We're Flying!

    The roar of the engine frightened the natives, causing them to take cover on the ground. The propeller sent wet leaves and vines like miniature missiles flying in their direction, forcing them to stay prone until the plane pulled away.

     As he taxied down the strip, John cranked the flap setting to full in preparation for a short field take-off. As the wing’s trailing edges lengthened, he turned to check on Steve. His buddy was still restless, and not of much use. John set the brakes, running the engine to maximum power. The brakes groaned and the wheels longed to be free. John saw a blur pass before him as he realized the arrow assault had resumed. Something else caught his attention, and he saw how a character ran full speed toward the plane, a stone axe raised in attack.

     John released the brakes and plowed full power toward the end of the runway, but not before the foe released his ax. Striking Steve’s window, it splintered the glass like a complex spider web.

     John held the yoke back as far as possible to keep the nose wheel up. So far he had eaten a lot of ground and still hadn’t gotten off the strip as the long wet grass slowed them. He pulled the throttle to idle and crawled to a stop. At the end of the runway, he increased power to turn around before setting the brakes again. “I’ve got to make it this time,” he groaned, clenching the yoke with his left hand. With his right, he pushed the throttle.

     John released the brakes and began rolling. It wouldn’t be too hard to pick up speed as he headed down hill. He looked down the runway to see four people running in defiance toward him. As the plane lifted, he was encouraged as the sound of grass scraping the wheels was replaced with silence.

     “We’re flying!” John shrieked.

     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.

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

Arrows and Hatchets

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

     “Great, an audience.”

     A hastily fired arrow struck the back window and deflected high above John’s head. He jumped up and shoved the propeller with all his might as he came down. John ran a wide arc around the spinning propeller and entered under the left wing.

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

It's Time to Go

     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.

     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.

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

Primitive Man Meets Flying Machine

   The half naked group, armed with spears and bows and arrows, and one with a stone ax, fanned out once they neared the clearing. They moved in unison like a well-rehearsed infantry unit. Someone gave a bird call upon seeing the camouflaged airplane and the rest moved cautiously toward the source of commotion.

     John saw them move slowly toward the plane, and huddle around the leader. They looked for tell-tale signs of trouble, then regrouped as the leader gave instructions. On cue, they began removing the bushes and curiously rubbed their hands across the smooth surface of the plane. Some of them swung from the wings and struts, while others played with the control surfaces until the leader yelled a warning.

     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.

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

Mystery in the Jungle

     The sun painted streaks of pale blue and yellow through the morning sky. Birds were awake, singing to anyone appreciative enough to listen. The moon was full and bright as it still sat high in the western sky.

     John listened intently. He was used to the sounds of the jungle, something he would actually miss. Gone were the distractions of machines. However, he prayed that they would soon be getting back to the plane that would take them back to their world–civilization.

     Suddenly he was aware of something new–silence. The singing had abruptly stopped, but why? Birds go silent as a survival instinct, he thought. He listened more intently, as the ground would be soft, muffling any footsteps.

     There! In the brush – a slight movement. He focused his eyes to one side of the dark, heavily vegetated area hoping to catch something in his peripherals. Behind about fifty yards, vines and branches moved in one direction as a few stealthy figures filed through. John estimated six people moving in the direction of the clearing. With any concentrated effort, the group would discover them. He nudged Steve, who had suffered with a fever since midnight.

     “Wake up,” John whispered, placing his hand over his buddy’s mouth. He waited a moment for Steve to recover from the surprise. “There are people heading our way. You’ll have to keep quiet.”

     All Steve could do was nod his head in agreement.

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

He did everything right. Then the church excommunicated him, his friends abandoned him, and the government executed him. What happened next will shock you.

He did everything right. He cured diseases, ended hunger, and loved the unlovable. Not only did He feel compassion for those in need, He actually met their needs and taught others to do the same. But He never received cash or Nobel Peace Prize. They simply told him to stop.

