Duty Recall Page 11

  One of the soldiers picked up a phone and connected with Washington. The downtown office was filled with FBI agents, screens, phones, and various other electronic devices used for monitoring and communication purposes. The 6 foot 3 inch agent, wearing a light blue button shirt with his sleeves rolled back to his elbow turned to Bill Fielder and lifted his fist high with the thumbs up.

  Bill turned to Pete Colson and smiled. “Thank God. But we still have two more that we know of.”

  “We're tracking them now.” Pete answered.

  The room was still bustling with activity as agents moved with a purpose to their assigned positions at the Emergency Operation Center (EOC). The director of the FBI had just finished speaking on the hotline to the president. Bill walked closer to hear the conversation.

  “Yes sir, two aircraft have been confirmed as a take down by our side. They are all in custody.”

  “No sir, no American casualties.”

  “Yes sir, we believe there are two more aircraft at least.”

  “No sir, we don't know who is responsible at this time but we intend to find out.”

  “Yes sir, we'll stay on it and keep you informed of the situation as it develops.

  “Thank you sir. Yes, okay. Thank you.”

  The agent hung up the phone.

  “Still tracking it?” Bill asked.

  American Airlines Flight 77 was preparing for a flight to Los Angeles from Dulles International airport just outside of Washington D.C. Like the two aircraft in Boston, the Boeing 757-223 was attempting its daily scheduled morning transcontinental service when the specially trained anti-terrorist FBI team stormed the plane as it sat on the tarmac waiting for the remaining passengers to load after the first class passengers entered. One of the men captured, Hani Hanjour, was trained as a pilot.

  Bill worried about the fourth aircraft because David's information was sketchier. Additionally, David was not aware of any other aircraft beyond the United Airlines flight from Newark International Airport in Newark, New Jersey, to San Francisco International Airport in San Francisco, California. Bill was able to trace such a flight scheduled as Flight 93. Like the other three counter-terrorist actions, the fourth was also successful in similar fashion.

  Bill listened to the director on the phone to the president again.

  “Yes sir, we believe that we stopped all of the attacks although our agency in coordination with local law enforcement and airline executives have been told to stop and report any groups of three or more Arabic males trying to board an aircraft.”

  “Yes sir, we hope so.”

  Ft. Lewis, Washington: September 11, 2001

  The phone alongside David's bed rang again dragging him out of a restless sleep. He had actually awakened over three hours earlier at 6 am Eastern Time as his body was tuned to early rising. However, it was not fun getting up at 3 AM in a hotel room 3000 miles away from home so David had rolled over and had fallen back into a shallow sleep.

  He answered the phone, heard the recording and the time, 5:45 AM, and then sat up in bed. Time to begin his daily routine. The hotel had a small coffee percolator in the room with all the fixings he needed to brew his morning cup of Java. Setting that process in motion, he opened his suitcase and pulled out the travel valise with his razor and toothbrush. It was time to take his morning shower and prepare for the day.

  The first thing he did was to flip on the television to any kind of news he could find. Now, only local stuff was being reported. He decided that he would have time to take a shower before hearing anything in the news about what he remembered was a tragic day in his previous life. Previous life? David still shuttered at the thought.

  When he was finished, he heard the up-tempo voices of national news anchors on the TV set. David frantically scurried to the television. What he saw amazed him. It was indeed an incredible sight! There was a shot of both the World Trade Centers in New York City…still standing and without smoke. David sat down on the edge of his bed and stared in disbelief. David listened closely as various news reports poured in from all the channels.

  David finally stopped on one of the stations; he was not sure which one but a picture of the Pentagon caught his attention.

  “We just got word that one of the most horrific terrorist plots against our nation has been foiled! There were four passenger airlines destined to crash through both Trade Centers in New York, the Pentagon, and the Capitol!”

  Another voice on TV interrupted the first. “Wait, did you say that terrorists were going to crash aircraft into these buildings? That's unbelievable!”

  “Yes, Mike, from what we have been able to ascertain at the moment…”

  David let the words fade as he watched the screen and saw that the New York Trade Centers along with the Pentagon were all still standing without any trace of the horrific vision he thought he remembered during a different time. Maybe even a different place? David did not know for sure.

