The Dedication-From Commitment

Beautiful Indonesia 

     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.

     “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.

Commitment Excerpt

John’s first assessment of Tiom reminded him of the setting in most bush pilot stories he had ever read. The rich greenery surrounding a well-used runway was almost cliché. “Adventures would be launched from this small cradle he would call home, most likely stemming from encounters with such flying hazards as tall snow-covered mountains, smoke from clear-cutting, and clouds.

Daryl led him to the two waiting men. One was very tall, about a head taller than the other. He looked purely business with his hands clasped behind his back; nothing to hide. The other wore the warmest smile John had ever seen.

During introductions, a small crowd of greeters circled the four. John felt himself being whisked away to a more private meeting.

“We’ve been looking toward your arrival,” Jason said in a rehearsed voice. “Our responsibilities cover a lot of ground, as you’ll soon learn.”

“Thank you both for the welcome. Daryl has been briefing me on your little operation here and I’m anxious to get started.”

“I can assure you there is nothing ‘little’ about what we do here,” Jason defended. “There are many people who rely on us for logistical support.”

“Sorry, did I say something wrong?” John asked.

“Never mind him, as the backbone of the setup, Jason’s a little overworked. In fact, he has staff just to monitor his blood pressure,” Steve said chuckling.

“All right, excuse me if I take a little pride. I’m sure you meant no harm, nor did I. I just wanted you to know how important our work is. New pilots don’t understand this until reality hits them head on, sometimes in the form of disease or a plane wreck. Working here is no way to collect flight hours. Our business is people’s lifeline, an intravenous line straight to their hearts. Realize this early on and your work here will be rewarding for you and those whose lives you touch,” Jason said.

“I couldn’t say it better myself,” admitted Daryl. “I guess that’s why you’re in charge.”

“Steve, why don’t you take John’s bags and show him to his quarters and I’ll have the mechanics service Daryl’s plane.” Jason clapped his hands together as if a movie director was cutting a scene. “Why don’t we have a little informal get together for dinner tonight, since we have some special guests. “Around 6:30?”

“Sounds good. You know that Rachel will be more than willing to help,” Steve volunteered his wife. He turned to John. “Let’s get you settled into your new home.”

“Good to have met all of you.” John waved wearily. “I guess I’ll see you tonight.”

John followed Steve to a cinder block building adjacent the hanger compound. It was a long one-story complex with roll-open windows. Just inside a large cork board displayed messages and swayed as the two walked by.

Inside, John’s new room was surprisingly pleasant. Wicker furniture offered a homey atmosphere and was far from tacky. John found himself escorted to a roomy suite doubling as a dining or study area then to a separate bedroom. Everything was furnished except for the kitchen and plumbing which were shared in a community room down the hall.

“After saying good-bye, John unpacked and stared out of the window at the people working to outrace the sun. He recognized some faces of people he had already met. They now struggled to tow Daryl’s plane to a primitive shelter. Some of the now familiar residents removed clothing from clotheslines and others prepared for dinner while another small group carried notebooks and Bibles back to their rooms.

The setting sun reminded John that he had about an hour to clean up. Settling into a creaking chair, he wondered how he would ever have the strength to socialize during the coming evening.

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.

Big Reception Party

I guess the new guy has arrived. The home base in Tarampura is holding a reception party. I guess everyone will be there. Steve is going to fly me in tomorrow and then the gang's all there.

I hope he knows what he's in for, coming across the world to these remote jungles.

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

Evil Miners-An excerpt from Commitment-A Novel

      John painfully endured the final few minutes of the flight before he could relieve himself from the awful smell permeating the tiny cabin. He bore the discomfort of the melee from the back, the awful smell, and the constant cleaning that, thank God, Marta was attending to. Throughout attempting to maintain his composure, John noticed the stripped out area of the mountain top. Funny, there didn’t seem to be any activity last time. From eight-hundred feet, John could see some of the inhabitants moving about, perhaps cleaning up.

     “There’re your buddies,” John said sarcastically.

     “What was that?” Marta asked.

     “Those guys.” John banked the plane to the left, forcing Marta to lean on his arm as she looked out of his window at the miners’ camp. “It looks like business as usual down there.”

      “Those idiots are doing nothing but destroying the environment and everything that I have worked for,” Marta said tersely. “I know I sound cruel, but they are criminals. I wouldn’t normally hang out with vermin who may endanger my life, so I see no reason to put myself in possible danger associating with them.”

     “I’m sorry you’re having a hard time with them. Hopefully we can do something about their harassing your village.” John felt anger welling inside at the idea of someone messing with Marta.

      “Add to that polluting the water, stealing game, illegal trapping, the list is endless. I told Jason to let the authorities know, but I guess they are slow at reacting. Especially with all the political violence the military and police have to deal with,” said Marta.

