W E B Griffin - BoW 04 - The Colonels

by The Colonels(Lit)

  "I don't believe you know these gentlemen, do you, Craig?" von Greiffenberg said. "General Ford, General Nesbit, may I present my son-in-law, Major Lowell?"

  "We have mutual friends, Major," General Ford said, in English, as he offered his hand. "Colonel Hanrahan and Lieutenant Colonel Felter."

  "Lieutenant Colonel Felter, sir?" Lowell asked.

  "A couple of weeks ago," General Ford said.

  "The best friend," Lowell said, dryly, "is always the last to know."

  General Ford wondered if there wasn't a touch of bitterness in Lowell.

  He knew a good deal about Major Craig W. Lowell. When he'd examined the dossier on Generalmajor Graf von Greiffenberg, he had found it fascinating that the Generalmajor, (who had been one of the very few members of the Colonel Graf von Stauffenberg plot to assassinate Hitler to go undetected and to survive the war) had an American officer for a son-in-law. He had looked into it.

  The first information he'd come up with had been promising. Lowell was an aviator and a very rich man. That had seemed to indicate that he was sort of a playboy, who, not needing to earn a living, found it amusing to be a soldier and a flyboy. Just the sort of man, in other words, that he could arrange to have assigned to Germany to be close to his father-inlaw. He probably wouldn't learn much from the close-mouthed Graf. But he just might. Getting Lowell close to the Graf was worth whatever effort it might require.

  But then he'd learned more about Craig W. Lowell, and why he was an aviator. Lowell had performed brilliantly as a tank force commander in Korea; his performance had earned him a Distinguished Service Cross and a major's gold leaf at twenty four And then he'd had a mn-in with a general officer, ostensibly for something silly, taking a visiting movie actress to the front line, but actually for standing up in a court-martial in defense of a black officer accused of shooting down a cowardly infantry officer. The result had been the same, Paul Hanrahan had told him: an efficiency report accusing him of immaturity, of lacking the qualities required of a commanding officer.

  And Mr. Spook himself, Presidential Counselor (and then Major) Sanford T. Felter, had told General Ford that in his opinion the assignment of Major Lowell to a position where he "could keep an eye on von Greiffenberg" would be "ill advised."

  "I'd actually hoped, Major, that you would talk to him. Perhaps appeal to his sense of duty."

  "And his patriotism?" Felter had replied.

  "That, too," General Ford had said, with a smile.

  "General," Felter had said, very coldly, "when this officer was nineteen years old, he elected to assume command of a company of Greek mountain infantry when its officers were killed. The prudent thing for him to have done what he was authorized to do was evacuate himself when he was in any kind of danger. At the time he was rather severely wounded. I would not presume to lecture him on duty. Neither would I suggest to him that he involve himself in something I regard as both shoddy and counterproductive."

  "We're in a shoddy business, Major," General Ford had replied. He did not like being lectured to by a Jewish major.

  "If Major Lowell were given such an assignment, he would resign; and in the process you would alienate Generalmajor Graf von Greiffenberg," Felter said. "To reiterate, I consider it ill-advised."

  "I had franldy hoped to have your cooperation, Major," General Ford had said.

  "I'm sorry, sir, you have my opposition," Felter had replied. Felter's opposition had proven to be more than philosophical. General Ford had put the wheels in motion; after there had been no action in two months, and during a time when he had been in Washington, he'd asked the Deputy Chief of Staff, Intelligence, about the case.

  "You can't have Lowell, Bryan," the DCSINTEL said. "I'm surprised that you asked."

  "May I ask why, sir?"

  "Because Major Felter thinks it would be counterproductive," the DCSINTEL said. "He told me so, personally."

  "And you agree with him, sir?" "As a matter of fact, I do," the DCSLNTEL said. "But that isn't really the point. The point is that Major Felter meets privately with the President of the United States for fifteen minutes every day. I haven't seen the President at all in three months. He didn't mention that, of course, when he called me about this."

  "He called you about this?"

  "Yes, he did. He said that he was very sorry that he had to disagree with you about it, and asked me if I thought he was wrong."

  "I just can't believe that you jump when a major says to," General Ford said.

  "It didn't get to that, Charley," the DCSINTEL said. "I think he's right and you're wrong. It was therefore unnecessary to find out for sure who has more influence with the President, me or his personal representative to the intelligence community."

  "You think Felter would have taken it to the President?"

  "I don't know," the DCSINTEL said. "But I do know that when he does go to the President, he generally gets what he wants. He had Paul Hanrahan put in charge of the Green Berets over the violent protests of airborne establishment."

  "A man with a lot of clout, who takes care of his buddies?"

  I'm not getting through to you, Bryan," the DCSINTEL sai4, somewhat sharply. "That's disappointing. The reason Maj9r Felter has influence with the President is because the President knows his advice is not influenced by any personal considerations. The only axe Felter grinds is the President's. If you like, the country's."

  General Ford thought of that conversation with the DCSINTEL as he watched Major Craig Lowell, dressed up like a German aristocrat, shaking hands with the aides-de-camp.

  "General Ford is my counterpart in the EVCOM, Craig," the Graf said.

