Duty Recall

by Scott A Meehan

David stared at her. “Okay. You know, you might be right. I'll give it some thought, babe, but things are going real well at the unit also, and you know, investments, they could be here today and gone tomorrow.”

  “That's true, I suppose.”

  Two waiters appeared, one to remove their empty plates and the other appearing with a dessert cart. After making their selections, conversation focused on trivial matters, such as how good the dessert tasted and how they should walk it off in a nearby park.

  “Then we can continue our romantic evening back in our 'fancy-dancy' plushy room at the Renaissance!” Sherry beamed.

  For the first time that evening, David looked around at the other patrons, feeling a bit timid. Sherry's announcement was a bit above earshot. Then they both started to laugh.

  * * *

  Besides being promoted to a First Lieutenant in 1992, David was also elected to the Board of Directorates at the local church he attended, Calvary Assembly, on Fort Bragg Road. This coincided with a move from their quaint house off Bingham Drive to junior officer housing on post. David missed the house off post, but Sherry wanted the conveniences that came with on-post officer housing so the move was made with their new residence being on Normandy Drive, just below the hill from the out-door swimming pool on Ardennes.

  The new house included a decent size backyard and David put up the authorized chain-linked fence because the promise to get a new puppy for Robby and Jennifer after the move necessitated the labor.

  Everyone thought that the new dog, Rusky, so named by Jennifer, would turn into the size of a horse based on his big paws. It was not until a veterinarian asked Sherry how old the dog was during a check-up that they received the word that his current pudgy, midget size, was as large as he would get.

  “What, you're kidding me!” Sherry said laughing.

  “No, he has reached his height although he will most likely fill out some more.”

  Sherry laughed again. “What kind of dog is this then?”

  The veterinarian even chuckled. “It looks like it may have some shepherd and Corgi in it.”

  “Corgi? What is that?”

  “It's a collie type of herding dog predominately found in England. I may have some pictures. Let me check.”

  Sherry looked at Rusky with a mixture of relief, since she did not want a big dog to begin with, and a reassuring smile. Don't worry, boy, we'll take care of you. I should say, your daddy will.”

  The most significant move for David was the change in units within Fort Bragg. The Military Intelligence Branch told David that his best career move would be to try to find a spot in the 525th MI Brigade, to work directly within an Intelligence unit.

  David did not like the idea very much but knew that it was probably in his best interest. He just could not let anyone know that he liked where he was within the PSYOP world and he liked whom he worked for, both LTC Vincent and the Executive officer (XO), Major Randolph. Additionally, he was starting to be noticed at the higher Group levels with the PSYOP/Civil Affairs arena and was invited to particular VIP functions.

  “Branch wants you to move? Give a name and number and I'll call them.”

  David was a bit hesitant to let LTC Vincent get involved but it was proper protocol to let him know what his branch was trying to push for his career. Knowing that he in fact made this move was also a bit risky if too many people got involved in trying to prevent the move.

  “Sir, although I really like it here and would rather stay, I believe that they are just looking out for my best career interest. You know how it is with the conventional mind set. PSYOP just hasn't hit their radar screen yet.”

  “Yeah, tell me about it. I hear you, Davy. I had to jump through hoops with my branch just to get into this type of work. All right, if you are okay with it, I do not want to hinder your professional development. I sure hate losing you though.”

  “Yes sir, I would rather stay myself. I believe in time however, PSYOP will play a more dominant role in future wars.”

  “Asymmetric, you once said, right?”

  “Yes sir, asymmetric.”

  * * *

  With the help from the MI branch, David found a new unit that would welcome him warmly.

  “This is great timing Lieutenant Allan!” CPT Metzger said. We are about to lose our XO and frankly, we did not have anybody legit that we could think of to replace him. He'll be a huge loss for us.”

  “Yes sir, I look forward to coming over and stepping right in.”

  “You'll fit right in. Your ORB and OER look great! I can't wait to have you on board.”

  David met and was interviewed by CPT Metzger after an arranged phone call by the MI branch. Captain Larson contacted Metzger and paved the way for David's smooth transition as an XO in Charley Company, 319th MI Battalion, of the 525th MI Brigade.

  The new unit was also an airborne unit, just like the 8th PSYOP unit was. This meant the additional bonus pay for jumping out of planes.

  While everything seemed to be falling in place the way he remembered it up to this point, there was that part of his new life that made him a little nervous. Every time he placed bets on certain investments and calling winners of the World Series and Super Bowl, his blood pressure elevated.

  His favorite money making game was when the Houston Oilers were beating the Buffalo Bills, 35-3 during a playoff game on January 3, 1993. This was when David decided to place money wherever he could on a comeback victory by Buffalo. The Bills, of course, did come back to win in overtime, 41-38. Because of this and many other winnings, David estimated that his separate—and very private account—contained nearly $800,000. Caution was still the order of the day to keep from gaining undue attention. This was one secret he had to keep…even from Sherry.

