by Bob Kranich
No Name Key, (Part 7, Excerpt 16)
In this part, Our two main characters, Manuel and Hector have joined up to free Cuba with the Freedom Fighters. They are secretly being flown to Guatemala in Central America for training.
They all threw their bags to the loadmaster, grabbed ahold and climbed up. Each one helped the other get into the plane. The door slammed shut. There were jump seats dropped down on either side of the aircraft looking towards the center. As they got into their seats and were buckling up, the engines revved , they taxied a sort distance, the engines roared, and the plane leaped forward and raced down the dark runway. Before they knew it, they were airborne.
They all seemed to close their eyes at once and tried to resume their interrupted sleep. The drone of the props helped.
Manuel opened his eyes. Where was he? Then he remembered. He saw Enrique who was pulling back a small amount of the tape that was covering the windows.
“We’re over a jungle. It appears to be Guatemala,” he said.
The plane started to lose altitude.
The loadmaster said, “ Buckle up guys. We’re going in!”
The plane dropped down some, at the same time keeping horizontal, then down some more. They started to bank and went around losing some more altitude. It went in for its final approach, and you could hear the whine of the motors lowering the wheels. There was a squeal and a bump as the wheels touched the runway, then the sudden slowing and loud noise rush as the props were feathered and the air backwashed.
The plane taxied up, stopped, and the loadmaster opened the door. This time there was a portable step. They all grabbed their bags and headed down, Enrique in the lead.
There was a Cuban lieutenant at the bottom, “Who’s in charge?” He asked.
“I guess I am,” Enrique said.
“Is this all you have? Climb aboard that truck, men!”
They pulled up to a building. It appeared to be something that was thrown up somewhat hastily.
“Ok men, inside.”
“Sir!” The lieutenant saluted a captain, “These five are all they brought.”
“That’s all right lieutenant. We’ll take all we can get. These men are to be a heavy weapons platoon. Train them on the 57 mm recoilless rifle and bazooka. They will carry their own ammo and load. Get them up to the 6th and start training immediately. We don’t have much time.”
“Yes sir! Men, follow me.”
They went back out to the truck and loaded up. The truck pulled out and drove along a road paralleling the runway. Manuel could see a lot of huge two and four-motor prop cargo transports lining the runway. There were also some smaller two-motor prop bombers lined up.
Enrique said, “Some of those big ones can drop paratroopers. There’s some C-46’s and C-54’s.* The two engine bombers are Douglas A-26’s.* I’ve been around them before.”
“Where do you think they are taking us?” Manuel asked.
“I heard the captain say to get them up to the barracks…then ‘heavy weapons’ training. Something about, not much time, and to get that training done first. Did you see the guards on the perimeter of the airstrip? I recognized the uniforms, definitely Guatemalans!” Enrique exclaimed.
The truck bounced off the pavement and onto a small dirt road. They were gaining some elevation.
“You seem to know quite a lot,” Hector said. “How do you do it?”
“Oh, I get around some,” Enrique stated.
The truck pulled up to a gate. The guard lifted the crossbar and said, “Passé.”
They drove up to what appeared to be another hastily constructed single-story wooden building. The truck came to a screeching stop. The lieutenant jumped out.
“Ok men, this is it. Your home until we get out of here. Line up right here, side by side. What I need to tell you is, you’re in an army. You’re to act and behave like recruits. The only problem is you’ve missed basic training! That is because you’re the last of the Cuban Freedom Fighters who will be admitted. We’re running out of time. Welcome to Brigade 2506. Be proud of it, and do your best.”
Just then the screen door to the office building opened and slammed shut as two guys stepped out. The first was an Anglo, followed by a short muscular khaki-dressed Cuban with a military fatigue hat on. The first guy looked almost like Frank back at the deserted Opa-locka air base. He was tall. This guy had no dress suit, but he had tan long pants, a short -sleeved tan dress shirt, and the usual dark sunglasses.
The lieutenant stiffened and hollered, “Men, attennn-tion!”
All five of the guys stood up straight, arms at their sides. The guy with the sunglasses stepped off the porch followed by the uniformed guy. “Welcome, gentlemen. Welcome to Base Trax. My name is Joe, and that’s all you need to know. This here is Sergeant Jimenez. He is going to train you in heavy weapons. You pay attention to him, and learn it fast and good! That will be all, Lieutenant. Sergeant Jimenez, they are all yours!”
