Mexican Backup

Airborne was a member of the Old Patrol. Before he Entered On Duty (EOD'd) at Yuma, Airborne had been a city cop - a motor officer - somewhere in south Carolina; Charleston, I believe. Back in the Old Patrol, most of us had military backgrounds. Domngo had been in the Navy, Edmundo was in the Army and your author is a former Marine. Airborne came by his name naturally: he was crazy. He was crazy enough to jump out of an in-flight aircraft for no other reason than someone told him to do it.

One day, during a particularly boring day shift, Airborne was working alone in a small corner of the AO known as West San Luis. The territory encompassed no more than several hundred acres immediately West of the Port of Entry in San Luis, Arizona. Airborne's AO included a small city park (ironically named "Friendship Park") and a river bottom area wherein what was left of the Colorado River flowed into Mexico.

It was in that river bottom area of cotton fields and scrub brush that Airborne found that he was without help on our side of The Line.

Day shifts in that AO were worse than boring for the Agents as well as for the Tonks. Frequently, the Tonks would gain illegal entry for a couple hundred feet just to see if an Agent was watching. If he was, he would charge down from his roost at a place knows as "the bodega" to try to apprehend the Tonks.

For the Tonks as well as the Agents, this game of cat-and-mouse was great fun as each honed their skills for the time the game would be in earnest once nightfall arrived. There was a considerable amount of drugs entering through West San Luis during those years.

In the days of the Old Patrol, Journeyman Agents gained and maintained a good, working relationship with our Mexican cousins on their side of The Line (more of this dynamic in a separate article). We did this because neither side knew when they might be in need of the others' abilities.

Airborne had had a rough previous night and he had no patience for playing games with the Tonks who would laugh and jeer at him as he nearly caught them - five or six times. They scampered back through the fence to their side, cursed him and flipped him off. Airborne had enough. He called the supervisor back at our station and asked for the Mexican police to be notified of what was transpiring and where.

The Mexican cops appeared within several minutes amid demands from the loudspeakers on their vehicles, "Alto! Parate!". The group scattered and ran (screeming and yelling) half a block into the Mexican town opposite San Luis, Arizona. Then, silence ... silence ... "pop" ... "pop" - the unmistakable reports of handgun fire. There were no more screams. There were no more yells. After a few minutes, the Mexican cops appeared on their side of the fence, smiling.

"Gracias", Airborne said to them.

"De nada", replied the Mexican sergeant.

Airborne returned to the bodega.