He couldn't stop. His mind was focused and his heart was determined. He knew His current course would end in personal disaster, but it would give hope to countless. He understood that he might have to give his life, but others would live.

He wasn't alone. His mission was assigned from the highest command and with utmost urgency. As a soldier leading the rescue of a lost platoon behind enemy lines, He set His mind on the goal. No one left behind.

They told him to stop, He didn't listen. They fired everything they had at him: reason, bribery, then insults, slapping, punching, lashing, piercing, and finally execution.

As He stood before his interrogator and said, "My kingdom is not of the earth."

And He kept on. He had to reach the lost behind enemy lines and knew it was more important than this life.

Without regard for his own life, He continued the mission until every order was met. In this case the orders were centuries old doctrine and prophecy outlining the tactics; avenues of approach to the ultimate goal of rescuing the lost behind enemy lines. Once He met the objective, He ended the mission on His terms. With a mighty shout He exclaimed: "IT IS FINISHED".

Though He did everything right the church excommunicated him, his friends abandoned him, and the government executed him.

Here's the shocking part; He overcame death.

Three days later His mission continued. His physical body died, but He returned as the King of another kingdom eager to rescue the lost behind enemy lines.

He forgave those who betrayed and killed him and gave them the mission.

For the next 40 days He issued instructions to his followers. First to 2, then 4, then 8, then 12, then 70, then 500. He gave them the mission: Rescue the lost behind enemy lines.

After an additional ten days, He sent reinforcements. The Holy Spirit empowered them for the mission. Though Jesus had ascended to his throne, He left a plan and a helper. Then thousands believed and they continued the mission.

Though He did everything right the church excommunicated him, his friends abandoned him, and the government executed him. But He overcame that, He triumphed over death and He lives forevermore rescuing the lost behind enemy lines. 

Jeffrey W. Bennett is the author of Commitment-A Novel and other non-fiction books, novels and periodicals. You can see more of his writings @ www.redbikepublishing.com

Wasn't Disturbed All Night

     “Tiom, this is Tarampura, over?” Marta’s transmission came in more clearly with the improving weather.

     Jason, Sandy, Rachel, and other pilots crowded around the radio. Rachel kept busy to keep her composure.

     “This is Tiom. Go ahead,” Rachel answered. 

     “How are you holding up, break? Have you heard anything yet, over?” Marta sounded just as tired as they did, having been in constant prayer. 

     “Not yet, but we haven’t given up, over,” Rachel responded.

     “I’m so sorry, and I haven’t given up either, break. Not with all the experience these bush pilots have, break. I’m just here if you need me, over,” Marta said groggily.

     “We appreciate your staying by the radio for us, break. The pilots are going over the flight route now and plan to fly out tomorrow to search for the... the... plane, over.” Rachel sobbed.

     “Hey,” Marta replied. “It’s going to be just fine, over.”

     “Thanks,” Rachel sniffed.

     “I think we should keep the airwaves clear. So, goodnight, break. Keep me informed if you hear anything, out.” Marta signed off the radio and looked at Numah, who smiled back assuringly.

     “Thank you all for staying up with me. You should go to sleep with your families now,” Marta said under heavy eyelids.

     “No, Marta, we spoke. We each take time to listen radio. Something happen, we wake you up. You go sleep,” Numah insisted.

      Without protesting, Marta went to bed, and wasn’t disturbed for the rest of the night.

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

Cold Night in the Jungle

They removed the camouflage ponchos and made a lean-to. Green and brown cover concealed their whereabouts, giving them a sense of confidence and courage. Speaking in whispers, they watched as the dismal evening turned into dark night. Each noted how the night was darker than what they were used to in America. 

There was no glow of electric lights, and in their shelter, they could barely see each other.

Sounds of the night told the story of business as usual. Nocturnal scavengers, hunters, and prey kept the darkness alive, unaware of their visitors’ fear and discouragement. The rain had let up, but they were still drenched, and with the night, cold.

