The swirling, blowing snow made for a confusing pattern as the Bluebird headed west out of Nebraska and back to the Air Base. The sun had already set and the darkness seemed to add to that confusion.
Everyone aboard the bus knew the trip home would be long and boring. Many had drifted off to sleep as the vehicle crept up one rise and eased its way down another in the rolling plains of the Cornhusker state.
It was somewhere before 11 p.m., headlights cutting through a heavy snowfall, the driver slowing for every turn, every dip and every hill, taking care not to allow the bus to slide; Deanna was leaning against me, sleeping as well as she could.
On the other hand, I was unable to sleep. It was a force of habit from childhood, having never been able to sleep in a moving vehicle.
Instead, I simply watched out the window. There was nothing to see, but the quick flashes of white flakes as they flew by my face.
Off to my left I noticed something different in the pattern of the snow as it fell. It was ghostly apparition that seemed to appear out of the darkness and fade as quick as it had come forth.
It took a few seconds for the shape of the figure to register in my brain. When it did, I shouted for the bus to stop.
Senior Airman Toller looked up into the mirror above his head at me as I struggle to get from my seat to the front of the vehicle. As the driver, Toller worked the pedals and gears to slow the bus down even further.
“What the hell?” he asked.
“I think I saw someone trying to flag us down,” I responded.
Toller has a puzzled look on his face as he said, “I didn’t see anyone.”
He eased the shift stick into first gear and glided the bus to the shoulder of the road. It came to a stop with a hiss as the brakes grabbed firmly at the wheels.
Within seconds I was out of the bus and trotting back to where I thought I had seen the mysterious figure. At first the swirling snow caused me to feel confused and I started to doubt myself.
But jus’ as I was prepared to give up and return to the bus, ready to admit I was simply seeing things, something ahead of me moved side ways. The movement was slight — but enough to cause my eye to follow it.
By this time others aboard the old Bluebird had clamored from the bus in an effort to both stretch their legs and to see what it was I was looking for. They milled around in the tail lights of the vehicle.
The movement I had seen drew closer until I could see it was man. The figure was clothed in a short sleeve shirt and light pants and looked to be terribly cold.
“Hey!” I yelled.
The man stopped as if he was uncertain he had actually heard a voice. This gave me a chance to get to him before the snow could obscure my vision any further than it had.
“We’ve had an accident,” the man called out as I stepped closer.
“An accident” I repeated.
“Yes,” the man said as his teeth clattered from the cold.
I turned and looked towards the Bluebird and called out against the wind, “There’s an accident!”
It took a few seconds before anyone reacted. Finally several team members trotted over towards the sound of my voice as I continued to call out to them for assistance.
Leaving the man with the first of those who responded, I headed towards the far edge of the roadway. I was trying to find the crash site.
To my surprise it wasn’t a car or truck, but another bus. I couldn’t tell whether I was looking at the front of the vehicle or the rear of the bus as it was covered in layer of snow.
Cautiously I felt my way along the side of the vehicle, looking for a way into the bus. Finding a slight gap in the vehicle as I slid his hand down the left side, I located the passenger door.
I realized the bus was facing the roadway with its massive rear-mounted engine hanging off of a cliff face.
Prying opened the door, I could see the driver still strapped into his seat, he looked to be dead or unconscious. I felt for a pulse, learning the man was still alive.
Huddled in the first three rows were several people. Some were standing while others sat in the large backed seats.
It didn’t take me long to direct them to carefully exit the bus. I calmly reassured them there were rescuers outside waiting to help them to a waiting and warm bus.
Jus’ when I thought the bus might be empty, a beam of light cut into the dark. I gently moved towards where I had seen the light, taking care to feel for the bus if it should start to shift due to my weight.
“Hello,” I called out.
“In here,” a small elderly female voice responded.
Looking in the direction of the voice, I could see very little as I moved downward along the sloping aisle way.
“Are you hurt?” I asked.
“No,” returned the voice.
“Can you get out of your seat,” I said more than asked.
“I’m stuck,” the woman’s voice calmly stated.
“Over here,” a man’s voice cried.
“Stay put,” I directed, adding, “Help’s on its way.”
Backing out of the bus the way I had come aboard, I stepped into the night, to find the wind had stopped blowing and a light snow was falling.
“I’ve got more survivors aboard,” I called to the several figures moving along the edge of the roadway above me.
