New Zealand was a great place but it did have a few hazards - even if you had to go out of your way to find them.
One fine day Lt. Schley led us out of camp for a recon training, map-sketching and azimuth-shooting exercise. We'd not gone very far when we came to some railroad tracks and - I think just for the hell of it - our lieutenant led us along the grade for several miles until we came to a tunnel, the first time any of us knew of its existence. To back away from this challenge would not have been very Marine-like, so our leader led us into the big black hole in the side of a mountain. Immediately upon entering the tunnel I looked for the light at the other end. A tiny speck of daylight; this surely was going to be a long walk in the dark. I sized up the width of the walls outside the tracks, versus the girth of an average Marine. There seemed to be only enough room for a train. With that bit of information tucked away I walked into the tunnel, where it immediately became so dark that we began stumbling over each other. Only by dragging one foot along a rail were we able to navigate without bumping into the tunnel's rough, blackened walls. At about the halfway point I couldn't believe it when someone in the rear of the column shouted, "â¦TRAIN!â¦There aint no daylight back there!"
We stumbled to a halt, the dark tunnel behind us confirming that a train was for damned sure approaching! We couldn't hear it but when I reached down and touched the steadily vibrating track I panicked and decided to make a run for it. As daylight ahead gradually became brighter I could run a bit faster and bumped the sides of the tunnel less often - and less painfully. Faintly, at first, the low rumble of the locomotive became more audible and in a few minutes became almost deafening. The end of the tunnel loomed larger and I finally dove out the exit into a small spot between the rail and an outcropping of rock. Black smoke gushed out of the tunnel, followed immediately by a great, belching steam engine.
Great God Almighty! We'd made it! I watched the last car as it disappeared around a bend. Lieutenant Schley and all but three of our men were getting to their feet on the other side of the tracks, then we all turned to look back into the black hole. A faint shout came from deep inside; "We're ok!"
When they came out, those guys were black from head to toe - we all were - and everybody doubled over in near hysteria. We skirted the mountain back to camp and Lt. Schley turned in his daily report. I've always wondered if he ever told our C.O. the full truth about what certainly must have been reported as a "routine" hike. |