Breeze

A cool breeze blew in overnight and about 0300 hours Dillon gave me a punch. He flipped the covers up with his nose and jabbed me in the ribs, with his cold nose. I was snuggled up under the comforter with every window in the house open. Betty is over at her folks house taking care of them. Dillon's whine told me that there was something that needed my attention. As I slipped on my sandals I could hear Nada also. He was in the kennel in the living room. He has had surgery and is wearing a cone to keep him from pulling stitches. Nada is recovering well and was also vocalizing that something was going on outside. I could hear nothing, but the kennel dogs could, and they were also talking about it.
Picking up the million candle power rechargeable flashlight, I released the door and the dogs boiled out of the door, challenging what ever was out there. Within seconds Dillon gave his "catch sound", then yelped in pain. Pandemoneum broke out as the kennel dogs chimed in with Dillon and Nada who had began to bark up. Coming around the corner of the house, I could tell the dogs had treed something and I turned the light on.
Dillon was in his alert signal sit, and Nada had his feet up on a large white oak tree in the yard by the West pasture. They were challenging a marauding Raccoon to come down and fight like a man !
I figgured that the coon had been silently raiding the bird feeders when the breeze had shifted bringing his scent to the dogs.
The breeze had a cold bite to it, telling of a front that was arriving. With the light off and the goose bumps standing out on my bare legs, I slipped back into the warmth of the house, with the now empty bladdered dogs at my heels.
With Nada re kenneled, the fan in the window now turned off, I snuggled back under the covers. The last thing I remember before dozing off was Dillon curling up by the bed in his guard position.
The morning's coffee brought with it a list of things to do before the first hard freeze arrived. I remembered those goose bumps from the night before.
At the top of the list, winterize Harm's Weigh.

OFFSHORE

(PCP)
Confident, tanned and polite, the outdoors man answered my query in a quiet but firm voice. The question had been why would a Ouachita Mountain boy choose to go to sea and work so far from home ? His response was measured, when he said, good wages is a factor, but it is somehow more than that. If I am working at home I spend about half of my time away and on the job, so it is not much different, working off shore. I spend two weeks out on the drilling rig and am off for two weeks, spending that time with my family.Because our family's lifestyle is so heavily related to the out of doors, it was just a natural that I would want to also work outdoors.My work schedule will nearly always give me a full half of deer season to hunt.
My next question was how he started to work for an off shore drilling company. Grinning, he responded, "the internet, of course !" That is where the initial contact information came from, then there was about a three month process of physical, psychological and aptitude tests, along with a physical examination. After all of that, there is an intensive week of twelve hour days in Morgan City Louisiana. It is about half class room study and half practical exercises on a training drilling rig that is part of the international oil rig museum, on the banks of the Atchafalaya river. Passing the written exam and the practical exercises, at that drilling rig, named Mr. Charlie, qualifies you to go to the next phase, which is conducted at the U.S. Coastguard facility in Morgan City. "What does the Coastguard instruct you in at that site", I asked. The answer was direct and to the point, as is Richard Saddler's way. "Water Survival." "You have to demonstrate that you can swim ?", I asked. "For one thing, he replied, but it is again, about safety, learning the use and proper wearing of flotation and survival gear that is used at sea. It is more than learning how to tread water, it is also about quickly making emergency flotation devices and utilizing even the clothes that you are wearing. Since we fly by helicopter out to the drilling rig, one of the training exercises is how to exit a heilo that has to be ditched in open water". Really!, I said, how do they train you for that ? You are seat belted in a training aid and put in a swimming pool and have to successfully extricate your self from the training vehicle. There are scuba divers in the pool as you submerge, just incase there is a complication".
Wow, what happens next ?, I said. "That is actually the graduation training exercise, at that point you have already passed the written exam on that part".
Serving to help meet America's energy needs, Richard Saddler, Wickes, Arkansas.

FLIGHT

(PCP)
This coming September it will have been thirty four years since the Texas International Airways flight number 655 disappeared in a violent thunder storm that it was trying to go around. As some may recall, the aircraft, a convair 600, was en route from Memphis Tennessee to Dallas Texas, with stops in Eldorado and Texarkana Arkansas. Aboard the aircraft was two pilots and nine passengers.
At the stop in Eldorado the air crew decided to continue on to Texarkana though there was a massive cold front approaching from the North West, that was pushing a violent thunderstorm across the State.
Did the aircrew know something that led them to believe they could beat the storm to Texarkana ?
We will likely never know, for the aircraft was forced North to try to find a way around the storm.
Thirty years later an Aviation Archeological Team, accompanied by a news crew from channel 3 KTBS, arrives in the Ouachitas to revisit the scene of the crash and to interview Mena locals that may have knowledge of the incident.
Long time Aircraft Technician Marty Caldwell, who has been involved in many air searches over the years, was one of those that were interviewed out at the airport.
The Ouachita Mountains are clearly marked on the Aviation map of Arkansas. There is a large purple rectangle on the map that defines our area as a "high Crash Incidence" area. The Ouachita Mountains jut up from the earth in a twenty five hundred feet high leap above the surrounding terrain, causing pilots that are used to flying in flatter Southern Regions to miscalculate clearance.
During the search for the missing airliner a Army National Guard Helicopter also crashed, losing all personnel aboard, amplifying the magnitude of the tragedy. Local pilots who are knowledgeable of the
Ouachitas are always sought out for some of these dangerous search missions, with the Mena Airport as the base of operations for such searches. The search for the Texas International flight lasted for three days before it was located many miles from the original search area.
During these days of unbridled media attention, you might think that these valiant and expensive, often volunteer, search and Rescue operations would garner much applause. Yet recognition seems to be sparse. How is it that so little attention has been given to the many massive search and rescue operations that are spearheaded by local pilots gets so little attention ? The budgets of local Law Enforcement agencies, Fire Departments and the Office of Emergency Management are devastated by these efforts. These local agency's always are the first to get the call for help, yet seem to be the last to get much recognition.
During the course of your daily activities, as you encounter these dedicated and professional public servants, let them know how you appreciate their efforts on behalf of the public.
Should you have missed the original airing of the broadcast, or would just like to revisit it, the article is chock full of details with a on site view of the crash scene, it is available on the internet at:

