There was laughter.
"Now there was a war," Hanrahan said. "You must remind me to tell you about it sometime."
More laughter.
Colonel Hanrahan turned to his sergeant major.
"Bring the box, Sergeant Major," he said, loud enough for everybody to hear. Then he raised his voice: "Atten-hut!"
The troops popped to attention.
"And now, our own private command," Hanrahan said, smiling broadly, on the edge of laughter. "Prepare to discard hats! Discard hats!"
Fifty-six hats went sailing into the air.
Ellis saw that the little Jew very carefully set his cap with the scrambled eggs on the brim on the grass beside him.
Hanrahan, Mac, and Taylor marched over to the little Jew. Mac turned to the cardboard carton and took a hat from it. It had a slip of paper pinned to it, the name, Ellis realized. Mac removed the pin, and handed the beret to Felter.
Felter put it on. They shook hands.
"Thank you, Paul," Felter said.
Hanrahan stepped around him, and his foot squashed Felter's brimmed cap. There were titters of laughter.
"Colonel!" Colonel Mac said. "Shame on you! You stepped on his hat!" "I did not!" Hanrahan said. - Felter looked down at his hat. It was squashed. The titters were turning to giggles.
"You did too!" Colonel Mac said loudly. "You stepped on his hat just like this!"
Whereupon he stepped on Felter's hat and ground it with his heel.
The titters and giggles turned to guffaws and laughter, loud, but not loud enough to drown out what It. Col. Felter said.
"You bastards! I should have known you'd do something like that!"
"Colonel," Hanrahan said, reasonably, "you won't need it anymore anyway."
Then Colonel Mac looked at the assembled hatless troops. "I didn't give any command to laugh," he said. "The only time you get to laugh is when I give the command, "Prepare to laugh; laugh!"
The troops were divided between those who tried to stop laughing and those who came close to hysterics.
Then the three officers and the sergeant major walked down the line of graduating troopers and passed out the green berets they were now entitled to wear. There was a handshake and a word of congratulations for each new Green Beret.
The band had been playing all the time, and now it began to play
"The Washington Post March." The March Past began. The band segued to
"So Long, It's Been Good to Know You!" and the seven "A" Teams marched off the field.
"Detail, halt!" Ellis ordered. "Huh-right, face!"
They stood at attention, looking at him.
"You guys had to put up with a lot from me," Ellis said. "Thank you."
He looked at each one of them for a moment. Then: "Dis-missed!"
They came to him and shook his hand. After it looked as if he couldn't make up his mind to do the right thing or not, Eaglebury walked up to him.
"So long, Ellis," he said. "Try to remember a little of what I tried to teach you."
"I'll do my best, Sergeant," Ellis said, coldly. Sonofabitch won't let up on me, even now. Ellis started to walk back to his BOQ. One of the sergeants from headquarters ran after him.
"Colonel Mac wants to see you, Lieutenant," he said. "Right away."
There was nobody he liked more than Colonel Mac, but what he had to do right then was take a leak; and he wanted to get out of the hot uniform, and Colonel Mac had already congratulated him, so Ellis was something less than thrilled. Still, he had been summoned, so he went.
Colonel Mac, Sergeant Major Taylor told him, was in Colonel Hanrahan's office, and he was to go there.
He knocked at the door and was told to enter. "Lieutenant Ellis reporting as ordered, sir," Ellis said, saluting Hanrahan, who was behind his desk. There were several others in the room, off to the side.
"Stand at ease, Lieutenant," Hanrahan said.
He looked at him thoughtfully.
"First things first," he said. "Lieutenant, you are now authorized access to certain Top Secret material. You will consider everything you hear in this room as Top Secret. Clear?"
"Yes, sir."
"I have been getting reports on your behavior in the swamp from Eaglebury," Hanrahan said.
There was a chuckle, and Ellis looked in the direction of it. SFC Eaglebury was sitting on the colonel's couch, drinking a beer.
