W E B Griffin - BoW 04 - The Colonels

by The Colonels(Lit)

  "And you go with winners, right, Mac?" Macmillan shrugged and nodded. "OK," Hanrahan said. "I appreciate the honesty, Mac." "You're entitled," Mac said. "We go back a long way."

  "Take a couple of days off to get settled, Mac," Hanrahan said. "A week, if you need it. By the time you report back in, I'll have figured out some way to keep you out of the line of fire." Jesus, Macmillan thought. Out of one fucking frying pan right into another. What afucking choice he asked me to make. I'm up to my ears in crap no matter what I do.

  They looked at each other a moment. Then Macmillan shrugged his shoulders and threw up his hands helplessly.

  Then he walked out of Hanrahan's office.

  He stopped at the sergeant major's desk.

  "You got any friends at quartermaster clothing sales?" he asked.

  "What does the colonel need?"

  "The colonel needs a set of tailored fatigues yesterday," Macmillan said. "I haven't worn fatigues in years."

  Sergeant Major Taylor dialed a number from memory, identified himself, and told the person he called that a Lieutenant Colonel Macmillan would be in to see him, and would appreciate whatever he could do for him.

  "Thanks," Macmillan said. "And now I need somebody to take me back to my car."

  Sergeant Major Taylor snapped his fingers, loudly, like a rifle shot. A buck sergeant appeared a moment later at the door. ""Take the colonel where he needs to go," Sergeant Major Taylor said.

  When he heard the sound of the jeep engine starting, Sergeant Major Taylor went into Colonel Hanrahan's office.

  "Colonel Macmillan will report back within the week," Colonel Hanrahan said. "When he is present for duty, put him on Distribution List

  "A."

  There were several distribution lists at the Special Warfare School.

  Distribution List "A" included everybody. Distribution Lists "B" and "C" were shorter. "B" listed the officers whom Hanrahan partially trusted, and "C" was limited to those whom he believed could be.

  trusted absolutely not to pass on to anyone what they knew about Hanrahan's plans.

  "Just

  "A," sir?" "I'm afraid so," Hanrahan said.

  "I'm sorry to hear that, Colonel," Sergeant Major Taylor said.

  "Me, too, Taylor," Hanranah said. "But I guess Mac figured he got where he is by going with winners, and now was not the time to change tactics."

  Taylor backed out of Hanrahan's office.

  "What?" Hanrahan said.

  An hour later, he was back, knocking at the frame.

  "We've got a Green Beret officer out here, Colonel," he said. "He says he's two days A. W.O. L. reporting in."

  "Oh, Jesus, that's all I need. Can't he see the exec?"

  "He insists on reporting to the colonel, sir."

  "Well, send him in," Hanrahan said, tiredly.

  The officer who came into the office was wearing fatigues. They appeared brand new. He marched to within three feet of Hanrahan's desk and saluted crisply.

  "Lieutenant Colonel Macmillan, Rudolph G." sir," he barked.

  "Reporting himself two days A. W.O. L. reporting for duty, sir. No excuse, sir." - - Hanrahan returned the salute. Are you sure, Mac?" he said.

  "No excuse, sir," Macmillan said.

  "You know what I mean," Hanrahan said.

  "Begging the colonel's pardon, sir, I am still somewhat unsure of the beret. It makes me feel like a girl scout, sir."

  "I'm sure, Colonel, that you will grow used to it in time," Hanrahan said. "Sergeant Major?"

  "Sir?"

  "See that Colonel Macmillan is placed on Distribution List

  "C'

  "Yes, sir."

  (One) Laird Army Airfield Fort Rucker, Alabama 1810 Hours, 18 January 1959

  Roxy Macmillan smiled fondly at Craig W. Lowell, who was loudly and enthusiastically singing along with George London and the Vienna Philharmonic the sextet from Donizetti's Lucia di Lammermoor.

  The music was cut off abruptly.

  "Commander One Five, Laird." The voice of the Laird Army Airfield control tower came over the speakers mounted in the ceiling of the Aero Coinniander's cockpit. It was Lowell's newest gadget from Aircraft Radio Corporation. When there was no ground-to-air or air-to air communication, the speakers played music from an 8-track tape player.

  The chairman of the board of Craig, Powell, Kenyon and Dawes, the investment bankers, had telephoned Major Lowell the previous Thursday.

  "I thought you would like to know that we just bought fifty thousand shares of Aircraft Radio Corporation," Porter Craig, Craig Lowell's cousin, announced.

  "Really?" "I thought it a sound move," Porter Craig said. "If they're sending everybody with an airplane bills like the one they sent me, they're going to be able to pay a hundred percent dividend."

  "I think you're trying to tell me something, Porter."

  "Thirty-six thousand odd dollars," Porter Craig said. "What the hell is "weather avoidance radar'?"

  "It tells you if there are storm clouds ahead," Lowell said. "What is known to the cognoscenti as a "weather disturbance."

  "You could, you know, charter a number of airplanes for just what this latest bill represents."

  "We all have our toys, Porter," Craig Lowell replied. "You have your mistress, and I have mine. Mine has wings."

