of the room.”
“Sir?” Bobby said.
“See if you can explain what I thought was a simple command to him, will you, Captain?”
Oliver chuckled.
“Do it, Bobby,” he said.
Lowell turned to the others he was standing with.
“I have a standing rule at official dinners,” he explained, “to sit as close to the back of the room, and the exit, as possible.”
There was laughter, some genuine, some a little nervous. Bobby, visibly uncomfortable, started to comply with his orders.
Major General Bellmon stood up and looked around the room. Some conversation stopped, but by no means all of it. Bellmon tapped on an empty wine bottle with the handle of a knife until the room fell silent.
“You all have met General Hanrahan,” he said. “And I know that many of you are wondering what he’s doing here.”
He gave that a moment to sink in, and for a scattering of applause to die down.
“One rumor I heard going around is that they ran out of rattlesnakes for General Hanrahan’s Green Berets to eat in North Carolina, and that he’s here to talk me out of some of ours,” Bellmon went on.
There came the expected laughter.
“That’s not true, of course,” Bellmon said. “The truth is that this party has very strong personal meaning for Mrs. Bellmon and myself. It’s become, for us, a family affair, and as General Hanrahan is a longtime friend of the family, he belongs here with us.”
There was some applause.
“During the past year, as you all know,” Bellmon went on, “Captain John S. Oliver has had the toughest job on the post— he’s been my aide-de-camp. When General Hanrahan unfailingly mentioned Captain Oliver’s all-around competence and high intelligence, I simply chalked that up as Captain Oliver’s due. For he has indeed been a fine aide, and I like to think a friend, too. We will all miss him. The command group, my family, everybody on the post.”
There was a round of applause and heads turned, looking for him.
“As those of you who have been around a couple of years know, there’s sort of a new custom: At this Christmas Dinner, with everybody gathered together, I announce my departing aide’s new assignment. There are many places in the Army where an officer of Captain Oliver’s experience, devotion to duty, and extraordinary competence could be assigned. I made several recommendations along that line. Captain Oliver, will you please stand up?”
Oliver stood up.
“Attention to orders,” Bellmon said, and read from a sheet of paper: " ’Headquarters, Department of the Army, 29 November 1964. General Order 297, Paragraph 23. Captain John S. Oliver, Armor, is relieved of present assignment and transferred to Headquarters, John F. Kennedy Center for Special Warfare, Fort Bragg, N.C., effective 1 January 1965.’ ”
There was a scattering of applause, several audible snorts.
“General Hanrahan tells me that you will be assigned as the aviation officer on his special staff,” Bellmon went on. “And I’m sure you will serve him as well and faithfully as you have served me, and that he will in time become as fond of you as is the Bellmon family.”
There was more applause.
“Now if you’ll come up here, Johnny, we have a few little things to prepare you for your new assignment. There’s a snakebite kit, and a Bowie knife, and an earring, and a book entitled 101 Tasty Rattlesnake Recipes.”
Captain Johnny Oliver looked at Lieutenant Colonel Craig W. Lowell.
“He really is still pissed, isn’t he?” Lowell said softly.
Oliver looked at him a moment, then started walking toward the head table.
General Hanrahan got to his feet as Oliver approached the head table. He smiled and handed Oliver a green beret.
“Put it on, Johnny,” Mrs. Barbara Bellmon said. Oliver did so, and turned to face the room.
There was applause, in which General Bellmon joined. But when Oliver looked at him, there was no laughter in his eyes.
“I think I should point out that Captain Oliver is entitled to the Green Beret,” Bellmon said. “He earned it the hard way, by on-the -job training. He was shot down in Vietnam, flying a D-Model Huey, while trying to extract a Special Forces A Team behind the enemy’s lines. Because the A Team commander was rather badly wounded, Oliver assumed command and led the team, on foot, through enemy-held territory to safety. His valor earned him the Silver Star and the Combat Infantry Badge.
“General Hanrahan and Special Forces think of him as one of their own, but, whether General Hanrahan likes it or not, I will— Army Aviators will—continue to regard him as one