A Broken Leg of Any Other Name...

The next morning, John set Buttercup down for a bumpy but otherwise perfect landing at the Tarampura airstrip. He made a mental note that the strip of land carved from brush and trees would have to be groomed before it got out of hand. He also noted Marta wasn’t there to greet him.

“Hi, John! Are we going to fly on this nice day?” Tucker asked.

“I don’t think we can. The nurse and I still have a lot of villages to visit,” John said.

Numah smiled a bashful greeting.

“Where is Marta? Doesn’t she come to greet friends anymore?” asked Sandy.

“She want us to bring you. She fight with the village doctor,” Tucker said.

They climbed hurriedly to the village. They could hear Marta yelling loudly in the local dialect. When frustrated, she threw in intermittent English.

“What do you mean waving these feathers over him? This isn’t going to do any good. Just give it up and let me help,” Marta begged.

The witch doctor just grunted and continued his magic. Multi¬colored sacred bird feathers fluttered with the timed flicks of a nimble wrist as Mewpa ran them the length of the injured boy’s body. The young man was covered in skins and flower blossoms. Smoke spiraled upward from the scented candles on each corner of the mat he lay on, as if the sickness would drift away with the rising columns.

The young boy’s right leg lay at an odd angle, just below the knee. A simple splint of bamboo, secured with long grass, had lost its effectiveness as it began to unravel.

Marta insisted on evacuating the pitiful boy by air, to a facility where he could be properly treated. She couldn’t understand why Mewpa refused. His stubborn pride would not yield to pure logic. She could tell the patient was very sick and probably close to death. No amount of pleading could stir the consciousness of the elders, or even the family members. Nobody, not even the converts, would ever cross the will of one of the most powerful men in the village.

“Look, I know you mean well, but sometimes you have to go to other sources of help. He is going to get sicker. He needs medicine, and his leg needs to be fixed,” Marta begged.

“There is nothing more powerful than my medicine. I will heal his sickness, then we will fix his leg,” Mewpa replied, unfazed.

John and Sandy entered the hut as Numah and Tucker fearfully withdrew. Marta, having fought long and hard on behalf of the boy’s welfare, fell into the waiting arms of Sandy, and let herself sob with frustration. “We’ve got to do something, Sandy. He won’t even listen.”

“We’ll do something. Don’t worry,” Sandy replied.

John kicked at the dust and pretended to look at something on the ground.

“I’m sorry, John, I didn’t mean to lose control in front of you. I’m just frustrated,” said Marta.

Marta saw the witch doctor snicker, then continue with a professional but I-know-what-I’m-doing, and-you’re-too-simple-to-¬recognize-greatness attitude.

“Don’t worry, Marta, I understand what you have been through. I’ve been through less frustrating situations, but didn’t handle them nearly as well as you are this one. At least the doctor is still standing.” Sandy laughed.

“Don’t get me wrong. I haven’t ruled out violence.” Marta allowed a chuckled.

Jeffrey W. Bennett is an author and 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

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

The Secret Stays in the Cabin

     “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.

     “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.”

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.