someplace where the horses might be taken to be fed and watered and my men might take a well-deserved respite?”
Roosevelt answered. “There’s a large corral down the street by the livery stable. Fresh remounts are awaiting you there. This lovely lady, in conjunction with the women of the town, has organized a fine repast for you and your men. Then, I’m afraid, in order to take advantage of the darkness, as our Indian friends might, it will be necessary to remount and be on our way in comparatively short order.” Roosevelt drew his watch from the pocket of his vest. “Will forty-five minutes be adequate to your needs, Lieutenant?”
“Most adequate, Colonel Roosevelt. And, now, sir, if you will excuse me, I must see to certain matters concerning my troop.” Again Lieutenant Easley saluted, bowed slightly to Ellen, then began issuing orders to his appropriately grizzled-looking platoon sergeant, the man looking for all the world like a central-casting version of a youthful Victor McLaglen as he had appeared in Gunga Din.
All the while, Clarence Jones had been noting the near-perfect shine on the lieutenant’s boots under the thin coating of yellow trail dust, the gleaming buckle of the shavetail’s pistol belt. Clarence found himself smiling. When he’d stood inspection in the Air Force in various bases stateside and overseas, never quite having mastered the aura of spit and polish, he’d more than once been accused of shining his shoes with a Hershey bar and a brick.
To a man, despite the trail dust, the troopers under Lieutenant Easley’s command had the look of the proud professional. Just looking at Second Platoon, Company B of the Seventh was almost enough to make a man enlist— almost . . .
Six blue-shirted, khaki-trousered, campaign-hatted men stood awkwardly at ease beside the lamplit main counter of “Jack Naile—General Merchandise” while Theodore Roosevelt, changed into sturdy faded-brown trail clothes, outlined what, in fact, they had volunteered for. “I spoke with your Lieutenant Easley. More to the point, I spoke with Sergeant Goldberg. I wanted the best men Second Platoon, B Company of the Seventh had to offer. Supposedly, you men are it.
“So I’ll get right to the point with no more shilly-shallying around.” In the reddish-yellow glow of the oil lamps, there seemed almost a demonic determination in Roosevelt’s hard-fixed eyes behind the omni-present spectacles. “You will see and hear and do things tonight which you must never reveal to anyone besides those of us in this room, and the President of the United States, of course. This is, perhaps, the most secret mission, as well as the most important, in the brief history of these United States. Should it fail, gentlemen, there might well be no United States. I don’t have to ask if I make myself clear.
“Therefore, pay close attention to Mr. Naile, this gentleman standing beside me whom you have all met.”
Jack, feeling somewhat awkward as a civilian telling six seasoned soldiers their duty, suppressed that feeling as well as he could. Clearing his throat once, he sat down on one of the stools and said nothing for a moment, looking each man eye-to-eye in turn. Then, from the counter beside him, he whisked away the saddle blanket covering one of the submachine guns. “This is called a Heckler & Koch MP-5 SD-3. It is a submachine gun, meaning that it is a pistol caliber weapon capable of multiple shots with one pull of the trigger. This particular firearm magazines thirty rounds between reloadings. It hasn’t been invented yet, of course, and won’t be for many decades to come. It is from the future. That’s where I’m from, as well as my wife, Ellen,” and Jack gestured toward her, “my son, David—the dapper-looking young guy over there—and my nephew, Clarence—that tall gentleman with the drooping mustache—and some others, as well—my daughter, Elizabeth, Clarence’s wife, Peggy—both of whom helped with getting you fellows fed—and one man in particular, that fellow who just joined us.” Jack pointed to Alan. Rather than trying to explain that Alan was, however unlikely, his great-great-grandson, Jack simply said, “He’s also a close relative.
“We will have a mission unlike any other, gentlemen. It is simply this. After Second Platoon, B Company of the Seventh successfully overcomes a heavily armed force with superior weapons such as this submachine gun and things well beyond its capabilities, the six of you will accompany Alan and me. And, of course, albeit Colonel Roosevelt had wished to be in on any action we might encounter, I