“Why not?” Major Pappy Hodges asked. He had flown up from Rucker in a Mohawk to review the flight plan, and had been genuinely surprised to learn this his visit coincided with the Wood/Oliver nuptials.
“There’s three pilots aboard,” Pappy went on. “If Oliver flies the first leg, one of the other two can sleep in the back. And the other one can on the second leg. That would put Jack and de la Santiago at the controls for the final leg. De la Santiago speaks Spanish, if that comes up. That your thinking, Jack?”
“Yes, sir,” Jack said.
“You’re the experts,” Lowell said.
That’s true, Marjorie had thought in wifely pride. Of all the pilots who had “helped” Jack with the flight planning, only Major Pappy Hodges was more experienced, and he hadn’t offered a suggestion to improve—much less a criticism of—what Jack had laid out.
Captain Oliver, Lieutenant Portet, and WOJG de la Santiago came out of the flight planning room twenty minutes later. Behind them trailed General Hanrahan, Lieutenant Colonel Lowell, and Major Pappy Hodges. Everyone but General Hanrahan was wearing a flight suit and carrying a large, squarish case—much like a salesman’s sample bag.
They were Jeppesen “Jepp” cases, and they contained the approach charts for every major—and just about every other—airport in the world, plus the tools of aerial navigation, and sometimes a change of linen.
Lieutenant Portet walked up to his bride, who was trying very hard to be cheerful and pleasant, and handed his Jepp case to her.
“Hang on to it for me, will you, baby?”
“Won’t you need it?” Marjorie asked, surprised.
“We only need one. We can get by with de la Santiago’s,” he said. “There’s no sense hauling Johnny’s and mine all the way to Argentina, just to haul them back.”
“Sure,” Marjorie said, taking the case. She immediately put it on the floor. It was heavier than it looked.
Captain Oliver handed his Jepp case to Liza without saying anything. She smiled and set it on the floor beside the other one.
“I hope, Mrs. Oliver,” Lieutenant Colonel Lowell said, “that you realize how lucky you are?”
Liza eyed him suspiciously.
“How is that, Colonel?” she asked.
“Well, when the wives start swapping stories about how the Army has interfered with their marriages, you can top them all. ‘I was married at four in the afternoon, and at noon the next day the Army sent my husband to Argentina.’ ”
“I’m not exactly the virgin bride, Colonel,” Liza replied. “And knowing the Army as I do, I wasn’t even surprised.”
Lowell was visibly surprised at the tone of her reply, and there was an awkward silence for a moment, until General Hanrahan patted Liza’s shoulder approvingly.
“Good for you,” he said. “Score one for the captain’s lady.”
Lunsford, Smythe, and Otmanio came into the lounge, shivering and rubbing their hands.
“I have just had a cheerful thought,” Lunsford announced. “It’s summer in Argentina. Out there”—he nodded toward the parking ramp—“it’s as cold as a witch’s . . . broom handle.”
Neither Mrs. Oliver, Mrs. Portet, nor Mrs. Otmanio seemed amused.
“Smythe, you about ready to go?” Pappy Hodges said.
“Yes, sir.”
“Where are you going, Smythe?” General Hanrahan asked.
“Rucker, sir.”
“What I meant to ask is why are you going?” Hanrahan asked.
“I’m going to bring the L-19 up here tonight, sir.”
“What’s that all about?” Lowell asked. “The Air Force is— somewhat reluctantly—going to pick it up at Rucker.”
“Colonel, Aunt Jemima wanted to test the radios they put in at Rucker with the team’s radios here,” Lunsford answered.
Lowell’s eyebrow rose at “Aunt Jemima,” but he didn’t say anything.
“You’re talking about the black L-19, right?” General Hanrahan asked.
“Yes, sir.”
Hanrahan stopped, and looked uneasily at the three wives, who didn’t have Top Secret/Earnest security clearances.
“Captain Smythe’s going to bring it up tonight, sir,” Lunsford said. “Take it to Camp MacKall.”
“How’s he going to land it there at night?” Lowell asked.
“The team is going to improvise runway lights, sir,” Smythe said.
“I don’t know . . .” Lowell said.
“Sir, I have Colonel Felter’s permission,” Lunsford said.
“What about the Air Force picking it up at Rucker?” Lowell asked.
“Mr. Finton changed that, sir. I talked to him this morning.”
Major Hodges ended the conversation.
“Let’s get our circus on the road, Smythe,” he ordered. “Try not to bend the bird, you guys. We can’t afford to piss off another Corps Commander by stealing another one.”
He tossed General Hanrahan a casual salute. Smythe saluted more crisply, and the two of them walked out of the room.
“I’ll preflight it,” de la Santiago said, and followed them out of the lounge.