  "I don't have a mistress!" Porter Craig protested indignantly, before he realized that his leg was being pulled.

  "Pity," Lowell said, laughing.

  "The reason I called, Craig..."

  "Was because you hadn't heard from me, and were worried." "Your butler told me you are now stationed in Alabama," Porter Craig said.

  "On that subject, some friends will be in the Georgetown place until the spring."

  "So your butler told me."

  "Is that why you called?" Lowell asked.

  "No," Porter Craig said. "Actually, it's not... and hear me out before you start arguing with me..

  "All right," Lowell said, reasonably. "You're familiar with Haymann Freres?"

  "Haymaun Freres?" Lowell asked, as if greatly puzzled. "For God's sake," Porter Craig said, in exasperation. "It's our French bank. I mean to say, we own it." "Oh," Lowell said, "that Haymann Freres."

  "Yes, that Haymann Freres. And we have on the board a man..." -- "The Baron de Pildet?" Lowell interrupted.

  There was a pause. Porter Craig was confused.

  "You know the name?" "He's my roommate's uncle, actually," Lowell said. There was another pause.

  "I'll be damned," Porter Craig said, finally. "I normally can't stand frogs," Lowell said. "But I thought kwould be good for the firm if I was nice to him."

  "Why is it that I don't believe that?"

  "He's a friend of friends of mine," Lowell said. "Including -the people who will be using the place in Georgetown."

  "It would be a business use of your airplane, which is what IRS would like to hear, if you brought him to New York for a -*eekend, Craig."

  "I'li ask him," Lowell said. "is there anything I can do for you, Craig?"

  "Pay Aircraft Radio," Lowell said. "Say hello to your family."

  "Bring him to New York, Craig," Porter said.

  "Good-bye, Porter. Thank you for calling."

  "Good to talk to you," Porter Craig said. The line went dead.

  "Go ahead, Laird," Lowell said to the microphone mounted on a thin boom in front of his lips.

  "In-flight advisory, One Five. Ground transportation will be available at the Board parking area."

  "Roger, Laird," Lowell said. "Thank you. I should be over the outer marker in a couple of minutes. One Five clear."

  He turned to Roxy Macmillan in the copilot's seat beside -him. "One of your kids meeting us?" he asked.

  "I don't think so," Roxy said.

  He shrugged his shoulders and tapped a switch on the wheel. George London's voice and the Vienna Philharmonic returned to the cockpit.

  He saw Laird Field before the needles on the radio direction finder reversed.
>
  "Laird, Commander One Five," he said. "Two miles north at' fifteen hundred. I have the field in sight. Permission for a straight-in approach to three eight and landing, please."

  "One Five, you are cleared for a straight-in to three eight. You are number one after the Beaver on final. The winds are negligible from the north. The altimeter is two niner niner niner." "I have the Beaver in sight," Lowell said.

  He reached forward and eased back on the throttles. There was the sound of hydraulics as the flaps came out of the wing, and a moment later as the wheels dropped down and locked. The Commander touched down a hundred feet past the end of the runway. The engine changed pitch as he reversed the props.

  "Laird, One Five on the ground at ten past the hour," he said into the microphone. "Taxi instructions to the Board area, please."

  "One Five, take taxiway three north to the Board area."

  "Understand three north," Lowell said. Now moving slow enough down the runway to apply the brakes, he slowed and then turned off the runway.

  "Well, my lovely, we cheated death again," he said, leering at Roxy.

  She shook her head and smiled at him.

  The glistening Aero Commander rolled down the taxiway, first past quadruple lines of Cessna L-19s, single-engine observation aircraft also used for primary flight training, then past rows of high-winged De Havilland L-20 "Beavers," and then past a half dozen Beechcraft L-23D "Twin Bonanzas." And then past two Aero Commanders, part of the school fleet. A quarter mile beyond, they came to the Army Aviation Board's parking area. There were thirty aircraft of all kinds, including two Sikorsky H- 19s in the process of being fitted with rocket launchers.

  And the black H-19 Lowell had "borrowed" from the school fleet, which was in the process of being restored to the condition it had been in before Lowell had "borrowed" it.

  Lowell had been unable to convince Bill Roberts that it would be simpler to keep the one they had, rather than do a double conversion.

  "The less I hear about the school's H-19, Lowell, the better. All I want to know about it ever again is your report that it has been restored to them in the condition in which you "found' it."

