Bamboo Battleground

by Don Bendell

  Bobby said, “Absolutely.”

  The general paused again and finally added, “Then they found his phone and somebody spoke into it in a thick Mideastern accent and said they had cut off his head and would display it in their compound.”

  Bobby choked a sob, and Bo started crying again.

  The general said, “His body is on its way back here thanks to some very brave, very loyal Royal Thai Army troops. They got the patrol out of there, too, and it is back in Bangkok at our embassy. His funeral will be held in Colorado where he lived.”

  Bobby said, “He always told me if he ever died, I was to scatter his ashes up in the Sangre de Cristo Mountains near his home. He loved them.”

  “His sister already called the Pentagon with that request this morning,” General Perry said. “Chapter 4/24 of the Special Forces Association headquartered in Colorado Springs is spearheading the funeral planning. Tenth Group at Fort Carson is providing an honor guard of Green Berets and are providing bagpipers and a bugler. I guess Boom had two ex-wives and both wanted his flag, so Tenth Group is bringing extras.”

  Bobby said, “He even mentioned that to me. He told me if he died and was not married that he wanted his flag to go to his oldest daughter.”

  “Fine,” the general said. “Because I already asked to deliver his eulogy, I will personally present her a flag from here that flew atop the Pentagon.”

  Bobby clenched his teeth, saying, “General, please, sir, I want to go to Laos.”

  General Perry said, “You might, Bobby, very soon, and you, too, Bo, but first we will honor this very brave soldier and patriot. He deserves not only the payback we all want but he has earned our deepest respect and honors, too.”

  “Absolutely, sir,” Bo said. “I just can’t believe he’s gone.”

  “At least he died a warrior,” the general said, “He would have written that script, and in total service to his nation.”

  Bobby asked, “Sir, when will the service be?”

  The general said, “Later in the week, but they haven’t set the day yet.”

  Bobby said, “Sir, if you don’t mind, Captain Devore and I might want to go to Las Vegas and then we will go to Colorado from there.”

  He glanced over at Bo, and she smiled broadly, nodding yes.

  The chief of staff asked, “Las Vegas? Why?”

  Bobby said, “It is unreal having joy mixed with so much sadness, but I guess it is to be expected during war. I have asked Captain Devore to marry me, sir, and she said she would.”

  The general broke into a big smile and walked over to Bo and gave her a big hug.

  “It’s about damned time!” he roared.

  He shook hands with Bobby and said, “Well, we have not totally unfolded the mystery of your would-be assassins, but we are positive it is all tied in. You can go but not on commercial air. We will have an air force jet take you to Nellis Air Force Base and MPs will accompany you.”

  Bo said, “Sir, thank you, and we understand the air force jet, but, General, we are MPs ourselves. We are cops, sir, and we are soldiers. We do not need babysitters, with all due respect, sir. We want a quick wedding and a short honeymoon, but we want to have some time alone, General. You have been in love, sir?”

  He grinned, then said, “Bobby, you better not ever try to boss her around. Very well. We’ll have a talk and then you two will take off for Nellis. It won’t count against your leave time. We’ll say it’s convalescent leave, which both of you ought to be getting used to by now.”

  The general called in his aide and told him to get a jet standing by to take them to Las Vegas, and also said he needed his office marked with a sign for a top secret briefing. The efficient colonel jotted notes in his BlackBerry and took off.

  Minutes later, his secretary buzzed him, and she told the general that his office was properly marked for a TS briefing.

  He said, “All right, you two, you know all the security warnings about a TS briefing, so we will dispense with that.”

  Bobby said, “Yes, sir,” while he poured more coffee for all three of them.

  Jonathan Perry said, “The Department of Homeland Security has been spearheading a very secret multiagency investigation of U.S. Senator James Weatherford. We cannot prove it yet, but we think he is behind the attack on you two and the killing of Boom Kittenger.”

  Bo said, “A U.S. senator?”

  “A U.S. senator and about the biggest scoundrel in Washington, D.C.!” General Perry responded.

  Bobby said, “Talk about an investigation. I bet everybody involved has had to walk on eggshells.”

