The New Breed

by W. E. B Griffin

  "Does Colonel Felter know about-this?" Barbara Bellmon asked.

  "I don't know," Jack said. "I'm taking my orders from Colonel Fulbright."

  "That figures," General Bellmon said a little bitterly.

  "You're not supposed to go over there," Barbara Bellmon said. "All you were supposed to do is help them get the planes and crews ready to go over there."

  "How do you know that?" General Bellmon asked his wife.

  "'Craig told me," Barbara said. "When Jack first went to Hurlburt."

  "You're going right now, aren't you?" Marjorie asked, making an accusation. "That's what that airplane's doing at Cairns!"

  "'Yeah," Jack began. "That's about-"

  ""Just a moment please, Jack," the General interrupted him. "I have something to say. Primarily to Bobby, but really to all of you."

  There was something in his tone of voice that silenced all of them and made them look at him expectantly, as if, Jack thought, they were awaiting his orders.

  We're dealing with a highly classified operation here, Bobby," General Bellmon said, "although to judge by this conversation, you'd never know it." Bobby Bellmon looked at Jack in righteous indignation.

  "'Don't look at him, Bobby," General Bellmon said. "Or just at him. Take a look at your mother and your sister. Your mother put her nose in where she knew it had no business, and as ,hard to understand as this is, both Sandy Felter and Craig Lowell have told Barbara a good deal that she has no heed to know. And Marjorie knows more than she should. Some of that she got from Jack, furiously. The point is, there has, been a serious breach of security. And 1 am obliged to do something about it. The trouble is, I don't know what."

  "Bob!" Mrs. Bellmon said almost sorrowfully. He held up his hand to silence her.

  "The first thing you do when you face a situation like this is assess the damage," Bellmon went on. "Marjorie, how much have you talked about Jack. . . about where he is and what he's doing, to your friends?"

  "What exactly is he doing?" Bobby demanded.

  "I haven't asked for questions," Bellmon said flatly.

  "I've told some people he's been at Hurlburt," Marjorie said.

  "But not what he's doing. I know better than that."

  "I hope so," Bellmon said.

  "But, Daddy, I know," Marjorie said. "I know Colonel Fulbright's involved, and Uncle Sandy, and Uncle Craig, and I know about the B-26s, and I guess I've known from the first that they were being sent to Africa. But I haven't said anything to anybody about that."

  "And I gather you know at least as much as Marjorie?" Bellmon said to his wife.

  "The only thing Craig told me was that they were going to pick Jack's brains at Hurlburt," Barbara said. "Obviously that had to do with Africa. But I didn't hear anything about B26s until just now."

  "And how much have you told Marjorie, Jack?" General Bellmon asked.

  "I told her I was flying."

  "B-26s? Stripped of identification numbers?" Bellmon asked, and Jack nodded. "No one told you to keep your mouth shut about what you were doing? That the classification is Top Secret?"

  "Yes, Sir," Jack said, "but-"

  "But what?" Bellmon asked, tiredly, resignedly.

  "For God's sake," Jack said, "you're a general. She's a general's daughter. I wasn't running off at the mouth in a saloon."

  "Just to make my point," Bellmon said, "do you have any reason to believe that Second Lieutenant Bellmon here is cleared for Top Secret -Eagle?"

  "No, Sir," Jack admitted.

  "Then do you think you should have said in his hearing anything at all about flying unmarked B-26 aircraft out of Hurlburt Field?"

  "I don't mean to sound flip, General," Jack said, "but I don't think it's very likely that he's a Russian spy."

  "He's twenty-one years old and a second lieutenant," Bellmon said. "I think it's reasonable to presume that with a couple of beers in him at the officer's club, and if the conversation lagged, he might just mention that his sister's boyfriend, a PFC, is flying unmarked B-26s out of an Air Force base. Especially since no one told him it's Top Secret."

  "That's not fair, Daddy, to either Jack or Bobby!" Marjorie said.

  "Lieutenant Bellmon," General Bellmon said formally, "through no fault of your own you have been made privy to certain classified information regarding Operation Eagle. It is my duty to order you not to, divulge, or discuss in any way, what you have heard with anyone, and to inform you that if you should so do, it will render you liable to such punishment as a court-martial may impose."

  "Yes, Sir," Bobby said.

  "Was that necessary?" Marjorie asked.

  "Marjorie, please," Barbara Bellmon said.

  "When are you going, Jack?" Bellmon asked.

  "Now I'm not sure I should answer the question."

  "Don't be flip with me, Jack!"

  "As soon as I get out to Cairns. We're going over by, the southern route, via San Juan and the Cape Verde islands."

  "Isn't that stretching the B26 a little?"

  "We've got auxiliary fuel tanks," Jack said, "but it's tight."

  "Thirty minutes after you take off, I will have to 'call Colonel Felter and tell him to what degree I believe security has been breached," Bellmon said.

  Jack shrugged.