  "And General Nesbit is the Seventh Army

  G-2."

  "How are you, young man?" General Ford said to Peter-Paul.

  "I am very pleased to meet you, General," Peter-Paul Lowell said, in his British-accented English, as he offered his hand.

  He holds out his hand like the Prince of Wales meeting a faithful lackey, Lowell thought, and sounds like him, too.

  General Ford was visibly surprised at the boy's adult behavior.

  "And that's a new rifle?" Ford asked. "May I see it?"

  "Father brought it to me from America," Peter-Paul said, handing it over.

  General Ford looked first in the breech, and then examined the rifle carefully.

  "Veiy nice, indeed," he said, handing it to General Nesbit. He looked at Lowell and repeated it, and then asked, "Twofifty-three thousand, isn't it?"

  "I don't know what that is," General Nesbit said, as he handed the rifle to Ford's aide.

  "It was the first of the high velocity cartridges," Lowell said. "It fires an 87-grain hollowpoint at a little over 3,000 feet per second."

  "And without much recoil, is that it?" Ford asked. "That was how it was sold to me," Lowell said. "Griffin and Howe made it up for P.P. in New York. They said it would be ideal for roebuck."

  "I'm sure it will be," Ford said. "That's really a fine rifle, young man. You can be proud of it."

  "I am," Peter-Paul said. "Quite."

  The butler extended a tray with glasses on it to Lowell.

  "The scotch is to the right, Herr Major," he said, in German.

  Lowell took the drink.

  "We have our cultures mixed here," the Graf said. "The European drinks bourbon, and the American drinks scotch."

  "That isn't the only way the cultures are mixed," Lowell said, without thinking.

  "To a good hunt," the Graf said, raising his glass. Lowell saw a stout envelope on one of the tables. It looked familiar, and when he went to it, he saw that it was addressed to him at Schloss Greiffenberg, do the Dresdener Bank in Frankfurt and bore the return address of Craig, Powell, Kenyon and Dawes. It was marked

  "Personal By Courier." "How long has that been here?" he asked the butler.

  "It came forty minutes ago, Herr Major," the Butler said. "A messenger from the Dresdener Bank brought it."

  Lowell was aware that General Ford's aid picked
up on that.

  "It's probably nothing more than my officers' club bill, sir," he said, "but I arranged to have my mail, official and otherwise, forwarded to me here. I suppose I'd better look at it."

  "Go right ahead, Major," General Ford said.

  Lowell sat down and ripped open the envelope.

  He was glad he had. In addition to his bill from the officers' club, which he waved triumphantly over his head for General Ford to see ("What did I say, sir?"), there were three memos from Bill Franklin at the Board requiring his decisions, and two letters from Porter Craig, one asking what sort of a bill for rent he was supposed to send General Bellmon for his use of the town house in Georgetown, another dealing with the place in Glen Cove. Both letters required immediate answers.

  And then he saw the other envelope. It bore the imprint of the Daleville Inn and was addressed to him at the Board. The handwriting was unfamiliar. He opened it.

  THE DALE VILLE INN

  Daleville, Alabama 36367 180 Air-Conditioned Rooms + Restaurant

  Lowell, you smart-ass sonofabitch!

  I can't imagine what was running through your perverted mind, except that you concluded I was so dumb that I would never find out that it was you flying the helicopter that blew up the tanks on television, or that you were the youngest major in the army with as many decorations as Patton. I am sure only that it wasn't modesty.

  Why a bunch of very nice guys (Franidin, Cramer, et al.) think you're Mr. Nice Guy baffles me.

  It is lucky for you, and you will doubtless be surprised to learn, that I am not one of those journalists who get their revenge with a poison pen, but I could not pass the opportunity by to tell you that I think you stink in spades! You had no reason at all to make a fool of me!

  Screw you, Lowell!

  Cynthia Thomas

  So that was her name. Cynthia. It was a real jaw-clencher's name.

  "Gentlemen," Lowell said, "will you excuse me? The barn is burning down and nobody can find the fire hose."

  He called Fort Rucker first and put out those fires, and then he called Porter Craig at the firm.

  "You are not to send the Bellmons any kind of a bill, Porter," he said, when he reached him. "What the hell's the matter with you? I told you they're friends of mine."

  "I'm fine, Craig," Porter Craig said. "Thank you for asking. And how are you? How's the littlest Lowell?"

  "And I don't care if it takes half the lawyers in New York, I want that "public domain' bullshit about the beach in Glen Cove fought all the way."

  "You should read more carefully, Craig," Porter Craig said. "The property in question is not contiguous to the estate. It's half a mile down the beach. And, as I thought I explained rather clearly in the letter, it is my humble judgment that (a) there are some very interesting tax advantages; (b) they are going to clarify the position of the estate, in other words, admit the grandfather clause is applicable, which will preserve it for you until the country goes communist; and (c) there's nothing we can do about it. It has been used as a public beach for eighty years, and they could, if they wanted to, claim it as abandoned."

  "Oh," Lowell said, lamely.

  "You're welcome, Craig," Porter Craig said.

  "I'm sorry, Porter," Lowell said. "I really am a little upset."

