The Lookout

It is what most folks consider a miserable morning. I opened my eyes at about 3 am to the sound of pouring rain. I put a log in the stove and made a pot of coffee. Sitting on my stool in the middle of the room I stare at the blackness of the early morning through the window. The wind is rattling the walls of the station and the rain is drumming out its rhythm on the roof. The candle on the table next to my radio is flickering in it’s glass enclosure. I move to the stove and pour my first cup of Forest Service mud, and return to the stool. I would be worried about being washed away by the torrent of water flowing out of the sky, but my lookout sits sixty feet off the ground. As I pick up my coffee mug a bolt of lightning flashes a blinding ark through the window taking away my vision as the thunder shakes the wooden floorboards of my fourteen-foot square dwelling. I quickly crank the window’s wooden shutter down and lock it in place with my thumb.

I eyeball the dials on the weather instruments mounted above the radio. The chronometer is at 3:55 am, temperature forty-degrees, barometric pressure is 29.0, and the wind speed is 30 mph out of the west. Usually the barometer reads about 30.0, it was about 29.8 yesterday, that’s a huge drop in very little time, no wonder we have a thunderstorm. I sharpley tapped the face of the barometer with my index finger and it still registered right at 29.0. In my years on lookout I don’t think I’ve seen the pressure drop this fast, or go this low.

A gust of wind hit the shutter as I returned my hand to my coffee, and the whole building moved. The needle on the tarnished brass anemometer is registering almost seventy miles-per-hour. Another flash of lightning shows itself through the other three windows to the sides and in back of me, and this time the thunder is far enough away that it doesn’t shake the building. Another gust of wind hit, rattling the wooden structure like an earthquake, almost knocking the coffee pot off of the wood stove, the wind pegging the gauge to it’s stops at one-hundred mph. I quickly lower the shutters on the north, south, and east windows. I am now blind to the outside world, but feel a lot more secure with the shutters covering the glass. The sets of windows are about fourteen feet wide on each side, which makes a hell of alot of surface area for high winds and flying debris. I move back to my stool in the center of the room. Facing the western shuttered window I sit down grabbing my coffee. I slowly swivel the stool around surveying the room that is illuminated by one candle.

The radio receiver in front of me crackles to life, but the static from the electrical storm is making it rather hard to decipher. I reach out to the desk mic connected to my transmitter and push the key:

“This is KME216 please repeat transmission, over.”

“KME216 this is TRINITY DISPATCH, do you copy?”

“Roger, Trinity”

“John, this is Trish, just checking with you, the weather is pretty dicey out there. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. If I was a sane person I would have quit my job a long time ago, but you know me I’m a sucker for a bit of foul weather. What’s with this thunderstorm in January, that’s crazy, over.”

“I know what you mean, there’s snow on the ground for pete’s sake! Glad you're okay, I’ll be here all day if you need me, over.”

“Ten-Four, KME216 over and out...”

The more I think about the thunderstorm the stranger it seems, this is January in California! 

 I have manned this tower for ten years. This is my fifth season to be here in the winter. In May of ‘41, before Pearl Harbor was attacked, the Army and Air Force started the Ground Observer Corps (GOC) and the spotters were civilians on both coasts and in the middle of the country. In January of ‘42 I received a letter from the Forest Service. It contained form AD125 from the National Printing Office. The accompanying letter asked me to read and sign it if I would in fact agree to man my station year round until the end of the war. The document that I inevitably signed was an oath of loyalty to the United States of America. I was now officially not only a fire lookout, but an aircraft spotter for the US Military.

It amazes me that the military had the foresight to implement this program before the attack on Pearl. After the attack I realized the importance of this duty. In almost five years I have spotted many planes, all of them identified by my charts as ours or at least friendlies. I call in all sightings, and they are verified by spotters along the line and by the Aircraft Warning Corps, Filter Center. I have a telephone that gives me access to the Presidio in San Francisco. They filter all of the called-in reports from spotters, and pass on the information to the Air Force. I have reported more Air Force planes than anything else. They fly over just to keep us on our toes, it makes sense, and gives us practice.