RAIN

The weather forecast had been for a 20% possibility of measurable rain fall happening. The forecast had been that way for so long that no one seemed to believe it could even remotely happen. During the fourth week of August , the memory of the last rain fall was dim indeed. The leaves on the giant oak trees around the yard were turning browner by the day. Each step on the lawn gave a dry crisp crackling sound as it compressed the dead brown grass. Mowing the grass was not an issue this August ! The morning air was very still and dust rose slowly up to fill his nostrils with each step.
The trip to the end of the driveway had been postponed from the day before. The mailman had waved as he accelerated away from the rural route mail box and the heat waves shimmering up off of the driveway had made his image somewhat blurry. Retreating to the cool of the house, he thought, I'll hike to the mailbox when the sun is a little bit lower.
The telephone rang as he stepped into the deep shade and conditioned air of the house. It was good/bad news. A friend that was deployed to the middle East with the Army had been injured and was in the hospital at Fort Carson. The bad news was that a friend was suffering from his service to our country. The good news was that he had made it back and would likely recover well. More phone calls followed and the trip to the mailbox was never made.
While sipping on his second cup of coffee the next day, the forecast that he heard was a 20% chance of rain. He snorted as he sipped coffee from the cup, ha ! He thought, fat chance of that ! But, I will go get that mail, while it is cool !
The early light of day revealed, as he stepped outside for the first time, that a cloud bank was building to the North West. As he removed the letters from the mailbox he heard it for the first time. Deep low and almost ominous sounding , it was obvious that the distant rumble of thunder had traveled considerable distance.
Walking slowly as he sorted his way through the mail, he felt the first gust of wind. It was heavy and smelt of impending rain. The mail lost it's interest for him, as he peered into the gathering clouds. In the distance across the pasture he began to see the rain shower as it quickly approached.
He didn't hurry to the house, but instead continued to amble down the driveway at a leisurely pace. By the time he entered the house and announced, "honey, I went after the mail", his shirt was wet and his smile was broad. What a pleasant surprise in the last week of August.

PERSEUS

(PCP)
As the orange glow of the sun receded in the West, stars began to appear in the East. The engine in the Jeep quietly purred as Rich Mountain was being smoothly scaled. Traveling upward from the North end of Mena Street, the ascent began steeply. Talking quietly we wondered, as we passed each turnout alongside the highway, if those that were parked there were on a similar mission. Finally on top of the spine of Rich Mountain, the Western sky was a golden glow, although no part of the Sun was longer visible.
In the distance the Rich Mountain Tower was haloed by the golden glow and clearly outlined. Thinking that there might be less light pollution at the tower, we turned in. As we reached the top, we could tell that there was way too many trees and the lights from Queen Wilhelmina Lodge would likely be a problem, and we needed a clear view of the constellation Perseus.
We continued on Westward, passing the lodge, continuing on towards Oklahoma, down the backbone of the mountain. One of the most scenic drives in North America was mostly obscured by the increasing darkness.
Occasional wildlife could be seen as we proceeded on our quest Westward. The night became cooler, causing a lowering of the air conditioning speed on this very warm August evening.
At each turnout we stopped briefly to check for visibility in the desired direction, and at some there were others already there, looking skyward, also. We hoped for a vacant turnout. Being conscious of how little we actually knew about our quest, we wanted to be able to talk about what we were about to witness. As nervous newbies we continued on Westward, until we actually began to see the phenomenon that we sought.
The next vista was just the right one for us. No light pollution for the bare eye viewing of the meteor shower. The Perseid meteor shower is so named because the meteors seem to come from the constellation Perseus in our night sky. Our goal was to spend a quiet evening viewing this event with the unaided eye.
Standing for a few minutes, our necks began to feel the strain of constant looking upward, it was time for the reclining lawn chairs to come out from the jeep.
A light, mild breeze came gently up the steep slope of the mountain, and there were no mosquito problems.
It was arm chair comfortable, tee shirt wearing, quiet and awesome, meteor viewing.
Soon the cold sodas in the ice chest came out as we marveled over each magnificent display across the sky.
Before we knew it, it was much later than our usual bedtime. The excitement of the brilliant streaks coming from outer space, across our Ouachita Mountain sky had totally captured our attention.
The Orionids will be visible on October the 21st. We may need a light jacket by then !
For more information about meteorite viewing you may go to: http://stardate.org/nightsky/meteors/ on the world wide web. Interested in photographing your experience ? Here is more internet information: http://www.saugus.net/Photos/meteor_photography_tips_night.shtml