  * * *

  The sign at the front gate read, TENCAP complex. TENCAP was the acronym for the Tactical Exploitation of National Capabilities. Although this was his new place of business, signal and imagery type of intelligence was not David's favorite area of intelligence gathering. He preferred the HUMINT aspect, which involved Human Intelligence.

  TENCAP had the purpose of exploiting tactical and national space systems by integrating these capabilities into rapid operational military decision-making for the XVIII Airborne Corps. The systems on hand at the complex provided the commander with access to national assets, such as other national intelligence agencies and consumers.

  David's role as the Executive Officer focused more on the day-to-day operations of the unit itself, which included supervising all of the company's vehicles. It was up to him to establish an efficient maintenance program. His other duties included the “Cup & Flower” fund, Family Support, and a variety of other tasks that were given him by the company commander, CPT Metzger.

  As for significant world events, newly elected President Bill Clinton was inaugurated on January 20 and life in the military would change under his administration. It was a surprise to most that he was able to defeat former President George Bush, but as usual, David predicted the outcome and even suggested that President Bush was not trying hard enough and wondered aloud if he really wanted another term in office.

  Since David was not directly involved with any of the ongoing intelligence, he mostly suggested outcomes and warnings to anyone who would listen. Nevertheless, as expected, not too many listened to a First Lieutenant, at least, not anymore. LTC Vincent had taken a keen interest in David's ability to call accurate intelligence analysis and he felt more appreciated there than with his current unit.

  One day in February, David made a call to his former boss. “Hello, sir, this is Lieutenant Allan. How are you?”

  “Hey Davey! Ready to come back?”

  “Oh, yes sir, sure am!”

  “So, how's everything over there in the MI world?”

  “Well sir, it's slow from my perspective.”

  “We miss you over here.”

  “Yes sir, to tell the truth, I really miss it there.”

  “You're welco
me back anytime.”

  “Sir, I remember how you liked talking about lintel analysis with me and thought maybe we could get together sometime in the near future at your convenience.”

  “Yeah, that would be great, Davey. I am heading down range for a while. Maybe when I get back we can catch up on old times.”

  “Okay sir, I'll contact you later.”

  “Hey listen, I gotta run. Thanks for calling me.”

  “Okay sir, bye.”

  David placed the receiver down slowly and realized that everybody had moved on to something else…just like life, you move on. He contemplated his options and wondered just who would understand and appreciate his insight and take him seriously. Whom could he reveal his knowledge to about the upcoming car bomb that would explode in a garage beneath one of the World Trade Centers in New York?

  * * *

  All of the major news networks carried the top story:

  A huge explosion, apparently of a car bomb in an underground garage, collapsed walls and floors beneath New York's two tallest buildings. Fires from the blast sent smoke up more than 100 stories, and a power cutoff trapped hundreds for hours. The explosion gouged a large, twisted cavern out of four underground levels tearing away concrete walls and leaving steel girders bent like pipe cleaners. Officials stated that the bomb was placed perfectly to damage the entire infrastructure of the building.

  Images of the two World Trade Center buildings crumpling to the ground in a thick cloud of smoke ran through David's mind. This was the first moment when he realized he could possibly prevent such a disaster in the future. But how? Who would listen? If he provided the details, he could be implicated as a co-conspirator. David had to think this through. There was still some time.

  7. The Cold Past

  As major David Allen pondered his options as someone with unique skills, he felt the need to be at the right unit, talking to the right people. Perhaps he could prevent any future disaster by sending intelligence agencies on the trail of the terrorists during their early planning stage. While mulling over various ideas in his own head—and his alone—the answer came calling to him.

  “Steve, this is Ray. Do you remember me from San Antonio?”

  David vaguely recalled the meaning of the introduction, but nearly forgot completely about “Ray.”

  “Ah, yes, Ray. How have you been? I haven't heard from you in quite a while?”

  “Doing well, thanks. Say, listen, can we meet sometime next week?”

  “Sure, I can make time. When and where?”

  “Have you ever been to Pinehurst?”

  “Not that I can remember.”

  “That's okay. It is easy to get from where you are. Let's meet at the Magnolia Inn on 65 Magnolia road in Pinehurst next Thursday at 7:00 p.m. Will that work?”

  David scribbled on a piece of notepaper that he found on his desk. “65 Magnolia Road in Pinehurst, right?”

  “Yes, you got it. Is the time good?”

  “Sure, 7:00 p.m. next Thursday.”

  “Alright. See you then. Looking forward to it.”

  “Okay, likewise. Later.”

  David set the phone down and thought back to his relationship with Ray and the other person, “What was his name again? Oh yeah…Stan.”

  * * *

  He first met the two of them in 1987 when he was departing from the Army as an enlisted soldier to attend college and pursue a commission through ROTC. David considered them to be “handlers” or liaison officers” during a chess match, so-to-speak, involving him and a Soviet officer that approached him in Berlin the year before.

  Like a good soldier, David reported the incident to the intelligence unit at the Brigade, but rather than patting him on the back and telling him, “Great work,” they asked him if he would be willing to meet with the officer and find out what he wanted.