Wham! Another gust of wind smacks me and this time the coffee pot goes to the floor with a crash! This building is designed to sway, and I know I’m safe, but it feels like it was hit by a freight train. I walked over, retrieving the coffee pot and put it in the sink. That gust pegged the wind gage again. I wonder how many times you can peg it before it breaks the needle off inside the anemometer? I’m sure I will find out eventually.

Above my head though the cupola multiple strikes of lightning illuminated the room like daylight, and instantly the floorboards shook with a vengeance. My stool has glass insulators on it just in case a bolt hits me. It’s unlikely to happen because of the lightning rod mounted on the roof, but it doesn’t hurt to be careful. Those strikes were very close. It only took about two seconds for the thunder’s report, and now there is large hail pounding the roof. The wind is coming in from almost due west, there must be quite a storm moving in from the Pacific.

It’s getting cold, I get up and put a log in the woodburner. I move back to the safety of my stool in the center of the circular island that houses just about everything: The radio, weather station, sink, hot plate, work surface, and pantry. I can do almost everything from this area and still be able to keep an eye on the forest outside. Right now is an exception because all of the shutters are locked down. I always feel crippled when I can't see outside, even at night at least I can see flames when the shutters are up.

Looking up at the clock on the panel it’s almost 5 am, I should start seeing daylight in about forty-five minutes. I am itchy to look outside, but opening the door on the east wall right now could be dangerous, so I have no choice but to wait. Thinking about the situation I decide to take a quick look outside through the cupola. I stand, reach up, and pull down the ladder that goes up to the three-hundred sixty degree view from the cupola. I understand that doing this during a storm can be dangerous, but I tell myself that it’s just a quick peek to make sure nothings on fire. From the top I see a tiny bit of pre-dawn light and quickly look all the way around, no flames, good. I start climbing down and a gust of wind hits, shaking the ladder, and rattling the coffee pot in the sink. I’m off the ladder thinking that that was a stupid move, but I made it.

Back on my stool I look at the radio as I turn the microphone toward me and hit the transmit key:

“TRINITY DISPATCH, this is KME216, over.”

“KME216 this is TRINITY DISPATCH, come back John.”

“Trish, could you read me the latest teletype from the Weather Service? over.”

“It just came through at five o’clock. The latest northcoast report is saying that the storm is coming in from the South Pacific with gale and storm force winds with heavy gusts. There will be thunderstorms and hail. It also says there is a break coming around 6:30 am our time for a couple of hours. They are treating this like a category-one hurricane, and asking all vessels on the coast to seek shelter. Over…”

“Thanks Trish, I just took a quick look outside, and I saw no fires. KME216, over and out.”

I hope the weather report was right, maybe there will be enough of a break in the storm so I can open the shutters.

***

At 5:45 I could finally see the first light of day through the cupola. Even though it was still raining and the wind was gusting from time to time, I opened the north, east, and south shutters, leaving the west window covered. I love the early morning here with a little bit of rain coming down and the sun rising through the trees.

I grabbed another cup of coffee and pulled out my small frying pan. I put half a can of corned beef hash in the pan and put it on the hot plate. While it was heating I put two pieces of bread on the wood stove, got out two eggs and some butter. I turned the bread over, poured the hash on a plate and cracked the eggs into the pan. I salt and peppered the eggs, brought the toast to the counter smearing on some butter. I turned the eggs, waiting just a moment, and then slid them on top of the hash. Done.

I opened the last shutter, and sat with my breakfast looking out to the west. It was only lightly raining now and the wind had quit. I finished eating, grabbed my coffee and walked out to the deck that circled the lookout. The air was crisp, the light was warm and two deer walked off into the trees.

While I was watching the deer disappear into the forest I saw a round shadow moving west to east over the snow. I looked up and gasped! There above me was a large balloon with something hanging from it. As my eyes followed it eastward it suddenly stopped. The netting that went over the top caught at the top of a tall dead fir tree. The stuff hanging below it swayed for a moment then stopped. The tree is level with the top of the lookout which is sixty feet, and the bottom of the balloon was half way down it’s length, making it thirty-foot in diameter. I quickly got my binoculars and started studying it. I went from top to bottom especially paying attention to the metal cylinders sticking out from its sides. On the end of the tube facing me was a character inscribed in the metal.

