Scareforce (2 page)

Dale’s worst fears were realized by the commander.

“We lost one. About an hour ago. In Sand Fork. They landed right on top of the target.”

Sand Fork was a training route that the bombers used to practice low-level bombing. The bomb run was in a valley between mountains
in Colorado. It was a desolate area that looked like the surface of a dead moon.

“Were there any survivors?” It was a hard question for Gavin to ask.

“No chance.” The answer even harder for the colonel.

The news was horrifying. Six men, fellow flyers, were now gone completely from the earth.

“Give me the folders for Jamie Bar’s crew.”

Now the dead men had names. Captain Gavin reluctantly pulled the training folders for the crew. They would be needed by the
accident board, who had already been notified and would be convening rapidly. The Air Force moved quickly in situations of
crises.

The colonel watched over his shoulder as he pulled the manilla folders from the cabinet.

“Not the nav. Not the lieutenant. He had a cold. The flight surgeon grounded him. They were flying with a substitute.”

The colonel reached past him and pulled another folder from the drawer. Captain Gavin froze as he read the name on the folder.
The blood rushed from his face and his mouth gaped open.

“It… it can’t be…” he stammered.

“Here, Dale, you better sit down.” The commander helped him to a chair. “I’m sorry I didn’t break it to you a little better.
I forgot that you guys were good friends.”

Yes, good friends. Friends in adversity. Friends on Alert. But one of them was probably on a lot longer tour. Much longer
than seven days.

Dale Gavin looked back at the name on the folder. The name of his friend, Mike Delane. For whatever reason the ghost of his
recently deceased crew mate had returned to haunt the place that he haunted so often in life.

Sleep tight tonight, America. Your Alert Force is awake. But not all of us are alive.

T
RADlTlON defines England as one of the most haunted countries in the world. Steeped in history, the stately ghosts of England
are admired and respected as professionals in the realm of the supernatural. Just as England perseveres, so do her haunts.
But there’s a difference here that I think is important. Even though their days and nights in the old manor house were full
of strange and supernatural occurrences, I never met a single participant who would have given up the experience. They seemed
to actually cherish being haunted by ghosts like these.

Greenham Common is an unusual name for a United States Air Force base. That’s probably because technically it’s not a United
States air base. It’s a British base on loan to the US military near the town of Newberry in the southern part of England.
It lies in a beautiful section of Merry Old and is a prized assignment.

When Air Force members change bases and move their families to new locations, especially locations overseas, the service tries
to make the move as painless as possible. One of the facilities they employ to take some of the difficulty out of a move is
the provision of temporary living quarters or TLQs on the base. They’re like little motels furnished with most of the comforts
of home. Servicemen can move their families in while they arrange for more permanent quarters either on or off the base.

Greenham Common was no different in this respect. But the TLQ itself was different. In fact it was probably the most “different”
building ever used by the Air Force. Buildings were limited on the base proper. The USAF had looked around for a building
to use off base and what they found was unusual to say the least.

Greenham Common TLQ was in fact a centuries-old manor house in the grand tradition of English nobility. It was still owned
by the ancestral heirs of the builders and was leased to the government for the slight sum of one dollar per year. The only
provision of the lease was that the Air Force do its best to preserve the manor house exactly as it had been given to them.
No remodeling was to be done. It had already been modernized with plumbing, electricity, and heating before it was put into
government service. The family could no longer afford to maintain so grand a dwelling.

And grand it was. It was three stories of antique beauty. The entryway was dominated by a bold staircase that swept up the
entire three stories. Opposite the staircase was the entrance to the ballroom, a truly magnificent room. It occupied one-half
of the entire structure, with a vaulted ceiling rising three stories above the marble floor. On one side of the room were
two mezzanine levels leading off to multiple rooms. At another corner was an alcove housing an organ that seemed to float
a story above the dance floor. At the end of this grand salon was a massive fireplace that easily accommodated logs eight
feet long. People occupying the rooms off the ballroom could watch the activities below from the railing or join them by way
of the enormous staircase. Other rooms led off the other side of the staircase. It was in all respects the most commodious
and elegant building ever used by the Air Force. And it was probably one of the most haunted.

The manor certainly had enough provenance of age to allow for a host of phantoms. The building as it stood was some three
hundred years old. In spite of this it was referred to as the new manor house. It was built on the ashes of an older house
that had burned long before the United States got itself united.

Operating as it did as a temporary lodging facility, the stately TLQ did not house long-term residents who could build up
a history of the ghostly happenings. But the Air Force is a close-knit family, especially in a foreign country. When family
members got together for recreation, a favorite topic of discussion was the supernatural occurrences in the TLQ.

The most-commonly shared experience was the nightly footsteps of the busiest ghost. Many had heard the comings and goings
late at night. The rooms were located on long narrow hallways with wooden floors. The ghost who walked there was not furtive
or shy at all. He or she was bold and purposeful, even if no one living could determine what the purpose was.

A young sergeant recalled encountering the ghostly walker several times. He had a job that required him to work late hours.
Returning to the manor house after dark, he usually sat up reading before retiring. The utter silence of the house would suddenly
be disturbed by footsteps proceeding down the hallway. The steps were sharp and clear and he could tell that the walker was
definitely a no-nonsense person. There was an almost-military precision to the staccato taps. No, it was more than military.
It was a walk that demanded immediate attention. A walk like that feared and respected by most English boys. In other words,
it sounded for all the world like the walk of a nanny. A nanny bent on ensuring that the rules, her rules, were adhered to
straightaway.

