“I’m not half through with this one,” Marjorie said.
“But you don’t mind if I do, right?” Liza said, and went to the counter to fix herself another drink.
“Not so long as you don’t get plastered and give Allan one with gin in it,” Marjorie said, and then, very softly. “Please, Liza?”
Liza didn’t reply until she had made herself a fresh drink and walked up to Marjorie.
“It would be understood that I wouldn’t try to talk to the sonofabitch, right? And that nobody tries ‘to fix things’?”
“Deal,” Marjorie said.
“Okay, then. Tell me all the giddy details.”
[ TWO ]
Flight Planning
Base Operations
Pope Air Force Base, North Carolina
0730 21 December 1964
“You check the weather, Lieutenant?” Major Pappy Hodges said when he walked up to Jack, who was laying out an IFR course to return to Fort Rucker.
“Yes, sir.”
“And?”
“Couldn’t be any better, sir,” Jack said.
“What is that you’re doing, Lieutenant?”
“Preparing an IFR flight plan for your approval, sir.”
“Usually, when I’m going from here to Rucker, I head catty-cornered across South Carolina until I find Aiken or North Augusta, or maybe Bamberg for a piss and fuel stop, then cut across Georgia to Fort Benning, and then fly down the river until I start recognizing the local area around Rucker. Do you think you could do that without flying us into the ground?”
“Yes, sir, I think I can handle that.”
“Doing it that way will be quicker than going IFR, so file a VFR to Bamberg,” Hodges ordered. “You can change it en route, if we’re closer to North Augusta.”
“Yes, sir.”
“If I didn’t mention this before, Lieutenant Portet, you have successfully completed your check ride in cross-country flight using instrument flight rules.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“And since you came back from the boonies, you have also successfully completed your check ride in landing on unimproved strips.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“You see anything interesting out there?”
Jack hesitated.
“You can tell me, Lieutenant,” Hodges said. “As I am now, goddamn it, possessed of a Top Secret/Earnest security clearance.”
“Father’s training a dozen or so guys, black guys, out there to go to the Congo. A couple of them speak pretty good Swahili.”
“Felter’s fucking him, too, after what he went through, to get him involved over there again so soon.”
“I don’t think he minds,” Jack said. “He seemed happy doing what he was doing. And Jesus, did I get a lesson in leadership.”
“Meaning what?”
“All these guys are Green Berets, tough and smart, and here comes a honky airplane driver.”
“That must have been interesting,” Pappy said, smiling.
“By the time Father was through with them, he had them believing I was John Wayne, and the best thing that happened to them this year. Christ, it was masterful!”
“Just so long as you don’t start believing it,” Pappy said. Then he added, thoughtfully, “There’s a very few guys—a very few— around who are natural leaders. Father’s one of them.”
“Yeah,” Jack said, and took a chance. “You learn anything interesting? ”
“You’re not supposed to ask questions, Lieutenant, you know that.”
“Sorry, sir.”
“Felter’s going to Germany, but he’ll be back in time for your wedding,” Pappy said. “And as soon as I can do it, I’m to get you checked out in the L-23. Then you and I are going to go out to Wichita, Kansas, and pick one up from the factory. We’ll ferry it back to Rucker, where it will be equipped with the navigation equipment—and maybe auxiliary fuel tanks—necessary for a flight to Buenos Aires, Argentina, and subsequent service in what Felter calls ‘the Southern Cone of South America.’ ”
“Buenos Aires? What the hell is that all about?”
“You’re not supposed to ask questions, Pappy, you know that,” Pappy said, in a perfect mimicry of Felter’s New York accent.
Jack smiled at him.
“Craig Lowell’s probably involved in this somehow,” Pappy said. “He’s going to Germany with Felter.” He paused, then, making it clear the subject of the their conversation had changed, asked, “I don’t suppose you have any Beaver time, do you, Jack?”
“I’ve got about eight hours in one,” Jack replied. "DeHavilland really tried to sell them in Africa; they loaned us one for two weeks, even paid for the fuel. They’re great little airplanes, but the distances in the Congo didn’t make them practical for us.”
“That’s next on your agenda,” Pappy said. “When we get to Rucker, I’ll give you an hour or so in ours, then arrange for someone to give you a check ride in the morning. Then from the Beaver to the Otter, and then the L-23.”