“Why don’t you open that canned food? The calories will help keep us warm.” John noticed Steve’s shaking. The dampness and lowering temperatures drained his body of heat.

“I’ve got spaghetti and meatballs and some Spam,” Steve offered.

“Which do you want?”

“We can share both.” Steve’s shaking became worse.

“I think we should spoon to keep warm,” said John.

“What’s that?” Steve thought he had an idea.

“I mean, you are losing heat rapidly. This rain may be giving you hypothermia. We are drenched, and the only way to keep warm is to huddle up,” said John.

“Well, the only one I ever get close with is Rachel. Even though you are not as cute, I’ll make an exception this once.”

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

Danger in the Jungle

CHAPTER 7

“Great landing,” John said. He leaned back and sighed.

“After I shut her down, we should push her into the undergrowth and try to camouflage her. Our only hope is that nobody saw us, and that Marta got our message out,” Steve said.

“What are the odds of that?” asked John.

“I’m not a gambling person. I put my trust in Marta getting the word out, and God taking care of the rest. In the meantime, we need to hide.”

The rain continued to pound down around them. The poor visibility that forced them down was now their hope of obscurity.

“We really need to go deeper into the growth and away from the plane, just in case somebody unfriendly saw us,” said Steve.

“I agree. The farther we get from the plane the better.” John looked to the south, noticing blue sky. “It looks as if it may clear.”

Steve could only smile. It was very doubtful the rain would let up soon. Fog and clouds spun around the mountains like cotton candy.

Grabbing a few ponchos, water, and snacks from the compartment, Steve and John wove their way into the forest. The canopy was thick enough to stop much of the rain, and forest sounds reminded them they were not alone. The sounds also told them there was life out there more capable of survival.

They stopped far enough away to see the plane, yet remain concealed. Steve started to move vines out of the way, but John grabbed his arm.

“Leave everything as is. You’ll be surprised at how natives would notice anything out of place.”

Both men were drenched, having put their ponchos on too late. They stood for a long time in silence. Wind whistled softly through the undergrowth and water plummeted in large drops from overhead. Somewhere to the west they could hear birds singing, and to the north small animals hopped around in the growth.

“It’s always a good idea to listen and get comfortable with the sounds of the environment. That way, if we hear anything strange we can recognize it immediately,” John said.

“Smart idea, no doubt from experience. I can’t help feeling that we may have company before this is over,” Steve predicted.

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

I'm Staying Here!

“What do you mean they had to land?” Jason asked.

“It was raining! They had no choice!” Rachel shouted nervously.

Jason immediately regretted his outburst. This was no time to question her husband’s abilities. “I didn’t mean that to sound like it did. I’m sorry.”

“I understand. You can’t blame yourself for whatever decision had to be made. So go easy.”

“Look, why don’t you go take a break. I’ll handle things from here,” Jason offered.

“I am staying here until my husband gets back. I don’t know what we can do for him now, but if it’s going to be a long wait, I’ll get refreshments and coffee going while we try to figure out a plan,” Rachel said.

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

Not a Good Track Record

“Was that the same woman whose husband was killed?” John asked over the pounding rain.

“One and the same, a very brave and dependable woman.”

“Well, let’s hope God answers her prayers.” John rolled his eyes in defeat while considering Marta’s track record.

Eventually, John spotted the field from the passenger side window. They would have to set up the landing with Steve viewing the field from his side window. The rain was pounding the windshield too strongly, and seeing anything through it was about as effective as looking through frosted glass.

Steve performed a shallow left-hand traffic pattern as he slowly descended and flew the length of the strip. Seeing no obstacles, he circled and approached from the same direction.

Steve bled off speed, let out ten degrees of flaps, and turned left before letting out another ten degrees. He forced the nose over to keep up the present air speed and observed the field. Pulling the throttle back, he dumped full flaps just before flaring out. The RPMs were low enough to prevent anyone from hearing the engine. An eerie whistle of air rushing past the wings accompanied them through the remainder of the flight.

