W E B Griffin - BoW 04 - The Colonels

by The Colonels(Lit)

  "Hello, Wesley. How are you?" Hanrahan said.

  "Older and fatter," Master Sergeant Wesley said. "I guess you'll both have coffee, black, to wash this down?" "Please," Hanrahan said. General Black nodded. Master Sergeant Wesley laid the tray on a coffee table before a red leather couch. General Black went to it and sat down, then motioned Hanrahan beside him.

  "Thank you, sir."

  "Have you seen Felter since you've been in Washington?" Black asked.

  "Yes, sir. I came here to see him."

  "Where'd you spend last night? With him? I was looking all over for you."

  It could have been a rebuke.

  "General, you understand I'm here on leave?" "I know why you're here," Black said.

  "Yes, sir," Hanrahan said, formally. "Major and Mrs. Felter were kind enough to put me up."

  "You're pretty close?"

  "Yes, sir. We were in Greece together."

  "I have a good deal of respect for Presidential Counselor Felter," Black said. "Did he tell you about that?"

  "Yes, sir."

  Black nodded and lifted an eight-inch-long roll to his mouth and took a delicate bite.

  "Trouble with these things is that you dribble Italian dressing on your clothes," he said. "Wcs found some old buddy in the District in the business. He sells him the rolls and the filling."

  "Yes, sir," Hanrahan said. "They're very good."

  "I have so much respect for Presidential Counselor Felter," Black went on, "that I have concluded it was a case of Presidential Counselor Felter deciding it was in the best interests of the nation and the army to develop a unique asset, not under the control of the airborne establishment, and to arrange for the appointment, DP, of an officer to develop that asset on the basis of that officer's unique qualifications, rather than because Major Felter found himself in a position where he could do an old buddy, who was about to fail twice of selection for promotion, some good."

  He raised his eyes from his submarine and met Hanrahan's eyes.

  "That opinion, Colonel, is not universally held," Black added, levelly.

  "I understand, sir," Hanrahan said.

  "The situation has been aggravated by several things I have done," Black said. "Things which coincidentally tie in with you. For one thing, I elected not to turn the development of the rocket-armed helicopter over to the air force. It is the opinion of the Chief of Staff that I erred in judgment. More important, that I made this decision not only unilaterally, which was not my privilege, but somewhat disloyally. That I went behind his back, and did something I knew he didn't want done."

  Hanrahan was aware that Black was looking at him.

  "If the general expects a comment, I'm afraid I have none to make."

  "No comment was expected," Black said. "Felter didn't mention any of this to you?"

  "You're talking about Lowell, sir?"

  Black nodded.

  "I decided that my personal annoyance with Major Lowell was not sufficient grounds to force him out of the service," Black said.

  "Additionally, I thought he was singularly qualified to keep that program on the tracks, rather than have it become yet another empire of the Cincinnati Flying Club."

  The Cincinnati Hying Club was much like the West Point Protective Association at least in the minds of those not members. The club was composed of old-time army aviators, who were not entirely unfairly accused of trying to obtain promotions and good assignments for themselves, at the expense of newcomers.

  "But when I went to Fort Rucker," General Black went on, "it was the Chief of Staff's understanding that Major Lowell's career was about to be terminated. So it is not surprising that the Chief of Staff believes my decision to retain Major Lowell in the service was another example of action on my part that was both ill-advised, unilateral, and disloyal."

  Hanrahan had no idea why Black was telling him all this, and was uncomfortable because he couldn't think of anything to say.

  "Finally," Black said, "on New Year's Eve, Mac Macmilian had a few too many drinks, and took a punch at an officer he thought was misbehaving toward Roxy. He knocked him through the railing of the balcony of the Rucker 0 club. The officer assaulted wanted him court-martialed.

  Acting unilaterally, disloyally, and perhaps ill-advisedly, I stopped that and ordered that Mac be immediately transferred. I wasn't thinking too clearly, Colonel. I thought that since Mac had so much excess energy, it would do him good to work it off running around the boondocks at Bragg. I ordered him assigned to you."

