by Albert Allen

Created on: November 04, 2008

SEE TOMORROW AND DIE

Ron was my best friend. Melanie, Ron's fiance, introduced me to the woman I married six months ago.Ron was the best man at the wedding and Melanie was the maid of honor. Now I had to call her up and tell herRon was gone.

Ron and I were doodle buggers, a nickname derived from the way we moved around the landscape incrisscross grid shaped patterns. We were map makers for any kind of wilderness exploration. This was the firsttime in five years we were on the same job site. We were trailer mates in the base camp of Northern Geophysical Inc. on the north slope of Alaska. Ron's job was to set up navigation nets for The Arctic Sun, a research vesselcollecting seismographic images of Beaufort Sea floor. My job was to steer a converted DC-3 along grid patterns above the Polar Regions while instruments on board recorded the earth's magnetic field. After eight weeks in the trailer, Ron and I had settled into comfortable, repetitious routines. That all changed forever fifteen days agowhen our boss Pete arrived and the DC-3 was grounded for its two thousand hour scheduled maintenance check. THUMP, THUMP, THUMP! "Hey Ron, Tom" Pete called as he knocked and opened the trailer door atthe same time. Ron was already up and getting things ready for his day. He planned to set up a new transmitterfor the Arctic Sun. I was still in bed. The DC-3 would be in the hanger all week and I was looking forward tosome time off reading and relaxing. "Hey Pete!" Ron and I said simultaneously as Pete climbed into the trailer. After the usual hand shakingand greetings, we filled in the details of our respective jobs for Pete. That's when I realized the lazy day I hadbeen looking forward to would not arrive until after Pete was gone. Until that time, Pete and I would help Ron.So I got up and started loading the four seat Bell Jet Ranger 206b helicopter the company chartered for thesummer with transmitter parts; aluminum tower segments, propane powered generator, propane bottles, etc. Then we got Darryl the pilot and took off over the tundra. The benchmark where we would erect the new transmitter was on the Artic coast forty miles east of theColville River delta. There was a pile of smooth, riverbed rocks and two long pieces of driftwood near the benchmark that were out of sync with the barren, grass covered sandy tundra of the area. Ron started assembling thetower sections while Pete went straight for the rocks and the driftwood with a plan to use them in some way tohelp

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