Flight of the Forgotten. Mark A. Vance
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been for you, it would have been a lot worse. You guided us through the transition.” he stated.
“I guided …?”
“You were there for us, helping us understand, helping us adjust. Then you chose to come back and help our families understand.” he said appreciatively.
“I … I don’t remember.”
“Of course you don’t. But you’ll remember it all soon enough.” he said.
September 25, 1989, Gairloch, Scotland
Throughout our stay in Scotland, the local people were remarkably curious about our activities and about what was being discovered. One woman told us about venturing to the crash site with her daughter and being confronted by at least a dozen young men in World War II flying attire that disappeared when she and her daughter started screaming hysterically. Another reported hearing a voice scream “Jack! Jack! Jack!” repeatedly when she was alone at the loch and could find no one else around. Several were adamant that mysterious hands pushed and shoved them down the hillside and each had a broken arm or leg to support their contention. Hidden from their statements was the ugly fact of what was done at the crash site in the days immediately following the crash. The Jack Ketchum crew remembered. They remembered well enough to vigorously defend the site against unwanted intrusion for the next five decades.
September 29, 1989, Gairloch, Scotland
It was getting close to dark on my last day in the search area, but I couldn’t make myself leave. Jack Ketchum had insisted that I return to the loch with him without telling me why. I’d followed reluctantly, though I knew it would be dark soon and I wasn’t feeling up to climbing down the hillside in the dark. It was a warm, perfectly still evening under a cloudless sky as I sat next to him and waited. I was still thinking about what he’d said about me being in spirit at the time of the crash and accepting the challenge of telling the families the truth.
“How much longer?” I asked, twisting a piece of wreckage over and over in my hand.
“Time is an earthly concept. Just be patient.” he encouraged, staring ahead at the loch.
“I don’t think I can make it down the hill after dark.” I prompted.
“You don’t have to. You’re safe here.” he replied with a smile.
“Was I really here when all this happened?” I asked curiously.
“Here and there. Don’t worry. We’ll help you recall.” he insisted. “There’s something else really important I want you to remember when this is all over with, Mark.”
“What’s that?”
“People need to know about all the sacrifices made out of love of country for them, not just this one. They need to know that a sacrifice made out of love of country is a sacred gift. They should cherish their freedom more instead of taking it for granted. Thousands have given their lives for it. They should appreciate it more.” he insisted.
“Yes sir. I understand.”
“You also must share your love of flying with your family more. They need to know that airplanes are safe in spite of what happened here. You need to encourage your family not to be afraid.” he continued.
“Okay, I will, Jack.”
“Can you do something else for me, something really special?” he then asked.
“Just name it, Jack.”
“Could you tell Bobbe for me that whenever she’s outside working in her garden and feels what she thinks is a spider web against her face, and there’s no spider web there, it’s my way of saying ‘hello’. Tell her I’m around her all the time and I’ll always love her.” he said sadly.
“Consider it done.” I replied, wiping a tear from my eye.
September 30, 1989, Gairloch, Scotland
It was well after midnight when I awakened at the loch to the sound of my name being called. The voice was familiar and I knew right away who it was. “Mark … Mark, it’s time.” Buster implored, as I looked around and suddenly saw the same faces that had greeted me that night in the rain at the Bradley International Airport. There they were again, watching me intently.
“Huh? …What is it?” I stammered, rubbing my eyes, not sure if I was dreaming or not.
“We’re ready to show you the way.” Buster said softly. “Stand up and I’ll introduce you.”
Rising in response, I reached my feet and gazed intently at the figures in front of me. All of them appeared exactly the same way they had in my great-grandmother’s photo from so long ago.
“Jesus!” I exclaimed, staring in wide-eyed amazement.
“Just take it easy. I want to introduce you to my crew.” Buster continued. “This is Jack Spencer, the copilot.” he offered, as the copilot reached out and squeezed my hand.
“It’s an honor to meet you.” I managed.
“It’s good to see you too.” the copilot said as I strained to see his face better in the dim light.
“Richard Robak, our navigator.” Buster continued, leading me down the line as the navigator offered a salute and a firm handshake.
“It’s good to see you, Mark.” he said cheerfully. “We’re grateful for everything.” he added as I just stared at him in wonder.
“Hillburn Cheek, our flight engineer.” Buster continued, leading me by the arm.
“A pleasure, sir.” Cheek declared, saluting and extending his hand.
“The pleasure is all mine.” I replied as Buster kept leading me down the long line of men. When we finally reached the end, I found myself face to face with Jack Ketchum again as Buster said, “And of course you know Lieutenant Ketchum, our boss.” and I shook hands with Jack Ketchum again, the man I’d worked with for days in the adjoining countryside. It wasn’t the least bit unsettling really. They seemed to have a great deal of respect for me, though I didn’t really understand why. I was in their element after dark, an unimagined venture to those down in the village, but I’d never felt more secure.
“We really appreciate what you’ve gone through to help us.” Jack Ketchum said as the others began forming a circle around me. “We want you to know you’re always safe with us around. We’re always together with you in the aviator’s eternal circle.”
“Thank you.” I replied, eyeing Buster thoughtfully.
“We’ll be there for you when you cross to this side too, just like you were for us.” he continued.
“I … I don’t remember any of that. I’m sorry.” I replied awkwardly.
“No, of course not. That’s why we’re here, so you can complete your life’s mission.” he said somberly as the others began tightening their circle around me. When they closed to within an arms-length, intense lifelike images began filling my head as each man imparted his thoughts and recollections on me in vivid detail. Suddenly, their thoughts became my thoughts; their experiences became my experiences, as I watched each of them passing from this world to the next. It was incredibly intense as I relived each emotion and physical trauma of their passing.
“Oh, my God!” I uttered over and over. I could see their airplane burning and breaking apart in the air above us, feel the terror and initial chaos as their spirit guides tried desperately to help them transition to the sudden change. There was so much adamant denial.
“No! This can’t be happening! We’re going home! We made it through the war!” they shouted as they fought the transition fiercely. In my head, I felt Buster’s pain