eyes on him, Lunsford said: “It tranquilizes my worm, sir.”
“What?”
“My tapeworm, sir. I have a world-class tapeworm.”
I will deal with that later.
“What happened to your nose, Portet?” General Hanrahan asked. “And what’s with the Belgian uniform?”
“Mon général,” Captain Lunsford said. “Sergeant Portet has asked that I serve as his legal counsel. As such, Sergeant Portet, I advise you to claim your rights under the 31st Article of War and respectfully decline to answer the general’s question—at least until you get your medals—on the grounds it may tend to incriminate you.”
“What medals?”
“I have it on the best authority, mon général, that this splendid young noncommissioned officer is to be decorated by both the Belgian and Congolese governments for his heroic participation in Operation Dragon Rouge.”
“ ‘Heroic’?” Hanrahan parroted. “What he was supposed to do was brief the Air Force about the airfield, and see if he knew anything about Stanleyville the Belgians didn’t already know.”
“Actually, sir, Sergeant Portet’s contribution to Operation Dragon Rouge went a little beyond that.”
“For example?”
“He jumped on Stanleyville with the Belgians, sir,” Lunsford said. “That’s where he got that uniform. And the busted nose. He fell out of a truck in Stanleyville.”
“He was not supposed to jump anywhere,” Hanrahan said. “And I specifically ordered Foster to make sure he didn’t.”
He looked at Portet, who looked very uncomfortable.
“Sir, Lieutenant Foster made it very clear that I was not to go with the Belgians.”
“And you figured, fuck you, and jumped anyway?”
Hanrahan heard the angry tone in his voice and vowed to keep his temper.
“General, his family was in Stanleyville,” Lunsford said.
“I know that,” Hanrahan snapped, and then asked, more kindly, “Are they all right, Portet?”
“When I got to the Immoquateur, sir, Captain Lunsford was there. He protected them. They’re fine. They’re on their way to the States, via Germany.”
“Geoff Craig’s wife and baby, too?”
“Yes, sir. Thanks to Captain Lunsford.”
“Well, thank God for that,” Hanrahan said.
“How’d you come back?” Hanrahan asked.
“With Fath . . . Captain Lunsford, on the Special Missions jet.”
If my family had been in Stanleyville, I would have jumped on, too.
“The shit’s going to hit the fan, you understand, when it gets out that you jumped with the Belgians,” Hanrahan said.
“That’s why I got him the medals, sir,” Lunsford said. “I figured, what the hell, with the Belgians and the Congolese calling him a hero . . .”
“You got him the medals?”
“Colonel Van de Waele, the Belgian leading—”
“I know who he is,” Hanrahan interrupted.
“Came to Kamina just before we left. I explained the situation—”
“The military situation, or Portet’s?” Hanrahan interrupted again.
“Both, actually,” Lunsford said.
“Sir, what Colonel Van de Waele really came to Kamina to do—”
“I don’t recall having given you permission to speak, Sergeant,” Lunsford said. “Shut your mouth.”
“You were saying, Sergeant?” Hanrahan said.
“The King sent him,” Portet said. “With orders to give Captain Lunsford the Grand Order of Leopold, First Class,” Portet said.
Whatever medal the King of the Belgians gave him, he deserved.
“Did he?” Hanrahan said.
“Well, since the subject of medals had come up,” Lunsford said, “I told Van de Waele about how Portet had come into the Immoquateur like John Wayne, his weapon blazing, dropping bad guys all over. . . .”
“And?”
“Van de Waele said he was pretty sure he could get Jack a medal, Second Class, and then some Congo colonel got in the act and said he was sure General Mobutu, the Congolese chief of staff, would want to decorate the both of us—”
“Was this before or after you mentioned Jack wasn’t supposed to be in Stanleyville in the first place?”
“Now that you mention it, that may have come up in the conversation. ” Lunsford paused, and met Hanrahan’s eyes. “It wasn’t all bullshit, what I told Van de Waele about Jack. He’s one hell of a soldier, General.”
“Who, by his own admission, disobeyed a direct order to jump on Stanleyville.”
Lunsford shrugged, and then he began to cough. His body shook with the effort, and when he finally stopped, his face was sweat-soaked.
“Why aren’t you in Walter Reed?” Hanrahan asked. “For that matter, why aren’t you in the 97th General Hospital in Frankfurt?”
“Now that you mention it, mon général, it might be a good idea to call Walter Reed and tell them where I am. I think they might be wondering where I am about now.”
“Goddamn it, Father! You’re AWOL from Walter Reed, aren’t you?”
“In a manner of speaking, sir.”
“Why the hell did you come here?”
“When I looked out of the window of the Immoquateur and saw John Wayne here leading the cavalry