There is a lot of traffic in and out of Dover. It connects to Germany and England and sometimes surprisingly far into Europe and also has flights to other strange places like California. It is one of several major international airports right around here, but it is not at all like Andrews AFB, or Baltimore-Washington International, both of which are close by and which also handle a lot of aircraft. Those places are mainly to receive VIPs and for real quick turnarounds for everybody else. People who land there run inside, grab a drink, a bite to eat, they race to another plane and are gone in a hurry. Dover handles a lot of heavy equipment that needs repair, worn-out trucks, beat-up helicopters, and big weapons shipped back for repairs. And it has a morgue. Things slow down in Dover. Dover is the place where time finally comes to an end and quits.
If you are flying out of Dover you will need to park your car in the Long Term Lot. You have to drive a little way past the morgue and secure your car and then walk back to the terminal. You get a good look at the Port Mortuary. It doesn’t look too different from the rest of the base in the daytime,
but at night it seems aloof, as if preoccupied in its own thoughts, perhaps more like a poker player who is pretending to ignore you but you know you're being watched carefully. You can’t help notice that the left side of the building has roof that appears to be made of glass, it looks like frosted glass. And it glows in the night as if it is cold inside there. Outside, the night is warm, and the breeze off the ocean builds in intensity. If you are there at 10:00 p.m., something strange happens. Quietly at first comes a sound that flows across the base, slowly building into a bugle call, softly playing the song we all know as “Taps”. “Day is done, gone the sun. From the lakes, from the hills, from the run. All is well, safely rest; God is nigh.”
And then all that is left is the wind.
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