get to Mackall, hit the ‘sir’ and ‘major’ a little heavily.”
“Yes, sir, Major,” Jack said.
“Is that where we’re going, to Mackall?” Pappy asked.
“You’re going to see our noble leader, General Hanrahan. Jack and I are going to Mackall. Is there any reason Jack can’t fly me there in the L-19?” He paused. “And frankly, Pappy, I am surprised to see the L-19. Are you on somebody’s shitlist at Rucker? I expected at least an L-23, maybe even a Mohawk.”
“It’s a long story,” Pappy said. “What’s Hanrahan want?”
“He’s going to bring you up to speed on Operation Earnest, give you some heads-up. And Felter wants to talk to you on the secure line.”
“Which means I am going to be involved up to my ass in this, right?”
“A succinct and correct, if somewhat obscene, assumption. Yes, you are. We need you, Pappy. The rear echelon is an important facet of any military operation.”
“Damn,” Pappy said. He looked thoughtfully at Jack.
“Do you think you can put the L-19 down at Mackall without killing yourself and the major?”
Jack nodded.
“If you don’t bend the bird, I could sign you off on Unprepared Fields,” Pappy said. “If you bend it, I’ll swear under oath you stole it. Okay, Father. He can fly you out there. It would save time, and I’d like to go home today.”
Lunsford didn’t reply.
“Why do I suspect you know something I don’t know?” Pappy asked.
“Hanrahan wants to pick your brains,” Lunsford said. “I hope you brought a change of undies, as that may take some time.”
“I didn’t,” Jack said. “I thought we were going to fly around the pattern at Rucker.”
“Well, when we come back from Mackall, you can buy some at the PX when you’re buying your bars,” Lunsford said.
“How do I get from here to Hanrahan?” Pappy asked.
“Hanrahan’s car and driver are outside,” Lunsford said. “I think he’s even going to buy you lunch.”
Pappy looked at both of them, and then, without a word, walked into the Base Operations building.
“Anytime you’re ready, Father,” Jack said.
“I know you were an airlines pilot,” Lunsford said. “But why was Pappy worried about you bending the L-19? How much experience do you have flying puddle jumpers?”
“Not much,” Jack said. “As a matter of fact, the first time I flew one of these all by myself was on the way down here.”
“Oh, what the hell,” Lunsford said. “Live on the edge, I always say.”
“I think I can get us back and forth to Mackall in one piece,” Jack said.
“When we get to Mackall,” Lunsford ordered as they overflew Fort Bragg en route to the “dormant, former base” twenty miles from Fort Bragg that was used for Special Forces training, “go along with whatever I say. Don’t ask questions, and don’t volunteer any information.”
“Yes, sir,” Jack said.
There was a stocky black master sergeant sitting in a jeep at the dirt airstrip when Jack landed the L-19.
Jack had been here before during his “special course” in becoming a Green Beret. He had never been inside one of the buildings then, and only when he had been put on ice at Mackall had he learned that they contained showers, cots, stoves, and refrigerators for the use of the training cadre. Trainees washed in creeks, slept on the ground, and ate as well as they could from field rations, and/or from what they could catch, kill, and cook over open fires.
The master sergeant waited until Jack had parked the airplane and was starting to tie it down before driving the jeep up and getting out.
He saluted Father.
“Those leaves look good on you, sir,” he said. “Congratulations. ”
“Thank you,” Father replied in Swahili. “I told you I wanted you guys to speak nothing but Swahili between us.”
“Sorry,” the sergeant said in Swahili.
“And on the subject of Swahili, the AG turned up this officer, who studied it in college, and may join us.” He turned to Jack. “You get that, Lieutenant?” The adjutant general’s department handled Army personnel matters.
“Yes, sir,” Jack said.
“Can you say that in Swahili?”
“Yes, sir,” Jack said in Swahili.
“Lieutenant Portet, Master Sergeant Thomas,” Father said.
“How are you, Lieutenant?” Thomas said. “I didn’t know they taught Swahili in college.”
“They do at the Florida Baptist College,” Father answered for him. “The lieutenant was studying to be a missionary in Africa when he got drafted, and decided he’d rather fly airplanes. Isn’t that so, Lieutenant?”
“Yes, sir,” Jack said.
“He had just finished flight school when the AG found him. I asked for black guys, but they sent him anyway. No offense, Lieutenant.”