Sergeant Jimenez stepped forward, “Gentlemen, at ease. I’ve got all your paper work here. Enrique, you’re in charge of the heavy weapons platoon. You will be a corporal, the rest privates. Remember to salute all officers. Those are the ones with the shiny or gold cloth insignias on their collars or hats. Sound off with your first names from left to right. Loud!”
“John.” “Sam.” “Hector.” “Manuel.” “Enrique.”
Enrique, march these men down to the second building on the right. Pick out five bunks together, and stow your gear. Then march them over to the building directly across from it, the mess hall. Get something to eat. I’ll see you back at the bunk house at 1300 sharp. Don’t be late!”
“Yes Sir!” Endrique replied, “Men face right, forward march. Left…Left...left, right, left.”
They got back to the barracks just before 1300. Sergeant Jimenez was there waiting for them.
“OK men, we’re going to form up outside. We’re going to start getting in shape, it’s double time everywhere you go. Move out! Quickly! Endrique, we’re going across the parade ground in front of the mess hall. HQ building on the far side with the brigade flag. Move ‘em!”
Endrique shouted, “Ten-shut men, move out...forward march! Left...Left...Hup-two-three-four, double time...Go!”
They arrived huffing and puffing.
“All right men, move through that door.” Sergeant “J” pointed, “The first guys will give you your boots, second guy at the counter...your gear, the third guy will give your shots! Then go left down the hall, first room on the right. A classroom, see you there.”
They came into the room with sore shoulders and also realizing just how much out of shape they were. They were carrying packs filled with a couple of sets of t-shirts, fatigues, canteen, and toiletries.
“Men, have a seat. Take a few minutes to get settled. Your shoulders and leg muscles will ache for a few days. You will get over it. Pay attention. You’re going to be a heavy weapons team,” Sergeant Jimenez stated. “Pay very close attention. Your life and your buddy's life will depend upon it.”
From the Author:
No Name Key, (Part 7, Excerpt 16)
In this part, Our two main characters, Manuel and Hector have joined up to free Cuba with the Freedom Fighters. They are secretly being flown to Guatemala in Central America for training.
They all threw their bags to the loadmaster, grabbed ahold and climbed up. Each one helped the other get into the plane. The door slammed shut. There were jump seats dropped down on either side of the aircraft looking towards the center. As they got into their seats and were buckling up, the engines revved , they taxied a sort distance, the engines roared, and the plane leaped forward and raced down the dark runway. Before they knew it, they were airborne.
They all seemed to close their eyes at once and tried to resume their interrupted sleep. The drone of the props helped.
Manuel opened his eyes. Where was he? Then he remembered. He saw Enrique who was pulling back a small amount of the tape that was covering the windows.
“We’re over a jungle. It appears to be Guatemala,” he said.
The plane started to lose altitude.
The loadmaster said, “ Buckle up guys. We’re going in!”
The plane dropped down some, at the same time keeping horizontal, then down some more. They started to bank and went around losing some more altitude. It went in for its final approach, and you could hear the whine of the motors lowering the wheels. There was a squeal and a bump as the wheels touched the runway, then the sudden slowing and loud noise rush as the props were feathered and the air backwashed.
The plane taxied up, stopped, and the loadmaster opened the door. This time there was a portable step. They all grabbed their bags and headed down, Enrique in the lead.
There was a Cuban lieutenant at the bottom, “Who’s in charge?” He asked.
“I guess I am,” Enrique said.
“Is this all you have? Climb aboard that truck, men!”
They pulled up to a building. It appeared to be something that was thrown up somewhat hastily.
“Ok men, inside.”
“Sir!” The lieutenant saluted a captain, “These five are all they brought.”
“That’s all right lieutenant. We’ll take all we can get. These men are to be a heavy weapons platoon. Train them on the 57 mm recoilless rifle and bazooka. They will carry their own ammo and load. Get them up to the 6th and start training immediately. We don’t have much time.”
“Yes sir! Men, follow me.”
They went back out to the truck and loaded up. The truck pulled out and drove along a road paralleling the runway. Manuel could see a lot of huge two and four-motor prop cargo transports lining the runway. There were also some smaller two-motor prop bombers lined up.
Enrique said, “Some of those big ones can drop paratroopers. There’s some C-46’s and C-54’s.* The two engine bombers are Douglas A-26’s.* I’ve been around them before.”
