Answers

By Jim Koehler

Almost sixty years after a fatal New Mexico military plane crash, the son of a victim seeks ANSWERS about the event. He hires a historian, Robert Jerzerski, Ph.D., from the State University of Southern Arizona, to find the answers, but another tragedy forces the investigator to engage a lawyer and a paramedic in the search.
Together, this unlikely triumvirate meticulously piece together clues surrounding a past event that is deeply shrouded in mystery. The result of their efforts is both surprising and dramatic and changes the lives of those involved.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Books for Pleasure
• Release date: Sep 13, 2014
• ISBN: 9781553490869

Book preview

ANSWERS

By

Jim Koehler

Copyright James Koehler 2005

All rights reserved

ISBN 978-1-55349-086-9

Published by Books for Pleasure at Smashwords

DISCLAIMER

This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Chapter 1

AN UNEXPECTED EVENT

The flight from Topeka had been tiring and Charlie was glad it would soon end. He did not like the weather forecast near his destination. Bad weather was predicted for all of the southwestern United States, especially over the mountains. He knew he would be flying around them but was sure he could do so safely. He was headed for Albuquerque, a field he had no experience with. However, it had been there for many years and had served as an active airfield and destination almost since the beginning of commercial flight. It was located along east-west airway Green 4 that had many navigational aids along the way. In particular, a radio range station for Albuquerque Radio was located near Kirtland Field, his destination. Under normal circumstances, he would simply have flown the airway into the station, but the officer in charge of his principal cargo had requested he avoid the airways.

It was only one week into the new year of 1945 and the military services were beginning to feel more confident about the war. Great strides were being made in the European theater and Japan was being bombed regularly. Most of the military thinking was that Germany would soon fall. Japan was another matter. The Japanese were viewed as a fanatical, warlike people who would fight to the death. Plans were in place for invading the main islands sometime in late 1945 or early 1946. Casualty estimates were high, some saying over a million men would die. Charlie had mixed feelings about his stateside assignment as a USAAF representative with the AVEL Corporation in the Midwest. He knew his work was necessary, but he could not forget all his flying school classmates who had gone overseas to fight in the war. He kept in contact with many of them and heard of their adventures. He also abruptly stopped hearing from several of them and later learned that they had been killed in combat. That was a bitter pill to swallow. He felt that he should be with his former friends on the front line helping to hasten an end to the war. He might have been, but when it was discovered that he was a graduate electrical engineer, the war department felt he could better serve in his present position. He had done well. Although he had only been out of flight school for two years, he had attained the rank of Major. Some of his classmates in combat had climbed higher in rank, but that was because they returned alive from bombing runs that were becoming more and more dangerous as the war progressed. Some had also succeeded as fighter pilots, successfully becoming aces. Still, Charlie had done well and he knew it. More promotions were likely and a profitable civilian career after the war was also a good possibility.

The C-47 Charlie was flying was now northeast of Albuquerque just south of Santa Fe. He had hoped to triangulate himself using the Otto Radio Range station and Santa Fe Radio using ADF. However, the weather had worsened during the last hour and there was so much static he could not hear the signals clearly. He had crossed the Otto beam and now wanted to intersect the northern beam from Albuquerque Radio. Charlie knew he could then follow that directly into the Kirtland Field area where he would land, but he was now facing a stiff wind from the west-northwest and he was not sure exactly where he was. The officer in charge of the cargo came up front to tell Charlie he could now break an earlier imposed radio silence and inform the Kirtland tower of their ETA. As the officer waited, Charlie notified Kirtland that they would arrive at 1200 hours Mountain War Time. Then the officer returned to the cargo area to tell the four heavily-armed guards and two civilians that they would soon be arriving in Albuquerque. Charlie had wondered about the civilians. He had transported cargo many times before for the Air Forces and their civilian contractors, but never had civilians aboard a flight.

But Charlie had more important things on his mind now. He was at 15,000 feet elevation and knew he was to land in Albuquerque at an elevation of approximately 5,000 feet. He could also tell from the map that the Sandia Mountain Range lay to the northeast of the field. The highest peak in this range was almost 11,000 feet and he had to avoid that. He knew that if he encountered the northern beam from Albuquerque radio, he would be safely west of the mountains and could ride the beam south into the field. However, the static on the radio was now so bad that he could not make out the low frequency radio signal. He also had all he could handle flying in the wintry weather. He was above an overcast and there were snow squalls and lightning below him. The peaks were obscured and he could not see where the Sandias were. He wished that Ed Travis, his usual co-pilot, had not suddenly had an appendicitis attack which put him in the hospital a week earlier. Ed was a whiz at flying radio ranges, even under the worst of conditions, and would have been a help now. At least his input in sorting things out would have been welcome. Charlie did not like flying without a co-pilot, but this flight came up suddenly and there was apparently some urgency about the cargo getting to Albuquerque.

Lacking clear radio communications, Charlie had to rely on dead reckoning. After proceeding for what he felt was an adequate time to get west of the Sandias, he decided to penetrate the soup and fly VFR beneath the 8,000 foot ceiling he had been told about by the Kirtland tower. Throttling back the two 1200-hp P&W engines, he began his descent. As he dropped through the clouds, the snow began to thicken. He finally broke through the overcast and saw the ground 2,000 feet below him. He was still not sure exactly where he was, but believed he would soon encounter the Rio Grande River that he would follow to Albuquerque. He reached for the radio and called Kirtland tower. No answer. That was disturbing because he was able to reach them earlier with his VHF frequency radio, even if the low frequency radio range signals could not be heard. He kept flying, now on a 240 degree heading. Snow squalls were developing and from time to time he would encounter white-outs. Charlie saw the ground changing as it became more heavily wooded. Was he also seeing it rise up to meet him?

