip. I think they’ll be eager to build a place where the aloof motorized birds could roost.” Marta had said of the comments Steve had made. They’d seen planes fly overhead, but had never touched nor seen one up close.

“Just look around. Men wearing nothing but gourds, taming the jungle growth with stone axes. It’s a sight for any anthropologist,” Marta had said.

“The influence of modern technology is leaving its mark. Pretty soon, they won’t remember what life without an air strip was like,” Steve had said.

Within weeks they had burned away much of the clearing. This method assisted in the hunt for scarce meat and was often used in defense as warring tribes were flushed out of any cover by an all consuming fire. When the burning and stone axes proved futile, there were always the chain saws from Tiom. The villagers loved the loud noise and display of raw power as a fueled chain whirled around chewing up any resistance. Men toiling to move mounds of dirt had the most tedious and back breaking of work. Human earth movers burdened under the weight of the soil, had traversed in monotonous patterns as they had smoothed the landing strip as much as possible.

Finally, one month ahead of schedule, the runway was complete. Marta and the excited villagers had watched as Steve’s Cessna 182 spiraled into the valley. Some of them became jumpy as the engine suddenly went quiet about a mile from the runway. “A young boy named Tucker thought it would crash, but Marta had only smiled. She knew it was part of the procedures to bleed of speed and slow the airplane enough to land.

Marta had seen Steve smiling from ear to ear as he climbed out of his aircraft. In mass, the whole village had moved down to see him, surrounding the man from the sky and touching his blue and white bird. They wondered what kind of magic made this machine soar so high. Some had tried to find out as they anticipated the chance to experience flight; they would become legendary.

Jeffrey W. Bennett, is the author of Commitment-A Novel and other non-fiction books, novels and periodicals.

New Crutches-From Commitment-A Novel

     John taxied the plane to the opposite end of the small airstrip, turned it into the wind as he usually did, and prepared to shut down. As he reached down to grab his check list, he caught a glimpse of sudden movement from the crowd. At the same time, Digul recognized his mother and began rocking in excitement, waving his arms, and shouting. This added to the urgency of Digul’s crying mother as she bolted toward the plane.

     “John, look out!” Marta warned, at the same time waving the excited mother back.

     “Noooo!” John screamed, reaching for the throttle to still the whirling blades.

     John stared blankly as he shook off the fear. That was almost a catastrophe, he thought as his door swung open. He was not completely aware of the many hands that rubbed his arms and patted his head. He wanted to just lie back and sigh as he recovered from the shock. As he sat shaking, he saw Marta being pulled from the plane, as everyone wanted to hug her. It wasn’t until the plane started rocking as many bodies bumped against it that John become fully aware of the celebration.

     Digul’s mother cried and held Marta in thanksgiving as some men helped Digul out of the back. They stepped back aghast at the hard structure on his leg. For a long minute, the celebration came to an abrupt end. The poor kid just stood there with his head cocked to one side trying to understand. His mother began to approach him cautiously, not wanting to hurt her son, who just two days before lay on his death bed. Seeing his mother only a few yards away he tried to walk toward her, but only stumbled.

     Finally recovered from his scare, John emerged from the plane with the crutches and fell in behind Marta and the boys.

     Digul was proud of himself for being able to slowly walk to his mother. He stopped and beamed a bright smile of accomplishment. He struggled to get his arms free and held them out to his mother.

     Suddenly the spell was broken, as the mother once again rushed to her son. She held him close as the people began cheering. They understood he had recovered, and he wasn’t a ghost.

     Digul took up his crutches and followed the rest of his people to the village as the excitement wore off, leaving John and Marta alone. They stood together leaning against the plane, each enjoying the cool air blowing in from the east and swirling around them. It was quiet now and they could actually hear the breeze whispering gently over the plane. In the distance, playing monkeys caused tree tops to sway vigorously.

Jeffrey W. Bennett, is the author of Commitment-A Novel and other non-fiction books, novels and periodicals.

Pay Attention Please

  “I don’t think that poor little boy would have survived the amount of time it would’ve taken to break down that man’s defenses.” Marta fought to control her frustration.

     “I thought you were pretty amazing standing up to one of the most powerful men in the village,” said John.

     “I saw her do more things than this,” said Tucker.

     Sandy emerged from the hut. Upon seeing her, Marta ran to check on Digul.

     “Well, it doesn’t seem his condition is critical. His vital signs are weak, he has a fever, but there is no real danger. Everyone did well keeping him cooled off,” said Sandy.

     “What can I do to help? Are you going to do something for his leg?” asked Marta.

     “Of course we will fix his broken leg, but first I need a few things from you. Continue rubbing him down with water-soaked rags. I gave him some antibiotics for the infection. That, along with a good amount of water, should flush him out. His fever should break, but make sure he takes

these.” Sandy held out a small bottle of aspirin. “These are for you, but I am sure you can spare a few for the boy.”

     “I’ll make sure it all gets done. Thanks, Sandy. You were good back there.”

     “Hey, hey, I’m not finished. Don’t forget why I came in the first place. Let’s go to your hut and get started.” Sandy pointed for Marta to lead the way.

     “I hope we won’t need any shots,” Marta sighed.

     “I don’t know, you might get lucky. I haven’t been giving too many this last trip. A lot of the required series are complete,” Sandy said.

     “I can take whatever pain to stay productive and healthy,” said Marta.

     They glanced back and saw John standing alone.

     “John, you’ll have to excuse us for a few minutes, okay?” Sandy called back.

     “What has it been like flying around with John this past week?” Marta asked, while Sandy shined a powerful light in her ear.

     “Quite an experience. He is good company, a great help, and I think he is starting to fit in well.  Now open wide and say aaaah,” Sandy instructed.

     “Aaaah, I hate having a tongue depressor in my mouth. Why doesn’t anybody invent flavored ones?” Marta asked.

     “Good question. How has it been having him as your supporter?” Sandy countered.

     Marta took a deep breath as Sandy listened to her lungs through the stethoscope. “I like it. His visits are fun, I get to show him new things and he tells me about home. There is always something to talk about.” She breathed a little more deeply as she spoke of John.

      “That’s interesting,” Sandy commented while listening to Marta’s heart.

      “What? Is something wrong?”

      “No, I mean it’s interesting that you admit you enjoy his company. Are you fond of him?” Sandy asked.

     “I don’t know. I think I am, but it’s too soon to tell. Plus, I feel guilty for the mixed feelings I have for him and my duty here. I haven’t even considered a relationship with anyone since Raymond,” Marta replied.

     “I don’t think you should feel guilty about that,” Sandy said while glancing over Marta’s medical records in search of immunization history.

     “I know. But I don’t think he is the least bit concerned with beginning a relationship when all his goals seem to center around flying. I don’t think I could ever leave my work here, and we don’t have enough in common to even think about coming together,” said Marta.

     “In a few months,” Sandy answered, preoccupied with the records.

     “A few months?”

     “It says right here your last shot was this past quarter. You are good for another few months,” Sandy added cheerfully.

     “You aren’t even listening. You medical people can never see the emotional side. There is a human in this body, not just a patient to poke and prod,” Marta complained jokingly.

     “I’m sorry, I guess I was too involved in your records,” replied Sandy.

Jeffrey W. Bennett, is the author of Commitment-A Novel and other non-fiction books, novels and periodicals.