  “My boy,” the old man replied, “you have sure hit that nail on the head. One leak, one peep, and every apologist for the senator, every reporter, every person who is honest but has been taken in by his deceit, will swear that we are all stooges of the president cooking this up as a political gimmick, because he is in the opposite party from the president. I don’t give a rat’s ass what his politics are—he is a traitor, a crook, and an accomplice to murder, and a Benedict Arnold as far as I am concerned.”

  Bobby whistled.

  The general said, “We have surveillance tapes, photos, and video of him meeting on a number of occasions with a deputy minister from Hanoi who is also a major official in the Communist Party named Nguyen Van Tran, and a major al Qaeda cadre member who you have already heard about, Muhammad Yahyaa, who operates out of Koh Samui in southern Thailand and is the al Qaeda leader in charge of all of their Southeast Asian operations.

  “Back when President Clinton was in office, prior to him starting to lift some of the trade regulations on the Socialist Republic of Vietnam, Americans and American companies were not allowed to do any trade, bartering, or even negotiations with Hanoi. Senator Weatherford started his secret meetings with Nguyen Van Tran then. The main corporation he owned, Fair Weather Enterprises, Corporation, International, bought out a small company in the Philippines and simply made it an offshore subsidiary. Then, he made several major real estate deals with Hanoi through his brother, who was CEO of FWECI. Because Weatherford was a wealthy senator to begin with, his finances were put into a blind trust.”

  “And I will bet a thousand to one, sir,” Bo interjected, “that his brother was the administrator for his blind trust.”

  “Exactly, Bo,” the senior officer said. “And he still is, so Weatherford’s blind trust has made him hundreds of millions since he has been a senator. You look at something like Martha Stewart going to prison for supposedly knowing insider information and manipulating a stock sale. Look what this guy has been doing for years, and do you know what kind of pension and fringes he will get the rest of his life as a U.S. senator? We should have ‘sucker’ tattooed on our foreheads. As a general officer, I never let anybody know my political affiliation. This has zero to do with that. It has to do with treason, in my opinion.”

  “I totally agree, sir,” Bobby said. “This man has got to be taken down, let alone his commie and al Qaeda buddies. We owe them big-time, General Perry.”

  “I am going to be very involved with this operation myself, Bobby,” Perry added. “I considered Boom not only a great American soldier and patriot but a close friend, as well. He was an original. I want to tell you two a story I haven’t told too many people.”

  He poured another cup of coffee and took a sip, then continued, “I was assigned to Eighteenth Airborne Corps headquarters at Fort Bragg, North Carolina, years ago. It was one of my staff jobs, which I hated but had to do well if I wanted stars. Boom Kittenger at the time was . . . Oh, hell, I’m getting old. He was either a master sergeant or a sergeant major at the time, and I do remember he was assigned to the Seventh Special Forces Group, Charlie Company, in fact.”

  He saw Bo making faces and said, “You two are wounded warriors. Sit on that couch over there. Do you need to get your legs propped up or anything?”

  Bobby said, “Sir, if you don’t mind. That would help both of us, to elevate our legs.”

  Bobb
y and the general brought two chairs over in front of the couch and Bo put her leg up, sighing. Bobby sat down next to her and moaned as he lifted his up. He also set his fractured arm on a cushion on the arm of the couch.

  “Thank you very much, General Perry,” Bobby said.

  “Yes, sir, this really helps,” Bo added.

  Perry went on. “Okay, I’ll make a long story short. I was a colonel then and left a restaurant one night on Yadkin Road in Fayetteville with my wife. A gang jumped us in the parking lot. I tried to fight them off, but there were too many, and they had a knife and clubs. I got a fractured jaw, broken nose, and ended up having both eyes swell shut the next day. Anyhow, this one tall, kind of slender, good-looking guy saw us when he left the restaurant and walked right up into the middle of the melee.”

  Bobby said, “Boom Kittenger?”

  The general smiled. “Of course. He held his hands up and was chuckling, like he was in the middle of a Saturday night poker party. In a humorous way, he told those sorry buggers that he would give them an opportunity to go home safe and healthy if they left immediately. My wife had made it to the car and locked it like I told her, while I was fighting, but now I was helpless. He stood between them and me. He was a really good black belt, you know?”