  "About what?"

  "The littlest Lowell is half kraut, half limey, and no percent American." "Oh," Porter Craig said, sympathetically. "Craig, if I have to say this, we'd love to have him here." "Which is worse?" Lowell said. "Half kraut and half limey? Or one hundred percent jaw-clencher?"

  "I wouldn't hazard a guess about what that means," Porter Craig said.

  "Speaking of jaw-clenchers," Lowell said.

  "I'm sorry, I don't know what that means, Craig." "He said, speaking from between clenched jaws," Lowell said. "Porter, we have a public relations guy, don't we?"

  "We have a Vice President for Public Relations, yes" Porter Craig said.

  "I want him to do something for me," Lowell said.

  "I don't think I'm going to like this," Porter Craig said. "Why do you suppose that is, Craig?"

  "I want him to get an address for me, and then send some flowers."

  "I knew it. Another actress, Craig?"

  "No. This one is a reporter for Time-Life. Send her a couple of dozen roses.

  "A couple of dozen roses? Do you have any idea what roses cost this time of year?" "No," Lowell confessed. Porter Craig told him. "That much? Jesus!

  That would be a bit much. Send her something cheaper. With a card reading, "No offense intended, Craig Lowell." Will you do that for me, Porter?"

  "What did you do to her, Craig? Perhaps a couple of dozen roses might not be enough." "Send her a dozen roses," Lowell said. "And the card with that message."

  "I presume the lady has a name? And that you're going to tell me what it is?"

  "Her name is Cynthia Thomas," Lowell said.

  "Very interesting," Porter Craig said. "How do you spell

  "Thomas'?"

  Lowell spelled it for him.

  "I have to tell you, Craig," Porter said, "I find this very interesting..

  "Don't make a production of this, Porter," Lowell said. "She's just a girl I met in passing..

  "I know... like two ships, passing in the night..."

  "And she got the wrong idea about me," Lowell said. "You had your hands up her skirt looking for mushrooms, right?"

  "Fuck you, Porter, just send the god damned flowers," Lowell said, and hung up.

  CONFIDENTIAL

  HEADQUARTERS

  The Army Aviation Center & Fort Rucker, Ala. Fort Rucker, Alabama 36361

  SUBJECT:

  TO:

  INFO:

  15 October 1959 Personnel Interviews Commanders, Subordinate Units Commanders U.S. Army Aviation Board U.S. Army Aviation Combat Developments Office U.S. Army Signal Aviation Test & Support Activity U.S. Army Transportation Test & Support Activity U.S. Army Aviation Accident Board 1. Reference is made to TWX, Hq DA, Subj: "USASWS Recruiting Team," dated 11 Oct 59 and to DA Circular 23-103, "Special Forces Requirements and Qualifications." 2. A USASWS Personnel Recruiting Team is presently at Fort Rucker. Certain personnel have been selected for interview by It. Col. R.G. Macmillan of the USASWS. Commanders will insure that personnel selected will be available at the time and place directed. No requests for waiver of this DA mandated personnel action will be entertained. 3. Other personnel, meeting the criteria outlined in DA Circular 23- 103, who wish to be interviewed by the USASWS Personnel Recruiting Team are encouraged and will be released from duty to do so. Appointments may be obtained by contacting It. Davis or MI Sgt Wojinski at Ext. 2408 or 2440.

  BY COMMAND OF MMOR GENERAL JIGGS

  Charles M. Scott, Jr. It. Colonel, AGC Adjutant General

  CONFIDENTIAL

  (Three) The U.S. Army Special Warfare School Fort Bragg, North Carolina 21 February 1959

  The commandant of the U.S. Army Special Warfare School was up over his ass in paper, and Sergeant Major Taylor had to wait at the open door for a full minute before Colonel Hanrahan sensed his presence and looked up.

  "The building's on fire?" Hanrahan asked. "How long have you been standing there, Taylor?"

  "Not long, sir," Sergeant Major Taylor said. "You looked busy, Colonel."

  "What's up?"

  "There's an officer, an aviator, out here asking to see you, sir," Taylor said.

  "What's he want?" "He said he wants to enlist," Taylor said.

  "Send him to the adjutant," Hanrahan said.

  "He asked to see you, sir."

  "Tell him to see the adjutant," Hanrahan said. "Yes, sir," Taylor said, and backed away from the open door.

  A minute later, he was back.

  Hanrahan looked up impatiently.

  "He said that I was to say he's a friend of Major Lowell, sir," Sergeant Major Taylor said.

  "Tell him "hooray for you' and send him to the adjutant," Hanrahan snapped. Taylor turned. "Wait a minut
e," Hanrahan called. "Send him in."

  A very large, very black captain in a sweat-stained flight suit marched into Hanrahan's office, saluted crisply, and said:

  "Captain Parker, Philip S." sir, requesting an audience with the colonel, sir." (Two) Fort Rucker, Alabama IS February 1959

  "An audience, Parker? I'm not the Pope," Hanrahan said. "Stand easy and tell me what trouble Lowell's in now." "None that I know of, sir," Parker said. "He's in Germany, visiting his son.