Sometimes you just know it’s not going to be a restful crew rest. I knew it as soon as we pulled up to our hotel near an American airbase in Germany. It was tucked away in a corner of a nearby town, right next to a bustling autobahn, 50 feet away at best from the cars and trucks speeding by. The sound of the racing traffic was simply deafening, even inside my room conveniently facing the autobahn. It was the closest you’d find to a Motel 6 in Germany, simple Spartan rooms next to a busy highway. But this place included breakfast – frühstück in German – so that made it a Motel 7 – Motel Sieben in German.
Most of the crew immediately made their way to breakfast – it was about 9 am – but I wanted to get a run in before I ate. After changing, I found a road leading under the autobahn that quickly petered out into a gravel road next to a fallow field, left dormant for the coming winter. The grass on either side of the road was thick with dew and the air was achingly chilly, making each breath almost painful. At the end of the field, I turned onto what we call a horse trail in Texas, a hardpack lane with grass in the middle, which ran alongside a gurgling irrigation ditch. I soon came across the airbase and emerged onto a paved running path that led across the approach lighting for the runway, just outside of the fence line. A hawk was circling over the end of the runway, looking for prey. As a C-130 lifted into the air, heading toward me, the hawk dove for the ground, either to catch its morning meal or to avoid the quickly approaching aircraft. The C-130 roared overhead and climbed into the gunmetal gray sky; I watched it as I ran until it was but a speck in the heavens.
I made it back to breakfast after logging four miles. The breakfast was decent, but since it was included in the room rate, I certainly had nothing to complain about. After eating my fill, I went back to my room to shower and get ready to sleep the rest of the day away. It was nearly two in the morning, Pacific Time, but despite how tired I was, sleep would truly be a challenge. My room had an aluminum shutter that could be rolled down in front of the window, like a blast shield, and it made my room as dark as a crypt when it was closed. It did mute the sound of the autobahn somewhat also, but I still had to sleep with foam earplugs in. Heck, I could still hear the rumble of heavy trucks passing even through my earplugs. I could also hear an occasional takeoff from the nearby airbase, especially when a C-5 took off. I finally drifted off to sleep, but it wasn’t restful. I may have slept maybe six hours total.
Later that evening, we walked over to the main part of town for dinner at an Italian restaurant. It wasn’t far; we just had to cross under the tracks at the bahnhof. Monday nights are slow wherever in the world you are, but it was especially slow that night in our tiny burg; however, we made the best of it. After a few hours, we all wandered back to our rooms to surf a dozen or so television channels, only one of which – CNN – was in English. You’d think after staying in German hotels through the years, I would have mastered a little more of the German language than I have, yet Pidgin-German remains the extent of my limited vernacular.
We spent a total of three nights there, waiting for a mission downrange. I made further use of the running trails – my best escape from the monotonous routine - and made nightly strolls into town for dinner. Sleep was always a chore, especially when our mission reporting time necessitated a change in sleep patterns. Finally, early one afternoon, we were alerted for our flight downrange, slightly tired but ready to leave our motel behind. It’s never good to start a long flight already tired, especially when the flight involved two stops in Afghanistan before a final stop for another crew rest at an American airbase in the Persian Gulf – where our accommodations there would make us long for the days spent at the Motel Sieben.
Autobahn and all.
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