“TRINITY DISPATCH, this is KME216, over.”

“KME216 this is TRINITY DISPATCH, come back John.”

“Trish, I need two armed Rangers with a field radio sent to the east gate below my lookout. I will explain later. I am fine. Until I say so no one else knows about this. This is not a fire call. Tell the guys not to attract attention getting here, and have them call me when they arrive, over”

“Ten-Four, KME216, I copy you on all items, over”

“Thank you DISPATCH this is KME216, over and out.”

I grabbed the telephone next to the radio, and dialed the operator.

“Operator, number please?”

“Army Flash.”

“Stay on the line, I will connect you immediately.”

“Army, go ahead please.”

“Army Flash, One, Thirty-Foot Balloon-No Motor, Saw, Stationary at Site, KME MA2-8851, West to East, 300 Yards, East.”

“KME, please confirm, you said Thirty-Foot Balloon, Stationary at your site?”

“Affirmative, with apparatus hanging underneath with possible Japanese markings. Yes, caught in a tree at my site.”

“Check, thank you.”

I finished writing on the form that I read from and put it aside. I made a quick entry on my log sheet, and signed it. Now it is a waiting game, I’m sure they will call me back on this one. The reason they didn’t keep me on the phone is to keep their lines open for other calls. Lots of rules and procedures. The Army Filter Center will pass it to the military guys in the Information Center, they will determine what to do.

My portable field radio came to life:

“KME216, this is KME201, over.”

I picked up the heavy portable:

“KME201 this is KME216, come back.”

“John this is Terry, I’m here with Tim Preston at the gate.”

“I know you see the object, but please don’t talk about it on the radio. Terry, I need you to walk up to the tower so we can talk in person. Leave Tim with the radio at the gate, and tell him not to let anyone through, over.”

“Ten-four KME216, KME201 over and out.”

I left the door open and walked out on the deck. I watched as Terry made his way past the balloon, and up toward me. When he got to the top of the stairs he was a bit winded and I ushered him into the lookout.

“What the hell is that?” Terry said, staring out the window.

I handed him the binoculars telling him to look closely at the end of the metal cylinder.

I jumped a little as the phone rang, and I picked up.

“This is the operator, I will connect you…”

“This is the Army Information Center, code please.”

“KME MA2-8851”

“Mr. Nash, this is Lt. Jack Miller, I want to confirm your sighting”

“Yes Sir, go ahead.”

“Please describe the object and the situation.”

I told him all the details and about the marking on the cylinder.

“John, we're almost certain that what you have there is a Japanese Bombing Balloon. We have intercepted a few of them, but not in one piece. This is Top Secret. Who knows about this?”

“Myself, and two US Forest Rangers who are here with me.”

“Good. Stay away from this thing we believe the balloon is filled with hydrogen not to mention the high explosives under it. Great job Mr. Nash! Remember, keep this quiet, we don’t need a panic, and keep the area securded. Are your Rangers armed?”

“Yes they are.”

“Good, tell them they have jurisdictional control until we arrive. We are on our way, if anything else happens call the Filter Center, give them the code word VERNE, and they will patch you to Major Henderson, he will contact me by radio.”

“I wrote everything down Sir, we will be on scene.”

I hung-up the phone and walked over to Terry.

“You are right John, it is an Asian character. What did the Army have to say?”

“They said it’s Top Secret. It’s more than likely a Japanese bombing balloon, the balloon itself is filled with hydrogen, and the things under it are explosives. They need you and Tim to keep everyone away from it. Lt. Miller gave you and Tim jurisdiction over this situation until they get here.”

“Wow, I guess I need to get back to the gate. We can communicate by radio.”

“If we need to talk about the balloon the code word is VERNE.”

“Clever code, ‘Around the World in Eighty Days’,” Terry said, laughing.

