He's Early--An Excerpt from Commitment A Novel

Jason Heatherly, the staunch, no-nonsense, mission-comes-first, do as I say, Irian Jaya director of Prayer on a Wing, sat over a late lunch. He reviewed supply requests of the remotely located missionaries and flight records of the Tiom-based pilots while his lunch cooled. He was responsible for what he called customer satisfaction, with the customer being the missionaries. He took pride in his keen ability to handle such an immense logistical duty. This one man operation was, for his predecessors, a complex affair.

When he had first arrived eighteen months before, Jason had had no time to transition into the job. The man who had run the show had had to return stateside unexpectedly. For a week, Steve Millican had temporarily hung up his wings to supervise the operations. Finally, the prayers of the community had been answered when Daryl flew in with mail and a replacement director. Out of the passenger side of the red and white plane unfolded a thirty-five-year-old tall and lanky Jason. His serious deep set eyes and quick stride had let everyone know his intent to take charge, much to Steve’s relief.

Steve walked in, interrupting Jason’s thoughts. He had given some of Steve’s flights to the other pilots cutting his schedule gradually so Steve could train the incoming pilot.

“I’m a free man, Jason,” Steve announced with relief. “Most of my routes are handed over so now all we need is the new guy.”

Jason looked up from his working lunch, smiled, and motioned for his blond-haired friend to join him. “Great to hear that. Mr. Braddham should be here any day now,” he said, studying his partner’s ruddy face for a reaction. “I’ve been going over the support requests and flight statistics and things seem to be running smoothly except for this.” He handed Steve a report one of the missionaries filled out earlier.

“This must be what Marta told me about. She said that some of the people in her village were having trouble with someone men digging and blasting in the mountains,” Steve said.

“Trouble?”

“Water running off the hills is dirty with a coppery appearance. She thinks someone who is up to no good up there may be contaminating it. She also says some of the village hunting parties have been shoved around for “trespassing” in the ‘white demons’ area. Sometimes the livestock is stolen, and the superstitious ones are complaining about the wildlife disappearing.” Steve got up to get coffee.

“Why haven’t you told me?” Jason demanded.

“Actually the trouble started a few weeks ago, and then suddenly there was no further mention. Maybe it has stopped. I’ll check with Marta the next time I fly down.”

“Nonetheless, I’m going to give the authorities a heads-up on this one,” Jason warned.

The radio in the control room crackled to life as Daryl informed them of her arrival.

Steve and Jason walked out to the runway and watched as the red and white plane set up for an approach. The sun was to their backs and painted long shadows and orange hues onto the pale canvas of runway. As the plane neared, the drone of the engine quieted as Daryl pulled the throttle back precisely where the plane would glide to a landing.

Dozens of people, excited about receiving mail, filed out from schoolrooms where they taught English lessons and Bible classes. Some carried books, others Bibles, and some of the kitchen staff wore aprons.

The Cessna drifted softly to a landing. “After shutting down, the two front doors opened and the occupants came out and spent a few seconds stretching the kinks out while cargo was unloaded.

“I guess he’s early,” Steve said.

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

This is home

CHAPTER 2

Daryl Stromburgh knew that this stranger had been caught off guard by her appearance, and it wasn’t anything new. Even as a teenager, men had somehow tried to hinder her interest in aviation. She reasoned that female aviation pioneers had been struggling in that battle since before Amelia Earhart and that gave her a tough defensive edge.

In spite of her toughness, her matchless beauty was highlighted by shoulder length red hair emphasized by the rising sun. She cut an imposing figure with hands on hips, but the intimidation softened as she walked toward him.

“John, meet Daryl Stromburgh. Daryl, this is John Braddham,” Ted introduced.

“From the surprised look on your face, I can see you weren’t expecting a woman pilot. If it’s all the same to you, I can out-fly anyone anywhere in this hemisphere or even the world for that matter,” she said with fingers pointed, stressing each syllable, her whole arm taking on the appearance of a pecking chicken. “So don’t try any remarks about women drivers, especially around me. Just a warning before you say anything.”

“I guess I did look incredulous,” John said. He didn’t like lectures, especially when not deserved. “You are correct. I was expecting a man...”

