“Yes, sir. And I sent the 707’s ETA—before 1300 tomorrow— just now.”
“I guess you better wake up General Hanrahan with this,” Felter said. “He’ll have to go to his office to take it, but that’s what he said he wanted.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And do not, repeat do not, inform the AG yet.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And when you do that, you might as well go home, Finton.”
“Mary Margaret’s coming in at 0600, sir. I’ll wait for her.”
“If I’m not there when she gets there, tell her I’ll be in early,” Felter said.
“Yes, sir,” CWO(4) Finton said. “Break it down, White House.”
[ NINE ]
County Highway 17
Laurinburg, North Carolina
0530 7 April 1965
“Hello?”
“Mr. Withers?”
“Yeah.”
“General Hanrahan, sir.”
“I’ve been expecting your call.”
“The news is very bad, Mr. Withers,” Hanrahan said. “We have confirmation that Clarence has been killed.”
“Yeah.”
“I have some other information, Mr. Withers, that I really would not want to talk about over the telephone.”
“You want to come here?”
“Yes, sir, if that would be all right.”
“It’ll take you what, an hour and a half to get here.”
“Actually, sir, I’m calling from a motel—the Carolina—just outside Laurinburg on U.S. 401.”
“Charley Taylor’s place. It’ll take you about ten minutes.”
“We’ll see you shortly, sir,” General Hanrahan said.
Mr. Withers came down the steps from the verandah of his home when the olive-drab Chevrolet stopped on the concrete pad. He was wearing a windbreaker over a stiffly starched white shirt and gray slacks.
Hanrahan was out of the car before Tony could open the door for him. Chaplain (Lt. Col.) T. Wilson Martin and Captain Stefan Zabrewski clambered after him. A muscular Green Beret wearing the chevrons of a sergeant major got quickly out of the front seat.
“You must have got up pretty early to be here now,” Mr. Withers said.
“We came by chopper, Mr. Withers—”
“Staff car and all?” Withers asked incredulously.
“Sergeant Calzazzo drove back over last night, Mr. Withers, with Sergeant Major Tinley . . .”
“Good morning, sir,” Sergeant Major Tinley said.
“I know that face,” Mr. Withers said. “You was with Clarence in Vietnam, right?”
“Yes, sir. We were in the same A Team. I’m sorry as hell about this, Mr. Withers.”
“Yeah, we all are.”
“Delmar,” a female voice called from the verandah. “Ask the gentlemen to come inside.”
“That’s Clarence’s mother,” Delmar Withers said. “I was hoping you’d stay in bed.”
“I want to know what happened,” she said simply.
Withers waved his arm in a signal for them to go into the house.
“That’s Tin Man, Clarissa,” Withers said, pointing to Sergeant Major Tinley. “He was with Clarence in Vietnam. They was in the hospital together when they both got shot.”
“Yes, I remember,” Mrs. Withers said.
She led them through the house into the kitchen.
“Can I make breakfast?” she asked.
“No, ma’am,” Hanrahan said. “Thank you just the same.”
“Delmar told me to expect the worst news,” she said. “Is that what you’re here to tell us?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Hanrahan said. “We have confirmation that Clarence was killed.”
“The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away,” she murmured. “Praise God!”
“Amen,” Chaplain (Lt. Col.) T. Wilson Martin said. “Mrs. Withers, I’m Chaplain Martin.”
“How do you do?” she said, and gave him her hand. “What are you?”
“Excuse me?”
“We’re Presbyterian,” she said.
“I’m Presbyterian,” Martin said.
“Most of the black people around here are Baptist,” she said. “But the people who owned the place before the Civil War were Presbyterian, and we just stayed Presbyterian, afterward, Delmar’s family and mine.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Chaplain Martin said.
“Ma’am,” Sergeant Major Albert “Tin Man” Tinley said. “Maybe I’m out of line, but I knew him pretty well, and I know he would want his daddy to know he went out like a soldier.”
“How do you mean?” Mr. Withers asked.
“He took six, maybe more, of the bastards with him, and wounded a lot more.”
“That’s quite enough, Sergeant Major,” Chaplain Martin said sternly.
“It’s all right, Chaplain,” Mr. Withers said. “I can’t find much wrong with calling the bastards who killed Clarence bastards.”
“Not in front of the Reverend,” Mrs. Withers said.
“When are you going to be able to bring him home?” Mr. Withers asked. “How long is that going to take?” When Hanrahan didn’t immediately respond, Withers went on: “We are going to get him back, aren’t we?”
“We have a supply plane en route to the Congo right now,” Hanrahan said.
“That’s where he was, in the Congo?” Mrs. Withers asked.
“Yes, ma’am,” Hanrahan said. “The plane will reach the Congo tomorrow, and start back the next day, or the day after that. They’ll bring Sergeant Withers with them. And they’ll come directly to Pope Field at Fort Bragg.”