  "I see," Hanrahan said. "General, I've worked with Macmillan before. I think I can handle him."

  Black's eyes narrowed.

  "The point I had hoped to make, Colonel," he said, coldly, "is this."

  He paused. "Let me back up a little. I believe that the notion of the United States developing a force of highly trained officers and noncoms to serve as the nucleus of native forces is a sound one. I was impressed with how many German divisions were tied up in Greece and in Russia by guerrillas, and I was impressed with the whipping the Vietminh gave the French at Dien Bien Phu. I believe, in other words, in Special Forces."

  "I'm pleased to hear you say that, sir," Hanrahan said.

  "I also agree with Major Felter that you're the man to get it going and that it should not be under airborne," General Black said. "And finally, I believe but I will not entertain your questions on the subject that in the very near future it may be necessary to deploy irregular forces such as those I expect you to develop."

  That was a bolt out of the blue. Hanrahan had difficulty not asking for amplification.

  "Having established that," Black went on after a moment, "I want you to understand that you're standing all alone down there. In your position, you should have influence in high places. You're not going to have it. I can't do anything for you, for the reasons I have just given, and Felter won't be able to do you any good, because he has to keep his hole card. There will be pressure to have you relieved.

  Felter can stop that, because anybody trying it would have to go to the President and tell him his man was wrong: The only man who could do that would be the Chief of Staff, and I don't think the Chief of Staff is going to go to the President and demand that you be relieved because you persist in wearing a funny hat and are somewhat less than enthusiastic about the role of parachute troops in the army of the future. But Felter cannot use that hole card every time Triple H Howard harasses you."

  "I take the general's point," Hanrahan said.

  "I hope so, Hanrahan," Black said. He took another bite of his sandwich.

  "Colonel Hanrahan," he said. "The military attachd of the U.S. Embassy in Paris is retiring as of 1 February. You have been nominated for the position. It is a stabilized three-year assignment, and carries with it certain prerogatives. There is diplomatic status, a generous per diem, a uniform allowance, an entertainment allowance, and some other things. Would you like to go to Paris?"

  "I am perfectly satisfied with my present assignment, sir," Hanrahan said.

  "I can only presume that you know what you're doing," Black said. He extended his hand. "Thank you for coming to see me, Colonel." "Thank you for seeing me, General," Hanrahan said.

  "Apropos of nothing whatever, Hanrahan, just to satisfy my curiosity, has Special Forces appealed to our Puerto Rican troops? Do you have many Puerto Rican volunteers? Or, for that matter, any other Hispanics?"

  "I don't have any figures, sir," Hanrahan said. "I've seen wine black faces, and there are, what's the phrase, "Latin' sounding names, not many, on the resters."

  "Hmmm," the Vice Chief of Staff said. "Have a nice trip home, Colonel."

  "Thank you, sir."

  (Two) Fayetteville, North Carolina 2305 Hours, 7 January 1959

  There was no direct air service between Fayetteville and Washington.

  Hanrahan had to fly first to Atlanta, and wait there two hours for Piedmont Flight 203. When he finally arrived in Fayetteville, a Green Beret, a buck sergeant in fatigues
, was standing inside the terminal waiting for him. He saluted snappily.

  "Good evening, sir."

  "Evening," Hanrahan said, returning the salute.

  "Give me your stubs, please, sir, and I'll get your bags," the sergeant said. "The car's out in front." 1"My wife's meeting me," Hanrahan said.

  "No, sir," the buck sergeant said. "The OD called her and told her we'd be out here anyway and would pick you up."

  "Well, fine," Hanrahan said, handing the baggage checks over. "Thank you."

  There was another Beret, another buck sergeant, leaning on the highly polished fender of the staff car.

  "Good evening, sir," he said, saluting crisply, and then opening the door. "Nice flight?" "Yes, thank you," Hanrahan said. He got in the back of the car. There was a thermos of coffee, a china mug, and a copy of the semiofficial Fort Bragg newspaper, the Para Glide on the seat.