  Hamburg, Germany

  Hassan watched in horror as the reports filtered through all the news channels about how a massive terrorist plot had been discovered and stopped in America. “Something happened to Mohammed.” Hassan hissed.

  He knew that each tower had been designed with a central core of columns in which the elevators were encased. The perimeter of the building had columns rising vertically from floor to floor. Each floor's structure was supported by the floor above it. The planes impact would have destroyed numerous columns both on the exterior and at the core.

  “The plan was perfect. What went wrong?”

  Had the plan been fulfilled, Hassan was aware that by his analysis the towers would have fallen in time because of the duo dynamic forces of energy at play. One was the dynamic release of energy upon impact; hundreds of millions of pounds of energy released.

  The aviation fuel had two components, a dynamic and kinetic or stored energy. The weight of the fuel and its velocity were dynamic and released upon impact.

  This would have caused the instantaneous destruction of the columns. However, since the fuel was aviation fuel, it would not explode but rather burn therefore it released its kinetic or stored energy over time in the form of heat; in this case, tremendous heat. Continuous flames generating heat that cooks concrete causing it to weaken and crack while simultaneously raising the temperature of the steel structure ever so slowly until the steel reaches the point where it softens and bends unable to sustain the load it carries.

  The impact of the planes would have taken out two or three floors of the building. The heat would do the rest. The structure would no longer support the weight above it and the upper floors collapsed downward. Columns are able to withstand incredible vertical loads but are not so good at loads pulling from the sides.

  If the upper floors collapsed downward, the sudden weight of the upper floors would fall downward through the center of the building pulling the columns inward. Once it began, the process could not be stopped. Both towers would have been doomed from the point of impact. His concept, the plan he had proposed to Atta years earlier had gone wrong. What went wrong?

  12. Perennial Soldier

  “David. The agency cannot ever thank you enough,” Bill said as they sat at a café in Clearwater, Florida. “This is just a little something to show our gratitude.”

  Bill handed David an envelope as they sipped drinks and watched the beach activity. “This isn't necessary, Bill.”

  “It's nothing, just take Sherry away from here for a while and enjoy some time off. Besides, I'm late giving you anything for your 20th anniversary.”

  David smiled. “Thanks Bill, I really appreciate it.”

  “Anytime! We still need to have that talk about your sports hobby.”

  David chuckled. “So, what is the government response to the Al-Qaeda plot?” David asked.

  “The big guy was really pissed about the whole thing. He put Rumsfeld on the task to do something and the only thing they could think of at the time was to bomb the smithereens out o
f Afghanistan.”

  “That always works,” David said sarcastically.

  “But then, some Special Forces Major from 5th Group went to CENTCOM and talked sense with the conventional stars. He convinced somebody that sending ODA Special Forces teams in to link up with Afghan rebels who fought the Soviets was a brilliant idea.”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  “Well, it's working. An ODA team linked up with a former leader named Karzai in the south and other teams linked up with some Afghan generals in the north, and there are great strides being made against the Taliban and Al-Qaeda.”

  “Any luck getting Bin-Laden?”

  “Not yet, but it's just a matter of time. Our guys are fighting with some experienced Afghan soldiers who are on our side, that is, at least for the moment.”

  David chuckled, remembering his conversation with the KGB agent in the '80s.

  Bill continued. Yeah, I don't know if you ever heard of them before but the Afghan generals include Dostum, Noor, and Mohaqeq, all good leaders.”

  The names did not register with David.

  “Anyway, I need to go. Great talking to you and thanks again, David. Really.”

  They both stood, shook hands, and then Bill sauntered over to his car and then drove off as the sun was beginning to set. David sat down and opened the envelop. Inside were two tickets for a one-week Caribbean cruise to St. Maarten, Antigua, St. Lucia, and Barbados!

  * * *

  Spotting an empty lounge chair on the beachfront, a pretty young lady with sandy-colored hair escaping from beneath a straw, sauntered over and sat next to David. Startled, he made a quick glance to see if Sherry was anywhere near and then heard the girl say, “I hope you don't mind me sitting here just for a brief moment. The other lady that was just here, your wife I presume, seems like she will be waiting a while for her order so I thought I come by to say hi.”

  David looked at her a moment. “Wait, don't I know you?”