“Okay, you’ve got it, steady...” John encouraged while wiping off condensation from the window.



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

Forced Landing

“Tiom, this is Tarampura, do you read me?” C’mon, Jason, pick up! Pick up! Images of an overgrown runway, hostile tribes, and deteriorating weather conditions horrified Marta. Her chest tightened involuntarily, making her call difficult.

“Last calling station. This is Tiom, over.” It was Rachel.

“This is Tarampura, I have some important news and I have to get through to Jason, over,” said Marta.

The heavy rainfall severely weakened the signal, frustrating Marta. She caught a few words between surges of static.

“Is that you, Marta? What’s the matter? Over,” Rachel asked.

“Steve is being forced to land because of the weather, over” Marta said, trying to stay in control. She knew it would be too much for Rachel.

“What is their current location? Over,” asked Rachel.

“Listen, everything is going to be okay.” Rachel’s trying to keep the transmission short. She’s having trouble hearing too. 

“They are going to land in Wampe.”

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

Emergency Landing

     “Though there is a strip nearby, this is definitely not the place to land. A few years ago, the Yali invaded a former village and chased all the inhabitants out. The missionaries barely escaped. For a while, a few neighboring villages had their missionaries pulled back to Tiom,” said Steve.

     “That sounds pretty hairy. Have any missionaries been killed by natives?” John asked.

     “Our policy is to not go into an area or village if not invited. God has opened a lot of doors, but there is still resistance. The missionaries in that village over the ridge were killed by head hunters, and we were never able to get back in. Our airstrip is still there, and the locals are pretty friendly, but the neighboring village is still reluctant to accept outsiders. Also, one of the villages you’ll be serving has a missionary there named Marta Springer. A few years ago, after she and her husband Raymond arrived, they were able to establish a great relationship with the village. They built a church, held Sunday school, as well as an academic school for teaching English and the basics of the three R’s. About two years after their arrival, Raymond was killed by the Asmat, a tribe of headhunters.”

     “Did they ever recover...you know... his…” John dreaded the answer.

     “Oh yeah, they all walked away after the confrontation. But Raymond bled to death on the way back to Tarampurah.”

     “That’s terrible. He could’ve lived with the right first aid, it sounds like,” John said.

     “Yeah, but there were no helicopters out here,” Steve said, concentrating on the decaying weather.

     “I know that story. A lot of our boys could’ve survived in Vietnam if they hadn’t bled to death waiting for evacuation.”

     They continued with the clouds graduating ever lower. Sheets of rain forced them to turn toward the south attempting to find better weather. However, maneuvering between mountains proved too dangerous.

     “Remember that airstrip I was telling you about?” Steve asked.

     “Yeah, the abandoned one?”

     “I don’t think it’s all that desperate, but help me look. The visibility is too bad and I’m afraid we’re going to have to set her down. I’d rather take my chances with an enemy I can see, than a mountain I can’t,” said Steve.

     “You’re the boss,” John said, nervously searching for anything resembling a runway.

     “Maybe the rain will cover our landing.” Steve put in a call to Tiom. But he realized they were too low to be picked up. He’d given up trying to reach them when the radio suddenly came to life.

     “N7724V, this is Tarampura, over,” Marta Springer said.

     “We have a problem. Can you relay to Tiom and tell Jason that we have to set down because of the weather. Our present location is over the abandoned airfield at Wampe. We’re going to try hold out until the rain lets up, over.”

     “Steve, be careful ...I can’t handle another tragedy, over.”

     “Don’t worry, Tarampua. I’ve got that new pilot with me, and we’ll be very careful. You might say a prayer for us anyway; it’s awful messy up here, over,” Steve said.

     “Please be careful and promise to let me know when you get home safely, over.”

     “Will do, out.” That was enough chatting. Steve had a plane to fly.

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

No Safe Place to Land

     “No, he wasn’t. At that time, pilots were flying down the center to avoid being too close to a mountain; however, the rules have since changed. Anyway, what I am about to say to you must stay between us. It was given to me in good faith, but I feel you should know. Deal?”