TRUCKER

(PCP)
He had considered going to work in Iraq as a contract truck driver for a couple of years. And, as his marriage had ended in divorce, the time just seemed right. After a call to a recruiter, he was sure, that was what he wanted to do. It was just time for a change in his life, he thought. After a whirlwind thirty days of psychological testing, physical examinations, applications, paperwork and things like passport photos, he found himself in Houston Texas. Then the orientation period started where he learned about the things related to his mission in Iraq.
Suddenly it was done. Then the wait began. During this time of waiting for "wheels up" and deployment over to Iraq, he had time to reflect. His life had indeed changed as he wanted, and he would be able to better provide for his family at home.
Then the call came, they would fly to Germany, then on to Dubai where they would spend the night. It was exciting to be off on such a grand international adventure. As the wheels came up and he was getting paid for his time, it made it all the better. Being proud of his skills as a truck driver and going on a mission for his country , in defense of freedom, and getting paid well for this grand adventure, made the frantic thirty day wait worth the effort !
The next day as they landed at Baghdad airport and he came off of the plane, the intense heat hit him like a sledge hammer. They were escorted from the plane to the terminal by armed military. It began to sink in, suddenly they had stepped from a civilian setting, into a combat zone.
The next stop was at Camp Anaconda where they began convoy operations. Each day as they waited for assignment to a convoy, they were in a concrete reinforced Tee area called "the boardwalk". Sometimes they would haul ice in refrigerated semi trailers and sometimes they would haul military equipment such as Humvees. At times there would be as many as twenty five semis escorted by five gun trucks. Once he was on a single truck mission with two gun trucks escorting.
The trucks were mostly Mercedes benz with a Volvo every now and then. The trucks had very good air conditioning and it was a good thing. His first day on the job temperatures went well over 100 degrees.
Then one day it happened, an ambush. And he was shot twice after his truck was disabled by a rocket propelled grenade, Two holes suddenly appeared in the windshield of his truck and his right arm was shattered.
Reinforcements in the form of a helicopter gunship arrived and Preston Wheeler was transported back to Camp Anaconda for the first of several surgerys. A convoy medic in a "bob" truck had helped Preston to staunch the flow of blood and he was able to get out of his truck mostly unaided. However the Ouachita Mountain boy had lost enough blood that he couldn't make it from the heilo all the way to the hospital without a near collapse.
Heavily medicated on his return trip to the United States, the trip was mostly a blur with a stop or two for fuel.
Home now and on the mend, Preston Wheeler relates the details of his civilian mission in Iraq with pride that he was able to serve, though some memories are yet painful.
Preston has met the requirements for the Department of Defense's prestigious Defense of Freedom Medal, the civilian equivalent of the Purple Heart.

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LIGHTHOUSE

(PCP)
In the late 30's when US Highway 71 was completed, Polk County was wet. Liquor could be sold by the drink, and there was a bar and dance hall that sat in the North West corner of forty acres located just South of what is now the junction of State Highways 71 & 84.
By the early 40's the county had gone dry and the property had sold. Enter the Robinson Family, LA, the present owner's Grandpa, saw the place and it's potential, bought it and began making improvements. The old dancehall/bar was cut in half . One half was moved a short distance away, later becoming a motel office. The other half remained where it was, becoming a restaurant in 1952. In 1960 the restaurant burned down. Overseas in the navy at the time, I was saddened by the news in a letter from home. Seven years later in 1967, the Lighthouse Drive Inn Restaurant was opened on that spot. A photo of the drive Inn taken in 1967 may be seen at: www.geocities.com/wickeslighthouse/ . The business quickly became a success, but after a number of years, family health became an issue and the drive inn was closed. Twelve years pass and family member Bob Robinson decided to reopen the restaurant in 1999. Bob relates that with no advertising other than putting up a open sign out front, the customers began to line up. Each one of those customers, it seems, had
Memories of the drive inn as a teenager and were bringing their children and in some cases their grand children.
Long remembered as a good place to get a cold drink, and an old fashioned burger and fries, the passing motorists enjoyed the picnic tables and the shade of large old oak trees. The slogan on the sign is “Hamburgers, fries and shakes, the way you remember”. To keep the flavor and atmosphere the same, family member LA Robinson related exact recipes and special ingredients to Bob and acted as consultant in many areas. Many South County adults received their first work a day world job experience during a summer at the lighthouse drive inn.
Owner Bob Robinson relates that it has been a most satisfying work of restoring the family business and listening to the customers stories and experiences relating to the drive inn.
This world is in constant change and flux. But the flavor of a lighthouse burger is always the same. They are exactly as you remember.