Free Circles in the Sand by D. Sallen Page B

brother.”
    “Oh dear God! That’s enough. You don’t know how much trouble men are. That reminds me. Don’t be hanging around with any of these younger airmen either. They’re still too old for you.”
    “Hah. They’re just kids. I’d like a real man like Sergeant Greybull.”
    “That’ll be the day. Do your self a favor and forget about men until you’re older. Much older.”
    “Oh phooey.”
    At four-o’clock the desk sergeant hung up his phone and told Clint and Lance. “The adjutant just called. He checked out your orders and story. I’m to let you go. The HQ First Sergeant is on the way. Adjutant said he is to give you a hand.”
    “That’s good news. We can use all the help we can get.”
    Master Sergeant Ripon shook hands with the Airmen. “Since a truce with the Air Force is in effect, what can I do for you guys “
    Clint explained their mission.
    “Well anything we can’t officially part with…maybe you can steal. Material records have been royally screwed up since the war. There’s a lot of junk we don’t know we have or who it belongs too. Lets see.”
    In the disposal yard, the first thing that caught the airmen’s eyes was a two and half ton truck. A Jeep motor, with hoses mounted on the back, rested in its bed,. “What’s that for?”
    “Supposed to be a decontamination truck. It’s obsolete. I believe we have new one.”
    They walked all around the vehicle and examined it. “Have any idea if it works, or if it runs?”
    “I don’t know. What would you use it for?”
    “We’ve got to white wash the target areas…so they can be seen from the bombers.”
    “Lets ask the manager what the score is on that thing.”
    The Technical Sergeant told them, “If you can drive it out of here, I can arrange it’s transfer to the Air Force. Shouldn’t be a problem.”
    “That’s a start. I’ll send Staff Sergeant Elsas, our vehicle mechanic over to check it out. If he can make it run, we’ll take it,” Clint said.
    Time in the afternoon running out, the airmen prepared to leave. Clint said, “Anytime you guys get over to West Layover, you got some beer coming from us.”
    “I’ve always heard the Air Force lives better than the Army. Does that mean your NCO club is the first building up?”
    “No way, but you can’t miss us at Chet’s Saloon.”
    Back in town, Clint found the rest of his crew already at Chet’s. They all started talking at once. “Hey, one at a time. What’s everyone so pissed at, Elsas?”
    “That damn rancher. Tried to run us off the range. Pulled a gun on us… at the northwest corner. We left, but went back and finished the job.”
    “Okay, slow down and tell me the details…in order.”
    When Elsas was through, with the other two joining in, that sonovabitch….Throwing his weight around…and armed, Clint mused. “He can’t pull that shit and get away with it. Have you talked to anyone else about it?”
    “Only Chet. He couldn’t help hearing us bitch about it.”
    “We need to talk to the sheriff. Make it a matter of record, if nothing else.”
    Chet said, “You’ll be lucky is he does that much. He and Fritz are old buddies.”
    “We’ll see. Lets go talk to him.”
    The airmen shuffled their chairs back and followed Clint. Sheriff Radecker looked up in surprise when the six trooped into his office. “What’s this, an Air Force invasion?”
    Clint said, “No way, Sheriff…got a little problem to discuss.”
    When Elsas was through relating their experience with Deutsh, Radecker said, “Let me get this straight. Fritz thought you was on his range and pulled a gun on ya.’ Did he point it at ya, threaten to pull the trigger?”
    “Well not exactly. He pointed it at a tire, and threatened to strand us out there.”
    “He was a belligerent bastard, Sheriff,” broke in Alcocke.”
    “That sounds like Fritz,” said Radecker. “I can’t see where he actually harmed you any. Maybe got your dander up, but that weren’t much of a