There had been a rumor, one he had discounted, that the school sometimes sent somebody through training who was not a trainee, but an observer. The rumor was apparently true. He had been evaluated by Eaglebury and he was not SFC Eaglebury. A noncom would not have been so relaxed.
"May I presume that SFC Eaglebury is really an officer, sir?" Ellis said.
Hanrahan nodded.
"Then as one officer and gentleman to another, Eaglebury," Ellis said, with surprising anger, "you're a genuinely skilled prick."
Eaglebury laughed.
"And Commander Eaglebury has just been telling us such nice things about you," Hanrahan said.
"Commander Eaglebury?" Ellis blurted.
"Lieutenant Commander," Eaglebury said. He got up and handed Ellis a can of beer. "I really hope there's no hard feelings."
"You're a sailor?"
"No," Eaglebury said. "I'm a lieutenant commander. The sailors are the guys in the round white hats."
"Well, sir, I was out of line. I apologize." Forget it," Eaglebury said. "I was doing my best to make you lose control. You didn't."
"I won't have to tell you, will I, Ellis, that the commander's status goes no further than the people in this room. Sergeant Major Taylor knows, that's it."
"I understand, sir."
"I don't believe you've formally met Colonel Felter, have you, Ellis?" Hanrahan said.
They shook hands.
"I'll explain what this is all about," Felter said. "The specifics are not your concern, but what is planned is to mount a mission to Cuba.
The mission is of greater importance than it must appear. To clarify that: In the event you are captured, we hope that they will be content with having captured a Green Beret team and will limit their interrogation accordingly."
"Would you be willing to lead such a team, with Coinmander Eaglebury going along as an SFC?"
"Yes, sir," Ellis said without hesitation. But as the realization of what was going on sank in, he felt lightheaded.
"Well, you're OK with the commander," Felter said. "And Mac thinks you're unusual, so it's OK with me." "Thank you," Ellis said.
"We don't have a time yet, or a place Felter began.
"So what we thought we'd do," Colonel Mac said, "is run you through Eglin a couple of more times."
"Mac, please shut up!" Felter snapped. Then he continued to address Ellis: "In the meantime, you'll just stay here at Bragg, forming an "A"
team. If it is decided to field this mission, your commo sergeant will be told he's sick, and he will be replaced by the commander."
"Yes, sir."
"OK," Felter said.
"There's just one more thing," Colonel Hanrahan said.
"Sir?" Ellis said, turning to face him just in time to catch a small piece of cardboard to which two of the silver bars identifying a first lieutenant were pinned.
"It's official as of 16 June," Hanrahan said. "But Eaglebury said he didn't want anything to improve your morale, so we didn't tell you."
"Wait until I get the commander in Cuba, sir," Ellis said, and smiled broadly at SFC/It. Commander Eaglebury.
XVIII
(One) Laird Army Airfield Fort Rucker, Alabama 1330 Hours, 2 September 1959
Whenever the door to Major Craig Lowell's office in the hangar was closed, it was clearly understood by his people that he was not to be disturbed. His people joked that what was going on behind the closed door was that he was jumping Jane Cassidy on the desk. Lowell was a good boss. He helped his people. But since the rocket-armed helicopter program really had very little to do anymore, its pilots had little
to do. All the same, the rocket armed helicopter project still had a high priority, thus no one questioned how many pilots were assigned to it. Other Board projects, however ones with lower priority had shortages of personnel. What had happened was that Lowell and Colonel Roberts had beat the system: pilots assigned to rocket-armed helicopters were "made available" to fly test missions for other, pilot-short Board projects.
Lowell and Roberts were playing the game, and they were good at it.
Working for Lowell was the best of all possible worlds. His pilots got to fly a lot. They stayed out of his way, and he stayed out of theirs.
