W E B Griffin - BoW 04 - The Colonels

by The Colonels(Lit)

  "There's two from New York, mine and Porter's, and Porter is sending three from Broadlawns. Do you think that will be enough, or should I arrange to hire some? I always hate to ride in a hired car. It always make me think it's just come from a cemetery."

  The cars and by cars she meant of course limousines-were back-up transportation. Two Greyhound buses had been chartered to carry those who were not immediate family. The limousines were for the family, and the bride, and for those who missed the buses.

  "I'm sure that will be enough," Barbara had told Mrs. Pelton.

  Lowell and P.P. returned from their last lap at the moment the Reverend Dr. Thomas Grey Edwards, rector of St. Peter's Episcopal Church, who would unite the couple in the bonds of holy matrimony, arrived for lunch. The Reverend Doctor had sternjy announced that he would not, could not, conduct the nuptial ceremony unless and until the bridal couple had been "counseled."

  He had had a thirty-minute meeting with Cynthia, terminated when Lowell had called from Kentucky to announce he was unavailable. It had not been possible to get Craig any closer to him than that, so Barbara had scratched the Reverend and recruited the Chief of Chaplains. The Reverend Doctor had telephoned two days later (she suspected after the wedding plans had been revealed in the Washington Post) and announced that there were, of course, exceptions, and he was looking forward to performing the marriage.

  Craig Lowell was to be married by a Reverend Doctor and a Reverend General.

  The Reverend Doctor raised his eyebrows at the sight of the boy behind the wheel of the Mercedes, lowered them and smiled when he saw the genuinely touching sight of a father and son, and then raised them again when a waiter offered champagne, and PP. reached for a glass without incurring parental correction.

  (Seven) Luncheon was very nice quail. Barbara had not thought to specify what would be served (she recalled now that she had not been asked), and the caterer naturally had decided to provide what was most expensive save Iranian caviar in his repertoire. And there was a lot of wine.

  The luncheon tables were under the tent at the tennis courts. When luncheon was over, they would be cleared and reset with the buffet for the reception. The wedding itself would be held behind the house, where an in-place rose arbor provided a suitable and lovely setting.

  Barbara had been just about to tell her husband to tell Craig to get dressed (which would get him away from the table and the champagne) when she saw Mrs. Pelton's butler go to the table, catch Craig's attention, and then lead him from the table to a corner of the tent.

  There the butler handed him an envelope.

  Barbara got up and walked to Lowell.

  He looked at her from very bright eyes, and she could not tell if he was angry or sad

  "I'm very sorry to have done this to you," he said.

  "Done what to me?"

  He handed her the letter and walked away. She started to go after him, but stopped. It would be better to know what had so upset him, before trying to set it right. She read the note. Dearest Craig, I am truly sorry to do it this way, but there is no other way to do it.

  If I came out there and faced you, I know that one look at you and I would be willing to take the chance, just so that I could be with you one more night. But that would be the cruel lest thing I could do to the man I love. This just wouldn't work. When I'm with you, I can fool myself. When I'm alone, I see things as they are. I see us, either in some terrible little place like Ozark, Alabama, with me trying be nice to people who bore me and hating you for making me be there, or in Palm Beach, with you fighting valiantly to keep yourself busy playing polo and hating me for making you give up your army.

  That's another reason I didn't come out to face you with this. I think you would, given the choice, take me over the army and resign. And six months later, you would hate me for having forced you to make the choice. And I would hate myself for what I had made you do.

  If I haven't made myself clear so far: I won't marry you, not today, not next week, not next month, not ever. Because I love you. Can you understand, my darling? Cyn

  "Oh, shit!" Barbara Bellmon said, so loudly that half of the thirty-odd people at the luncheon tables, the half that hadn't already been stealing curious glances at her anyway, turned their heads to her.

  Barbara ran after Craig. But she was not surprised when she failed to catch up with him, or when-as she looked around the living room of the house she heard the unmistakable sound of a Mercedes engine winding up in low gear. When she ran outside and through the gate to the road, she was able to catch only a fleeting glance of the baby blue Mercedes doing at least seventy and accelerating down the dirt road toward the highway.

  Craig Lowell wasn't going to accept the letter as the last word. But he didn't think he was-going to find Cynthia Thomas. Nor did he think that if he did find her, he would be able to change her mind. Cynthia Thomas was an intelligent, strongwilled woman who saw things clearly.

  It was for those reasons that Barbara Bellmon had liked her, and thought she would make a good army wife.

  Barbara walked back under the tent on the tennis courts. Not unlike a corporal selecting volunteers to mow the grass before the orderly room, she pointed her finger first at her husband and then at Generalmajor Graf von Greiffenburg, and crooked it, summoning them to her.

  (Eight) The Marquis de Lafayette Suite The Park-Sheraton Hotel Washington, D.C. 1015 Hours, 22 June 1959

  Captain Jean-Philippe Jannier sat with his back against the headboard of the double bed. A corner of the sheet covered his crotch, and a glass of champagne, which he had informed Melody Dutton Greer was the best thing in the world for a hangover, rested on his stomach.

