I was a young 19 year old "Airman" and this was only my second flight in a "C-119" flying "BOXCAR".
The flight path was from Seattle Washington to Rapid City South Dakota. Somewhere around 10,000 feet above the "Black Hills"
It left an indelible memory with me, and one which I'll never forget.
THE SCARE
Ten thousand high, pitching, and yawing,while cutting through buffeting clouds as they race by.
The Pilot fights valiantly for control, and a steady course.
The old "Boxcar" is as stubborn as an ole Plow Horse.
Without warning the plane plummets from the sky,
to an altitude of two thousand high.
The Co-Pilot assumes command as the Pilot steps down,
and approaches the lone passenger who is wearing a frown.
He asks in a soothing voice,
does the young airman
know when to stay, and when to go.
A quavering voice answers:"Yes Sir;
Three short rings are for the ready,
and one long ring for the go."
His racing heart and frightened mind
whisper oh please no!
The young airman pulls his
parachute straps down tight,
and prays that the gray haired pilot
wins this fight.
Looking out the window
he sees no roads in sight,
only mountains and trees to add to his plight.
He closes his eyes and mouths a prayer
as he resigns to his fate,
and prepares himself to
meet the "Master" at the gate.
It's then that he hears that
screeching sound;
telling him the wheels
have met ground.
As he de-planes with a smile
He hopes he won't have to fly,
for a long, long while.
©Lonnie D. Chevrie Sr.