If he was a little weird about keeping his office door closed, that was his business. No one actually thought that Lowell was banging Mrs. Cassidy. Major Lowell was too smart to run the risk of banging his secretary in the unlikely event that she was willing. Anyway, he kept the door closed even when Mrs. Cassidy wasn't there. Like now, when Mrs. Cassidy had been flown to the Air University Library at Montgomery to pick something up for him.
Mrs. Cassidy had been gone all day, and the door had been closed all day, and jt would probably stay closed for the rest of the day.
Whatever the hell he was doing in there maybe writing the Great American Novel (the sound of a typewriter was often heard) or maybe just sleeping Major Lowell did not like to be disturbed when he was doing it.
The only officer in the outer room when the little light bird walked in was Lieutenant George B. Simmons, a fixed-wing aviator just back from an Initial Utilization Tour. It was his turn to watch the store.
The little light bird, Simmons was startled to see, was a Green Beret.
You thought of Green Berets as looking like football players. This light bird looked like a badminton player.
Simmons stood up. "May I help you, Colonel?"
"I'm looking for Major Lowell," the light bird said. "Have I got the right place?"
"Yes, sir," Simmons said. "He's working, sir, but I'll tell him you're here. May I have your name, sir?"
"Felter."
Simmons went to the door and knocked. It was a moment before Lowell replied, and then all he said was, "Well?"
"There's a Colonel Felter to see you, sir," Simmons said.
"Who?" Lowell asked, incredulous.
"Felter, sir."
"Ask the colonel to wait a moment," Lowell said.
It was more than a moment. It was more like two minutes before the door opened, and the little light bird was getting visibly annoyed.
Lowell was smiling when he came out, a friendly smile. It almost immediately widened, became one of amusement. Then he laughed, heartily, out loud.
"When did you get that flicking green beret?" he chortled. "Mouse, you look like a mushroom!"
Then he moved with quick grace across the room, grabbed the little light bird by his upper arms, and lifted him effortlessly off the floor. The little light bird struggled uselessly. Major Lowell kissed him wetly on the forehead, and then set him down.
"Sometimes, Craig," the little light bird snapped, coldly furious, "you can be a real pain in the ass."
"What the hell are you doing down here?" Lowell said, blandly ignoring the furious little man. "You should have let me know you were coming."
"I want you to take a ride with me for a couple of hours," Felter said.
"Where?"
"Not far," Felter said. "Well, I'd have to ask Roberts," Lowell said.
"He knows," Felter said.
"Oh?"
"We're parked right outside," Felter said. "Is there some reason you can't come right away?"
"No," Lowell said. He turned to Simmons. "If anyone asks where I am, Lieutenant, you refer them to Colonel Roberts and you stay here and mind the store." "Yes, sir," Simmons said.
He had hoped to be introduced to the little light bird, but no introductions were offered.
Lowell followed the little officer back through the hangar. Simmons watched. There was an Aero Commander sitting with engines idling on the parking stand between the hangars. Felter ducked into it, and Lowell followed him. The Commander began to taxi immediately. Lowell strapped himself into one of the seats in the back.
"I never get a chance to ride in back," he said, with a smile.
Felter was still angry with Lowell for mocking his green beret and kissing him. He hated being kissed. Lowell knew it, and that was why he did it.
"That was a hell of an example you set for that young lieutenant of yours," he said.
Lowell's smile flickered. "Did that occur to you?" Felter asked, bitterly sarcastic.
"What's this, Mouse? Do you think that a little affection is beneath the dignity of a West Point Colonel especially one in a green mushroom?"
Felter glowered at him, aware that he had lost his temper and was liable to make things worse.
"Where the hell did you get that thing, anyhow?" Lowell asked. "Are you entitled to it?"
"I'm god damned well entitled to it," Felter said, angrily. "And you've got no god damned right to mock it."
The pilot tested the engines on the threshold of the active runway, the sound prohibiting conversation. And then they took off.
"OK," Lowell said, when the pilot throttled back the engines. "If I pissed you off, I'm sorry. I apologize."
