into the
shadows behind the bomber.
“Hey, kid, this is Sergeant Stander. What have you got out there?” The sergeant’s words were delivered in a calm, soothing
tone. He didn’t want to startle the heavily armed and obviously frightened airman.
“I… I don’t know. I don’t know what I got, Sarge,” came the shaky reply. “It’s out there, though. I know it’s out there.”
“Permission to approach your post?” said the sergeant. Formality was required in security situations.
“Permission granted,” came back to him from the young cop. “But be careful. He’s still out there.”
The NCO whispered into his radio, then crawled the short distance to the prone airman.
Before he could ask, the airman blurted out his observations.
“He was right over there. Behind the tail of number four. He was on a horse, a big one, a white one. He looked real white,
too. Just riding up there on the edge of the pad like this was some damned circus show. All those feathers in his hat, he
looked like something out of a history book. I yelled at him and I know he heard me cause he looked right at me. But he didn’t
halt. He just kept riding behind the other airplane. I think I got him. I let him have it with about ten rounds. I must have
hit him.“
The sergeant was listening to this recitation with evergrowing disbelief on his face. He finally interrupted the litany with
a question of his own.
“You mean to tell me that you were shooting at an Indian? A big white Indian with feathers, on a big white horse?”
“Yeah, yeah, I know it sounds weird, but that’s what it was.”
The airman was intent on surveying the dark for the return of his nemesis. He didn’t see the sergeant slip his handgun from
its holster. He pointed the barrel at the head of the young man. He would give him one chance to surrender his weapon. But
then, no nuclear weapon can ever be endangered, whatever the cost. And the young security policeman had just become expendable.
“Just move your hands away from your weapon, real slowly,” the sergeant started, when suddenly he saw movement in the darkness.
The horse glided silently from behind the neighboring bomber. It glowed with a reflected light that came from nc earthly source.
Its rider glowed palely from the same source. The tall Indian turned slowly to regard the two men lying on the concrete. He
watched them for a long moment, but no expression crossed his face. Then he raised one hand in a gesture of recognition usually
reserved for fellow warriors. The horse moved forward of its own volition and the pair faded from view.
Officially the incident was classified as an accidental discharge of an automatic weapon. Many of the young policeman’s peers
were curious about the circumstances of the incident. Weapons had been known to discharge accidentally before, but the airman
in charge had always been severely punished for the accident. This airman was not even reprimanded. His story of the events
of the evening was never formally put into writing. But informally the story made the rounds. What made the fantastic story
even more fantastic was the senior sergeant’s refusal to say anything about the night in question.
Only one other time did the events of that night replay themselves in somewhat like fashion. A bomber crew was leading a three-ship
group of bombers out of the parking area for a night launch. As they taxied down the dark strip of concrete to the runway,
they came abreast of the Alert facility.
Suddenly the lead ship came to a halt in the middle of the taxiway. The crews in the planes behind the stalled bomber made
repeated calls to their lead ship, but they received no answer.
Finally the supervisor of flying called lead to ask what was the problem.
“A… SOF… we’ve got a malfunctioning gauge here. Would you send out maintenance?”
After the mission was flown the crew was questioned about the so-called malfunction. No problem
shadows behind the bomber.
“Hey, kid, this is Sergeant Stander. What have you got out there?” The sergeant’s words were delivered in a calm, soothing
tone. He didn’t want to startle the heavily armed and obviously frightened airman.
“I… I don’t know. I don’t know what I got, Sarge,” came the shaky reply. “It’s out there, though. I know it’s out there.”
“Permission to approach your post?” said the sergeant. Formality was required in security situations.
“Permission granted,” came back to him from the young cop. “But be careful. He’s still out there.”
The NCO whispered into his radio, then crawled the short distance to the prone airman.
Before he could ask, the airman blurted out his observations.
“He was right over there. Behind the tail of number four. He was on a horse, a big one, a white one. He looked real white,
too. Just riding up there on the edge of the pad like this was some damned circus show. All those feathers in his hat, he
looked like something out of a history book. I yelled at him and I know he heard me cause he looked right at me. But he didn’t
halt. He just kept riding behind the other airplane. I think I got him. I let him have it with about ten rounds. I must have
hit him.“
The sergeant was listening to this recitation with evergrowing disbelief on his face. He finally interrupted the litany with
a question of his own.
“You mean to tell me that you were shooting at an Indian? A big white Indian with feathers, on a big white horse?”
“Yeah, yeah, I know it sounds weird, but that’s what it was.”
The airman was intent on surveying the dark for the return of his nemesis. He didn’t see the sergeant slip his handgun from
its holster. He pointed the barrel at the head of the young man. He would give him one chance to surrender his weapon. But
then, no nuclear weapon can ever be endangered, whatever the cost. And the young security policeman had just become expendable.
“Just move your hands away from your weapon, real slowly,” the sergeant started, when suddenly he saw movement in the darkness.
The horse glided silently from behind the neighboring bomber. It glowed with a reflected light that came from nc earthly source.
Its rider glowed palely from the same source. The tall Indian turned slowly to regard the two men lying on the concrete. He
watched them for a long moment, but no expression crossed his face. Then he raised one hand in a gesture of recognition usually
reserved for fellow warriors. The horse moved forward of its own volition and the pair faded from view.
Officially the incident was classified as an accidental discharge of an automatic weapon. Many of the young policeman’s peers
were curious about the circumstances of the incident. Weapons had been known to discharge accidentally before, but the airman
in charge had always been severely punished for the accident. This airman was not even reprimanded. His story of the events
of the evening was never formally put into writing. But informally the story made the rounds. What made the fantastic story
even more fantastic was the senior sergeant’s refusal to say anything about the night in question.
Only one other time did the events of that night replay themselves in somewhat like fashion. A bomber crew was leading a three-ship
group of bombers out of the parking area for a night launch. As they taxied down the dark strip of concrete to the runway,
they came abreast of the Alert facility.
Suddenly the lead ship came to a halt in the middle of the taxiway. The crews in the planes behind the stalled bomber made
repeated calls to their lead ship, but they received no answer.
Finally the supervisor of flying called lead to ask what was the problem.
“A… SOF… we’ve got a malfunctioning gauge here. Would you send out maintenance?”
After the mission was flown the crew was questioned about the so-called malfunction. No problem
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