Captain Barnaby's
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Scroll down to read the first chapters...
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Chapter One
Trapped In A Flaming Forest The strange orange sky was so thick with ash I could smell the burning forest from inside my helicopter. Looking down, I saw two bears running below me, trying to outrun the blazing wildfire. I guided the helicopter down to drop a load of water on them. “Keep running—keep running, boys—the fire’s right behind you!”
As if they heard me, they began to race, heads bowed down, to put more distance between them and the line of fire behind. They were running for their lives. Suddenly, they dug in their paws and slid to an immediate halt. Another low-lying wall of fire was blocking their escape route. They looked around frantically, forward and backward. They were trapped in a ring of fire with no escape, except through that shimmering wall of heat and light. |
The whop-whop-whopping sound of the helicopter blades got louder, until its speeding shadow passed above them at tree-top level with a loud screaming whine. I got ready to drop water from the large orange bucket beneath me. Soaking the forest around them could stop the fire long enough for the bears to reach safety.
They started toward their only choice: a tall pine tree ahead of them.
Bears are such excellent climbers! I watched how easily they shinnied up that hundred-foot tree. Then they looked up at me from the treetop through the rising white and reddish smoke as I circled in close. “Hold on tight, boys,” I spoke out loud, again. “I'm bringing you a waterfall!
I dropped the huge waterfall of water from the bucket, soaking them and the forest surrounding them. The two bears held onto the tree for their lives, clinging to the top branches. They shook water from their faces and ears, then watched me fly off into the distance.
I raced back to the lake where I had been getting water. If I could clear a path ahead of them by dropping more, it would give them enough time to make it to the safety of the lake. That is, if they were smart enough to see the chance and take it. As soon as the big orange bucket on the long line below was full of water, again, I headed back in the direction of the bears.
I was their only hope.
The whop-whop-whopping sound of the rotating blades and the wind from the rotor wash blew the billowing smoke away, allowing me to see them again. This time, I released the second load of water in a long line that would clear a path to the lake, leading from the tree. But it did not quite reach all the way.
“See what I’m doing boys?” Would they even get the idea? “I’m creating a way out. But now you’ve got to come down from that tree and make a run for it. Straight toward the fire—right now—I’ll be back with another load of water before you get there.”
As if they heard me, those bears miraculously begin to shinny back down the tree and onto a forest floor that was now smoking instead of burning.
“Woo-hoo!” I howled and swung my helicopter in a quick turn back toward the lake for another refill.
That’s when it happened. The red, “LOW FUEL WARNING” light came on, shining bright on my instrument panel. That meant I only had ten minutes of fuel left before the engine quit. If I took those precious minutes to get more water, I might not have enough gas to make it back to the refueling point.
I glanced again at the fuel gauge and did a quick assessment. The lake was two minutes away. I could pick up more water to drop on the side of the fire closest to the lake, possibly making an escape route for the bears and—hopefully—save their lives.
But if I did that, I might not have enough gas left to make it back to the fuel depot. My helicopter would crash into the fiery forest below. This situation was as serious as it gets! A life-and-death gamble. But if I didn’t at least try and drop more water on the ring of fire, those two bears would most certainly be burned alive.
Then—suddenly—I had an instant flashback. Way back to something that happened a long time ago, when I was very young. It was a time when I had been caught in a life-and-death situation, too. A time when someone else stepped in for me—at just the right moment— and saved my life....
They started toward their only choice: a tall pine tree ahead of them.
Bears are such excellent climbers! I watched how easily they shinnied up that hundred-foot tree. Then they looked up at me from the treetop through the rising white and reddish smoke as I circled in close. “Hold on tight, boys,” I spoke out loud, again. “I'm bringing you a waterfall!
I dropped the huge waterfall of water from the bucket, soaking them and the forest surrounding them. The two bears held onto the tree for their lives, clinging to the top branches. They shook water from their faces and ears, then watched me fly off into the distance.
I raced back to the lake where I had been getting water. If I could clear a path ahead of them by dropping more, it would give them enough time to make it to the safety of the lake. That is, if they were smart enough to see the chance and take it. As soon as the big orange bucket on the long line below was full of water, again, I headed back in the direction of the bears.
I was their only hope.
The whop-whop-whopping sound of the rotating blades and the wind from the rotor wash blew the billowing smoke away, allowing me to see them again. This time, I released the second load of water in a long line that would clear a path to the lake, leading from the tree. But it did not quite reach all the way.
“See what I’m doing boys?” Would they even get the idea? “I’m creating a way out. But now you’ve got to come down from that tree and make a run for it. Straight toward the fire—right now—I’ll be back with another load of water before you get there.”
As if they heard me, those bears miraculously begin to shinny back down the tree and onto a forest floor that was now smoking instead of burning.
“Woo-hoo!” I howled and swung my helicopter in a quick turn back toward the lake for another refill.
That’s when it happened. The red, “LOW FUEL WARNING” light came on, shining bright on my instrument panel. That meant I only had ten minutes of fuel left before the engine quit. If I took those precious minutes to get more water, I might not have enough gas to make it back to the refueling point.
