He
could only guess that
one of the Americans from the bomber had
survived the crash. Had he left this crude
signal for them to find? But what was he
trying to say? Blake wondered.
Bending over for a closer look, he noticed
something under the top rock. Carefully
uncovering it, he removed a piece of
crumbling paper that had been wrapped years ago in
a small plastic bag. Though fragile, the paper flag had sort of
survived and later the next morning Sutton
would take a picture of it. It was one of
the small waterproof survival flags, the
kind the military issued to their
troops. It was now beginning to make a
little sense to him. Obviously, somebody had survived
the crash.
Hearing something behind him, Blake turned
around and saw Major Sutton making his
way out of the large hole. Blake stood up.
Slowly approaching and looking very tired,
Sutton said, "they’re all in there, son. We
found them all—all six. From the looks of
their crushed skeletons, I’m certain that
they all died instantly. It’s a pretty nasty
sight. They never got out of their seat
belts."
Blake could sense the deep sorrow the
Major felt, but he was also becoming very
confused. The men stood looking at each
other as they were joined by the other three
Americans.
"Major Sutton, I found something over here
that doesn’t make any sense." He then handed
the Major the American flag. "I found it
under this rock—over here." The five men
gathered around the pile of rocks while
Blake placed the flag back where he had
found it. He even placed the rock back on
top of it. "What do you think Jim," Scott
asked?
"I think it’s a signal," Blake blurted out.
"But how is that possible, Blake? We found
everyone. There is no way any of them were
alive. Go look for yourself."
Sutton could be seen making a tight fist. He
bent over and removed the flag from under
the rock. "Pete, I’ve got an idea. Pull
out
the metal detector while we clear away these
rocks. Give me a hand Blake. Just throw them
over there."
Within minutes Pete had his White’s metal
detector ready to go and everyone stood
back. Turned on after the long journey, the
machine came to life—its fresh batteries
eager to go to work. From a strategic
vantage point, Lt. Ngo sat spellbound,
trying to figure out what the Americans were up to. Rain began to fall. He
looked at his watch. Time was running out.
On the very first pass across the jungle
floor, the metal detector yelped—letting out
its unmistakable chatter. Several more times
it filled the jungle
with its alarming sound. The soldiers
tightened their grips on their automatic
weapons. The monkeys sat staring, as if in a
trance.
"Tracy, give me the shovel."
Quickly digging through the wet soil, the
clanking sound of a buried object could be
heard. Lt. Ngo strained to get a better
look. Now fingers replaced the
shovel—finally grasping and then pulling the
buried object to the earth's surface. Within
such a short period of time, more than two
decades seemed to fall within their
midst. First the lost bomber, and now this
strange object.
"I think it's a tube of some type, Major.
Maybe from the plane." Sutton held the muddy
object in his hand. Shaking it gently,
something rattled inside.
As the men gathered even closer, the rain
began coming down harder. It was almost four
in the afternoon. Twisting the ends of the
tube with considerable might, the cap
finally gave way.
"Blake, cover me with a
poncho so that whatever comes out won’t get
all wet. Scott, here, hold your hands out.
Mine are all muddy."
What are the
Americans doing?
Tilting the tube at a
45 degree angle, four dog tags slid into
Scott’s hands. Reaching in with his fingers,
he then withdrew a thick sheath of papers,
wrapped in cloth. "That’s everything Major."
Trying to look at everyone at the same time,
Sutton straightened his back and said, "Men,
I want to get to the bottom of this just as
fast as the rest of you. But we’re a good
hour's hike back to our camp and we’ve got a
squall blowing down on us.
It’s going to take even longer to get back,
now—and we’ve still got dinner to cook. If
it’s OK with you, let’s put this stuff back
in the tube and first thing in the morning,
after I get a chance to look it over,
I’ll give you a full report. Is this OK with
everyone?"
The men nodded, all of them sensing the
storm’s approaching fury. Motioning to Lt.
Ngo to get his men ready to head out, again
the column of men could be heard from the
jungle tops, making their way back to the
base of the mountain. The wet monkeys clung
to their trees, ever vigilant of the
intruders below.