  "Who are we meeting, Sergeant?" Hanrahan asked. "Sir?" 6

  "What are you guys doing out here?" Hanrahan asked.

  "Meeting you, sir," the sergeant said.

  He was on leave, and thus not entitled to official transportation.

  They'd somehow learned when he was coming in and met him. With a thermos of coffee. He was touched.

  He picked up the Para Glide and glanced at the front page. There were two familiar faces, smiling faces, on it. General Howard's and Mac Macmillan's. Hanrahan read the headline.

  82ND A/B DIV MEDAL OF HONOR WINNER

  RETURNS TO HOME OF AIRBORNE

  Below the picture, which occupied four columns, was the story.

  It. Gen. H.H. Howard, Commanding General of the XVII Airborne Corps and Fort Bragg (left) is shown welcoming It. Col. Rudolph G.

  Macmillan back to Fort Bragg. General Howard described Col. Macmillan as one of the "legendary troopers of the 82nd Airborne Division in World War II."

  "Col. Macmillan," General Howard related, "was in the 82nd Airborne before it was officially a division. As Pathfinder Platoon Sergeant of the 508th PIR, he made every combat jump the regiment made during the war. He was given a battlefield commission during Operation Market-Basket, shortly before the action during which his exploits against overwhelming enemy forces earned him the Medal of Honor.

  "It was only after the last of his men had been killed or wounded, and his ammunition gone, when he had literally nothing left with which to fight that Macmillan fell into enemy hands," General Howard went on, "and that didn't hold him down either. He was awarded the Distinguished Service Cross for his incredibly courageous and resourceful escape from a prisoner-of-war camp."

  "Colonel Macmillan also served with great distinction in the Korean War," General Howard went on, "where he twice earned the Silver Star.

  More recently, he was invested as a Chevalier in the French Legion of following a special assignment with the 3rd Par Regiment of the French Foreign Legion at Dien Diai Phu in French Indochina. "Col. Macmillan," General Howard said, "is the parairoocer's paratrooper, an inspiration to everyone cond with Airborne, indeed to every soldier. And speaking SW everyone at the home of Airborne, it's great to have him home." Jeesus!" Hanrahan said. The sergeant turned around at the word, in time to see toss the paper aside. about that guy?" the sergeant said. "John Wayne! Is niar crap true, Colonel?"

  "Nothing is ever all true, Sergeant," Hanrahan said. "You'll shortly have a chance to judge Colonel Macmillan for yourself." "Sir?" the sergeant asked, confused. "Colonel Macmillan is being assigned to us," Hanrahan said. "It didn't say that in the paper," the sergeant said. "No," Hanrahan said, "I noticed." The other sergeant arrived with the bag and got in the front

  --Sorry it took so long, sir," he said. "Tell me, Sergeant," Hanrahan said, "do any of the stertroopers of the Special Warfare School ever fall from vutiae and visit Blood Alley?"

  The sergeant hesitated before replying.

  "Not many, Colonel," he said. "Sometimes, if they just miss a bus, they'll go to Clara's for a beer while they're s Cafe? Is that still in business?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Take us by Clara's, Sergeant," Hanrahan said. "Let's see if anybody missed the bus," The two enlisted men exchanged glances with each other. "Yes, sir," the driver said.

  Blood Alley was a street lined with bars, hockshops, Army Navy stores.

  Clara's Cafe was in the middle of the second

  The sergeant in the passenger seat jumped out and opened he door for Hanrahan.

  "You guys stay here," Hanrahan said. "I won't be a minute."

  The interior of Clara's Cafe was very dark. Smoke hung heavily in the air. There was a strong smell of disinfectant which did not quite overwhelm the sour smell of beer. It was packed tightly with soldiers, in and out of uniform.

  Three Green Beret noncoms, two sergeants first class and a master sergeant, all in their late twenties, sat hunched over beers at the bar.