  Bo said, “Oh yes, sir. We know that.”

  “Anyway, the idiots laughed at him, and while they laughed, he went on the attack,” Perry continued. “He kicked the legs out from the closest guy and the guy broke his elbow on the parking lot blacktop. Then he swung around and the guy with the knife moved toward him, and he had palmed all the change in his pocket and blasted him in the face with a fastball throw that was like a shotgun blast. Then he kicked the guy in the balls so hard the air left him. Sorry, Captain.”

  With tears in her eyes, Bo raised her hand and smiled. “I am army, sir. No problem.”

  “Then Boom knocked that guy out with a hook punch I think, it was so damned fast,” the general said. “Then he spun several times, throwing kicks and punches and dusted the whole damned gang. Do you know what he did after that? He rode in the ambulance to the hospital with my wife and me, visited me regularly, testified against the gang—they all went to prison, by the way—and later on, I found out he contacted my sergeant major and asked him if he needed any admin help until I recuperated. That was Boom Kittenger. My wife and I named our youngest son, Brandon, after him. He is now a West Pointer.”

  General Perry briefed them some more and then summoned his driver, instructing him personally to take them to their places to pack and get their clothes and then drive them to Bolling Air Force Base in Washington, where a military jet would be waiting to take them to Nellis.

  Two hours later, they boarded a C21A U.S. Air Force version of a commercial Learjet. The forty-eight-foot-long, eight-passenger jet was powered by two Garrett TFE- 731-2-2B turbofan engines and cruised at around 500 miles per hour, which meant they would make Las Vegas in less than five hours.

  For most of the trip, Bo rested her head on Bobby’s chest and cried, then fell asleep. After she was asleep, he cried, too.

  When they arrived, they were greeted by two FBI agents who had a black sedan waiting for them to ride in. They explained that the FBI would be totally out of sight the whole time they were in Las Vegas, but were there just in case they needed the cavalry. Bobby and Bo thanked them.

  They were taken immediately to the Rio, where the lead agent explained that a suite was reserved for them and the bill was taken care of as a wedding present by Gen. and Mrs. Jonathan Perry. They checked in and then headed downstairs to catch a cab.

  First, Bobby grabbed Bo by the hand and said, “We need to make a side trip, honey.”

  He led her to a large gift shop near some of the main crap tables and blackjack tables. Inside, there were racks of fancy designer dresses, as well as the items you might expect to see in a convenience store. There were also two glass cases, one featuring expensive men’s jewelry and the other women’s.

  Bobby said, “Pick out an engagement and wedding ring you like.”

  Bo looked and saw a beautiful set, but it was very expensive with a large, near-perfect diamond in the engagement ring.

  Bo said, “Bobby, they are nice but I don’t see any I want. The only set that looks attractive is the most expensive jewelry in the case.”

  Bobby said, “You mean the swirly yellow gold rings and the one that has the big diamond, right there?”

  She replied, “Yes, but you are an army major, not a mafia don. It is okay, honey. I don’t need a ring, really.”

  Bobby said, “If you’re going to be my wife, you’d better learn now. We are wealthy.”

  “What?” she exclaimed.

  Bobby laughed, saying, “I had a very large inheritance. I am rich, and in about an hour, so will you be.”

  She laughed and shook her head.

  He looked at the clerk and said, “She wants that ring set. How quickly can they be sized?”

  The woman unlocked and opened the back of the case and got the rings out, saying, “Quickly, sir, but maybe they will fit. Let’s see.”

  They fit perfectly and, wearing the engagement ring, Bo walked out, admiring it all the way to the casino entrance.

  Bo stopped and said, “Wait, honey, I forgot something. It’s important. I have to go back to our suite.”

  Bobby said, “I’ll go for you.”

  “No, you wait here and play the slots,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”

  Seven minutes later, Bo tapped Bobby on the shoulder after he had lost twelve dollars.

  He looked up at her and smiled. In the crook of her left arm was the blue teddy bear. He stood, moaning, and kissed her on the tip of her nose.