I glanced again at the fuel gauge and did a quick assessment. The lake was two minutes away. I could pick up more water to drop on the side of the fire closest to the lake, possibly making an escape route for the bears and—hopefully—save their lives.
But if I did that, I might not have enough gas left to make it back to the fuel depot. My helicopter would crash into the fiery forest below. This situation was as serious as it gets! A life-and-death gamble. But if I didn’t at least try and drop more water on the ring of fire, those two bears would most certainly be burned alive.
Then—suddenly—I had an instant flashback. Way back to something that happened a long time ago, when I was very young. It was a time when I had been caught in a life-and-death situation, too. A time when someone else stepped in for me—at just the right moment— and saved my life....
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Chapter One
A Sad Sight I normally don’t have trouble sleeping on an airplane, but I couldn't sleep one wink on the flight from Seattle to England. I kept seeing that giant Chinook helicopter skidding along the ground, tearing up that farmer’s field when it mysteriously crashed, yesterday.
Usually, I can file that stuff away in my data banks when I get overloaded. Except this time, the same scene kept bouncing back into my brain, all by itself, like an instant replay in my mind, over and over again. Maybe I'd get back to normal when I actually saw the thing. Or maybe not. Either way, I'd know very soon, because our A-Team—that's A for animal because we are a dog and two bears—was approaching the crash site right this minute. We were driving along in the base commander’s |
truck. Colonel Fraser, commander of Odiham Royal Air Force Base, leaned slightly forward as he drove, gripping the wheel and zipping around the base like he was on an urgent mission. He pointed at the wrecked helicopter as we drove toward it. “Thereshe is,Gentlemen. A pretty sad sight, I must say.”He spoke with a British accent.
Up until now, I hadn't heard many people talk that way and I liked the sound of it. This was my first trip to England. “Hey, Dave,” I said to my owner, “this is the exact same vision I had yesterday, at Volunteer Park. Luckily, the base firemen were quick to get here. Doesn’t look like there was much of a fire.”
“Looks like the helicopter hit the ground really hard, though,”he said. “Check out the long gash in the ground where it slid.”
The Colonel stopped thirty feet away from the crash site and turned off his engine. We all hopped out—the whole A-Team was here, along with our own Bell 205 helicopter that had been transported in the huge cargo area of a Royal Air Force C-17 transport plane. We had come a long way on this special assignment and were eager to begin our investigation.
I spotted pieces of the helicopter’s two huge rotor blades, shattered and splintered, strewn everywhere. I even spotted several chunks of rotor blade a hundred yards away from the crash.
“I wonder how you picked up the emergency alert yesterday, Barnaby,” Dave said.
“Not sure, yet. I never question those things.”
“Who was flying this thing?” Charlie asked.
“One of Boeing’s test pilots, I imagine,” Dave answered.
“Is he OK?”
Colonel Fraser answered the question this time. “The pilot’s name is Joly MacClaine, but we can’t find him anywhere.”
“What? Can’t find the pilot? That’s nuts,” Boris said.
“Our guys have been searching the area since last night, when the crash happened,” the colonel went on as he reached into the truck and pulled out a leather flight jacket. “This belongs to Joly. I got it from his locker in the flight ready room. It will have his scent on it for your dog and two bears.”
“You mean, Barnaby, Boris and Charlie,” Dave added.
“Yes, I forgot they have names. Sorry.”
“That’s over twelve hours,” Boris took a good sniff of the pilot’s flight jacket. “And you still can’t find the guy?”
Dave said, “That's another reason you're here, fellas. No one in the world can compete with the A- Team's range of abilities for search and rescue.”
Charlie and I stuck our noses into the missing pilot’s flying jacket to get a good whiff, too. “I hope he’s OK,” Charlie said. “This is just terrible.”
“Come on guys, let’s have a look inside,” Dave motioned to us. “And see if we can pick up any clues.”
“It sure is a much bigger helicopter than the one we fly, isn’t it, Dave?” Charlie observed.
“It’s got two really powerful turbine engines in the rear. It can lift about five times as much weight as
our Bell 205 helicopters.”
Charlie let out a whistle. “Wow, that really is big.”
“Hey, Charlie, how’d you do that?”
“Do what, Boris?”
“Whistle like that.”
Boris puckered his lips to try to whistle, too, but all that came out was a big stream of air and his big lips flapped up and down causing a “Pffffffft Pffffffft” sound.
I knew there was no way I could pucker my lips like that, so I didn’t even try.
Charlie laughed, very pleased with himself for being able to do something we couldn’t. “I guess it’s a gift, fellas.”
Dave had been watching us. “OK, quit fooling around guys, we're on duty here. We need to find our missing pilot and the cause of the crash.”
The four of us entered through the large, open cargo ramp at the rear. As I climbed in, I saw an orange emergency locator beacon bolted to the ceiling. “That answers the question about how I picked up the emergency alert yesterday,” I pointed out.
Dave said, “It’s a 406 EPERB.”