  "How's it going?" Hanrahan said.

  One of the noncoms turned his head quickly, took in Hanrahan's beret, and returned his glance to his beer bottle.

  "Whadayasay?" he said.

  And then realization dawned There was a silver eagle on the Green Beret. He started to get to his feet. Hanrahan pushed him back down.

  "You guys need a ride to the post?" he asked.

  The other two Berets now looked at him. One jumped up.

  "Jesus Christ!" he said.

  "No. Hanrahan," Hanrahan said. He went on: "Anybody want a ride to the post?" When there was no response, Hanrahan said: "It's a suggestion, not an order. I just happened to be in the neighborhood..

  "We missed the bus by five minutes, Colonel."

  "Well, if you want a ride, you're welcome," he said. He turned and began to push his way through the crowd. The three sergeants straightened their berets and tugged at the skirts of their tunics and followed him outside.

  An MP jeep had nosed in before the staff car. Both white hatted MPs were at the driver's window of the staff car.

  One of them spotted Hanrahan and nudged his partner. Then he saluted, trying to conceal his surprise at seeing a full bird colonel coming out of Clara's Cafe.

  "Good evening, sir!" he barked. "May we be of assistance to the colonel, sir?"

  "Everything's under control, thank you," Hanrahan said. He got in the back of the staff car. The three sergeants came out of Clara's. Two of them got in the back with Hanrahan, the third in the front.

  The staff car drove off.

  There were giggles in the front seat.

  "That's a private joke?" Hanrahan asked.

  The giggles stopped. There was silence for a moment, andtben the driver said: "Colonel, what the one MP said was, May I see your trip ticket, please?" and what the other one imid, was, "We got your ass for sure."

  "Didn't you tell him I was inside?" Hanrahan asked. "No, sir, Colonel," the driver said. "What I did was take duty time finding the trip ticket. He just got finished saying, What did you do, steal the staff car?" when you came out."

  ""May we be of assistance to the colonel, sir?"

  "the other ,ugeant mimicked.

  "Have you got something against those two personally?" Hanrahan asked.

  "Or don't you like MPs generally?"

  "I don't like MPs," the sergeant said, turning on the seat to Aook at Hanrahan. "But they've got it in for us. All they have todoisseetheberet, and they wanttoseeyourpassand ID. Or your trip ticket, like now." "Andmaybe you're paranoid," Hanrahan said. "Colonel," one of the sergeants said, "maybe I'm bombed and shouldn't run off at the mouth..

  "So don't," another of the sergeants said.

  "What those bastards do," the first sergeant went on, "when they see you in the airport, is wait until they call the plane, and ibm they ask for your orders and ID, and they study it long enough so that you miss the plane."

  "What I think," the third sergeant said, somewhat thickly, "is that that bastard Triple H told them to lean on us. Anybody in a beret is fair fucking game for imaginative chickenshit." "I'm sure," Hanrahan said, coldly,
"that you're mistaken, sergeant."

  "Yes, sir," the sergeant said, quickly. "Sorry, sir."

  "While I am running off at the mouth, sir," the first sergeant said, "what were you doing in Clara's? Looking for us? If you don't mind me asking?"

  "I was just curious to see if it had changed," Hanrahan said.

  "I used to go to Clara's years ago." - "I thought maybe you were looking for us," the sergeant said. The word is that we're encouraged not to go there." - "No," Hanrahan said. "I was just curious to see it again, and once I was there, I thought you could use a ride." The last time he had been in Clara's Cafe, Colonel Paul T. Hanrahan had been a second lieutenant and junior officer of the day. He had gone there with the Military Police when word had come that some crazy bastards from the 508th Pm had gone ape shit A push and shove had turned into an all-out braw] which saw a half dozen soldiers hospitalized. The victors still inside Clara's Cafe when Hanrahan got there, holding MP reinforcements and the Fayetteville Police Departmet with thrown whiskey bottles and whatever else they could pick up or tear from the walls.