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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Keia" data-source="post: 947846" data-attributes="member: 98">Seymour Johnson Air Force Base Main EntranceGoldsboro, North Carolina1:55pm, Late Spring 2003As the sedan spun a final time on its roof, Donovan noticed another black sedan some eighty to one hundred feet away with two occupants, a female uniformed driver and a man in a business suit. . . . laughing.The MP’s approached, rifled raised in a firing position, taking step after step.  One MP in particular seemed to be enjoying the events that had transpired thus far – the same one that had been so belligerent earlier.“Get out of the car, both of you ingrates,” the MP called out again, only ten feet away from the car.Hearst accidentally gunned the car again, which of course did nothing as all four wheels were in the air.  “Sorry,” he called out as he killed the engine.  When he released his seat belt, he flopped onto the inside of the roof of the vehicle.As Donovan re-assessed his situation, he noted his gear and his rifles were in the trunk.  The other black Air Force sedan pulled up behind the MPs, and the Air Force  woman asked in a heavily Southern accented voice, “Excuse me, kind sirs, but I’m looking for a Lieutenant Luther Donovan, have you seen him?”The annoying MP laughed out loud. Hearst then popped the trunk and called out again, “Sorry.”  Donovan’s gear and rifles spilled out onto the pavementOOC: Donovan</blockquote>