“EPERB?” Boris said.
“Emergency Position Indicating Radio Beacon,”
Dave explained. “I have one inside the tail of my two Bell 205s, too. In an aircraft crash, it’s immediately activated and sends a signal up to a satellite which then sends a signal down to a rescue coordination center. Every country has one. Once they receive it, they initiate a search.”
It was quiet for a moment as we thought about that and began looking around.
Just then, Dave spotted the BCI (brain-computer-interface) cap laying on the floor. It was easy to spot with all the orange plastic electrodes covering it. He carefully picked it up and placed it in his flight suit pocket.
“What exactly are we looking for?” Boris asked as he began nosing around the cockpit area.
“A COBOT,” Dave replied.
Charlie looked up from following a scent trail toward the back of the helicopter. “A what?”
“It's sort of a little robot. Designed specially to work with humans in close places like this. Possibly, it could still tell us something.”
Up until now, I hadn't heard many people talk that way and I liked the sound of it. This was my first trip to England. “Hey, Dave,” I said to my owner, “this is the exact same vision I had yesterday, at Volunteer Park. Luckily, the base firemen were quick to get here. Doesn’t look like there was much of a fire.”
“Looks like the helicopter hit the ground really hard, though,”he said. “Check out the long gash in the ground where it slid.”
The Colonel stopped thirty feet away from the crash site and turned off his engine. We all hopped out—the whole A-Team was here, along with our own Bell 205 helicopter that had been transported in the huge cargo area of a Royal Air Force C-17 transport plane. We had come a long way on this special assignment and were eager to begin our investigation.
I spotted pieces of the helicopter’s two huge rotor blades, shattered and splintered, strewn everywhere. I even spotted several chunks of rotor blade a hundred yards away from the crash.
“I wonder how you picked up the emergency alert yesterday, Barnaby,” Dave said.
“Not sure, yet. I never question those things.”
“Who was flying this thing?” Charlie asked.
“One of Boeing’s test pilots, I imagine,” Dave answered.
“Is he OK?”
Colonel Fraser answered the question this time. “The pilot’s name is Joly MacClaine, but we can’t find him anywhere.”
“What? Can’t find the pilot? That’s nuts,” Boris said.
“Our guys have been searching the area since last night, when the crash happened,” the colonel went on as he reached into the truck and pulled out a leather flight jacket. “This belongs to Joly. I got it from his locker in the flight ready room. It will have his scent on it for your dog and two bears.”
“You mean, Barnaby, Boris and Charlie,” Dave added.
“Yes, I forgot they have names. Sorry.”
“That’s over twelve hours,” Boris took a good sniff of the pilot’s flight jacket. “And you still can’t find the guy?”
Dave said, “That's another reason you're here, fellas. No one in the world can compete with the A- Team's range of abilities for search and rescue.”
Charlie and I stuck our noses into the missing pilot’s flying jacket to get a good whiff, too. “I hope he’s OK,” Charlie said. “This is just terrible.”
“Come on guys, let’s have a look inside,” Dave motioned to us. “And see if we can pick up any clues.”
“It sure is a much bigger helicopter than the one we fly, isn’t it, Dave?” Charlie observed.
“It’s got two really powerful turbine engines in the rear. It can lift about five times as much weight as
our Bell 205 helicopters.”
Charlie let out a whistle. “Wow, that really is big.”
“Hey, Charlie, how’d you do that?”
“Do what, Boris?”
“Whistle like that.”
Boris puckered his lips to try to whistle, too, but all that came out was a big stream of air and his big lips flapped up and down causing a “Pffffffft Pffffffft” sound.
I knew there was no way I could pucker my lips like that, so I didn’t even try.
Charlie laughed, very pleased with himself for being able to do something we couldn’t. “I guess it’s a gift, fellas.”
Dave had been watching us. “OK, quit fooling around guys, we're on duty here. We need to find our missing pilot and the cause of the crash.”
The four of us entered through the large, open cargo ramp at the rear. As I climbed in, I saw an orange emergency locator beacon bolted to the ceiling. “That answers the question about how I picked up the emergency alert yesterday,” I pointed out.
Dave said, “It’s a 406 EPERB.”
“EPERB?” Boris said.
“Emergency Position Indicating Radio Beacon,”
Dave explained. “I have one inside the tail of my two Bell 205s, too. In an aircraft crash, it’s immediately activated and sends a signal up to a satellite which then sends a signal down to a rescue coordination center. Every country has one. Once they receive it, they initiate a search.”
It was quiet for a moment as we thought about that and began looking around.
Just then, Dave spotted the BCI (brain-computer-interface) cap laying on the floor. It was easy to spot with all the orange plastic electrodes covering it. He carefully picked it up and placed it in his flight suit pocket.
“What exactly are we looking for?” Boris asked as he began nosing around the cockpit area.
“A COBOT,” Dave replied.
Charlie looked up from following a scent trail toward the back of the helicopter. “A what?”
“It's sort of a little robot. Designed specially to work with humans in close places like this. Possibly, it could still tell us something.”
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