Without hesitation, Wade replied, “Yes, sir.”
Wade soon got details regarding where he had to report and when.
Once again, someone else’s decision would change Wade Hanna’s life and point him directly into harms way. Wade knew nothing of his new assignment or the risks he was about to face. He’d just come off a dangerous undercover assignment that had almost killed him, followed by three months of rigorous Naval training in New London. Perhaps this assignment would be a short easy one, and he could soon resume his uncertain life in New Orleans. In fact, just maybe this would be a short, relaxing Caribbean cruise and a great way to end a long and dangerous journey.
Wade would soon find out that his next adventure would not be a short, relaxing or safe Caribbean cruise.
21
On the day he was to report for active duty, Wade packed his sea bag and met his cousin for dinner. After dinner his cousin dropped him off at the Naval Reserve Station at around 8:00 pm. The chain link gate, normally locked at this hour, was open, and there were lights on in the offices and parking area. A gray Navy bus was parked in front of the office building, with the driver standing alongside the bus. Wade took his sea bag over and greeted the driver. He asked him, “Do you know where we’re going?”
The driver replied, “I’m under orders not to discuss our destination. Sorry.”
Wade waited about twenty minutes before five of his fellow reserve crew members arrived in different cars, almost at the same time. Each carried his sea bag toward the bus. All of the crew members were dressed in Navy work blues as called for in their orders. Each asked the others if anyone knew where they were going. No one did.
One of the men commented, “My wife is ready to have a baby. I hope this isn’t going to be a long tour.”
Another asked, “Is this a training exercise?”
Everyone shrugged their shoulders in uncertainty. Nobody of the reserve crew knew anything, which they all thought strange and mysterious. One member commented anxiously, “The Navy usually tells us what the hell’s going on.”
The driver checked his passenger list, calling out each crew member’s name. He reminded them to be sure their gear was on the bus. The bus left the yard around 8:45 p.m. After about a half hour of driving, it was clear they were headed out of New Orleans going east, toward the Mississippi state line.
The new crew was all enlisted men with different rank and ratings. One was a diesel mechanic, Wade was quartermaster, two were electronics and sonar operators, and two were radio signalmen. The crew commented among themselves that they were an odd mix of skills. All of the men were currently reserve, but most, unlike Wade, had served on active duty for two or more years before going on reserve status.
One of the older crew members said, “This reminds me of a repair mission I got called on a few year’s ago. We were suddenly called to Norfolk to get a ship ready to join the Sixth Fleet. They didn’t have enough specialists to finish the job. We were there only three days and never left the dock. We worked out asses off, but the ship left on time.”
Everyone settled back in their seats trying to relax. They were tired of speculating about their mysterious mission. Two hours later, the bus turned off the main highway onto a parallel side road.
The bus made several more turns. One of the crew members sitting near the driver who knew the area asked, “We have to be in either Gulfport or Biloxi. Can you tell us now?”
“Sorry. I can’t say, but it won’t be long from here,” the driver answered.
They followed a road lined on each side by fields of crop stubble about two feet high. They made one more turn, and the bus was on a road from which they could see the Gulf of Mexico. There was fog holding close to shore, but the uninterrupted view of the Gulf before them was stunning. The moon was in three-quarter phase and flickers of moonlight reflected off the rolling waves.
They soon came to a large open gate with barbed wire strings lining the top. On the other side of the gate stood a long, wide, paved pier, lit on both sides by overhanging lights spaced twenty feet apart. The two sides of the pier were lined with the same chain link and barbed wire fencing. It was foggy that night, and the pier lights reflected a fog cloud in a ball around each overhanging light.
Someone asked, “Where are we?”
The driver, now free to answer, said, “Biloxi, Mississippi.” Another crew member commented, “What the hell is in Biloxi? There’s no naval base here.”
The driver didn’t reply. There were no signs or markings on the gates or fencing. No one could tell if this was a Navy dock or some other military or civilian pier. The bus turned onto the wide concrete pier and proceeded slowly down its long expanse. The end of the pier was not yet visible because of the fog and dim lighting. As the bus moved closer to the end of pier, a mysterious and eerie scene emerged out of the fog. The pier was a two-tier structure, with vehicles on the upper deck and a large concrete loading deck below. There were two flights of stairs, one on each end of the pier, providing access to upper and lower decks.
On the right side of the pier there were six ambulances and three medic trucks lined up behind each other. Two of the medical vehicles had their red and blue lights flashing. Between the parked ambulances stood a refrigerated Navy cargo truck with its rear door open toward the end of the pier. There was a conveyor extending from the back of the truck to the lower pier. It appeared boxes were being loaded from the lower pier onto the Navy truck. The boxes had a strange sticker of bright orange marked “Hazardous Biological Materials.”
On the left side of the pier stood another parked refrigerated truck. Its rear door was open and also facing the lower pier like the truck on the opposite side. Boxes from this truck were going from the truck to the lower pier. Each box was wrapped in clear plastic with a stamp on it that could not be read by the crew members from the bus.
The crew bus slowly parked in a space at right angle to the refrigerated truck on the left side. The bus driver said, “Wait here. I have to check with the Chief.”
The crew bus was parked in an excellent position to see all of the strange pier activity from the right side windows. Everyone in the bus immediately moved to the right side.
The beehive of activity looked like it could be right out of a science fiction horror movie. It was very disturbing. The gruesome scene on the right side of pier included a procession of very ill men all dressed in light surgical blue scrubs. The line of men was slowly moving up the stairs toward the ambulances, most carrying their own rolling stand with bottles of IV solution. Some of the men wore face masks. The greenish glow of the pier lights contributed to the scene’s morbid look. The men looked pale, with sunken eyes and seemed very weak. Some could barely make it up the stairs. Others, too ill to walk, were on gurneys on the lower deck waiting to be hoisted to the upper pier. Between every fourth man there was a medical assistant in a white Hazmat Suit that covered all parts of the body, including the head. One medical assistant in Hazmat gear reached out with a large, white-gloved hand to assist a patient trying to get up the stairs.