     “It won’t leave this plane,” John pledged.

     “The pilot attempted the turn and almost made it, but the right wing clipped the trees, dragging the plane to the ground. There was only one survivor, and he was found a few days later still at the site. The pilot and Mr. and Ms. Heatherly died. Their son, Jason was the only survivor.”

     “Who would have ever known?” John said pitifully.

     “It’s not something you share. This was very traumatic. You may even hear it in detail. But please don’t mention it until he does,” Steve said again.

     “It amazes me. How can he even return to the area where his family was killed? Better yet, operate with the same organization that got his family killed?”

     “It was an unfortunate accident and I’m sure Jason was bitter for a long time. But wounds heal, and the Lord works in all ways and in different situations,” said Steve.

     “He’s a better man than I,” John admitted.

     “Jason learned to forgive. Now he is a stronger person and is able to teach and help others.

     The one thing that could’ve shaken his faith only made him stronger.”

     John edged closer to the slope on his right. He thought he might be too close, but Steve hadn’t indicated so. John was unsettled by the story, but such tales were not rare. Many of his friends had been in aircraft accidents, and a few had even lived to fly again.

     The lowering clouds reminded Steve it was time to go home. He took control of the plane to hurry back. They were only 25 miles away, but that was far when visibility was less than two. Already the weather system had overtaken them to the north, with little hope of outrunning it.

     “It’s not looking too good up there is it?” John leaned forward to observe the boiling clouds.

     “No, it’s not. I hope it clears up or we may have to land and wait it out.”

     “I don’t see any place around here to land. I guess we’ll have to take our chances with the clouds,” said John.

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

Remember, Stay to the Right

     “Nice takeoff.” Steve observed.

     “Thanks for noticing. Just call it natural ability or maybe attribute it to the flight school I attended in the jungles of Vietnam,” John replied.

     At 1000 feet above the ground Steve directed a 90 degree turn to the north. Obediently, John steeped the plane gently to the right and flew toward the mountains. From that height they could appreciate the beautiful green countryside. South, they saw a sea of fog extending for miles. To the north, high clouds and clear skies below as the rain had yet to fall.          

     Ahead, mountains shrouded in a sheath of drizzle, vented steam as the rain cooled the warm ground.

     Below, the Baliem wound to the east and then south again as it carved its way through the valley. The river looked muddy in contrast with the lush greenery of the canopy above. Villages dotted the river every few miles, and larger cities such as Wamena had been claimed from the jungle.      

    The river was the life of the communities that thrived there, and the mighty Baliem offered food and water from its depths.

     The weather began to deteriorate as clouds lowered.      

     Realizing they might be headed for trouble, Steve recommended flying north on the other side of the valley.      

     Taking the controls, Steve brought them to mountaintop level. There, visibility was safe enough for low level flying through passages. Light tufts of fog wisped around the wings and left swirls in the plane’s wake.

     “Okay, I’ll demonstrate flying through these passages before these clouds get too low,” Steve yelled over the roaring engine. “Do you see the break in the mountains ahead? Fly to those, staying as far right as you can.”

     “I’m staying to the right, and I don’t mind telling you this is a little nerve racking.”

     “I’m with you, but this is the only way to some of the villages.” Steve knew John would have a hard time at first.      

     “Just remember to stay to the right. That way if you find you may have mistakenly flown the wrong passage, you will have ample room on the left side for maneuvering.”

     “Well, I can tell you that this barely leaves enough to turn. I’d hate to have to make a hasty U-turn or other emergency procedures,” said John.

     There was only a mile of flying space between mountain–plenty of room for turning a car around, but an airplane is another story. The perception of speed was great as they passed within twenty-five feet of the mountain to the right.      The trees and tree top houses were a blur along the mountain side.

