I'm having a rather pathetic lunch with Jason at the Bizzy Bee Restaurant in Daleville Alabama. We're just outside of Fort Rucker, the army's helicopter training base. The reason for our being here? An anonymous e-mail from a hotmail account. (Ever notice how all the freaks that e-mail me have hotmail accounts? Maybe that company should promote it as a selling point)

Anyway here's what the e-mail said:

"Derek,

Have you ever heard about black helicopters? I'm in the army and I've seem them. Want to meet and hear my story?"

So I e-mailed him back and now hear I sit in a lousy restaurant in a town full of strip clubs, pawnshops, and efficiency apartments waiting for a guy I never met. I brought Jason along for comfort and a little muscle but judging from the amount of guys in cammo that keep walking in and out of this place, we're outgunned about 10,000 to 1 if anything does happen.

A black helicopter on display in the Fort Rucker Army Aviation Museum

Not that Jason seems to care if there's danger lurking about. He's wolfing down his 3rd plate of peach cobbler when the guy walks in. He notices the red baseball cap he made me wear and weaves through the table over to us. He looks just like all the other army boys in the place, just out of his teens and dressed in standard camouflage (As if it helps him blend in with the buffet)

He gives a look to Jason who's busy wiping the whipped cream off his chin and asks me if I want to go for a ride. Most people might ask for a name first before they take off with a strange guy in a no nonsense crew cut but minutes later I'm riding out of town in his brand new Ford F-150 with the stereo blasting something by George Jones. As I was leaving I gave Jason my best "Follow us and make sure I don't get killed" look. Hopefully he's somewhere behind us and not still at the café getting more dessert. I try and start an interview over the sound of George's country music lament.

Derek: So the army must pay pretty good to afford a new truck like this.

Nameless Army Guy: Yeah

Derek: So which unit are you with?

He just grunts something and turns down a dirt road. I take the opportunity to inch closer to the passenger door for easy escape and try again.

Derek: So why did you invite me to drive 7 hours away from my home if you don't wanna talk?

Nameless Guy: Hey I didn't force you.

Derek: Whatever, the point is, I took time out of my schedule, Jason got off work, and all we're going to have to show for it is indigestion from the Bizzy Barf Café. What's the deal?

Another wordless grunt but it looks like we're pulling off the dirt road. He pulls to a stop in a small clearing amongst some stunted pecan trees, turns off the engine, and takes off the mirror shades.

Guy: I'm been seeing some weird stuff lately.

D: What kind of weird stuff?

G: Guys at the base who aren't with the army. Guys with funny accents who act like they know more than I do. I don't like it.

Scary billboard in Daleville Alabama

D: Back up for a second. What do you do?

G: I'm a trainer pilot at the base. I teach the newbies the routine, check them out on the basics. Usually it's farm boys who made the mistake of thinking that joining the army is just like being in ROTC back at their hick high school, but for the past 6 weeks or so I've been seeing these new characters going through the system. They don't act like farm boys. Hell they don't even act like they're newbies. All smirks and "yes sir's" and acting like they know more than I do. I tried finding out something from my superiors but they ain't saying nothing.

G: Who do you think these guys are?

The pilot guy squints up at the sky like he's looking for something.

G: I don't know.

D: What do you think they're up to?

G: I don't know for sure but I got some ideas . . . .

D: Like?

The pilot's quiet for a second like he's trying to decide how to say something. Finally he gets out of the truck and stands outside. He puts on his mirror shades and stares at the sky again. I get out of the truck and just sorta stand there. No use rushing a guy who probably knows 20 ways to kill me with his bare hands.

G: You ever hear of black helicopters?

D: Sure, part of the whole UFO / New World Order / Government conspiracy cult. Depending on which story you believe they are either mutilating cattle or agents of the United Nations and part of a plot by our government to put international soldiers on our soil. There's even one guy on a discussion board I read who is convinced that the Dutch Government have a squadron of the things and are camped out with 'em on the Snake River in Idaho. Most of what I hear sounds like standard B S

G: Yeah, well I've seen 'em. Does that sound like standard B S?

I've learned never to call another man a liar to his face, especially when I've already insulted him.

D: Where'd you see 'em?

G: At the base. We were doing night exercises. I was over at the left field hangers getting some gas for the tanker cause our supply had ran out and I took a peek at the next landing field as I was driving over. Must have been at least a squad of them, not on any flight logbook for that night and painted dead black. Most copters we use look black but you can tell they are really dark brown if you get up close. These weren't brown at all.

D: Did you find out what they were doing?

G: Nope, I got pulled over by a M.P. and before I knew it my exercise had been called off and I was being written up for "improper behavior."

D: For what?

G: For being in the wrong f**king place at the wrong f**king time! For seeing something I wasn't suppose to see! Hell I don't know. They'd probably do worse if they knew I was talking to you . . . What the hell is that?

He's pointing at the edge of my shirt that has come untucked from my pants.

D: What?

G: This . .

He's walked next to me and yanks at a cable that's visible coming out of my shirt. A cable that just happens to be connected to a hidden camera I keep in a rig on my chest.

D: It's nothing . .

I'm looking for a place to run to and hoping that Jason is riding to the rescue but before I know it he has me up against the truck. Seconds later he's found the small video camera I have strapped to my back.

G: You motherf**ker. I didn't tell you, you could tape me!

D: It's no big deal. I'll obscure your face; no one will know it's you.

But I think it's too late for apologies. In fact I'm certain of it when he takes a swing at me and connects with my face. As I stagger around he's already back in his truck and driving off, leaving me in a shower of churned up dirt and bleeding from the nose.

Thirty minutes later I'm back where the dirt road hits the asphalt. I find my video camera laying smashed on the ground with the tape missing. Another 15 minutes go by before Jason drives up with a doggy bag between his legs and an "I told you so" look on his face. I give him a dirty look and climb into his truck. I'll throw his doggy bag out the window once we get on the interstate.

sources

Unknown assailant with a bad attitude June 27th, 2000

Photos by Derek Barnes