“I hardly know where to begin, sir,” Smythe said. “But there is something I think I should tell you.”
“Which is?”
“Sir, I am on Department of the Army general orders to assume command of a Mohawk platoon.”
“You were. What happened was that as soon as Johnny remembered you were here, we started the process of having your orders changed. It may already be done.”
“As a statement,” Smythe said. “The word ‘volunteer’ doesn’t enter any of this.”
Father shook his head, no.
“That bother you?”
Smythe thought that over for ten seconds.
“No, sir. I’m a soldier. I go where I’m sent and do my best to do what I’m told.”
“That’s what Johnny said you’d say,” Lunsford said. “The reason we kept you ’til last—since you didn’t ask—is because we knew we wanted you. And because I think you and I should now go someplace for a quiet beer, while I fill you in. Jack and his bride have other plans for the evening, right?”
“Did you hear what she said on the plane?” Jack asked.
“About going to see the Goddamned Widow?”
Jack nodded.
“Good luck,” Father said.
[ FIVE ]
Quarters #1
U.S. Army Aviation Center and Fort Rucker, Alabama
1905 23 January 1965
Surprising Jack not at all, his mother- and-father-in-law, acting separately and in concert, insisted that he and Marjorie stay with them, rather than taking a room at the Daleville Inn.
“Don’t be silly,” Barbara Bellmon said. “Marjorie’s old bed is big enough for the two of you.”
“And you’re really going to have to start thinking about money,” General Bellmon said. “I don’t even like to think how much it cost you to fly Marjorie down here for just two days.”
Supper was broiled chicken halves and baked potatoes, both prepared on a charcoal grill by General Bellmon, who put on a white apron with a red cartoon of a man in a chef’s hat printed on it.
Marjorie and her mother worked in the kitchen, sipping on white wine; General Bellmon and Jack worked on a bottle of Merlot on the patio while they watched the chicken cook.
Bellmon asked what had happened in the Congo, and Jack decided to tell him. Bellmon not only had a Top Secret/Earnest clearance, but was also a major general and his father-in-law.
He got as far in the story as flying to Stanleyville when Second Lieutenant Robert F. Bellmon, Jr., appeared, uninvited. The story was necessarily interrupted there, as Bobby was not possessed of a Top Secret/Earnest clearance.
“I called Johnny Oliver to ask if he’s heard anything about my application,” Bobby announced. “He told me you were here.”
“And?” General Bellmon asked.
“So I came over,” Bobby said. “You should have called me, Jack.”
“I meant about your application,” General Bellmon said.
“He said he hadn’t heard anything,” Bobby said. “Jack, could you ask?”
“Bobby, I am a very unimportant lieutenant in Bragg,” Jack said.
“Like hell,” Bobby said. “God, it’s all over the post that you and Major Lunsford are here recruiting people for some hush-hush operation.”
“Where did you hear that?” General Bellmon asked, rather sharply.
“From a guy in my Mohawk class,” Bobby said. “Tony Stevens. Black guy. Lieutenant. He said he and Captain Smythe, one of the IPs, and every other black aviator he knew were ordered to report to the chief of staff’s office at 1300.”
“And how did Major Lunsford’s name come up?” General Bellmon asked. “And Jack’s?”
Bobby looked uncomfortable.
“Well?” Bellmon asked impatiently.
“Mother said I was to get out of the habit of coming here whenever I wanted and drinking up all your beer,” Bobby said. “So on the way over here, I stopped by Annex One to pick up a six-pack. And there was another black guy at the bar talking, and he said he’d been interviewed this afternoon for a hush-hush assignment by two Special Forces officers, one of them a black major named Lunsford and the other one . . . ‘the guy who married the general’s daughter.’ ”
“Good God!” Bellmon said, adding, “Do you know this officer’s name, Bobby?”
Bobby shook his head, no.
“Presumably your friend Lieutenant Stevens does,” Bellmon said coldly. “You go to him, Bobby, right away, tonight, and you tell him I said that if I ever hear another report of his irresponsibly loose mouth he will find himself counting snowballs on ground duty in Alaska. And tell him to pass the word.”
“Yes, sir,” Bobby said.
“Is this going to cause any damage, Jack?” Bellmon asked.
“I don’t think so, sir,” Jack said after a moment’s reflection. “With one exception—Captain Smythe—Lunsford didn’t go beyond ‘classified mission’ to explain what we