light aircraft—say a DeHavilland Beaver to move you and your staff around, a couple of Cessna L-19s for reconnaissance and a Bell H-13 helicopter—you don’t think the assistance I’m offering would be of much use to you?”
Supo, with the hint of a smile on his face, looked at Lunsford for a long moment.
“What I’m saying, Major, is that if there were available to me the aircraft you mention—and some decent tactical radios—the assistance you offer would be of far greater value.”
“And without the aircraft, and some decent tactical radios, to make sure I have this right, you don’t think my team would be of any real value to you, and you wouldn’t want it, right, sir?”
“You could put it that way, if you chose,” Colonel Supo said.
“You heard the colonel, Lieutenant Portet. What do you think Colonel Felter would say if I reported to him that Colonel Supo doesn’t think the team would be any good to him without the airplanes and radios he mentioned?”
“Sir, I think the colonel would immediately take steps to get the aircraft and the radios.”
“There are problems with that,” Hakino said. “Internal and external. ”
“Sir?” Lunsford asked.
“It is one thing for a U.S. Army aircraft assigned to the U.S. Embassy to move around the Congo carrying passengers on embassy business, and quite another for U.S. Army aircraft to be actively engaged in supporting military operations,” Hakino said. “The President has made it clear he does not want the U.S. Army operating in the Congo.”
“Speaking hypothetically, Mr. Secretary,” Lunsford said. “What if a U.S. Army Beaver, or an L-19, showed up here, mysteriously, as if someone had flown it across the border from South Africa when no one was looking. And then, somehow, the aircraft was painted black so that it didn’t say ’U.S. Army’ on the wings and fuselage . . .”
“And the pilot’s face would be painted black, too?” Hakino asked, smiling.
“Still speaking hypothetically, of course,” Lunsford said, “what if the hypothetical pilot of this hypothetical aircraft, and its hypothetical maintenance crew, all happened to be black?”
“I suppose this hypothetical aircraft could be given Congolese Army identification,” Hakino said, smiling conspiratorially.
“With respect, sir,” Lunsford said. “If it had no identification at all, then no one would know who it belonged to, would they? Everybody could say, ‘What airplane?’’’ ”
Hakino and Supo chuckled.
“The decision is yours, Jean-Baptiste,” Dannelly said, shaking his head.
“I think Major Lunsford and I understand each other,” Supo said. “And that he understands the problems—tactical and political—here. I think he and his men could be very useful.”
“I have an apartment here in the Immoquateur,” Supo said. “I’d be pleased if you all joined me for dinner. At eight?”
“We would be honored, sir,” Lunsford said.
Supo gave his hand to Jack, turned, and walked off the balcony.
With Hakino and Dannelly in the apartment, it wasn’t until Lunsford and Jack were alone in what had been Jack’s bedroom that Jack could ask, “Where are you going to get these airplanes you promised him?”
Lunsford looked at Jack for a long moment before replying, “I figured that if Felter can steal an L-23 from some general to send to Argentina, he can steal a Beaver, a couple of L-19s, and an H-13 to send here—”
“Felter doesn’t know about your offer?”
Lunsford shook his head, no.
“Since we’re dreaming, why not a Huey?” Jack asked sarcastically. “For that matter, a Mohawk?”
The sarcasm went right over Lunsford’s head.
“It would be hard to credibly deny a Huey or a Mohawk,” he said. “The South Africans and the Israelis have Beavers, L-19s, and H-13s. The problem we’re going to have is talking enough black guys, with visions of flying a Mohawk or a Chinook gloriously in Vietnam in their heads, to come here and fly L-19s and H-13s in a war that doesn’t exist, and never will, but from which, nevertheless, they stand a good chance of returning in a body bag.”
“Can you do it?”
"Of course I can do it,” Lunsford said. “I’m a Green Beret. I can do anything.”
XIII
[ ONE ]
Camp David
The Catoctin Mountains, Maryland
1530 22 January 1965
The President of the United States and the chief of staff of the United States Army were shooting skeet when the peculiar fluckata-fluckata sound a Bell HU-1 helicopter makes caught the President’s attention.
He looked skyward, in the direction of Washington. A U.S. Army Huey could be seen approaching.
“That’s probably Colonel Felter, Mr. President,” the chief said.