  “Maybe we have met at another time.” She answered.

  There was a moment of silence. David could see that she was conspicuously trying to keep her eyes behind her sunglasses. Suddenly, like a slap in the face, David recognized the young female soldier from…2003. Breathing harder and sitting up, he began, “You are…!” He was interrupted.

  “Sir, can I ask you something?”

  “Please!” He answered, almost too quickly. “But you already know how I'm going to answer, don't you?”

  She chuckled. “You're right, sir. I don't need to ask you the same question and you don't need to reply with the same answer.”

  Both were silent for a few seconds. “You probably don't even need to be calling me sir, because, aren't you, like some sort of guardian angel?” David asked.

  Again, the reassuring smile. She did not answer.

  David was startled. His emotions mixed with fascination, fear, excitement; all at once. One thing for sure, he did not know what to say next.

  “So, you had it all to do over again and you did it!” She said.

  David was still speechless.

  “Things will be different now, not as you once knew them to be. I have something to give you, a symbolic pillar to measure your time. You had it before but misplaced it in the Iraqi desert.”

  “Wait a minute, so I was there…” Again, the girl interrupted David.

  “The emerald eye inside what you call a marble is alive and represents the color of your wife's eyes. She is the one who has been chosen for you to share this life in the future.”

  The girl gave David the marble, as he remained stunned. He did not have the words.

  “You may also remember me as Michal Gabriel. Keep the marble and never let it go. You are destined to do great things and change the history of the world.”

  She stood and extended her hand. “Sir, it's been a pleasure. I need to go now.”

  Then she turned around and walked towards the crystal blue sea. David watched her walk out into the sea, further and further away until he lost sight of her.

  Wait! That cannot be a good thing! David thought. He continued to scan the two-toned blue horizon but only saw water. At that moment, Sherry returned with two drinks in her hand.

  “What's wrong, honey, you looked like you've seen a ghost?”

  “Maybe I did.” David replied. “Excuse me for just a minute.”

  “Okay? Uh, sure, where are…?”

  David had already jumped out of his chair and ran towards the sinking sea. He swam as hard as he could towards the spot where he last saw Michal, stopping for air and looking for any sign of a struggle every few seconds. The current seemed to becoming stronger, yanking him below the surface more often than he would have liked. Then he went under and could not resurface. There was a force pulling him under.

  In the background, he heard people yelling. He thought that he heard Sherry's voice, “DAVID!”

  I have never felt so helpless like this in water! What is wrong with me? David felt enormous pressure on his chest and lungs and he struggled for breath. Silhouetted figures faded in and out over him through the hazing liquid. Sherry? Michal? He could barely make out some voices. He heard a motor sound. A boat maybe?

  The rotor sound grew louder and louder. What did I just hear? Did he call me Major?

  “Sir, sir! Can you hear me? A voice yelled above the roar of the medevac helicopter.

  “He's coming to!” Another voice shouted.

  “You're going to make it sir! We are almost there now! You'll be alright!”

  “Wha—wha…?” David try to manage but he could not speak. There was something covering his nose and mouth. Ironically, it seemed to be helping him breathe better than before. He wanted to ask so many questions.

  “Don't try to talk, sir! We are taking good care of you, you are safe. The best surgeon in Iraq is waiting for us! We will touch down in three mikes! Your plane went down. You are the only survivor! You're going to make it!”

  About the Author

  Scott Meehan is a retired Army Major, having served the U.S. Army for twenty-five years, seven of which were as an enlisted soldier. Major Meehan served a tour in Berlin when the wall stood in the midst of the Cold War. After attending ROTC at Florida Southern, he deployed to the Middle East during Desert Storm. Twelve years after his return from that war, Meehan deployed to Iraq during Operation Iraqi Freedom in 2003 where he received a Bronze Star medal and again in 2005. After retiring, he returned as a contractor in 2006.

  Scott lives in Florida with his family, including grandchildren and teaches college courses. He has written his memoirs, Stone in a Sling and four novels, three of which comprise the Army Brat series. Meehan is the founder of PTSIO (Post Traumatic Stress In Order) Publishing for veterans and their families.

  http://www.PTSIO.org

  http://www.scottallmeehan.weebly.com

  http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B006E6H8YA

  Dear reader,

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