The Banshee of Brookley Field

The Banshee of Brookley Field

Earby Markham
All rights reserved

It was just a little before 3 AM when I drove up beside the police officer who was responsible for patrolling Area 27 for our first clandestine meeting. I knew that she was married to another Mobile Police officer, who was actually a corporal on another squad. In fact, I had known her husband even longer than I had known her. None of that mattered, even a little bit. In fact, that wasn’t even a consideration for either of us.
We had planned this rendezvous, confirmed it and both of us had been anticipating it throughout the shift. Making oblique references about it, when we were together on calls during that cold, dark January night. We both needed this badly, and now that the moment was here, and we were finally going to be able to get together.
It was actually her idea, and we were meeting at the location of her choice, and it was an absolutely perfect spot. I had to admit, she really knew her area very well. I had driven by this place, dozens of times and had never suspected the perfect hiding spot it contained. We were betting that our sergeant was clueless about it as well. I certainly hoped so, because I was a pretty good distance outside Area 26, my assigned patrol zone. But, if we got caught doing what we had planned, being out of my area would be the least of my problems. We were both risking a great deal for our much anticipated get together. In fact, we had hinted about getting together several times in the previous week or so, but this was the first time we had ever actually tried to make it happen. Even though we had been working side by side for a couple of years, we had never crossed the line we were about to cross. Before, there had been obstacles that had been in the way. I was a Field Training Officer and because of that, I often had rookies in my car. She was a very popular and attractive officer, as well as a great trainer, so she often had reserve officers riding with her.
But that shift, we were both riding solo, so there were no rookies or reserves to get in our way. We could relax, no pretense at training or teaching, we could just be ourselves and see where that lead us.
The hidden spot that she’d picked out was perfect. It was large enough to hide both of our police cars, so they couldn’t be easily seen. The open ended quonset hut was filled with stacks of bundled lumber, waiting to be placed onto railroad cars to be transported to who knew where? The spot she had chosen, in the middle of the Q hut, was like an alcove, carved out where there were no pallets of lumber. Yes, there would be plenty of room for us to be comfortable. Even with the sense of security the place provided, I was still nervous. We were about to do something together that could possibly end in one or both of us being severely disciplined, maybe even terminated. Plus, the risk of being publicly embarrassed and who knew what the effects would be with our spouses if we were caught. Anticipation was as thick as the fog on Mobile Bay in that little roadside rendezvous as we started getting comfortable. We had been planning this for a while and now, the moment of truth was at hand.
This occurred during the final full week of the Mardi Gras season. We were on third watch that month, which meant that we had been working all the parades that been happening for over a week or so at that time. Then, after a brief off duty period once the parades ended around 8:00 or 9:00 PM we were back on duty for our normal 10:30 PM to 6:30 AM shift. There was never enough time between the time the parades ended, and our shift began to get any real rest. We had to report at the precinct for parade duty at 5:00 PM and if we had cases in any of the municipal, district, circuit or federal courts, we would have to stay awake and go to court. This all meant that by the final five or six days of the carnival season, we had been running on back-to-back-to-back days of getting maybe 2 hours of sleep most days. That was if we were lucky. But we weren’t going to let that get in our way, nope, we were committed, we both needed this, we both wanted this, and finally we were doing this.
As we were moving around, trying our best to find a comfortable position in a no frills, lowest bidder patrol car. I could hear the Velcro separating on her duty belt, as she pealed it off her waist, just before seeing her toss it up on the dash. I knew that she had already pushed her patrol box off the front passenger seat, into the foot well of her car.
I can clearly recall her looking me straight in the eyes and asking me once again if I was sure that I really wanted to do this. I could hear a soft cooing as I nodded my head that, I was sure.
With that she looked at me and smiled and softly said “Keep your radio on and don’t go to sleep. Wake me up in 45 minutes and we’ll go to the Waffle House and get some coffee. If the operator calls, wake me up. Don’t answer for me because that’ll let the sergeant know that we’re together somewhere and he might get curious.” With that said, I saw her head disappear from sight as she laid across the front seats of her patrol car. Since we were parked side by side, with her car facing one direction and mine the other and our drivers' windows down, we could talk from car to car, but couldn’t easily get out of either car without one of us moving.