     “I’ll see what I can do about getting this problem solved with the authorities. I may be able to practice some of my linguistic skill the school taught me,” said John.

     “I’m sure you will do just fine.”

     “Terima Kasih,” John thanked her in Indonesian. “Anyway, these guys could be here illegally. If you think about it, we are probably the only ones flying around. We have a job to do and the funds to get it done. The military mission probably can’t    support air surveillance.”

     “You don’t have to tell me. I was here right after the new government was established. They were and still are having a problem with red tape and the bureaucracy of visas and passports, just for starters.” Marta sighed. “The boys in the back are the future.” She smiled at them and was relieved to see that Digul had lost some of his green tint.

 Jeffrey W. Bennett, ISP is an author of non-fiction books, novels and periodicals.

Accepted into the Fold

John and Steve unloaded mail and a package of supplies. John noticed Marta immediately. Red hair cascading past her shoulders, cotton skirt, and khaki shirt seemed out of place. He could tell she had a unique and special relationship with the Dani people. They looked up at her and smiled, as if to share her joy when the plane arrived.

And she’s beautiful; the voice in his head told him.

He had to subdue that voice, because there was no chance for a relationship. But the voice still spoke to him, silently, seductively.

“This is going to be a hard battle,” he replied a little too loudly.

“What was that?” Steve asked.

“Oh, nothing,” he replied. “Is that Marta Springer, by the way?”

“Sure is. Help me with the supplies, and I’ll introduce you.”

Marta ran up to help. “I was so worried about you when your plane went down. I’m so glad you made it out of there.”

“Besides replacing a window and recovering from a fever, I’d say everything worked out just fine,” said Steve.

“I take it this is John?” she asked.

“That’s right, John Braddham, pleased to meet you,” he said, taking her offered hand. Her grip was tight and sincere, yet her hands were soft.

He was amazed at her emotional and mental strength that helped her endure all the years under the extreme circumstances he had only for a short time experienced. He doubted his fortitude or whatever he might consider a driving force to keep him committed. The incident of the forced landing nearly sent him home packing. Even so, he decided to stay, blaming his resolve to be an airline pilot. I’m committed to something. But is it enough to keep me here?

“Marta, this guy is incredible! He can handle an airplane like a

P.O.W. veteran. In fact, he has already been accepted full-fledged into the program. We’re just getting him familiar with his route,” said Steve.

“Already?” Marta exaggerated her surprise. “Don’t you usually train pilots longer?”

“Between losing pilots and convincing Jason that John is ready, I’m able to accelerate the program,” said Steve.

“I guess you are familiar with Jason’s thoroughness,” said John.

“Yes, I am,” she nodded. “He’s firm but fair. I know he rubs some the wrong way, but he is a wonderful person and a great leader. He just takes time to warm up to, but when you do, he makes a faithful friend. I can rely on him for anything.”

“Well, that’s what I keep hearing,” said John.

“John saved the day,” Steve interjected. “That night was enough to leave an impression on even the toughest of heroes. I’m convinced we wouldn’t have made it if it weren’t for him.”

“We were praying for you all night. As if the weather and landing weren’t dangerous enough, we heard you had to deal with the Yali. I’d love to hear what happened sometime,” Marta invited.

“You give me too much credit. But if you want to hear the scaled down version of the story...” John was about to finish when two strangers came into view.

Numah and a young man named Tucker walked up on either side of Marta. Numah tugged on Marta’s shirt.

“Oh, excuse me. John, I would like you to meet my good friends, Numah and Tucker,” said Marta.

John smiled at Marta’s two companions. The woman was small and dressed in a grass skirt and a dingy T-shirt with “Sunny” emblazoned in bold red letters. The twelve-year-old with her was a little shorter with tattered shorts and a dark, long sleeve shirt. Both were adorned with bone and leather jewelry. “I am glad to meet you both,” John said.

Numah giggled and wrapped her arms around John’s neck. The gesture caught John off guard and after a few steps of back peddling, he regained his balance. He stood a long second with his arms stretched wide before smiling and returning the hug. “You didn’t tell me they were so friendly.”

“We had the same cultural experience. It’s just something they don’t teach you in school,” Marta laughed.

More of the villagers approached and John almost bowled over in laughter. He guffawed audibly before Steve could suppress the rest of his reaction with a timely elbow jab to the ribs.

The circus of assorted characters crested the small hill and walked toward the amused newcomer. Most wore traditional dress consisting of grass skirt with no tops for the women and for the men, nothing, save the gourds of various shapes and sizes.

“John, please,” Steve begged.

“I’m sorry, but this is incredible. They are wearing squash. What does it all mean?” asked John.