  Roberts had also made it clear that he wanted no paint scheme on the two H- 19s being converted except what was provided for in the regulations. The official test aircraft for the. helicopter progran would not be painted black, wouldn't labeled

  "Big Bad Bird," and would not feature a on of Woody Woodpecker throwing beer bottles. couple of enlisted men, ground handlers, came out of 4 Operations and showed him where to park. As he turned into line, he saw the Cadillac Eldorado parked behind and Operations building. "he said to Roxy. There already?" she asked, surprised. Mci-quite forty-eight hours before, they had dropped Captain in-Philippe Jannier at Washington National Airport. He had

  Led on bringing Lowell's car from Washington. He was only a superb driver, he announced, but he welcomed the opportunity the drive would give him to see the country. Lowell and Roxy Macmillan had then flown on to Fort Bragg. Mac, who had originally called Roxy to tell her that he was being assigned quarters on the post, had called again to announce that "something had happened," and they would have to buy a house. Then a week later he'd called again to announce he'd found the house they needed, and wanted her to come look at it and sign the papers. It would kill three birds with one stone, Lowell had announced when he volunteered to fly Roxy to Bragg: He could drop Jannier in Washington to pick up his car, get Roxy to Bragg to see the house, and have a chance to see Paul Hanrahan. He'd learned from Paul Hanrahan why the on-post quarters originally offered Macmillan had become "unavailable." Mac was no longer the hero returned to airborne, but another disloyal sonofahitch like Hanrahan. It was Lowell's judgment that Hanrahan was fighting a battle that could not be won, and he was relieved that he had turned down Hanrahan's offer to come to Special Forces. Hanrahan had not repeated the offer, which meant that he thought he was fighting a losing battle, too, and didn't want to drag anyone else down with him.

  Captain Jean-Philippe Jannier walked up to the Aero Commander as Lowell checked the tie-down ropes. He was wearing what must be, Lowell thought, a genuine Andalusian shepherd's jacket, the furry side out.

  His shirt was open most of the way to his navel, and he had a silk scarf knotted around his neck. He was wearing baggy corduroy trousers and what looked like canvas shoes. He held a long, black cigar in his hand. He was, Lowell thought, a handsome, elegant sonofabitch.

  Jannier took Roxy's outstretched hand, bent over it, and kissed it.

  "And did he behave, Roxy, when he had you alone in the airplane?"

  "How did you get back so quick?" Roxy asked, avoiding. the question.

  "Tres rapidement," Jannier said. "I have to have that car, or one exactly like it, perhaps in yellow."

  "You're lucky you didn't go to jail," Lowell said, chuckling. "There was an incident in Virginia," Jannier said. "Almost on the Tennessee border... Did I say that right, "Tennessee'?"

  "You got pinched," Roxy announced. "Pinched?" Jannier asked. The term was new to him. "Arrested," Lowell provided, as they walked to the Eldorado. "I was detained," Jannier said. "Until we found an officer who knew what a diplomatic passport meant." "You've got a diplomatic passport?" Lowell asked.

  "Of course," Jannier said.

  "What's that mean?" Roxy asked.

  "It means he can thumb his nose at traffic cops," Lowell said. "He's immune to American law."

  "You mean it, don't you?" she asked. "How does that work?"

  "Not the way he's working it," Lowell said. "How fast were you going?"

  "One hundred and ten," Jannier said, proudly. "They put up a roadblock on the highway. I felt like John Dillinger."

  "Christ," Lowell chuckled.

  "And he got away with it?" Roxy asked.

  "I am here," Jannier said, simply. "With the apologies of the Virginia State Police."

  "That stinks," Roxy announced.

  "The world stinks," Lowell said. "Haven't you noticed?" He got behind the wheel of the Cadillac and started the engine.

  "Do they sell these in Alabama?" Jannier asked, as he slid in beside Roxy. "Or are they special order?" "I'll sell you this one," Lowell said.

  "Done," Jannier said, and reached over Roxy to offer his hand.

  "He didn't tell you how much," Roxy said.

  "We are gentlemen," Jannier said. "He will make me pay what it is worth."

  "As a gentleman," Lowell said, "there is something I must tell you about these cars." is?"

  "They are also admired by les maquereaux," Lowell said. "?fr fact, you can't really consider yourself a maquereau in standing unless you own one." ,annier laughed.

  "What's a what you said?" Roxy Macmillan asked. "In the American patois," Lowell said, "they are known as a pimp-mobile."

  Jannier laughed heartily.

  "Then I absolutely have to have it," he said.

  "Is what you said the French word for... that?" Roxy asked.

  "It's a perfectly proper word, Roxy," Lowell said. "It's share we get the word for "mackerel."

  "The fish?" she asked, in disbelief.

  "It's true," Lowell said. "The male mackerel provides girl Oshesto other boy fishes."

  "I don't believe that," she said, firmly. - "It's true, it's true," Jannier said, laughing. "I'm going to change the subject," Roxy said.

  "To something safe."

  "Like what?"

  "Like food, and I don't mean fish. Stop by the A&P in Ozark, Craig, and I'll get us some steaks." "We are invited for steaks," Jannier said.

  "We are?" Roxy asked.

  "Chez Parker," Jannier said. "They left a message at the motel to call, and when I called, Madame Parker insisted that we all come."

  "Amazing what kissing a woman's hand and calling her

  "Madame' will get you," Lowell said.

  "She didn't have to do that," Roxy said.

  "It'll make Phil happy," Lowell said. "His job is driving him nuts."

&nbs
p; There was confirmation of that when they got to the Parker apartment at the hospital. Phil Parker had obviously been at the bottle; and Antoinette Parker took Lowell aside and, as a close friend, gave him hell for not asking Phil to fly along with them.