     “About the U-turn you mentioned earlier,” Steve shouted. “About 18 years ago one of our own was flying a missionary family through a similar passage. They were headed south to do a revival near Agats. He was heading out of the Maoke Mountains, when he realized nothing looked familiar. He rationalized that he must have gone down the wrong valley.”

     “How come he didn’t climb out and get his bearings?” asked John.

     “Because of similar weather conditions. The pilot opted to continue the route. Visibility was horrible when suddenly a large object loomed before the plane. Instinctively, the pilot initiated a climbing turn hoping to fly back,” said Steve.

     “I guess since he was on one side of the valley, he made it okay,” John guessed.

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

Angle of Climb

“Let me help you. Who are we most likely not able to get along with? I mean, what kind of people really irk us?” asked Steve exercising his Masters Degree in Counseling.

“I don’t know. You mean attitudes or abrasive personalities?” John replied.

“Something like that,” said Steve. “What I am getting at is this. We sometimes dislike those who remind us of ourselves. You see, in our minds we recognize room in our spheres of influence for only one of us. So when a personality appears on someone else that is much like our own, or how we used to be, we don’t like it. We actually feel threatened.”

“Let me see if I can understand, Herr Freud. You are trying to tell me that because Jason and I are somewhat alike, we repel each other like water and oil,” said John.

“Precisely,” replied Steve in a horrible German accent.

Laughing, John felt better. He realized Steve had calmed him down without having to belittle Jason.

As John lifted the left aileron of the Cessna 182 a torrent of water greeted the back of his neck. Although a shock, he felt refreshed as the water ran down his spine and was absorbed into his shirt. He saw Steve hide an amused grin, then take a seat in the passenger side. John inspected the fuel reservoir for telltale signs of water and concluded his inspection before taking his place in the left side of the cockpit. He adjusted the instruments for the proper barometric pressure, horizontal level, and direction on the heading indicator before taxiing to the runway and setting the flaps to full.

“Tiom traffic, this is N7724V taking runway 10, departing to the South west,” John called to inform other pilots in the airspace. He looked 360 degrees, searching for traffic before applying full power. He waited to release the brakes until the RPM’s registered high on the tachometer. At the precise moment, he released the brakes and the powerful engine rolled the plane off the mark, and slowly accelerated toward the trees at the end of the runway. John lifted the nose until it was at the proper attitude to clear the jungle obstacle, and achieve the best angle of climb.

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

I Can't Get Him Off My Case; How Do You Handle It?

     Jason thought for a moment. “My better judgment says not to let you, but knowing your reputation, I can trust you not to get in over your head.”

     “You’re absolutely right. I’ll be in full control of the decisions, and if it’s too bad, I’ll return.” Steve was fully aware of Jason’s intentions.

     “I can vouch for his decision making,” John said. “But I have flown in worse than this. Besides, I thought the pilot made the final flying decision.”

     “Usually yes, but not on my watch,” said Jason.

     The quiet chatter common to crowded rooms suddenly hushed as the two men squared off.

     “I’m going to let you two go, but only for the experience. The rest of you, if you don’t have a real need to fly, consider postponing.”

     Steve and John left ahead of the others and John felt everyone’s eyes on him as they filed past. He didn’t doubt where their loyalties lay and he couldn’t blame them.

     Outside, the sun was a little higher but still shrouded by skirts of high level clouds. As the morning had started, the day continued with drizzle and patches of fog. The already jade foliage took on a luscious, green hue and the jungle steamed as a light mist engulfed it.

     John’s gait quickened and Steve strived hard to keep in step. John seemed oblivious to the sprinkle matting his hair and collecting on his bangs.

     “Slow down, I can’t keep up,” Steve called out.

     “You can’t keep up! I can’t believe the treatment we get around here. I haven’t seen so much baby-sitting since I was in the army.” John had to keep himself from shouting.

     “How do you do it? You two seem to get along just fine, you and I get along, I get along with the other guys, they get along with Jason, but I can’t seem to keep him off my case,” said John.

