hard like some lion. This was a man used to giving orders and seeing them obeyed. He looked like an old-style Viking, and Stan could envision him hefting a battleaxe. Stan could also envision McGraw wearing a cowboy hat and clutching a Winchester rifle, laying down fire as Apaches raided; or maybe McGraw would gun down outlaws as he fought a range war.
“General,” Stan said in way of greeting.
McGraw laughed. It was a loud sound. “It is you, Professor. I can’t believe it. They finally realized they had a genuine military genius hiding behind his books. I’m glad to see they gave you a fighting command. Even better, they’ve given you the greatest tanks in the world. I bet you’re itching to smash into the Chinese SOBs and send them scurrying home.”
“As soon as the time is right, yes sir,” Stan said.
“Do you hear that, General?” McGraw asked Larson. “The Professor is already worried I’m going to ask him to do something he thinks is stupid. Has he been filling your ears with ideas on how to keep the Chinese away from Denver?”
“As a matter of fact he has,” Larson said. “They’ve been good ideas, too.”
McGraw gave Stan a measuring study. “I hear you won the Medal of Honor up in Alaska during the first Chinese invasion.”
“Yes sir,” Stan said.
“Old son, don’t you ‘yes sir’ me. I read the brief. In Alaska, you went against orders, everyone’s orders, and blew up the storage tanks the Chinese desperately needed.”
Stan should have known McGraw would have read up on the commanding officers in around the Denver area. The man was big and he looked as if he must be stupid, but Tom McGraw did his homework. He was like a football coach who stayed up until three A.M. each night watching film of the opposing team. Back in the day, little had caught Tom by surprise. It seemed as if that hadn’t changed.
“Let’s hurry up and look at your men,” Tom said. “It’s cold out here and I don’t like a soldier freezing his balls off unless there’s a good reason for it. Afterward, you can show me a Behemoth. I’ll climb through it and gush about what it can do. We’ll do all that and then you and I are going to drink a lot of beer, do you hear me?”
“I sure do, sir.”
“Old son, who do you think you’re talking to?”
“You bet, Tom. Let’s get drunk.”
General McGraw grinned at Larson. It made deep skin-crinkles at the outer corners of his eyes: the mark of an outdoor man. McGraw elbowed the lean general in the side. Larson looked uncomfortable at the treatment. He was a good commander, but didn’t care for the roughhousing of a man like Tom, especially before the men.
“We’ll swap stories,” Tom told Stan. “And then I’m going to tell you what you can do for me.”
Right, Stan thought to himself. After the beers, Tom would tell him to get his butt into gear and get those Behemoths ready to roll. They were going to kick some Chinese rear.
Larson checked his watch.
“You busy, General?” McGraw asked Larson.
“No, I simply—”
“Sure you’re not,” McGraw said. “Go on, do what you need to. I haven’t had a moment’s rest in weeks, months, really. Stan and I are going to drink a few. I’ll speak to you before I leave. Until then, let me unwind with an old friend.”
“As you wish, General,” Larson said. He saluted crisply. McGraw saluted back.
How do I tell Tom this is the wrong time to attack with the Behemoths? No, Stan amended. How do I tell him so this fire-eater can understand it?
***
Several hours later, as the sun set into the mountains, Stan and Tom McGraw sat in the small officer’s club of the Behemoth Tank Park. They were at a round table, with a dozen empty beer bottles on the wooden surface. A plate of sandwiches was the beers’ only company.
“Now let’s have a real drink,” Tom said.
Stan signaled the enlisted waiter. The rest of the officer’s club was empty, McGraw having sent everyone else away.
Tom gave the drink order, and soon the two of them sipped whiskey on the rocks. They kept reminiscing about old times and swapped battle stories. They kept drinking, nibbling on sandwiches as the hours ticked away.
I shouldn’t drink so much, Stan told himself. I bet this is how it started with my dad.
Tom picked up another whiskey. His round cheeks had turned red and his eyes had become glazed. The