“Typical,” Daryl responded.

“Not so.” John held up his hand, wanting to finish. “I was fooled by your name, and Ted didn’t bother to correct my thinking.”

They both shot a glance in the direction of the grinning director.

“You gotta watch his mischievous side; other than that, he’s not so bad,” Daryl slowly let her guard down.

“Well, as I was saying, the name fooled me. Now, since you prejudged me, allow me to enlighten you about where I’m coming from. I served a few years as a military pilot and most of them in Vietnam. I am proud to have flown with some of the best aviators in our nation, and yes, some were women.” John was still a little steamed under the collar. “So don’t start expecting special treatment, especially from me. Just a warning before you say anything.”

He understands. Not too many left like him. Daryl thought. “Touché, John, and I’m sorry for attacking you like that. It wasn’t fair to punish you for the faults of others, but you seemed to take it well.”

“Now that you two are civil, I think it is safe enough for you to travel together. I wouldn’t let you fly over rivers and through valleys with chips on your shoulders.” Matt spoke with relief.

“The plane is now loaded and fueled, Ms. Stromburgh,” said the young man who had awakened John.

“Good luck, John, and make sure you take care of this guy, Daryl. I don’t want him scared off.”

“As John and Daryl left, John saw the community around the airstrip alive with activity. He watched teachers and children walk to a simple school house. The children wore combinations of traditional and western clothing of handed down or donated t-shirts adorned with pictures and logos. He could tell by their content faces that they had no idea of how utterly strange the mixture of cultures looked.

“May I carry your bags, sir?” the ghost from earlier asked.

“I can handle them,” John replied.

“Go ahead, let him. That’s what he’s paid to do,” Daryl said.

John shot her a glance. “All right, take ‘em already.”

The young man bolted ahead and loaded the baggage.

“You’ve got to be friendlier, that’s what these people know, and that’s what they expect from missionaries.” Daryl was appalled.

“Whatever,” John huffed. “How long is the flight to Tiom?”

“Roughly five hours not including refueling stops. It goes pretty fast though.” Daryl tried to sound optimistic.

“After a quick pre-flight inspection, they were airborne and flying northwesterly. Daryl took advantage of the long flight to fill John in on the operation in the area where he would work.

Daryl and John discovered they had a lot in common. The twenty-eight-year-old pilot was also raised in John’s home state of Texas, but she came from the eastern part of the state bordering Louisiana. And like John, she was very enthusiastic about aviation. What they had in common ended there. She loved the missionary work with its bush flying. For John, missionary aviation was only a stepping stone to bigger opportunities.

“It’s nothing to go from swampy, to mountainous to flat terrain in one flight. You’ll do flying like most people never experience. Hopefully you don’t get airsick too easily, but be merciful if your passengers do. It’s nothing to have to clean up a few sickness-related accidents every flight or so. We are the lifeline, the only access to the outside world the missionaries will have. I usually try to bring magazines or simple games, anything that I can to remind these dedicated people that they aren’t forgotten.”

“Does anyone ever just ‘hang it up’ and go back home?” John asked.

“Surprisingly, many pilots have returned home early. We’ve had a huge turnover because of the war. Some who have lost brothers, fathers, or other families had to help with hardships at home. The rest are another story. Perhaps it is because they came out here expecting something else, or they weren’t committed to the Lord’s work or the hardships involved. It’s not the kind of place you want to be if you’re not dedicated and prepared for what’s ahead,” Daryl warned.

John didn’t say anything, pondering her words carefully. “I don’t know,” he wondered out loud. “What brought you here?”

“Tough question. I guess I felt I was meant to do this. It just feels right, you know?”

As they flew, the terrain began to rise and Daryl flew through well-rehearsed mountain passages. She explained the importance of knowing where they were and stressed that the passages were the only way to access some of the remote mountain villages. Finally, Daryl pointed to a spot on the horizon where two rivers nearly came together.

“Heading west is the Baliem, and southerly is the Tariku. Both are major rivers into the area. It’s not unusual for a lot of missionaries to travel by river to places where we pilots can’t land. The town in the middle…” she pointed, “…is home–Tiom.”

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