“What do you need?” someone called out.
“I need lights, blankets and first-aiders,” I responded.
Climbing back on the bus, I checked the driver once again. He was breathing and he had a good heart beat, but he had a large bump on the left side of his head and I could see the glass of the driver’s window was cracked.
Feeling for the keys as they hung in the ignition, I turned them off, then back on, discovering the battery had been drained. It told me the crash had happened sometime ago.
“Hey,” a voice said behind me. It was Technical Sergeant Ron Best.
Quickly, I told him to come on board as gently as possible, because it felt like the bus was unstable and could slide off the face of the cliff at any moment. Best followed my advice.
We concluded we should remove those closer to the door first, working their way towards the back of the bus. The driver was the first to be lifted and passed along the human chain outside the vehicle.
Slowly, but methodically, we worked our way toward the back of the bus, to find two more injured people and the woman who called out saying she was trapped. We turned our attention to the woman after evacuating the injured.
She had been in the lavatory when the crash occurred. She was unhurt and able to push the small flashlight she had in her purse under the door of the bathroom, letting me and Best know she was there.
The woman was grateful to be rescued.
She was wet from the waste that had dumped out onto her and she was cold. It didn’t take her long to start suffering from the effects of hypothermia.
Once she was free of her entrapment, Best escorted her to the doorway and off the bus. As he turned to head down the aisle towards me, the bus jerked violently.
The bus was slipping backwards, threatening to tumble off the cliff. For a moment it felt as if it would not stop.
“Get off the effing bus, Ron, now!” I shouted.
“Not without you!” he shouted back.
“No!” I shot back adding, “If she goes, better only one of us is aboard. Besides you’re closer to the friggin’ door — so get out while you can!”
Best backed his way off the vehicle. He knew I was right and besides he’d be in a better position to help if the bus did fall from the cliff.
Minutes later I appeared at the vehicles door, dragging a large, overweight man. There were a number of hands to help remove him to the waiting bus up top.
Then I worked my way back down the now steep incline of the bus aisle. I had one more man to get too and it would take all my strength to get him out of the severely angled vehicle.
Unfortunately the man was in the far right corner of the bus as I looked downward towards him. He was pinned behind what remained of a mobile bar.
Using the small legs of the bus seats, I climbed down to the man. I could feel his pulse was thready and I knew he wouldn’t last much longer without greater medical intervention.
Carefully, I removed the cans of soda and bottles of beer and liquor from the rolling cabinet. As soon as I felt the box was light enough to be lifted, I toppled it over on its side.
A swell of panic filled my stomach as I realized what I had done. I looked for a way to escape the bus if it should start to slide.
With the jolt of the mobile bar crashing on its side, came a rocking sensation. The bus was moving but not sliding backwards.
Climbing over the seat behind my position, I violently kicked at the window. It cracked then fell away.
With its removal came a wall of snow and dirt. The exit I had hoped for was blocked.
So I moved to the other side and smashed the window with my foot. The window gave way in one huge pop and cold air-filled the bus.
It was an exit.
But rather than scrambling out of the bus, I returned to the injured man. I decided to use the window as a way to get him out of the vehicle.
It took me a couple of minutes to apply dressings to the man’s cuts and gashes. There was nothing however I could do for the man’s severely angled left leg.
“It’s an injury we’ll have to deal without side,” I said to the still unconscious man.
Slowly and with all the effort and strength I could muster, I lifted the injured man upward and onto the seat back near the window. My arms ached from the fatigue as did my legs, but I refused to stop until I was sure the man would be freed of the bus.
Once I had the man in position, I climbed through the broken out window. The cold was biting as it cooled the sweat trapped against my body.
“Down here,” I shouted.
Several lights were directed on me as I struggled to pull the man free of the window frame. Three people were by my side within moments, helping haul the man up the hillside.
Throughout the early morning hours, I helped direct first-aiders in caring for the victims of the crash. And jus’ as the sun was starting to stream its light over the far horizon behind the Bluebird, fire-rescue and ambulances arrived onto the isolated scene.
I finally got the chance to look over the edge of the cliff.
What I saw left me amazed. The terrible fall I had envisioned was nothing more than a five-foot drop.
I chuckled about it all the way back to the Bluebird.
Soon we were back on the road heading home to the Air Base. Within minutes I would fall asleep for the first time in my memory while traveling in a moving vehicle