This first night, as on many nights to follow, the footsteps came to a halt at his door. They were followed immediately by
a sharp rap. The young sergeant, accustomed to reacting without question to authority, jumped to his feet and ran to the door.
He was dumbfounded to find nobody in the hallway. In fact no other light showed from under any door in the corridor. He searched
the hallway but could find no reason for the disturbance. He returned to his room and sat down to read again. In a few short
minutes the walk and the knock were reenacted, with the same results.

On subsequent nights when the sergeant returned to his quarters late and stayed up to read or listen to music, the ghostly
walk and knock were repeated. He could never find the culprit. He mentioned it to other tenants of the TLQ, but they just
laughed and said that he must have done something to make the ghost mad. Their sleep had not been disturbed.

Finally one night, as the ritual was repeated and the loud knock was echoing down the hall, he said out loud, “Okay, alright,
I’m going to bed.” He did, and the footsteps were not repeated. From then on he found that if he didn’t stay up too late,
the ghost would leave him alone. It was almost as if he were being cared for by a nanny who wanted him to get his rest and
would brook no disagreement.

In another room in the TLQ, at another time, a couple brought a young baby with them. The child was ill and cried a good deal
of the night. The mother had to be up most of the night almost every night. She could look forward to only short minutes of
sleep broken by the crying of her child. Her husband had to have his sleep to be able to work and the mother would not disturb
him. But the nightly routine was having a serious effect on the mother’s health. One night she fell into bed exhausted, looking
forward to only a few precious minutes of sleep. She woke with a start and was amazed to see that she had slept undisturbed
for several hours. Even more amazing was the lack of any sound coming from the child’s room. Suddenly she was worried that
something might have happened to her baby. She rushed to his room, but stopped short at the door. By the glow from the night-light
she could see a form bending over the child’s crib. The form was indistinct but had the appearance of a woman looking at the
child with some concern. She seemed to be patting the child gently on his back. The baby was making small sounds of contentment.
The mother watched for several minutes until she became aware that the shape had faded completely away. She returned to bed
and completed her first full night of sleep in many days, entirely confident that her infant was perfectly safe.

One of the most amazing supernatural occurrences in the manor house took place in broad daylight in front of a large group
of people. The base had planned an outing for the newly arrived service members and their families. They were taking a tour
bus to a seaside resort and several families were hurrying to join the trip. A little three-year-old girl was at the head
of a group coming down the grand staircase. Disobeying her mother’s caution not to run, she was in full flight. As she rounded
the last landing her flight became literal. Several shocked people watched in horror as the little girl tripped on the rug
and launched herself headfirst into the air. Disaster seemed unavoidable. A woman screamed. Suddenly her headlong flight to
certain injury or even death was arrested. It was as if she had been caught under the arms by an adult with amazingly quick
reflexes. She hovered in midair and then, before a dozen bewildered and astonished observers, she was lowered gently to the
ground. She skipped off to the bus as if nothing had happened, leaving in her wake a lot of speechless witnesses.

No one knows what ghost or ghosts haunt the old manor. But all of them know what kind of ghosts they are. The best. By all
accounts, the very best.

A
military base is a strange thing. Part-city, part-neighborhood, it gives you a sense of place like no other locale I have
ever experienced. The facts of the following story always added a little extra thrill to watching scary movies at one particular
base theater. I have used the name of a base that no longer exists, but the real base and the real theater are still in operation.
Maybe you ’II find them both some dark and stormy night.

Modern military bases are a lot like cities. Most everyone knows that they have housing, offices, and places to store a lot
of military hardware. Some people who deal with the military know that there are a few other facilities of the type that you’d
associate with a city. Tilings like service stations, municipal utility offices, and a police force. But you have to be in
the military for a while to get to know how much like a city a base really is.

Few outsiders know that the military provides several types and classes of housing—everything from motels, to unmarried personnel
apartments, to duplexes, to family homes, to luxury suites fit for a king… or a president.

Bases usually provide all the services you’d find in a comparably sized town. Everything from grocery stores to department
stores, swimming pools to dry cleaners, hospitals to mortuaries. They can supply you with food, drink, clothing, furniture,
reading glasses, automobiles, recreation, fun, and excitement. And, like any small town, a military base can sometimes provide
you with the unusual, the strange, and the supernatural. You see, the bases are communities of people, both living and dead.
Just like any town full of people, the dead sometimes come back to make life more interesting for the living.

Just about every base in existence has a base theater of some sort. The base theater usually serves as a multipurpose auditorium,
furnishing a meeting place for commanders to brief their troops; a forum for visiting dignitaries to meet the base population;
a large classroom for mandatory training sessions; even a stage for little theater groups. In spite of all this activity,
they still get around to showing movies.

The theater on Kinchloe Air Force Base was no exception. It was being, and always had been, heavily used day and night since
its construction more than a decade ago. And, as the new theater manager learned, it was also being used after hours for a
purpose that the designers had not intended. For the theater at Kinchloe was home and playground to a ghost.

Staff Sergeant James Reynard was a professional weapons system specialist. He’d had a wealth of experience in his field and
was considered resident expert. Levelheaded and rational, he was the last person you would expect to believe in something
as unscientific as ghosts and hauntings.

But Sergeant Jim learned about the realm of the supernatural quickly after taking the part-time job of base theater manager.
He had been on the job for a few months before he noticed the unusual occurrences. They started mildly enough. Several times
theater patrons had complained about someone moving around behind the screen during the showing of films. They said that they
could hear the footsteps and see the curtains on the side of the screen move and shake. And during quiet times in the films
they would sometimes hear laughter coming not from the audience but from behind the screen.