Suddenly, Charlie experienced a cold shiver. Maybe he could not reach the Kirtland tower because the line-of-sight VHF radio signal was blocked by something. He looked at the map and realized he might now be on the eastern side of the Sandia Mountain Range and was at a low enough altitude that the radio signal might be further blocked from bending over the mountain range. Depending on local wind conditions, he could easily have been blown further to the southeast than expected. Charlie then realized it would be best to gain enough altitude to clear the Sandia peaks. With that in mind, he pushed forward on his throttles and began to ascend.

Unfortunately, it was too late. The wind had indeed sent him to the northeastern corner of the Sandia Mountain Range and he was now very close to the ground. In addition, a severe snow squall limited his visibility and a mountain wave of down-flowing air kept the plane from rising. Without any warning, the right wing dropped and hit the side of a minor peak at 8,000 feet elevation. The plane spun around and smashed into the ground. Charlie, and most of those aboard, never knew what hit them. All of them, but one guard, died instantly. The guard had been sitting in the rear of the cargo compartment and while the others had been hit by flying debris, this man had been seat-belted in. However, he had been injured when the plane spun around hitting rocks and trees and lost consciousness. When he woke up a half-hour later, though dazed and in pain, he was able to release the belt and stagger around. He did not know what was wrong, but his gut hurt when he moved. He checked out the others aboard the aircraft and finding them all dead, sat down to clear his head. Then, he remembered his primary mission. He stumbled back to the cargo area to an ordinary looking box about the size of a small bread box. Reaching for his Thompson sub-machine gun and some clothes and other items he could use to keep warm, he stationed himself on the box, ready to protect it.

An hour went by, and gradually the man’s wounds took their toll. He had been injured internally, and without help he would not recover. Gradually, he slipped into unconsciousness and then died. When the first person arrived on the scene later that day, he found the guard slumped by the box still clutching his weapon.

Chapter 2

THE HISTORIAN

Robert Jerzerski, Ph.D. entered his outer office at the State University of Southern Arizona, greeted his student secretary, and headed for the desk in his inside office. The spring semester would soon be over and he thought about getting out of town before the stifling Arizona summer heat would arrive. Thanks to air conditioning, it was bearable at work, but he liked cooler weather when he was outside. He was 45 years old, in mid-career, and had done well for himself. He was now Vice-Chairman of the History Department, having been brought there by Vance Curtin, his former colleague at City of Angels Community College in Los Angeles. Vance was ten years older and had been tapped by SUSA for the Chairmanship. After a few years, he approached Bob about moving to Arizona to work with him on the faculty. That had been ten years earlier, and Bob's final divorce papers had just come through. He was now a free man and he welcomed the chance to get away from Los Angeles, although it separated him from his two children. Still, after thinking about it, he had to admit the children were better off with his wife than with him. He had worked long hours in his career and was entirely focused on his work. He had neglected his family and he knew it. It really did not surprise him when his wife finally suggested they call it quits. His pride was hurt, but he knew it was probably best for everyone concerned. Therefore, lawyers were hired and the deed was done. Another marriage had crumbled.

Bob noticed the note on his phone as he sat down. It was dated the Monday before Easter. He did not recognize either the name or the number and it was from a different area code. Bob called through the doorway to his secretary.

Shauna, did this guy who called say what he wanted?

No, Doctor Jerzerski. In fact, I never spoke to him directly. I spoke to his secretary and she asked me to have you call his number.

Okay, Shauna, thanks.

That seemed curious, he mused. Most people make their own phone calls nowadays. He must be an executive or very busy. I may as well call him back right now.

Picking up the phone, he punched in the numbers and heard the phone ring. After two rings, a very efficient sounding female voice said, Mr. Olson’s office.

Hello, this is Doctor Robert Jerzerski of the State University of Southern Arizona. Mr. Olsen asked me to call him.

Oh yes, the lady replied, I can put you through right now.

The phone briefly went to recorded music until a man’s purposeful sounding voice was heard. Doctor Jerzerski, this is Tom Olson. Thank you for your prompt reply.

No problem, Sir. What can I do for you?

That’s something I’d like to discuss with you in person. I’ll be coming to Phoenix next week and staying at the Arizona Biltmore. Could we meet, perhaps, next Tuesday evening?

Bob checked his calendar and saw that it was a free evening. That would be fine. Where and when?

Let’s meet at my hotel at, say, 7:00 P.M. This involves something to do with your consulting business on old military aircraft accidents. I understand you still do that.

Now Bob was really interested. Yes, I still do. Can you give me some idea what you need so I can gauge whether or not I can help you. If not, I might be able to refer you to someone else.

Sure. In 1945, my father was killed in a military plane crash in New Mexico. There were some questions about the circumstances surrounding the accident and I want some answers. I heard about your oral history research and consulting into military aircraft operations in the southwest during World War II, and felt you might be able to help me.

Well, that is my area of expertise and it sounds interesting to me. Yes, let’s talk.

Good! I’ll see you Tuesday evening. Give me a call when you arrive and we’ll meet in my room.

Okay Mr. Olson, I’ll see you then.

Bob hung up the phone and made a note in his day planner. His professional area of interest was United States history with an emphasis on military aviation history. He had written his dissertation on the history of aircrew training in the continental United States during World War II. He had interviewed hundreds of former flyers and instructors who had lived through that period. That was another reason why he had accepted Vance’s offer to work at SUSA. Bob had become acquainted with a pilot in Phoenix who operated a business called ARIZONA CRASHFINDERS. This business specialized in going into the field and finding crash sites for people. It was common for people to want to locate and visit a site where a loved one had died. Sometimes, they would even leave a monument there in memory of a lost friend or relative. Bob had teamed up with ARIZONA CRASHFINDERS on several occasions, he doing the background research and the pilot, the