On a training exercise with my medical unit in Northern Oregon, the troops were divided into two camps. Some of the personnel were at the Biak Training Center near Bend, while the others were more than two hundred miles away, at Camp Rilea Armed Forces Training Center over on the Pacific Coast, not too far from Astoria.
My hope was to be with the Soldiers at Biak the first half of the exercise and then hitch a ride with someone and spend the rest of the time at Rilea. My schedule was included in the official training plan months ahead of time and was approved by the commander, but it was still up to the unit to make it happen.
To be honest, throughout my career, most of the time the plans worked, but every once in a while the transportation situation got dicey and I wasn’t able to get to where I wanted to be.
As the day approached to move to the other location, I began mentioning it at staff meetings. Every day, I visited the transportation NCO to remind him. Whenever I had occasion to talk to the commander, I brought it up. The closer it got, the more it looked like there might not be a way for me to get to the other side. I had hoped to find someone making the drive in a hummer. I knew there was the possibility of sitting in the back of a deuce-and-a-half loaded with supplies and MREs. I didn’t care how I got there.
Late one afternoon while talking with a few of the guys, a stranger in a flight uniform came up to me. “Are you the chaplain?”
“Yes, I am. What’s up?”
“I’m part of the flight support for your unit’s training exercise, and someone just told me you needed to get over to Rilea. That true?”
“Yes, I was hoping to be there by tomorrow.”
“Well, I’m in a 2-seater and I gotta take some medical supplies over there. Leaving tomorrow after breakfast. Wanna tag along?”
“I’d love to!”
The next morning, I met him at the landing pad and climbed into what I still call a Bubble Chopper. The Bell 47 was basically a glass bubble with an engine, a rotor, and a tail. Barely room for two seats, and it had no doors. It was scary and exciting. First thing to go through my mind was:
If this thing crashes there is no protection.
A few minutes after taking off, the Warrant Officer asked if I’d ever flown over Northern Oregon. When I told him I hadn’t, he said, “How’d you like to see Mount Hood from up here?”
“I’d love it.”
“Well, I’m not allowed to fly directly over it, but we can get real close and fly around it.”
And we did. A full 360. It was beautiful. Then we went up to Multnomah Falls and followed the Columbia River all the way to Astoria, and then down to Rilea. I thanked him for the ride. He delivered the supplies. Then he had another location to fly to and we said goodbye.
I checked in with the command center, asking them to pass the word that the chaplain had arrived. Then I started visiting the rest of my soldiers.
By Chaplain (COL-Ret.) Paul Linzey. To learn more about serving as a military chaplain, check out our book Military Ministry: Chaplains in the Twenty-First Century. Or continue to browse this website.
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