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

Make the Right Decisions

     “I guess by the looks on your faces you realize the weather forecast for today.” Jason broke the somber silence. The clouds were low, and light fog whisped on the mountains around the Beliem River like cobwebs.

     “Those of you flying the southern routes – Doug, Bryan, Steve, and John – consider staying home with your families. This is a good time to take the day off and catch up on whatever paperwork you might have,” Jason said as he traced a pointer along the wall map. “The rest of you have somewhat clear flying ahead but be prepared for the worst if the weather changes.”

    “Jason,” Steve said. “I think today would be great for getting John used to flying under conditions he will most likely face. He seems to grasp the fundamentals of flight related to the mountainous areas and is impressive flying under simulated fog conditions.”

     “I understand, but what are you suggesting? Not flying would actually be the proper realistic response to the weather condition,” said Jason.

     “No sir, just fly a little north of here and come south a little to see how he handles the light fog,” Steve explained. “I can point out terrain features to help him make the right decisions.”

I Got This, Don't Ride Me

     John left through the creaky screen door into the thick night air. He noticed that the air smelled musty, and the sky started clouding a little. Cooler air was coming in and surely the warming air would rise and present a foggy morning.             
      February through April was the time of year for rain. John nodded greetings to some of the other pilots as he made his way to the dorm. He saw someone in the darkness approach from the direction of John’s building.

     “I guess Steve has told you the good news,” said Jason’s tall silhouette.

     “Yes, he has. Thank you,” replied John.

     “You’re welcome. If you fly as well as you are determined too, that’s great. I let you fly because I trust you with the lives of locals, missionaries and possibly my family. I have to know I can put my life and those of others in your care.”

     “You’re all safe with me,” John said.

     “I hope so. There are people all over the world trusting me to make the right decisions with their family members. That means choosing carefully who will pilot them. If anything happens, I answer to these people. That means total concentration on the work at hand, nothing else. From the time your training begins, I want you to promise all your focus will be from flight to flight. If not, I will ground you. I can’t fire you, but I can make your life so miserable as to contemplate resignation. Do we have an agreement?” Jason asked.

     He thinks he has it all figured out, thought John. It rubbed him the wrong way. “I appreciate your concern, but don’t ride me. I do well at the yoke, and I come with more than a thousand hours of flying under dangerous conditions. This is nothing new.”

     Both men stood head to head in the dark, neither knowing what to do next. After a few moments, Jason spoke up. “Why don’t we just call it a night? Just remember what I told you. The responsibility for these people lies with you.”

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

He's Pretty Much No-Nonsense-An Excerpt

“I would have never known,” John responded.

“He’s not the type to go crazy over anyone, but he thinks you are ready to leave the nest. Only you are getting a chance to do so sooner than most. He trusts my judgment. I’ve told him of your abilities, plus all your jungle flying experience only helped him with his decision. We think you arrived here fully capable and the process is just a formality.”

“Not to mention Paul Abbot,” Rachel said.

“Don’t tell me he decided to leave?” John asked.

“He can’t exactly stay here with a special needs child. His place is with his family,” said Steve.

“I know. I thought there was something that could be done here for them,” said John.

“I’ll have to tell you about the boarding schools later.” Steve knew he still had a lot to show John “But that pales in comparison to how harsh an environment ours would be for a pilot trying to meet his child’s requirements.”

“I know how badly he wanted to stay,” said John.

“God still has plans for him,” Steve reminded.

But do those plans include flying? John thought.

“Tomorrow we’ll hit some mountain passages and see how you handle ‘em,” said Steve.

“I’m ready to hit it,” said John.

“Understand that Jason cares for everyone here and is careful how he dispatches the pilots and missionaries. He has to evaluate everyone. No slackers, no individuals, and definitely no hot shots,” Steve said.

“Yeah, I figured him as no nonsense,” said John.

“Just remember, there is a lot of pressure that comes with his job. And there’s a whole string of events that led him here,” said Steve.

“I guess so,” John said. He reluctantly pushed back from the table. “I’d better go.”

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