an old friend. He used to fly with me at Air Simba.”
“You want to go there and bring him here?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Why not?” Pappy said. “Here’s on the way.”
“On the way to where, sir?”
“Bragg, where Felter wants you to fly Santiago on Saturday morning, just as soon as you report off leave. Okay. I’ll call out there and have them get the L-23 ready. And I’ll see you at 0700 Saturday.”
“Yes, sir.”
Hodges hung up, and Jack put the phone back in its cradle.
“Jack,” Marjorie said. “My parents expect us at the club tonight.”
“It’s only an hour or so to Hurlburt,” Jack said. “I’ll be back in plenty of time.”
“You don’t even know if your friend is there, or will want to come here,” Marjorie protested.
“He’ll come,” Jack said. “When you get us a motel room, get another one for him.”
“You’re going to stay with me,” Liza protested.
“And the Cuban can stay with us, and have some fun while you and the bride are out at the post playing Officers and Ladies. And sucking up to the brass.”
“Go to hell, Geoff,” Marjorie said.
“You want some company?” Geoff asked, ignoring her.
“Love some. Pappy gave me an L-23.” He paused. “I better call and tell him we’re coming,” Jack said, and reached for the telephone again.
Three minutes later they were gone, in the Jaguar, Geoff having told Marjorie to tell Ursula he’d be back in a couple of hours, and to put clean sheets on a bed in one of the guest rooms.
“From the look on your face, Marjorie, my love, it is apparent that you have just realized the honeymoon is over,” Liza said.
Marjorie didn’t reply.
“Some women thrive on exciting little incidents like this,” Liza said. “Where all well-laid plans are tossed out the window by a telephone call. They are called Good Army Wives. It’s a little late to ask you if you’re sure you want a life like that, but I will anyway.”
“Jack did what he thought he had to do.”
“That’s always their excuse—it has to be done.”
“Maybe you’re right,” Marjorie said.
“Of course I’m right.”
“I was talking about you breaking it off with Johnny Oliver,” Marjorie said. “Maybe that was the right thing for you to do.”
“I’m not going to be a goddamned camp follower,” Liza said. “That’s it. Period.”
“Can I borrow a car to go get Jack’s uniform?” Marjorie asked.
“Oh, hell, I’ll drive you out there.”
VII
[ ONE ]
Hurlburt U.S. Air Force Field
Mary Esther, Florida
1505 31 December 1964
“Hurlburt,” First Lieutenant Geoff Craig said into his microphone, “this is Army Six-one-niner.”
“Go ahead, Six-one-niner,” the Hurlburt tower replied.
“Six-one-niner, an L-23 aircraft, is at two thousand feet, oh, maybe three miles from your station, above the beautiful blue Gulf of Mexico. Request a straight-in approach to your Runway Zero Five.”
“Army Six-one-niner, this is a closed field.”
“Thank you, Hurlburt. We have the runway in sight.”
“Army Six-one-niner, you are denied permission to land, I say again, you are denied permission to land.”
“Thank you, Hurlburt. We will not require any services.”
“Six-one-nine, go around, I say again, go around, permission to land is denied.”
“Hurlburt, Army Six-one-niner on the ground at five past the hour.”
“Army Six-one-nine, turn left on Taxiway One-five-A and hold your position. I say again, hold on Taxiway One-five-A. You will be met.”
“Roger, Hurlburt, Six-one-niner holding on Taxiway One-five -A.”
Geoff reached in the knee pocket of his flight suit, pulled out his green beret, and put it on.
“I hope you brought yours,” he said to Jack Portet, in the left seat.
Jack nodded, took off his headset, pulled his beret out, and put it on.
“Never leave home without it,” Geoff said solemnly. “Sometimes it’s more useful than a credit card.”
Two jeeps, both painted in checkerboard black and white, one of them with a pedestal-mounted .30-caliber Browning machine gun, came racing up the taxiway.
“Make nice,” Geoff said. “We probably woke them up, and they’re liable to be pissed.”
He started to wave cheerfully at the approaching jeeps.
There were four Air Force men in the jeeps, all in fatigues, all wearing the flap-pinned-up-on-one-side, wide-brimmed hat that is the mark of the Air Force’s air commandos.
The jeeps stopped. The two air commandos in the lead jeep trained the machine gun on the L-23. An air commando first lieutenant, whose jacket bore both pilot’s and parachutist’s wings, and who had a .45 pistol slung low—cowboy style—across his hips got out of the second jeep and walked in front of the first. He had an AOD brassard on his right arm.
“Smile and wave, goddamnit,” Geoff ordered. Jack complied.