  After several pre-briefings with the Americans, David entered East Berlin—no man's land—as a tourist, and met in a clandestine manner with the Soviet officer at a restaurant. David remembered most of the discussion revolved around “our great leaders, Gorbachev and Reagan.”

  Vladimir, at least the name he gave David when they first met, was wearing civilian attire, typical for an East German on a Saturday afternoon, light-layered olive-colored shirt and jacket. He was right where he said he would be, around the corner on Alexander Platz.

  “Good afternoon,” he began. “I was wondering if you would come or not, but I am very glad that you did. Have you had something to eat yet?”

  David purposely refrained from eating because Jerry, the American agent in Berlin, had told him not to eat anything because the Russian would most likely take him out to a restaurant. “No, I haven't.”

  “Good, I know of a place that serves real good food. Let's go there to sit, relax and talk.”

  “Okay,” David answered, and then followed him at a short distance behind as instructed, since he was still wearing the required military Class A uniform.

  They entered a plain looking building from the outside, but decorated nicely inside. Vladimir asked for a particular table in the back and the two of them had the small room to themselves.

  David remembered Vladimir to be a jovial type, even as he ordered his food, happily suggesting items that David should try. He certainly was not the stereotype Soviet officer David had envisioned during all his years of military training and indoctrination. As the waiter collected the menus, Vladimir emphasized that he needed the vodka to come immediately before the first course appetizer.

  “Well,” Vladimir began. “I am so glad you were able to come.”

  “Like you said at the checkpoint, we are allies, right?” David had to sound both convincing and natural, not wanting to tip Vladimir off in any way that he was actually being sent by the Americans. He did want to see Sherry, Robby, and Jenny again and had no desire to be whisked away while in the city of East Berlin.

  “That's right! Good! I believe that we are on the same side and as you know, your President Reagan and our Prime Minister, Gorbachev are working very well together towards Perestroika. Are you familiar with this?”

  “Yes, I sincerely hope that it works very well for both of our countries.”

  “Me too! It will, believe me!” Vladimir said with excitement.

  Two waiters, dressed in black shirts and black pants with white aprons tied around their waists, came with their salads, and vodka. Vladimir proposed a toast, “To peace between our countries.”

  “To peace,” David added, and downed the shot of vodka while trying to disguise his wincing with a pleasant smile. Before the two waiters moved away, Vladimir made it a point to inform them that they would need another shot of vodka before they came back with the meal.

  The vodka came and went, and then came again, this time with the main dish. The two continued discussing world events; the situation in Afghanistan with the Soviet troops and the on-going war between Iran and Iraq. At one point in their conversation, Vladimir added, “We are much alike, just as we were during World War II. We were allies then and should be again soon. Our real enemies are those terrorists in the Middle East. We should be fighting them together.”

  The food smelled delicious as three waiters laid the plates in front of them… along with two new shot glasses of vodka. They ate, talked in between bites, and enjoyed a typical social meal without any mention as to why David was there or what the Russian wanted from him. This surprised him a bit, but the situation allowed David to relax and act natural more easily.

  When one of the waiters came back to check on them, Vladimir requested another shot of vodka for both, their fourth. The Americans had already informed David that the Russian's primary goal would be to get David to trust him so that he would readily agree to meet again at a future date.

  “Otherwise,” Jerry told him, “Just act natural.”

  Since, David had a feeling that this type of thing went on more than most soldiers were aware, he had to ask Jerry the obvious question. “So
, there's no way that they will hold me there as a spy or something?”

  Jerry and his partner, Chad exchanged glances. “That is usually not the case; just remember to act natural.”

  The afternoon wore on with more pleasantries; Vladimir even asked about David's wife and suggested that maybe a meeting could take place in the future with both wives in attendance.

  As three waiters collected the empty plates, a fourth was taking their order for dessert. Before he could turn away, however, Vladimir requested vodka to come with it. David never really wanted any of the vodka in the first place, but was careful not to do anything that might offend his Soviet host in any manner. He was already beginning to feel its dizzying effects.

  They had dessert, and vodka, then coffee, and vodka. In fact, Vladimir put his last shot into his coffee. David's head was spinning. He needed more coffee with the hope of offsetting the liquor.

  When the dinner was finished, David somehow remembered the details of the time and date for a future meeting, which he had been previously instructed to accept. The only thing that Vladimir asked him to bring back on the next visit was some hunting magazines. David assured him that he would, that the PX had a lot of them.

  Finding his way back to Checkpoint Charley was not an easy task, as the road in front of him seemed to wave back and forth a bit. David wondered what the guards would think in his condition when he attempted to enter back into West Berlin at Checkpoint Charley.

  When he did go through, he tried to look away whenever asked a question. When a couple of young American soldiers dressed in civilian attire whisked him away from the “uniforms” and told him to park over in a side lot, he became cautiously edgy. In the back of his mind, David hoped that these people knew what he was up to and were possibly even working for Jerry and Chad.

  One of the young men walked around the car and kept looking at the surrounding area. The other, a short-cropped blonde-haired person in his twenties and sporting designer sunglasses and an overcoat of European fashion walked David to the trunk of his car.