Down That Lonesome Road

Somehow, stumbling between his recurrent nightmares, Nord buried his friend and for a week roamed the land with his own revolver. Finally, exhausted, he poured it all out to his father.

"I murdered the dead, too."

The older man scrooched his chair up close and put his hand on the revolver.

"Yes, I know. I looked the other way when they killed the Chinese But there are better ways to bear witness than killing yourself. You'll find your way."

Nord's nightmares ended somewhere along in the wrenching labor of writing many drafts of his angry commentary to the Air Force. It bothered him very little, just a wistful drunk with his last air crew, when he was passed over for promotion.

But the pain and the memories flicked through Nord's mind as he watched the crowd form two lines up to the boarding steps. He could see their mouths and bodies moving and realized they had begun to sing. In violation of standing orders, he cut all four engines and opened his cockpit window to hear them.

-- Time to bear witness, Colonel Nord, and screw the Admiral with his own reprimand.

 

"Look up, look up, and meet your Maker,

before Gabriel blows his horn, Weary

totin' such a load, trudging

down that lonesome road.... Look up,

look up, and seek your Maker

before Gabriel blows his horn."

 

Then the crowd began one he did not know as Mitch and Cat started up the ladder. But he caught the melody and hummed along as he walked back to greet his passengers.

 

"You shall be free. You shall be free

When the good Lord sets you free.

In the morning you shall be free.

I done told you -you shall be free.

I done said it -you shall be free

When the good Lord sets you free."

The men exchanged salutes and stowed the gear. Then Nord turned to Mitch.

"We're light and the wind is good, Commander. You want to take this battleship out of here?"

It was perhaps the ultimate salute from one flyer to another: I trust you with my command, my reputation, and my life.

Coming on top of the farewells and the singing, it almost broke Mitch. He snuffled, and head down walked up to the cockpit. The young copilot had the presence and grace to busy himself with the log.

Mitch wanted to do it: get full power on those great engines, synchronize them perfectly, and ease it up and away. Watching him, Nord and Wye held their breath in hope. Mitch turned back, smiled, and saluted.

"Thank you, Sir. That's one of the very nicest compliments I've ever had. But the Admiral has no doubt already phoned a reprimand to San Francisco for killing your power. That was special, too. But if he sees me in that lefthand seat you'll be head under in the shit. Come on back for a visit when you're ready."

Nord returned the salute. "Some days it gets special bitchy." He eased into his place and began to fire the engines. He turned the plane quickly, hoping to send the Admiral some of the black smoke.

Mitch knew Breckinridge; and assumed correctly that the Admiral had not only told San Francisco about Nord but had advised Naval Intelligence and the FBI to continue surveillance on Taylor and Wye.

Nord did not turn the plane over to his young copilot until they were leaving the hill country and entering the mountains and desert. Mitch and Wye had found blankets and were dozing. Nord nudged them awake with little cups of brandy.

"Lots of people angry 'bout what they are doing to you."

Table of Contents

• Introduction

1. Maggie and Mr. Hank
2. The Reverend
3. Squalls Along the Flight Line
4. Flying Home to Church
5. A Visit with The Judge
6. Communion
7. Afterthoughts
8. Monday Morning With The Admiral
9. Into the Dining Room
10. On Toward Walking the Streets
11. Glimpses of An Election
12. The Dream and The Reality of Violence
13. The Admiral Loses More Than a Few Good Men
14. Down That Lonesome Road

• Cast of Characters
• Credits and Acknowledgements