Special Ops - By W.E.B. Griffin Page 0,146

father and I are American citizens, Colonel,” Jack said in French.

“You were wearing a Belgian para’s uniform. You jumped with the Belgians at Stanleyville. You were wounded at Stanleyville.”

“Actually, I fell off a truck,” Jack said.

"He’s a U.S. Army Special Forces officer, Colonel,” Lunsford said. “Sometimes we find it necessary to wear other people’s uniforms. ”

Supo, visibly considering that, looked intently at Lunsford but didn’t reply directly.

“What are you two doing back in the Congo?” he asked.

“They have a proposition for you, Colonel,” Hakino said. “The President wants you to listen to it.”

“He told me to tell you, Jean-Baptiste,” Dannelly said, “that the decision is entirely yours.”

Supo looked at Lunsford.

“Before we get into this, Colonel, would you like a beer?”

“Yes, I would, thank you. Have you enough for Major Totse and Sergeant Wotto?”

“Of course,” Jack said.

“Totse, do you remember these two officers? At Kamina?”

“Yes, my colonel, very well.”

“I’m sorry,” Lunsford said, making it clear he did not remember Major Totse at Kamina.

“I’m surprised you remember Kamina,” Colonel Supo said. “You had just gone through—”

“Colonel, we have information that the Cuban Communist Che Guevara plans to come to the Congo and pick up where the Simbas left off—”

“Why should a Cuban Communist come here?” Supo challenged.

“Jean-Baptiste,” Dannelly said, “to save time, let me say that General Mobutu is convinced the threat is real. And so am I.”

Supo nodded.

“With respect, Doctor, I would prefer to hear it all myself,” he said.

“Certainly,” Lunsford said. “As I was saying, sir, we have reliable intelligence that . . .”

“If I understand you correctly, Major,” Supo said ten minutes later, “what you are offering is a small force of Special Services—”

“Special Forces, sir,” Lunsford corrected him.

“—Forces, then,” Supo went on, making it clear he did not like being interrupted, “specially trained for this sort of operation. The purpose of which, presumably, is to either kill or capture this man, and then what, if he is captured?”

“No, sir,” Lunsford said. “We don’t want to either capture him or eliminate him. We want to frustrate him; we want him to leave the Congo, Africa, with his tail between his legs.”

“I’d like an explanation of that, if you please, Major,” Supo said.

“I think I understand your reasoning,” Supo said when Lunsford had finished. “But I must tell you I’m not sure I agree with it. As I’m sure you know, the rules of land warfare permit the trial and execution of anyone who enters a sovereign nation and undertakes an armed revolution against the legitimate government. ”

“I know what he did in Cuba, Colonel,” Lunsford said, “and I saw what the Simbas did here. In my personal opinion, anyone who would arm and train more Simbas deserves to die painfully. But I’m a soldier, and my president has decided we want him humiliated, not killed, and that makes it orders I am sworn to obey.”

“I am having trouble convincing my soldiers they cannot shoot on sight anyone they suspect might be a Simba,” Supo said. “How would you suggest I keep them from shooting, or worse, a white man they suspect of arming the Simbas?”

Lunsford shrugged.

“We’ll have to deal with that as it comes up,” Lunsford said. “I had the same immediate reaction to this that you did. But I’ve come around to seeing the wisdom that the sonofabitch alive and humiliated will cause less trouble in the end than dead and a martyr.”

“Joseph Désiré is in agreement with this?” Supo asked Dr. Dannelly.

“He is in agreement with the idea that killing this Cuban would be less wise than his becoming a martyr,” Dannelly replied. “But as I said before, the decision whether you want the assistance Major Lunsford offers is entirely yours.”

Supo looked at Lunsford.

“What I really would like to have as assistance is an airplane— airplanes,” he said.

“What sort of airplane—airplanes?” Father asked.

Supo smiled.

“One like the one you came in would be nice,” he said. “But I’d be happy with anything with wings.”

“What would you do with an airplane if you had one, Colonel?” Lunsford asked.

“Reconnaissance,” Supo replied immediately. “You can’t fight an enemy if you can’t find him.”

“That’s true,” Lunsford agreed. “They’re also handy for moving officers quickly around.”

Lunsford, Jack thought, is practically inviting Supo to ask for, even demand, an airplane. What the hell is he up to?

“That, too,” Supo said. “I’m out of touch—we don’t have good radios—far too much of the time.”

“So if I understand you, sir,” Lunsford said, “what you’re telling me is that, in the absence of a minimum number of

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