“Nothing in particular. You’ll get used to it,” Marta said sternly. “C’mon, I’ll introduce you around.” Marta took the lead up the path to the village as Numah scampered up from behind.

“He right handsome man, Marta. You like?” Numah asked in her native tongue.

Marta tried to ignore her, continuing up the path in silence.

Remember, 100% of all royalties will be applied to Jeff's mission trip to Asia. Jeffrey W. Bennett, ISP is the owner of Red Bike Publishing. Jeff is an accomplished writer of non-fiction books, novels and periodicals. He also owns Red bike Publishing. Published books include: "Get Rich in a Niche-Insider's Guide to Self Publishing in a Specialized Industry" and "Commitment-A Novel". Jeff is an expert in security and has written many security books including: "Insider's Guide to Security Clearances" and "DoD Security Clearances and Contracts Guidebook". See Red Bike Publishing for print copies of: Army Leadership The Ranger Handbook The Army Physical Readiness Manual Drill and Ceremonies The ITAR The NISPOM

Going Home

      As he neared the end of the runway, still only five feet above field, he tried to pull the yoke back. Nothing, it wouldn’t budge. He glanced right and noticed the unconscious Steve slumped across the controls.

     “Oh no, you don’t,” John said. He pulled Steve upright.

     Steve came to and yelped as the plane headed straight for the natives. He closed his eyes, anticipating the deadly propellers slashing them. Instead, the equally horrified people ducked to the ground as John pulled up and to the right. The plane responded with a slow roll as it climbed higher into the late morning sky.

***

     The same horrifying dawn brought a beautiful sunrise to the residents of Tiom. Some who had gotten sleep awoke to a crystal clear sky painted with the same pale blue and yellow that John had witnessed. Rachel stared at the morning, welcoming it as a promise of a safe delivery of her husband.

     “Men, you have your missions,” Jason said. “Scan the sectors here and here.” He indicated with a pointer. “See if there is any wreckage, but by all means, don’t land. I can’t afford to lose anyone else.”

     Jason turned to Rachel who was steadily giving up hope. She had kept her vigil at the radio in hopes of something, anything. The wait was the hardest, probably harder than any bad news could ever be. “Hey, it’s not over.”

     “That’s right,” Sandy, Jason’s wife said. “Just don’t give up.”

     “Thanks, but I just don’t know. I expected to hear something by now,” Rachel sobbed.

     “Tiom base, this is N7724V. Fifteen miles to the West, inbound for a landing.” The radio crackled to life.

     “Hey, that’s John! Oh, thank God!” Rachel exclaimed through choking sobs of excitement.

     They watched hopefully from the window, as the plane grew from an insignificant speck to a proud vessel bringing home their treasured ones.

Jeffrey W. Bennett, ISP is the owner of Red Bike Publishing. Jeff is an accomplished writer of non-fiction books, novels and periodicals. He also owns Red bike Publishing. Published books include: "Get Rich in a Niche-Insider's Guide to Self Publishing in a Specialized Industry" and "Commitment-A Novel". Jeff is an expert in security and has written many security books including: "Insider's Guide to Security Clearances" and "DoD Security Clearances and Contracts Guidebook". See Red Bike Publishing for print copies of: Army Leadership The Ranger Handbook The Army Physical Readiness Manual Drill and Ceremonies The ITAR The NISPOM

The Escape

     His plan was simple. He would help Steve the seventy-five or so yards to the awaiting plane and take off straight down the runway. The airstrip sloped upward about five degrees, so he would need all the power the plane had. He nudged Steve, who less than alert.

     “It’s time to go.”

     “Huh? What’s going on?” Steve lifted his pale face, his glazed eyes trying to focus.

     “I need you to be alert. There are very dangerous people after us. We need to get to the plane. Do you understand?” John spoke slowly, hoping the words would break through Steve’s clouded mind.

     “Just help me up and I’ll race you there.” Steve sobered suddenly, as he clumsily labored to his knees.

     John helped him and sighed in disbelief as his disoriented companion stumbled in the opposite direction. “I think you’ve been disqualified from this heat. Here, let me lead you.”

     Both scurried to the plane. It was like a nightmare as John imagined the plane getting farther away. Finally reaching it, John shoved Steve into the passenger seat.

     Running around the plane, checking for damage and remaining debris, he made a hasty pre-flight check. Satisfied, he reached to turn the power switch on-nothing.

     “Oh no, what next!” John punched the instrument panel.

     He immediately cut it off and back on. He heard the faint sound of the gyro and turned the key. Not enough power remained to start the motor. “Steve, Steve,” John yelled shaking his buddy.

     “Hmm?” Steve answered groggily. He wore a stupid smile.

     It’s not over. I need you to take the controls so I can prop the plane. Those guys drained the battery.”