  “Of course,” he said.

  They went out and hailed a taxi.

  Bobby and Bo found a hokey marriage chapel, insisting that there would have to be an Elvis impersonator there. They found one in the minister who married them who said he was a pastor of a Southern Baptist church in the Green Valley section of Las Vegas, heading toward Henderson. In true Vegas fashion, the pastor said when people exited his church they could see one of the rock walls around Wayne Newton’s estate.

  Bo and Bobby had discussed it on the plane, and the wedding had to be a memory and the hokier it was, the more memorable. What was truly important to them was the complete sanctity of their marriage, not the wedding ceremony.

  The ceremony, other than the outrageous circumstances, was pretty fast and uneventful, and the ride back to the Rio was spent with both moaning and groaning as they hit bumps in the street or went around curves.

  Just beyond the gift shop was a hallway leading to a restaurant. Bobby took Bo there and ordered two coffees to go, and two pieces of pie, coconut cream for him and pecan pie a la mode for her, their favorites. They limped to their suite.

  Inside, Bobby filled the large Jacuzzi with water, and soon the newlyweds were in the soothing hot water, finishing up their pies. They got out and after short trips to the two bathrooms, they went to the big bed.

  Bobby rolled Bo over on her stomach and gave her a complete body massage for over an hour. She was ecstatic.

  Bo asked, “What can I do for you, darling?”

  Bobby smiled and softly said, “Just be you.”

  Their lips came together, slowly, softly, then more passionately. The wounds did not matter when they made love. The pain was not a priority. The new husband and wife finally fell asleep in each other’s arms as the sun was coming up in the eastern sky.

  Two days later, they flew into Peterson Air Force Base at Colorado Springs and were picked up by two CID agents from Fort Carson. They were immediately transported to Tenth Special Forces Group headquarters.

  The group commander, a tall, distinguished-looking colonel, greeted them in his office and told them that the CID agents had secret clearances, but orders were sent down that they were to be escorted by personnel with top secret clearances only. He said that he had an Operation
al Detachment-A or A-Team who would be their escorts, drivers, bodyguards, and silent sentries while they were in Colorado. Four of the men on the A-Team had previously served in CAG, better known to civilians as Delta Force. The whole team had taken a defensive-driving, bodyguard-type course in Florida, and the whole team had several tours in Iraq, and half had served in Afghanistan and several in Bosnia, Kosovo, and other hot spots.

  Except for Bobby and Bo’s chauffeurs, they would for the most part be out of sight. The men all had permission from the group commander to dress like civilians and not shave, if they chose. He would be attending the ceremony. He also said he did not know how they pulled it off being able to continue working together, but he understood congratulations were in order that they were brand-new newlyweds.

  Bobby and Bo wore dress blues and everybody at the funeral stared at Bobby’s Distinguished Service Cross and Silver Star with Oak Leaf cluster, Bo’s Silver Star and Purple Heart, and their Soldier’s Medals. Those who were new to Special Forces were immediately told who Bobby was and all knew the nationwide story about Bobby and Bo in the wilderness, and the story about Bobby escaping the al Qaeda in Baghdad before they could cut his head off.

  When Boom’s ex-wives saw Bobby, they immediately came over and hugged him, and he introduced them to Bo. Then Boom’s sister and oldest daughter spotted him at the same time and ran over to him, throwing themselves against his massive chest sobbing. He ignored the pain in his broken forearm as he wrapped his arms protectively around each of them.

  When he introduced Bo to Boom’s sister, she told Bo that Boom told her that he could tell she and Bobby were in love and would end up getting married, when Bobby finally woke up and “got his head out of his ass.”

  Bo and Bobby kissed.

  The funeral was an incredible testament to Boom Kittenger. The chaplain from the Rocky Mountain chapter of the Special Forces Association, or Chapter 4/24, read a short invocation and the Special Forces prayer. Bobby and Bo were asked to sit with the family. The SFA chapter president, a behemoth of a man, who in his late fifties could still bench-press over 500 pounds, told an anecdote about Boom that touched everyone present.