Felter glowered at him again, saw that Lowell was genuinely contrite, and softened. Craig Lowell was his oldest, his best, and one of his very few friends.
"I'm wearing the beret because Hanrahan and Macmillan stamped all over my hat," he said, forcing a smile.
That was true. He had changed back into civilian clothes before he had left Fort Bragg, and had forgotten the crushed visored cap until he had taken it from the bag to put it on this morning. It was too torn to wear. But he was honest enough with himself to realize that in a sense he was pleased; it gave him the chance to wear the green beret. He was not at all unhappy at having officially qualified as a Green Beret.
"They did what?"
"I was at Bragg," Felter said, "when they gave me this. People in civilian clothes attract more attention than people in uniforms. So I wore a uniform, and Hanrahan was having a graduation ceremony, and he insisted I get my beret officially. Which was very nice."
"I wasn't mocking you for being entitled," Lowell said, seriously.
"What they do is give you the beret in a ceremony. The troops throw their caps in the air. I had a nearly new $54.95 felt cap, so I put it carefully on the ground beside me. First Hanrahan stepped on it, and then Mac ground a hole in the top with his heel."
Lowell chuckled. He was genuinely sony that he had mocked the beret.
He still thought the beret was ridiculous, but he knew that when he could arrange for it, Sanford T. Felter liked to be in uniform with his medals and qualification badges on display
"Just for the hell of it, Craig," Felter said, "you're also entitled to wear one of these."
"How come?"
"For Greece," Felter said. "Command of foreign troops in combat qualifies you for it."
Lowell bit off what came to his lips: I wouldn't be seen dead in one.
"I don't think I am, Mouse," he said. "I think you have to be a jumper, too."
"You're not jump qualified, are you?" Felter said, as if he had just remembered that.
"No," Lowell said. "I'm sane."
"Screw you," Felter said, fondly.
"What were you doing at Bragg? Or is that Top Secret?" "Yes, it is," Felter said, "as a matter of fact."
He reached across the aisle and took a briefcase from the seat. He worked a combination lock, opened it, and handed Lowell two sheets of paper.
"This is only Confidential," Lowell said.
"Read it anyway," Felter said.
CONFIDENTIAL
DEPARTMENT OF DEFENSE
OFFICE OF THE ASSISTANT SECRETARY OF
DEFENSE FOR LOGISTICS
WASHINGTON, D.C.
INTERAGENCY MEMORANDUM
TO: Secretary of the Navy
ATTN: Chief Bure
au of Aircraft Secretary of the Army
ATTN: Deputy Chief of Staff, Logistics
1. Reference is made to: a. Letter, Chief of Naval Operations, Subject: "Aircraft Surplus to Present and Anticipated Needs," dated 2 August 1959. b. Letter, Chief of Staff, Subject: "Request for Assignment of Military Air Transport Command Airlift Capability," dated 3 August 1959. c. DOD Policy Letter, Subject: "Intra Agency Transfer of Surplus Property," dated 14 February 1958. 2. The Department of the Navy has eight (8) Douglas R4D aircraft surplus to present and anticipated needs. Seven (7) of subject aircraft are cargo configured. One (1) aircraft is V. I.P passenger configured, providing seven passenger spaces, plus office workspace. It is presently planned to transfer subject aircraft to U.S. Air Force control for non preserved storage at Davis-Monthan Air Force Base. 3. The Secretary of the Army is directed to determine if the surplus Navy R4D aircraft may be utilized to provide the airlift capability outlined in paragraph 1.b. above, thereby utilizing surplus property and effecting a procurement and operational economy. 4. In the event it is determined that subject aircraft may be so utilized, this memorandum constitutes authority for SEC NAVY to transfer, on a loan basis, subject aircraft to Department of the Army control, pending ultimate transfer to Davis-Monthan Air Force Base. 5. It is believed that such temporary use by the U.S. Army of subject aircraft would not violate the terms of the Interservice Roles & Missions Agreement (commonly called the
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