Chapter 18: Aftermath

“Captain, I request we go secure-com: Sierra Charlie six niner. Code Delta,” Tib said into his helmet microphone. They were almost halfway to their Guard base in Wenatchee, after departing the North Valley Hospital helipad in Tonasket. They left the critical burn victims for transfer to an enroute Med-Evac helicopter that would fly them another 120 miles to a burn unit in Spokane, the closest major city.

“Say again, Helo 757?” the Captain’s voice came loud in his earpiece.

“I repeat: request scramble-com: Sierra Charlie six niner. Code Delta,” Tib said, forcefully.

“Acknowledge. Wait one. Will call you when ready. What is your status, Helo 757?”

“Scramble-com only, sir. Please wait.”

Co-pilot Chuck Briggs quickly activated the encryption settings for the UHF radio’s voice transmission, selecting scramble code 69, phase Delta. He was fairly confident the Army personnel assigned to supervise their guard unit in Wenatchee wouldn’t yet suspect the secure comm link.

“Guard WA-35, this is Helo 757, secure com. Do you copy, sir?”

“Helo 757, we copy. Please state your location, your status, and the urgency of your situation.”

“We’re six-five miles northeast. Status minus one crew, KIA. Sit-rep condition extreme, sir. Request urgent message relay, most secure, to General Mikelsen, immediate, sir.”

“KIA!?”

“Yes, sir. Second LT Ambrose Archer, Regular Army assigned this flight, sir. He ... uhh ... he fell out, sir.”

“Fell out!?”

“Please, Captain. It’s most urgent! Contact General Mikelsen, immediate. Request meet and greet, secure location with Helo 757 crew for sit-rep, advise extreme political exposure. Repeat, most urgent! Helo 757 must not land Wenatchee base. I repeat: Helo 757 must NOT land Wenatchee base. Please advise secure alternate location for meet & greet. We await confirmation and location.”

Captain Rogers rubbed the back of his neck, staring out of the command center window toward the helipad where he’d expected Tib and Chuck to land. What the hell just happened? he thought to himself. No time for guessing! he decided.

“Understood, Helo 757. Please advise fuel state. Standby for request status.”

“Fuel status low. Be advised, we will refuel and wait at Brewster Muni, secondary site. Helo 757 clear.”

“Confirm. Brewster Muni. Stand by.”

Tib and Chuck informed Thomas and Evans that they would be setting down at the Brewster Municipal Airport and would refuel. They would sit tight until word came from General Mikelsen.

“Don’t wander off, guys. Use the toilet, but don’t speak to anybody. Get right back to the bird. You probably know that we’re in it right up to our necks, but we’re all going to stick together.”

After fifteen minutes, while the fuel truck was filling their tanks with Jet A, the radio squawked: “Helo 757, Guard WA-35, secure com.”

“Helo 757, secure. Go ahead, Captain.”

“I have the General on the line. He requests you confirm extreme political exposure?“

“Confirm, Captain. Advise the General, situation most extreme.“

“Wait one.”

“Helo 757, are you refueled?”

“Affirmative.”

“General advises that you fly to Guard WA-01, Main, direct.”

“Confirm. Guard WA-01, Main, direct. Captain, I request status blackout at Wenatchee. Please say nothing of our status or redirect. It is critical, sir.”

“Very well, Helo 757. Your situation is secure, my ears only. Have a good flight over the mountains. And Tib? You’ll owe me a year of cold ones for this!”

They flew seventy miles to the Cascade mountain range. They intercepted U.S. Highway 2, flew through the Stevens Pass notch, then turned and flew eighty miles southwest. They went direct to Camp Murray, the Washington National Guard Headquarters near south Tacoma. General Mikelsen was waiting with his aide.

Tib spoke briefly to the General, who stared disbelievingly at him and his crew for a moment. He then barked at his aide: “Son, run ahead and clear the way to my office. I want nobody standing around or peeking out of their office door. Get the hallways cleared, and all office doors shut! Understood?”

“Sir! Yes, sir!” the Lieutenant barked. He saluted and left at a fast jog for the building entrance.

“Mr. Tibbets, Mr. Briggs, it’s good to see you two relics again. But I could do without this cloak and dagger crap. Is this necessary? And do we need to include your crew, Thomas and Evans, in this?”

“Absolutely on both, General,” Tib answered.

“Very well. Follow me to my office. You’re in luck. I had the corporal put on a fresh pot of coffee.”

“Sadie, can you be a dear and kick those butt-kissing politicians out of your office, have your Chief of Staff cancel all your appointments, and somehow sneak out of your office to come meet with me, and do it without a couple of dozen reporters with cameras following you?”

“Why, Buzz, you old reprobate. Isn’t Martha keeping you on a tight enough leash? You’re trying to seduce the Governor of your state?”

“I should be so lucky, Sadie, but no. I’m very serious. I should have called on the scrambler, but we’ll pass on that. Instead, can you come here? Or do I have to rent a suite at the Red Lion? And FYI, I took the liberty of calling Fred at the State Patrol. He’s on his way.”

“We’ll be there in 30 minutes. You’d better have some damned good coffee there, Buzz. The hair on the back of my neck is telling me I’m going to need a gallon of it before you’re done with me!”

“Sorry, Sadie. Just get here. And Sadie? Thank you! It’s that important.”

The Governor, the State Police Commander, the General, the pilots and crew of Helo 757, and the General’s aide (who was taking careful notes) sat uncomfortably around a small conference table in the General’s private office.

“Just so I’m crystal clear on the bizarre nature of our situation,” Gov. Sadie McConklin asked, “this would be a straight-forward matter of homicide, to use the simplest term, except for the matter of the murderous attack committed by the deceased, and the urgent need to prevent him from reloading and firing again. He could have wounded or killed even more fleeing civilians? Unarmed civilians?”

“That’s about it, Sadie,” the General answered.

“And how many civilians were killed outright by gunfire, or were burned and died as a result of the gunfire, Mr. Tibbets?” she asked.

“Ma’am, their elder thought that those riding in the lead vehicle were shot to death. There were three in front, and five in the back under the canopy. That truck was caught up in the flames, but they were already dead. The second vehicle was not hit by weapons fire, but it was trapped by ignited fuel spilled from the first vehicle’s ruptured tanks,” TIbbets explained.

“Somehow the second truck’s fuel tanks exploded. I saw the fireball, and that killed everyone in that vehicle except for the driver, who managed to drag his wife out. There were three in the front of that truck and six riding in the back. The driver was critically burned. His wife was even worse. The Tonasket hospital staff told us it was a miracle she was still alive when we transferred her. They were desperately trying to keep both of them alive until the Spokane MedEvac flight could arrive.

“So, ma’am, adding up what the elder told me, there were seventeen people involved, including two families. Two people survived, and I think we’ll lose one of those. I’m very sorry, ma’am. We ... we had no warning.”

“Don’t be sorry, Mr. Tibbets. There’s no way you could know,” Gov. McConklin interrupted. “Thank you for your quick thinking, and your report.”

“General? Commander? Where the hell do we go from here?” Gov. McConklin asked. “I can damn well guess what would have happened to our Guardsmen, here, if they’d landed in the laps of the federal troops and DHS agents at Wenatchee. There’s no point in speculating. We’ve got them here, and I think we need to keep them safely here until we can find some rational disposition for this sad affair.