I must have been nearing exhaustion that night, because in just a couple of minutes, my head started slipping forward as I fought off sleep myself. Shaking my head to clear it, I looked around and thought about the way we were sort of pinned in our cars by the way we were parked. Suddenly, I didn’t like our tactical position. After wallowing around in the car seat, trying to find a comfortable spot, I decided to take my duty pistol from its holster and place it under my thigh. This would be much easier than trying to draw it from my holster in the cramped front portion of the scout car with the screen and partition behind me and the two-way radio, along with the spotlight, controls for the emergency lights, siren and loudspeaker in front of me, it just made sense to go ahead and get my pistol out, should something happen in the confined space.
Some time later I was awoken by what sounded and felt like the beginning of the apocalypse! There were pigeons, who had been resting in the upper section of that hut, flying all around in a panic, there was the sound of thousands of horses rushing towards us, the ground was shaking enough to be felt in our cars and there was a deafening screaming echoing through the entire length of that Quonset hut, bouncing around the curved interior and off all those stacks of lumber. It was everywhere. And so loud, it blotted out thought. It sounded like the gates of hell had been opened. It was ten thousand times worse than being caught sleeping on duty by our sergeant. We were about to be caught and punished for our wrongdoing by the Banshee of Brookley Field!
As I went from sleeping when I wasn’t supposed to be, to full on, adrenaline pumped fight or flight mode, I found myself with my duty gun in my hand swinging around in the seat of my patrol car, desperately searching for a demon or two to shoot. I might be going to hell, but I was going to take something with me. The rushing noise and the banshee howl had a Doppler effect and was changing, getting louder by the second and noise, dust and pigeon feathers were everywhere.
This is the exact moment by female officer popped up in her seat, snatched from her fatigued sleep, she was wide eyed as she frantically looked around, trying to locate the source of this end-of-the-world noise. This was when she saw be pointing my .357 magnum revolver everywhere, trying to find the threat. She barely made eye contact with me, before throwing herself back across the seats of her car, wisely removing herself from my potential targets. I think she either tried to speak to me, or she was screaming, I think I saw her mouth open, but we were drowned in the loud screams of the approaching banshee.
But about that time, the noise changed, it was now moving away from from us. We had been spared! Now it was only the thundering noise of the thousands of horses pounding by. Even the hut and the slab we were parked on was vibrating less and less.
“What the hell was that?” She asked. Followed quickly by “Did you go to sleep, too? You said that you never have slept on duty!” Which, until a little earlier, had been the truth.
“Yeah, I must have.” I said.
By then, the noise had lessened enough that we could talk without having to yell at each other, even though we were less than three feet apart.
Realization was almost simultaneous. So was the laughter.
“That was…” She started to say. “…a fucking train” I finished the sentence.
What happened was that there was a train track not fifty yards away, with a lighted crossing. The tracks actually curved a short distance from where we were. Because of that curve, plus the channeling of noise between the old buildings and huts of what was formerly the Brookley Field air force base, the noise of the approaching long string of railroad cars and engines wasn’t enough to wake us. That is until it started approaching the crossing.
Do you have any idea how just loud a train horn is on a diesel locomotive? And how much noise that string of rail cars makes at 45 miles per hour? Once the train had straightened from the curve down the tracks, it was pointed nearly straight at the quonset but we were parked in. That hut became the perfect echo chamber for a few seconds. Turned out that it wasn’t actually the beginning of the apocalypse, but for a few sleeps befuddled seconds, it had certainly sounded and felt like it was.
Now fully awake we decided it was a good time to go find a restroom and some coffee. Bye to the banshee.
Or so I thought.
A couple of evenings later, we were lining up outside the auditorium for parade duty once again, I felt something hard pushing against the back of my neck, between the lower edge of my riot helmet and the collar of my uniform jacket. I could sense someone close behind me, but as I started to try to turn my head, they pushed harder against my neck, and I heard a grunt that I took to mean don’t move. Then I heard a muffled voice, saying words that no man ever wants to hear. “I understand that you have been sleeping with my wife!”
And I couldn’t deny it. I knew it was true.
At that second of clarity I spun to my left, slapping the hand and index finger away from my neck. For a brief moment, I had been convinced that the point of his finger was a gun. I continued to turn, to see my old friend, the husband of my female officer friend, trying and not doing a very good job of not bursting out laughing. “You didn’t think she wasn’t going to tell me, did you?” He managed to choke out, just before he couldn’t contain it any longer.
I never, ever went to sleep on duty again…