Special Ops - By W.E.B. Griffin Page 0,8

at Quarters #1 at 0600 for breakfast.

Bellmon knew the chief of staff—both were from Army families, both were West Pointers, and both of their fathers had also worn the stars of general officers—but this was Washington, the Pentagon, and there were a large number of major generals around, very few of whom were ever invited to take breakfast with the chief of staff at his quarters.

Bellmon, who commanded the Army Aviation Center at Fort Rucker, Alabama, had flown to Washington early the previous morning to confer with the deputy chief of staff for operations (known as Dee Cee Ess Ops.). DCSOPS was a three-star, and also a West Pointer, the son of a general officer, and an old acquaintance, but he had not invited Bellmon to his quarters.

“I wonder what the hell that’s all about?” Bellmon had asked, not expecting an answer. “Okay, call Rucker, and tell them we’ll be back as soon as we can tomorrow.”

He had things to do at Rucker, but it had never entered his mind to decline the invitation.

“There’s something about ham and eggs,” the chief of staff said. “I don’t know what the hell it is, but if you take a slice of baked ham, fry it a little in ham fat, and then fry eggs in the same fat and the same pan . . .”

“Yes, sir,” General Bellmon said.

The chief carefully sliced another ham steak from the baked ham and laid it on a plate beside the first.

Bellmon poured a cup of coffee for himself, and was idly stirring it when another man entered the kitchen. Without thinking about it, Bellmon came almost to attention. The senior uniformed member of the Armed Forces of the United States had just walked into the kitchen.

“Good morning,” the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff said.

Jesus, Bellmon thought, did the Chairman forget to shave, or has he been up all night?

“You two know each other, right?” the chief said.

“We’ve met,” the Chairman said, putting out his hand. “Good to see you again, Bellmon.”

“Good morning, Admiral,” Bellmon said.

“I can use some of that,” the Chairman said, indicating Bellmon’s mug of coffee, “although God knows I’ve used up my month’s allocation of caffeine in the last eight hours.”

The Chairman took a sip and then raised the mug to Bellmon.

“Thank you,” he said. He met Bellmon’s eyes. “I spent the night with the President,” he said. “Would you be surprised, Bellmon, to hear that at midnight, Washington time, a battalion of Belgian paratroops was dropped by USAF C-130s on Stanleyville? ”

“How did it go?” the chief asked as he put ham fat in a large cast-iron frying pan.

“The Simbas made good on their promise to start executing the Europeans the moment they saw a parachute,” the Chairman said. “But the Belgian paras lived up to their reputation: They took the city in less than two hours, and the Europeans that are left are already either in Léopoldville, or on their way.”

He looked at Bellmon again.

“You don’t seem overwhelmed by surprise, General,” he said.

“I expected that some action would be taken, sir.”

“You’re telling me you never heard of Operation Dragon Rouge, is that it?”

“No, sir. I’ve heard of it.”

“Your name is not on the list of those cleared for Top Secret-Dragon Rouge,” the Chairman said. “Who brought you into the picture, your friend Colonel Sanford T. Felter?”

“No, sir.”

“Do you think that Colonel Felter would be surprised if he heard that you heard about Dragon Rouge?”

“No, sir, I don’t think he would be.”

“May I infer that the Colonel arranged for you to be brought in on Dragon Rouge?”

“Hey, Charley,” the chief said. “You promised this was supposed to be friendly.”

“So I did. I apologize to both of you.”

“How do you like your eggs, Charley?” the chief asked. “Your choices are up, over, or scrambled.”

“Up, but no slime, please,” the Chairman said.

The chief took two fried eggs from the cast-iron flying pan and laid them atop a ham steak and handed the plate to the Chairman.

“Bob?” the chief asked.

Inasmuch as I suspect my ass is in a crack, I don’t really want any eggs, thank you very much. But I can’t say that, can I?

“Up is fine with me, General,” he said.

The chief, a moment later, laid two more eggs on a ham slice and handed it to Bellmon, who, seeing no other possible action on his part, sat down at the kitchen table beside the Chairman.

“This isn’t half bad, Bob,” the Chairman said.

“Not bad, my ass,” the chief said as