things. He wants you to be checked out yesterday in everything with a special instrument ticket to go along. And he wants us both to meet with Father Lunsford—you heard the President got him promoted to major?”
Jack nodded.
“. . . at twelve today at Bragg. I figured no problem. We’d hop in the Mohawk about nine o’clock, which would give us plenty of time to be there by noon. I also figured I could check you out in the Mohawk on the way. But then I realized I couldn’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“As of yesterday, you have an Army record of your Army flying. I can fudge a little on that. You need a minimum of four hours dual instruction before you can solo. By the time we get to Bragg, you’ll have that four hours, so I will say you soloed en route. That’s more or less honest, and we’ll have the L-19 tail number in the records . . . understand?”
Jack nodded.
“I could not get away with saying you soloed in a Mohawk,” Pappy said. “Nor do I want your records to say that on the day you soloed, you also got checked out in the Mohawk, and satisfied the cross-country IFR requirements for an instrument ticket, much less a special instrument ticket. I realized we’re going to have to do this one step at a time. From here to the Beaver, from the Beaver to the Otter, then the L-23. Somewhere along the way, you’ll get an instrument rating, and then the special instrument ticket. I have no idea how the hell we’re going to teach you how to fly rotary wing.”
“I see the problem.”
“If I was a little gruff on the phone last night, it was because I realized I was going to have to get up at oh-dark-hundred and fly all the way to Bragg in a goddamned L-19. And then back.”
“No problem, Pappy,” Jack said, enormously relieved that Pappy was pissed not at him, but over things over which he had no control.
“Of course there’s no problem,” Pappy said. “One of the things I think Miss Marjorie would like me to teach you is that what a lieutenant has to understand is that majors don’t have to explain to lieutenants why they have a hair up their ass.”
He smiled at Jack and put out his hand again.
“So congratulations again on your solo flight.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Now go untie the goddamned L-19 and we’ll be on our way.”
“Yes, sir.”
[ FIVE ]
SECRET
Central Intelligence Agency Langley, Virginia
FROM : Assistant Director For Administration
DATE: 20 December 1964 1505 GMT
SUBJECT : Guevara, Ernesto (Memorandum #3.)
TO: Mr. Sanford T. Felter
Counselor To The President
Room 637, The Executive Office Building
Washington, D.C.
By Courier
In compliance with Presidential Memorandum to The Director, Subject: “Ernesto ‘Che’ Guevara,” dated 14 December 1964, the following information is furnished:
1. (Reliability Scale Five) (From CIA, Algiers, Algeria) CIA Surveillance of SUBJECT resumed on SUBJECT and party’s landing at Algiers 0915 GMT 19 December 1964
2. (Reliability Scale Four). They were met by members of the Algerian Council of Ministers and the Cuban Ambassador and transported to residence of Cuban Ambassador.
Howard W. O’Connor
HOWARD W. O’CONNOR
SECRET
[ SIX ]
Base Operations
Pope Air Force Base, North Carolina
1135 20 December 1964
George Washington Lunsford was standing just outside the plate-glass doors to the Base Operations building when Major Pappy Hodges and Lieutenant Jack Portet walked across the tarmac from the transient parking area. He was in fatigues, and there were major’s leaves on his collar points and pinned to his green beret.
Jack, as he saluted, was not surprised at the rank insignia. Pappy was.
“Patton did that in North Africa, you know,” he said. “Considered himself promoted—pinned on a third star—before his promotion orders came down.”
“That wasn’t very nice of him, was it?” Father said. “I myself modestly waited until I had my promotion orders in my hot little hand before I pinned my major’s things on.”
“No kidding. They came down already?”
“Yesterday,” Lunsford said. “I haven’t even had time to wash them down.”
“Congratulations, Major,” Jack said.
Lunsford looked at him.
“And this newly commissioned young officer, to judge by his bare-of-any-insignia flight rompers, is carrying modesty to the extreme.”
He raised his eyebrows, then wrapped an arm affectionately around Jack.
“How the hell are you, sport? What happened to the bandaged nose?”
“It kept coming off in the shower. I never figured out what it was supposed to do, anyway.”
“Well, come to think of it, you are properly dressed for what I have in mind for you.”
“Sir?”
“Among friends, you may address me as ‘Father,’ but when we