CHAPTER 2

            Having seen the helicopter during its descent, villagers—especially children—were streaming towards the landing area to get a good look at the Huey and the American pilots.  They had just reached the edge of the village when the explosion occurred and, at the clearing, they stood transfixed by the sight of steel hurtling through the air with arrows of fire attached.  A couple of men darted towards the helicopter in an attempt to remove the pilots, but the searing heat drove them back.

            A white-haired older man in dingy overalls rushed to the yellow payphone at the edge of the village and called Notfall—Emergency.   The crowd grew larger as the plumes of smoke climbed higher and turned blacker.  Gritty soot was already falling on the heads and shoulders of those closest to the crash site.  The breeze from the northwest pushed the acrid fumes of gasoline, burned flesh, and hot metal into nostrils that were quickly covered by hands, handkerchiefs, and anything else available.  As the gathering crowd began to feel the scorching heat of the flames, people in front stepped backwards, searching for cooler air.  A slight panic ensued as they felt blocked by the individuals behind them, who were still straining to see the burning hulk.

            After about ten minutes, the familiar siren of German polizei, firefighters, and ambulances could be heard above the fire’s pops and cracks as numerous vehicles screeched into the crowd, which parted without pause.  The firefighters spent thirty minutes dousing the flames of the destroyed Huey, creating a hot, wet steam bath that seeped into the clothes of the observers close enough to receive the mist as it fell back to earth.  Although some individuals in the crowd were having difficulty breathing because of the heavy smoke, no one was inclined to leave.  The officials, however, began ordering the crowd to disperse. 

Meanwhile, the polizei established a crime scene tape barrier and started interviewing possible witnesses.  Hauptmann Karl Gunter had already called his American counterpart, a captain in the military police, and was certain that U.S. representatives would soon be on their way.  Under the NATO Status of Forces Agreement, still in effect in the Cold War of the 1980s, jurisdiction for the accident site would rest with the Americans, but until their arrival, the Germans would control the scene. 

All of a sudden, Gunter spied an individual with a television camera moving towards the charred wreckage, obviously heading towards the cockpit area and presumably trying to film the dead crew.

“Halten Sie!”  Gunter yelled.  “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I work for ZDF!”  One of the two major German television stations.

“Get the hell out of here!  When we want news coverage, we’ll let you know.”  Gunter gave the cameraman a shove, nearly knocking him down as he tumbled back towards the crime scene tape.  The cameraman turned, stared malevolently at Gunter for a moment, and then disappeared into the crowd.

  While the investigators, police, and firefighters conducted their work, a small helicopter appeared overhead, buzzing annoyingly.  As soon as the police recognized the ZDF logo on the side, a spokesperson with a hand-held radio ordered the helicopter to depart the accident site.  It hovered for another twenty seconds, however, and observers on the ground could detect the glint of a television camera before the aircraft peeled off to the southeast.

            Gunter turned to his assistant, Marthe Johannas.  “File a complaint with ZDF when we get back.  They know better than to fly over an accident site.”

“Jawohl, Hauptmann.”

            Nevertheless, they both knew that ZDF was going to have riveting footage on the evening news of a downed American helicopter, which would only substantiate the views of anti-American agitators that U.S. forces, in addition to destroying the environment and creating severe noise pollution, threatened the safety and security of good German citizens.  Although neither Gunter nor Johannas were particularly enamored of the Americans, they didn’t think the Greens played fair and they both pitied public affairs officers at U.S. bases who would have to respond in the next few days to the barrage of hostile public opinion.

            Within an hour after the accident, Major Kenneth Damrow, commander of 17th Aviation Company (Combat), was on the ground.  Although on another mission, he had diverted to the accident site as soon as Nuremberg Tower had relayed the information to his headquarters and his operations office had been able to reach him.

            Controlled chaos greeted him on his arrival.  American and German aviation accident investigators, police forces, and criminal investigation forces were on the ground, attempting to cooperate and retain control simultaneously.  As the local police chief, Gunter was coordinating all of the efforts, and Damrow introduced himself.

            “How long do you think it will be before I can get my soldiers out of here?”  Damrow asked.

            Gunter shook his head.  “I don’t know.  Right now our firefighters say the metal is still too hot to touch.  I’m sure it will be at least a few hours before the bodies can be removed.  Your firefighters may say something different.”

            Damrow fixated on the helicopter.  “I just can’t believe that three of them are in there.”

            “Ja, it’s a terrible tragedy,” Gunter concurred.

            “I’ve only got nine women in my unit, and to lose three at once is just—“

            “These were all women?”  Gunter asked in disbelief.

            “Yes, two pilots and a crew chief.  And it was the first time that an all-female crew had gone out.  It was a pretty big deal in our unit today.”  Damrow shook his head.  “This is going to be so hard on my troops.”

            “Das tut mir sehr leid.”  I’m so sorry.

            “I’ve been the commander for a year now, and this is the first fatal accident on my watch.  It’s something I had hoped would never happen.”

            Gunter nodded.  “I feel like that every day I send my men out.”  Both men remained silent for a long moment and then turned their attention to the immediate business at hand.

            The tumultuous activity at the accident site, as a result of so many people and organizations being involved, allowed several young boys to slip unobserved under the crime scene tape at the farthest end of the clearing and into the woods directly opposite the investigators and behind the destroyed helicopter.  Although the boys had the disadvantage of not being able to see exactly what was going on, they retained the clear advantage of not being seen by any of the officials and, therefore, could remain in the woods as long as they liked, or as long as they dared test their parents’ wrath. 

For the next couple of hours, the boys played games in the woods, periodically taking a break to peer out into the clearing and see if they could determine what was happening next.  The dank, dark woods with their mildewy smell and rustling leaves underfoot provided a silent backdrop to the boys’ boisterous shenanigans, distracting them from the constant activity taking place around the damaged helicopter.

Every now and then, one of them would climb a tree and then report back as to what he’d seen.  When Josef Bransson announced from his perch that the bodies were being carried out, they scampered up trees as high as they could and solemnly watched the proceedings.  They were rather dismayed that they couldn’t really tell what the people who had died looked like—all they saw were charred, blackened sticks placed into dark zip-up bags laid on the ground.  Then the bags were placed on stretchers and carried to ambulances that left with their sirens screaming, which seemed rather strange to the boys since they knew the bodies weren’t going to a hospital.

            After that excitement, the luster of the day began to droop and even these high-spirited young boys began to acknowledge that something serious had happened here and perhaps it was time to head home.  As they walked further into the woods, Rolf Pederson tripped on what he thought was a tree root.  Looking down, he found that his foot had encountered a metal cylinder encased in soot.  Realizing it must be a souvenir from the American helicopter, Rolf picked up the grimy object and put it in his pocket, wiping his hand free from smudges on his pants.

            What Rolf didn’t know was that it was a small timing device used for explosives, and it would be the only piece of evidence to indicate the accident was sabotage.