I looked at him and shook my head, that never occurred to me. He must read alot.

***

It is 8:15 am. When Trish had read me the weather report it said that the rain and maybe the storm would be back pretty soon. I was worried about the wind breaking the balloon away from the tree. I got on the radio, checking in with Terry and Tim. They told me that a few people had showed up from Hayfork saying they had watched it float in, and came to check it out. He told them it was a new type of instrument for measuring weather, and that the Army was coming to pick it up. I signed off and went to the deck with my binoculars to see how well it was secured to the tree. There was a pretty good sized nub of a branch that the net had caught on. As long as the wind came from the west it would probably hold. There really wasn’t much I could do about it, so I went back inside, washed my dishes, and poured another cup of coffee.

The sky turned dark and the rain came back in earnest. It kept it up for quite a while, then came the lightning and with it the thunder rumbling the floorboards, followed by intense hail.

I looked out at the balloon as a bolt of lightning hit the top of the fir tree and the balloon exploded into a fireball. The shockwave hit the lookout with such force that it cracked the half-inch thick window in front of me and whipped me off my stool sending me flying over the counter. I hit the floor so hard it knocked the wind out of me. I quickly stood and noticed that the apparatus under the balloon had landed in the snow at the foot of the tree intact. Wow, I can’t believe it didn’t blow. I picked up the portable radio.

“KME201, are you ok? over.”

“KME216, we are fine, was that the VERNE? over.”

“Yes, but not the package under it. It is in the snow at the bottom of the tree. What happened with the folks from Hayfork?”

“The visitors took off when the lightning and hail started. You must have really felt it in the lookout, I swear it actually pushed our truck sideways a couple of feet, over.”

“It threw me across the room and knocked the wind out of me, I was lucky. This is a pretty tough old shack. It seems to have only cracked a window, over and out.”

***

At about 3:30 Terry called and said the Army guys were here. I watched as a truck like an armored car pulled up to the fir tree. Two men got out wearing something like deep sea diver suits. They carefully inspected it, lifted it, and placed it in the back of the truck. In about a half an hour they climbed out, sealed the back doors, climbing into the cab and drove down the hill.

After the truck left, Terry, Tim, and another man walked up the hill. They climbed the stairs to the lookout and I met them when they reached the top.

“John Nash I presume? I’m Jack Miller.”

“One in the same, Sir. Come in out of the cold and have a cup of coffee.”

They kicked their boots and entered the warm room.

“Glad to meet you Lieutenant. Sorry about the balloon!” I said, as I poured a round of coffees.

“Actually, we were more interested in the payload than the balloon. The lightning made our job easier. If it hadn’t hit, we would have had to figure out how to get it down safely.” Jack said, looking relieved.

We all stood there drinking our coffee, and the Lieutenant turned to us saying:

“Thank you very much, you are amazing. Remember this never happened!” Jack said, winking with a smile.

Just then the rain started, then the lightning, followed by thunder, and then the hail. I looked at the other men and shook my head.

“This is just another day in the Forest Service!”

This story is based on true events that took place on February 1st 1945 near Hayfork, California. The rest is pure fiction. --Deke Graham

“The lookout way above the forests, that are in my care, watching for the curling smoke - looking everywhere. Tied onto the world below by a telephone, high, and sometimes lonesome - living here alone, snow peaks on the skyline, woods and rocky ground, The green of alpine meadows circle me around, waves of mountain ranges like billows of the sea - seems like in the whole wide world there's not a soul but me. Peering through the drift of smoke, sighting through the haze, blinking at the lightning on the stormy days, here to guard the forests from the Red Wolf’s tongue I stay until they take me down, when the fall snows come.” --Mark Thorton

“The lookout man's dwelling, office and workroom should be centered in one house, on one floor, and in one room. The room can not be less than 12 feet square, and must be so constructed that at any moment of the day, with the turn of the head, he can see his whole field. He must be fixed so that while he Is cooking, eating, reading, writing, dressing, washing his clothes, walking about, or sitting down, he can not help but be in the best position to see.” --Coert DuBois