     “Ok, fly to get more batteries,” Steve said in his delirium.

     “No! no! no!” John yelled. “I have to hand prop the plane. Listen; just hold your feet on the brakes.”

John climbed out and turned the propeller a couple of times and prepared for a starting kick. Then he saw a commotion in the jungle. Some of the natives were holding up the ponchos where he and Steve had been. So far they hadn’t seen him.

     “Please, God, let this start,” John prayed before throwing the propeller downward.

It spun around sputtering but not catching. The alerted natives looked and moved slowly toward the plane, taking cover as they advanced.

“Great, an audience.”

Jeffrey W. Bennett, ISP is the owner of Red Bike Publishing. Jeff is an accomplished writer of non-fiction books, novels and periodicals. He also owns Red bike Publishing. Published books include: "Get Rich in a Niche-Insider's Guide to Self Publishing in a Specialized Industry" and "Commitment-A Novel". Jeff is an expert in security and has written many security books including: "Insider's Guide to Security Clearances" and "DoD Security Clearances and Contracts Guidebook". See Red Bike Publishing for print copies of: Army Leadership The Ranger Handbook The Army Physical Readiness Manual Drill and Ceremonies The ITAR The NISPOM

Hiding

The leader, dressed in a loincloth and wearing a necklace of bones and ornamental feathers, motioned for one of his subordinates to try the doors. The lackey finally figured how to open the pilot’s door and curiously played with the controls and buttons. He tripped the main power switch, activating the electronic gyro. The slow electrical windup suddenly turned into a high- pitched whir sending everyone scuttling for cover.

John snickered at the comic relief, but only briefly. He needed to get Steve back to safety, and he knew the natives would soon recover from the scare. He rose to help Steve and timidly headed toward the plane. John ducked as the leader turned in his direction and pointed the others to fan out. John knew the leader had sent out a search party. He pushed Steve down and jumped to his side, quickly pulling the poncho over them. At least the ponchos are green, John thought. Lying there, he heard the brush around him parting as a few people crept through it. They stopped within a few feet and talked. John could see their dirty feet from under the poncho and prayed they would leave before the sun revealed their hiding place.

Time passed slowly that morning. The natives searched for hours before finally leaving, or at least that’s what John hoped they’d done. The sun was higher in the sky and began burning off the rain water that fell the previous day. Once again fog and steam started to form, leaving John hoping for a gentle breeze to disperse it.

Jeffrey W. Bennett, ISP is the owner of Red Bike Publishing. Jeff is an accomplished writer of non-fiction books, novels and periodicals. He also owns Red bike Publishing. Published books include: "Get Rich in a Niche-Insider's Guide to Self Publishing in a Specialized Industry" and "Commitment-A Novel". Jeff is an expert in security and has written many security books including: "Insider's Guide to Security Clearances" and "DoD Security Clearances and Contracts Guidebook". See Red Bike Publishing for print copies of: Army Leadership The Ranger Handbook The Army Physical Readiness Manual Drill and Ceremonies The ITAR The NISPOM

An Excerpt from Commitment-A Novel

“What'd you do that for?” Angus yelled.

“He was going to eat me,” the overweight Bart whined a little too loudly. He still had his shotgun poised over his head.

“No he wasn’t, you fool. He probably heard all the commotion you made and came to investigate,” said Charles.

“What in the world was this aborigine doing up at this time of night?” Bart complained, laboring for air.

“Probably guarding the camp from lads like us,” Charles chided.

“Keep it down! Did you have to hit him so hard? I think he’s dead,” Angus chastised.

“I said I didn’t mean to. You shouldn’t have brought me here. You should’ve left me to guard the camp instead of Roger,” Bart continued to whine. “This stuff scares me and I hate walking through it. I can’t believe you made me come.”

“We needed someone competent to stand by at camp. We didn’t think you could cause trouble under supervision,” Charles continued.

Angus dug into his back pack and pulled out an ornament he took from an Asmat warrior he found long dead, and dropped it where the body lay. “This should clear us of any suspicion. C’mon, we’ve got to move the body.” Angus’ mind was working now. “You two, take an arm and follow me.”

***

Jeffrey W. Bennett, ISP is the owner of Red Bike Publishing. Jeff is an accomplished writer of non-fiction books, novels and periodicals. He also owns Red bike Publishing. Published books include: "Get Rich in a Niche-Insider's Guide to Self Publishing in a Specialized Industry" and "Commitment-A Novel". Jeff is an expert in security and has written many security books including: "Insider's Guide to Security Clearances" and "DoD Security Clearances and Contracts Guidebook". See Red Bike Publishing for print copies of: Army Leadership The Ranger Handbook The Army Physical Readiness Manual Drill and Ceremonies The ITAR The NISPOM