  There had been a party not a wedding reception, to be sure, but a party. And everyone, from Mrs. Schuyler Pelton to It. Colonel Rudolph G. Macmillan, had gotten in whatever their patois bombed, plastered, blind, or tiddly.

  At half past nine, Captain Jannier had led Mrs. Greer outside. "Where have you- been?" Melody had asked. "Where are we going?"

  "I've been packing your things," he said.

  A chauffeured Cadillac with a CD tag sat in the driveway.

  "What's this?" "Bill," he said, referring to Warrant Officer Frankin, "is a charming fellow, but I would prefer to sleep with you."

  Barbara Bellmon had apologized for having to put the two bachelors up together.

  "Where could we go?"

  "Oh, we should be able to find a motel someplace," he said.

  "Where did the car come from?"

  "The same place the motel did," he said, and gently pushed her into the car.

  It wasn't a motel, of course, but the apartment the French Embassy maintained in the Park-Sheraton for very important visitors.

  Melody Dutton Greer was standing by the window. She had opened the heavy velvet drape wide enough to see out, and that let enough light in to silhouette her body. She was wearing a simple cotton nightdress, and the sunlight made it translucent.

  Captain Jean-Philippe Jannier had just decided that she had the most exquisite breasts he had ever seen and he had seen a good many breasts in his day when one of the two telephones on the bedside table rang.

  One of them, he recalled from a previous stay in the Marquis de Lafayette Suite, was a direct line to the Embassy switchboard. The other was connected to the hotel switchboard. He had to wait for the second ring to see which was ringing, and then he made a mistake and picked up the wrong one.

  "Jannier," he said, finally getting it right.

  "Bill, Philippe," Warrant Officer Franklin reported.

  "Have you learned anything?" Jannier asked. Melody left the window and sat on the bed.

  "He left Teterboro at half past ten last night. He filed IFR to Atlanta, but he closed out his flight plan over Richmond, Virginia, ninety minutes later. He didn't land at Richmond. Christ only knows where he did land. There have been no reports of crashes." "Don't be absurd," Jannier said, "if you're suggesting what it sounds like."

  "Mac has
a buddy at the FAA," Franklin went on. "Sooner or later, we're going to find out where he did land. They're checking."

  "Well, at least he's not drinking," Jannier said.

  "No," Franidin agreed.

  Jannier thought of something. Since Franklin had flown to Washington in Lowell's airplane, he had to have a way to get back to the base.

  "How are you going to go back to Rucker?"

  "The women are going this afternoon, commercial," Franklin said. "I thought I'd stick around."

  "Where are you?"

  "At the Farm."

  "Can you come here?" Jannier asked. "We can go back together."

  "I'm going to have to hitch a ride," Franidin said. "I don't have enough money for an airplane ticket."

  "Come here, right away," Jannier said. "Make sure everybody has this number, and then come here." "Did you hear what I said about being broke?"

  "I heard, Jannier said. "It should take you about an hour, if you leave now." He hung up the telephone, smiled at Melody, and reached out and tenderly touched her cheek. Then he gave into the temptation and let the balls of his fingers slide down to touch her breast through the cotton nightdress.

  "Well?" she demanded, catching his hand in hers. "Well, when he left here, he must have gone to New York to look for her. Bill has found out that he left Teterboro last night. He filed an instrument flight plan to Aflanta, but closed it out over Richmond ninety minutes later." "Which means he could be anywhere," she said.

  He thought that there were few women who understood the intricacies of flying. It was another charming trait of his American.

  "It also means he didn't rush out and get drunk," Jeanphilippe said.

  "He would not fly if he was drinking."

  "He'll wait until he lands," she said, and chuckled. "And then

  He nodded. And then he saw tears in her eyes. "You are his good friend," he said, "to weep for a friend." Her face lost its smile. "I am his friend," she said. "But I'm not crying for him."

  "Oh?" he asked.

  She let loose of his hand and stood up.

  "I have something to say to you," she said. "And since you told Bill to come here, I have to say it now." "Anything," he said. "You stay where you are," she said. "Huh?"

  "Don't you come after me," she said.

  She looked at him until he shrugged, accepting her odd command, and then she went back to the window. The sun turned her nightdress translucent again. "You are going to have to get rid of Bill when he comes," she said. "Give him money to go back to Alabama, and get rid of him."

  "I am flattered," he said.

  "And then we are going to have to find a doctor," she said.

  "Is something wrong? Are you sick, ma petite?"

  "Not sick," she said. "Pregnant."

  There was a pause.

  "Are you sure?" "Of course, I'm sure," she said, furiously. "This isn't the first time. What did you think I was doing in the bathroom when I woke up?

  Brushing my teeth?" "I thought it was the alcohol," he said, truthfully.