“Where do you think they are taking us?” Manuel asked.
“I heard the captain say to get them up to the barracks…then ‘heavy weapons’ training. Something about, not much time, and to get that training done first. Did you see the guards on the perimeter of the airstrip? I recognized the uniforms, definitely Guatemalans!” Enrique exclaimed.
The truck bounced off the pavement and onto a small dirt road. They were gaining some elevation.
“You seem to know quite a lot,” Hector said. “How do you do it?”
“Oh, I get around some,” Enrique stated.
The truck pulled up to a gate. The guard lifted the crossbar and said, “Passé.”
They drove up to what appeared to be another hastily constructed single-story wooden building. The truck came to a screeching stop. The lieutenant jumped out.
“Ok men, this is it. Your home until we get out of here. Line up right here, side by side. What I need to tell you is, you’re in an army. You’re to act and behave like recruits. The only problem is you’ve missed basic training! That is because you’re the last of the Cuban Freedom Fighters who will be admitted. We’re running out of time. Welcome to Brigade 2506. Be proud of it, and do your best.”
Just then the screen door to the office building opened and slammed shut as two guys stepped out. The first was an Anglo, followed by a short muscular khaki-dressed Cuban with a military fatigue hat on. The first guy looked almost like Frank back at the deserted Opa-locka air base. He was tall. This guy had no dress suit, but he had tan long pants, a short -sleeved tan dress shirt, and the usual dark sunglasses.
The lieutenant stiffened and hollered, “Men, attennn-tion!”
All five of the guys stood up straight, arms at their sides. The guy with the sunglasses stepped off the porch followed by the uniformed guy. “Welcome, gentlemen. Welcome to Base Trax. My name is Joe, and that’s all you need to know. This here is Sergeant Jimenez. He is going to train you in heavy weapons. You pay attention to him, and learn it fast and good! That will be all, Lieutenant. Sergeant Jimenez, they are all yours!”
Sergeant Jimenez stepped forward, “Gentlemen, at ease. I’ve got all your paper work here. Enrique, you’re in charge of the heavy weapons platoon. You will be a corporal, the rest privates. Remember to salute all officers. Those are the ones with the shiny or gold cloth insignias on their collars or hats. Sound off with your first names from left to right. Loud!”
“John.” “Sam.” “Hector.” “Manuel.” “Enrique.”
Enrique, march these men down to the second building on the right. Pick out five bunks together, and stow your gear. Then march them over to the building directly across from it, the mess hall. Get something to eat. I’ll see you back at the bunk house at 1300 sharp. Don’t be late!”
“Yes Sir!” Endrique replied, “Men face right, forward march. Left…Left...left, right, left.”
They got back to the barracks just before 1300. Sergeant Jimenez was there waiting for them.
“OK men, we’re going to form up outside. We’re going to start getting in shape, it’s double time everywhere you go. Move out! Quickly! Endrique, we’re going across the parade ground in front of the mess hall. HQ building on the far side with the brigade flag. Move ‘em!”
Endrique shouted, “Ten-shut men, move out...forward march! Left...Left...Hup-two-three-four, double time...Go!”
They arrived huffing and puffing.
“All right men, move through that door.” Sergeant “J” pointed, “The first guys will give you your boots, second guy at the counter...your gear, the third guy will give your shots! Then go left down the hall, first room on the right. A classroom, see you there.”
They came into the room with sore shoulders and also realizing just how much out of shape they were. They were carrying packs filled with a couple of sets of t-shirts, fatigues, canteen, and toiletries.
“Men, have a seat. Take a few minutes to get settled. Your shoulders and leg muscles will ache for a few days. You will get over it. Pay attention. You’re going to be a heavy weapons team,” Sergeant Jimenez stated. “Pay very close attention. Your life and your buddy's life will depend upon it.”
My second full-length book, Florida Keys’ Watercolor Kapers is composed of 336 pages. There are 12 stories running from 6 pages to as many as 72 pages. It is fully illustrated with 88 watercolors and sketches. The watercolors I made roaming around Key West after I finished my 750 mile hike from Georgia to Key West. (See book or Don Browne’s SouthWest Florida Online News, A Walk Across Florida.) As you read these stories you will experience Key West, the Keys, and the Caribbean. These stories span the time of the early 1800’s to 1969. bkranich.wixsite.com/bobkranich
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