Annual mission accomplished

The date was known long in advance and as the days drew nearer, preparations for the mission became more and more detailed.

The area we would be entering was discussed with plans made for where we would enter, how long we would stay and the best route for exiting once we had got what we had come for. There was some debate over the best time for “go,” who would be first in, first out, but within a few days all that had been worked out. Anticipation was so high when the day finally came that you could feel it in the air. I watched everybody check their gear, double-check their face-paint and wait for the “go” call. Finally, the door flung open and everybody ran outside to the staging area.

The mission would be at night and the cold air stung everybody’s faces as they jumped through the open side door and into the already-running machine. After a quick head count, the door was closed and we were off. The only light was the faint glow from the instrument panel up front. All other lights were kept off in order to help with night vision. Aside from the noise of the engine, everybody was quiet. They all knew the mission and for now were content to look out the windows as trees and countryside went by.

Finally, the word came from up front — “two minutes!”

Everybody did yet another round of double-checks on gear. After a few seconds, you could hear the pitch of the engine change and we began making course changes as we approached our jump-off point. As we came in slow the side door was slid open and somebody called out, “To the door!” Straps were dealt with and everybody was up and ready.

“GO! GO! GO!” came the call, and everybody bailed out. Showtime! Boots were on the ground and our ride home went into a loitering pattern, staying close for extraction. I wouldn’t be going with them tonight and I had to admit, I was a little disappointed. I had gone with them on every previous similar mission and it felt strange to not be there. But there were others out there now who had the seniority to lead them and I would remain behind and do my best to monitor. All I could do now was wait.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, I saw them running back. I slid the door open and did a head count as they all piled in. I fought the urge to ask them how it went and get details, but for now, I had to live with the satisfaction that this part of the mission had obviously gone well. I could see they had secured the objective and were practically giddy with having pulled it off exactly as planned.

But the thrill was only momentary, for this night’s mission came in several parts and we had only a few minutes to move on to the next objective. We were low and slow as we moved on, and this time the door was kept open. As soon as we slowed, they were out the door again. It was becoming like a ballet where everybody knew their places and parts without need for visual or verbal cues. So far, everything was going smoothly. I prayed that it would stay that way for the rest of the night.

My prayer would be in vain. As they came back, I could tell that this time there was a problem. I could see it on their faces as they came close enough for me to make them out in the moonlight. I rushed to do a head count and was relieved that it came out right.

“What happened?” I asked.

Without saying anything, they quickly glanced at the youngest and greenest member of the team. Apparently, he had been jumped by something unexpected and it had scared the heck out of him. I was reassured by the most veteran trooper that, although the youngster had briefly panicked, he had quickly recovered himself and moved on. It meant arriving at the objective a little slower than planned, but they had still pulled it off and had moved back to the extraction point a little wiser for it. From now on, they would be more watchful and cautious. Finally, it was time to clear the area. We had seen several more targets of opportunity, but just couldn’t afford to remain in the area any longer. “Next time,” I heard some of them say as the door closed for the last time before returning to base.

The revs spooled up and again we watched the countryside roll by as we headed back. Finally, we were back and everybody was anxious to get inside, share their experiences with those who had remained behind and show the evidence of their success. I was the last one out and smiled as I watched them talking, even laughing and joking. I sighed as I slid the van door closed and followed them in to count their Halloween candy.

My kids had grabbed quite a haul and couldn’t wait to show mom.

Ben Compton is a Palmer resident and publishes his column under the tagline “Compton’s Corner,” the same title used by his grandmother, Phyllis Compton, a longtime Frontiersman columnist.