  "They call it morning sickness," she said, bitterly. "I'll pay for the abortion, of course," she went on. "It's my fault, not yours. I didn't do it on purpose, but it's still my fault. I brought a thousand dollars with me. But I don't know where to go."

  She looked out the window, and he suspected she was crying. He wanted to go comfort her, but first things first.

  He swung his legs out of the bed and picked up the Embassy telephone.

  She heard him ask for an extension, and then she heard him say, and understood: "Bonjour. Ici est Jannier. J'ai besoin dune service privee."

  Good day. This is Jannier. I need a private service.

  Then she put her index finger knuckle between her teeth and bit hard, so that it would hurt, so that she could think of that, the pain, and nothing else.

  And then he was standing behind her. His hand gently touched her shoulder, and she allowed him to turn her around and put his arms around her.

  "It's all arranged," he said. "He will telephone within the hour with the details."

  "I'm so very sorry, Jean-Philippe," she said, fighting down sobs.

  "I'm not," he said, tenderly and smugly.

  What the hell was that supposed to mean?

  "I said I was sorry," Melody said.

  "It seems that the problem," he said, his voice drolly amused as only a Frenchman reflecting on the customs of barbarians can be drolly amused, "even with a diplomatic passport, is not in getting a license, or an official, but in obtaining a certificate that one does not have a social disease. I told the manager to tell the Embassy physician that he has my word as an officer and a gentleman that neither of us are so afflicted, and that I would take it as a personal affront if he refused to issue the necessary documents."

  She finally understood.

  "You're talking about getting married?"

  "What else?" Jean-Philippe Jannier asked, kissing the top of her head.

  When Warrant Officer Junior Grade William B. Franklin came into the Marquis de Lafayette Suite of the Park-Sheraton fifty-five minutes later, he found Captain Jean-Philippe Jannier with a towel wrapped around his waist, sitting on one of the couches in the sitting room, talking to someone on the telephone. Franldin had learned French in Algeria. He understood what Jannier said.

  "We shall expect you within the hour, then."

  Jannier broke the connection with his finger and asked for the concierge. When he was informed that there was no concierge he asked for the manager. When the manager came on the line, he identified himself and said he would be grateful if the suite could be immediately cleaned up, and that he would require champagne and hors d'oeuvres for eight in an hour.

  "And if there is a florist, would you have him send up some flowers?

  Roses, I think, would be nice. Some in vases, and a bouquet for a lady."

  Then he hung up again and looked at Franldin.

  "Wipe that look of moral outrage from your face, Bill, and go in the bath and have a shave, then change back into your dress uniform. In an hour, Melody and I are to be married, and I would be honored if you would be my best man."

  XVII

  (One) Eglin Air Force Base, Florida 1615 Hours, 22 June 1959

  "A" Team 59 23 (Training) had been jumped from an Otter into a field on the Eglin Reservation ten days earlier.

  Eglin was an enormous base, and the reason for that became immediately clear once the team was on the ground. The vast majority of it was swamp, usable only for the torment of Super Boy Scouts in training.

  Second Lieutenant Thomas J. Ellis, commanding "A" Team 59 23 (Training), had been issued seven maps. Six of the seven were sealed in envelopes which were not to be opened before the instructions on the envelopes told him to except in case "one or more members of the team suffers an injury of a nature requiring medical evacuation." If that happened, they would have to go back to step one. In other words, they'd have to start all over again on the two-week problem.

  The team was provided with sufficient rations for fourteen days.

  Unfortunately, no one not even SFC Eaglebury (who could have been a linebacker for the Green Bay Packers) could have carried fourteen days worth of rations: in addition to his other equipment, more than 2,000 yards across the swamp.

  So, when they were on the ground in the swamp, the first thing Ellis had had to do was supervise the repacking of everybody's gear. Ninety percent of the "good" food (that is to say, "ham chunks w/raisin sauce"

  and "beef chunks w/gravy" and "chicken w/dumplings," canned during World War II) had to be left behind because of their weight and bulk.

  They carried with them foil envelopes of powdered eggs and soup; foil wrapped "high protein" bars; powdered milk, tea, and coffee.

  Plus, of course, radios, rifles, pistols, canteens, demolition kits, medical kits, and real (as opposed to dummy and blank) hand grenades and ammunition. In addition to their personal weapons, Training

  "A"

 
; Team 59 23 was equipped with a light Browning.30 caliber machine gun and ammunition for it and two.30 caliber Browning automatic rifles.

  Lieutenant Ellis had first crossed swords with SFC Eaglebury over leaving those flicking BARs behind. The sonsofbitches weighed twenty pounds apiece, and they had to be fed with heavy magazines, each holding twenty rounds of.30 06 rifle cartridges. SFC Eaglebury had immediately expressed general disapproval of Ellis's repacking of their rations and other supplies, annoyance that he was ordered to leave his shelter half behind, and outright contempt when Ellis had announced they were going to leave the BARs behind with their chutes, discarded rations, and other equipment.