Got My Very Own Plane

     Having his own plane and route for six months now, John was confident he knew every mile and every person along the way. He knew the wants and needs of the missionaries he supported and did his best to satisfy them. He flew some of the fortunate citizens of each village, but mostly ended up flying small livestock for barter. Usually the villagers paid him with food gifts, souvenirs, but more often than not, smiles. He reflected on the myriad compliments as he walked to the hangar where his beautiful plane was almost completely reassembled.

     “Good afternoon, John, what brings you by?” Pete Brown asked as he wiped the grease from his stained hands. He had spent most of the morning giving John’s plane its required service.

     “How are you? You’ve been working pretty hard since we towed the plane in last evening,” said John.

     “Don’t be fooled. I’ve been working hard, and playing. You know the old saying?”

     “We all need to make sure we get our share of fun around here,” John said.

     “Actually, I let the engine cool down overnight so I could get right on it this morning.

I’m about to wrap it up. Wanna help?”

     “You do pretty quick work.” John said admiringly. “I thought the engine would still be torn down, parts everywhere. But I see you almost have it all put back together.”

     “This is one of my favorites. Yep, this is my baby and I try to keep her up. She’s been good to you, hasn’t she?” Pete asked, searching for a compliment.

     “I can’t complain.” John noted how the mechanic would claim the plane as his own, but he remembered the sense of pride he felt while a helicopter mechanic before becoming an Army aviator. “She climbs flawlessly and takes max power without a sputter. All pilots should be so lucky.”

     “Thanks, that means a lot.”

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

10 Second Hero

10 Second Hero

Writing is very rewarding. It is also surprising. Many people asked about how I came up with the characters in Commitment. You have asked questions like ..."where did they come from?" and "Are they reflection of real life people?" My answer is that very few characters in Under the Lontar Palm are based on real people. Most have evolved from the story.
The following is an example of a character that evolved and lived for about 10 seconds. He was a thought or a mental role I played as I tried to transition and introduce the miners to the village. However trivial I thought the character to be, others have commented on his importance. His 10 seconds left an impression. I'll introduce the passage again and hope you enjoy recalling the story.

Mist covered the early morning ground as a lone figure took his usual position under the overhang. The sentinel stared into the jungle watching until sunrise, waiting for the return of his wife and children. He didn’t know if they were alive or dead, but held to the hope that one day he would be reunited. Dew fell, dropping on large wet leaves, a
torturous reminder of the seconds ticking by. Pretty soon the sun would be up, and he would have to go on with his business. But until then, he would watch and wait.
Suddenly in the darkness, he saw a small movement. He couldn’t see shapes; they were still obscured by the cloak of darkness. But he was sure he had seen something. Yes, there it was again. This time there was more movement and sounds of shuffling feet.
Could it be? Is my family coming back? After all these years, the jungle was surrendering them. Very cautiously, he stood, and crept slowly over to them. He took care not to startle them into fleeing. They had been gone so long, he wasn’t sure they would recognize him.
His heart pounded and the lump in his throat grew until he thought he might suffocate. Still, onward he crept. He was so close now, within ten feet. Unable to contain himself, he leapt forward as a whimper of excitement, and a longing eternal moan rose from his breast. Instead of the waiting arms of his family, the last thing the sad man saw was the grimace of an unknown white jungle demon.

I hope that you have enjoyed this reflection. If you have any questions or comments, please do so here.

Prologue from Commitment-The Novel

PROLOGUE – 1969

“Raymond!” Marta screamed. Her heart threatened to leap through her chest and her lungs burned with exhaustion.

He can’t be dead, she thought. Even yesterday when the runner had limped out of the triple canopy forest bearing the bad news of Suman’s and Raymond’s deaths, she refused to believe.

Maybe he didn’t die. My husband isn’t a man of war.

Marta continued to sprint toward the four men bearing the bodies of two fallen comrades. She saw sadness, fatigue and shame on their faces.

He doesn’t look like Raymond, she thought with a spark of hope. She stopped just short of the tired and beaten men. But she knew it was him. His soul was gone, taking with it all his identifiable character and charm.

Her eyes focused on the gruesome puncture mark and dried blood on his thigh. It was too much. The knot gripping her stomach loosened and she became sick. She could barely feel herself fall on Raymond’s chest. It was as if she watched the scene from outside of her body. She heard her good friend Numah anguishing over her man’s equally lifeless body.

Marta couldn’t feel the arms of others trying to comfort her. Everything she had grown accustomed to now seemed foreign.

Who keeps screaming Raymond’s name? She couldn’t feel her body or hear her own screams. For the first time in her life, Marta was completely numb.