A Clash of Vietnam Vets Part I
Captain Brant stood in front he always accepted the fact the would be considered green. He had been a West Pointer he was stuck stateside during Desert Shield Desert Storm. They had a call from Tennessee. There was a shortage of pilots in their raid department. So he would have to get a couple crews one of them Huey qualified to back up the State Patrol of both Tennessee and Kentucky. They would also need a 58 crew. He had the orders TDY cut he just needed names. Red Erikson he was massive DPS trooper somewhere he had Icelandic roots he was six feet not an inch more and he always struggled to make weight. Him in a Kiowa was a running sight gag. As a crew chief he had an uncanny set of eyes he could find marijuana without at times looking for it. He was genuinely curious and wanted to work with the Tennessee highway patrol. Next was Jahanis Batarags. Jahnis Batarags was six feet over forty he had flown OH-13s and OH-6s in Vietnam and was there when Tet happened. He managed to survive a tour and was well liked by former Special Forces members. There were rumors of lifts under fire. Jahnis Batarags was a CW4 who was saddened by missing out on Desert Storm. He was quiet he hated giving talks to large groups. He had an inveterate streak for pranks. Jahnis Batarags had come from a refugee camp he also was one of the best instructors that raid had. He could be profoundly intolerant incredibly nurturing and had he had training he would have been one hell of a maintenance test pilot. He had gotten into trouble on a couple maintenance test flights he was rock solid. Then Warrant officer Berg volunteered. Cantankerous opinionated were his middle name. He had done two tours in Vietnam one as a grunt. He had been married for ten years and the joke was it had mellowed him some. He could fly the Huey. Finally another W4 Jones a bit of Jesus Freak volunteered. He was a Huey pilot and maintained currency in all three the Blackhawk the Huey and the Kiowa. The flight to Knoxville would be taken by the C-12.
Johnny hiked through mountains around Middlesboro. The strip mining operation on the southern mountain and been abandoned. He took a look at the plants. He paid off the remediation crew to look the other way. Some of them actually gladly took several time bags as payment. The plants were big and harvest time was rapidly approaching. He slinked back around the mountain making his way to the national park boundary. The backpack was easy on his back. Dawn was about to break and he knew he would have to begin the long process of cautiously going around the mountain and down back to the safety of his home in the gap.
The pilots drove from a wide variety of points and converged on Robert Gray Army Airfield. It was 0600 when the C-12 was being fueled. Captain Brant was along with them. He found it odd that he was in charge even though everybody in the airplane though every single pilot he was commander of had more time then he and was battle field tested. Batarags had flown to oil rigs in the gulf navigating by compass and stop watch! The group mounted the airplane and it began its non-stop trip to Knoxville. The flight would be right around three hours.
In the air the talk was about fishing holes outfitters and flying. Captain Brant sat back and enjoyed. He was new to San Antonio and still new to Texas. He was orginaly from the state of Virginia his wife was the F-16 pilot out of an Air Guard unit in Kelly. He just wanted to hear the good places for fishing and relaxing. Batarags started talking about the area. Captain Brant's ears perked up. Batarags had ties to the area he had friends of the family in Harrogate. Batarags also had memories of the national park area. The conversation continued to war stories of a place called Vietnam seasoned with stories of Desert Storm. Captain Brant knew that listening was a great way to expand his life expectancy. By the time the flight was over with he knew he wanted to check out an outfitter by the name of Rochelle's along the upper Brazos.
Sgt Johnny sat on his front porch sipping a Budweiser beer with his friend Walter. Life was good. There were people in the Gap who knew not to ask questions. The mill had once been a restaurant but the tunnel that brought a flourish to the local economy in its construction brought an end to the Gap. The Cumberland gap once a way west was now long a backwater. He knew a local bootlegger the still was located far enough away from his crop. That is how is clan stopped feuding with another clan the two vices had a similar distribution network. The shine had less profit. Sgt Johnny a platoon sergeant during his second tour took some ribbing about getting out of the business but the profit was simply greater. The boot legger Walter had faked his own death in a roaring fire. The faked death in 1978 allowed him to disappear into the mountains. Walter was now in his early fifties Johnny was a friend of his. The two had vague memories of their paths crossing in Vietnam. Walter called the mountains home he would winter with Johnny. He was a profoundly bitter man what happened in 1975. The idea of selling what amounted low grade poison to those who once betrayed his effort appealed to him. The shine he sold was cheap liquor there was no corn or rye in it. He purchased sugar from a wide variety of sources and simply fermented it off the beaten path then he would fire up the still near a couple coal mines one working one abandoned and then discreetly drive out. There were intellectuals in Knoxville who considered moonshine "charming" he mocked them to no end. He asked Johnny when he was going to harvest the crop. Johnny answered simply in a couple days. Walter was dimly aware his eldest son had taken the wrong path but he knew his younger daughter was making something of herself Batarags had proven to be a noble friend.