  "Now sit down and eat your dinner, " Barbara Bellmon said.

  "Mrs. Bellmon, I just. . ." Jack said and stood up, gesturing helplessly at the food.

  "I'm going out there with you," Marjorie said.

  "I don't think you should," General Bellmon said.

  "I don't give a damn what you think!" She fled the room.

  Jack nodded at General Bellmon and then at Bobby. "I'm sorry," he said to Barbara, "about all this." She went to him and kissed his cheek.

  "Take care of yourself, Jack," she said.

  General Bellmon came out as Jack was starting the Jaguar. Jack looked up at him. Bellmon put out his hand.

  "Good luck, Jack," he said. "Take care of yourself."

  "Thank you, Sir." When Jack had backed out of the driveway, Bellmon turned and started back into the house. He ran into his wife coming out.

  "Where are you going?"

  "Where do you think?" Barbara said and got into the Oldsmobile.

  He watched her; and then, as she started to go down the driveway, he put out his hand like a traffic cop, stopped her, and got in beside her.

  They reached the SCATSA hangar at Cairns Field as the unmarked B-26K, gleaming in the taxiway and hangar lights, taxied toward the active runway, its engines throbbing powerfully.

  Marjorie was standing by the hangar door, her arms folded tightly across her breast, her shoulders hunched over. She saw the headlights and turned to look for a moment, long enough for Bellmon to see that she was trying very hard 'not to cry.

  Barbara jumped out of the car and went to her and put her arms around her.

  The B-26K disappeared behind the Base Operations Tower building. And a moment later they could hear the sound of the engines revving as the mags were tested, and then the roar as full takeoff power was applied to both engines.

  A moment later the B- 26K came into view again on its takeoff roll. The wheels started to come up the moment it broke ground, and a few seconds after that the wings dipped to the left and then to the right as Jack waved so long.

  Then Marjorie started to sob.

  "It's all right, darling," Barbara said to her. "He's a good pilot. He'll be back."

  "He won't," Marjorie moaned. "I have a goddamned premonition that I'll never see him again."

  "Every time your father went away I thought the same thing," Barbara Bellmon said. "And every time he came back." That's not true, General Bellmon thought. We've talked about that. She told me there had never been any question in her mind that I would come back, that it never entered her mind that I would not.

  He waited until there was no longer the sound of the engines, and then went to his wife and daughter.

  "You want me to drive Jack's car, ho
ney?" he asked.

  "No," she said sharply. "And I'll tell you something else. If he does come back, I'm going to marry him. So You better adjust to that."

  "I'm already adjusted," he said.

  (Two)

  Kamina Air Base Katanga Province Democratic Republic of the Congo 27 July 1964

  Jack Portet greased the, B-26K onto the long, wide concrete runway, feeling just a little pleased with himself. The K had its idiosyncrasies (it had a tendency to veer to the right when you broke ground, and it landed hot), but even his father could have found no fault with this approach and landing nor, so far as that went, with the whole trip. They had hit where they wanted to hit on time and with more than the minimum fuel remaining.

  The avionics were first-class, brand-new, state-of-the-art Collins and Sperry. On the across-the-Atlantic leg and then down the west coast of Africa, they had a radio link on the single-sideband with the Strategic Air Command. It had never failed, and it had been as clear as a bell.

  Somewhat cynically, Jack had though that the SAC radio link bad been primarily to inform colonels Felter and Fulbright as quickly as possible if they had had trouble; there was very little SAC could have done for them had they had to sit down in the middle of the Atlantic. But even knowing this, it had been comforting-to have someone to talk to. It had been a long way at 370 knots across a very large ocean from San Juan to the Cape Verde islands.

  Three quarters of the way down the runway, he turned the K onto a taxiway and taxied back toward the hangar area. There were a number of planes on the-- former Belgian Air Force base, most of them wearing Congolese insignia. He saw some of the B-26s that had preceded him. Several of these had already been painted with Congolese insignia and identification numbers.

  There were eight T-28s parked wingtip to wingtip, and three Douglas C-118s, the military version of the DC-6, with Congo, markings.

  He half expected to see Air Simba markings on a C-46 parked beside a hangar, but when he drew close, he saw the Commando were UN markings and was a derelict, missing one engine and one tire and wheel. He wondered if his father knew about it. He might be able to buy it dirt cheap and cannibalize it for parts. Or for that matter make a little gift to the proper people, who would look the other way while he helped himself to whatever parts he thought he could use.

  Then he saw something else behind the line of hangars. Two USAF C130-E Hercules. (The Hercules was the standard USAF long-range, multirole, heavy-duty airlift transport aircraft.) Their rear cargo doors were open, and they were in the process of off-loading a mixed cargo. Each had apparently carried a partially disassembled Sikorsky H-34, as well as a large assortment of wooden crates.

  The crates probably contained the .50 caliber Browning machine guns with which the B-26s would be armed and ammunition for them, Jack decided.

  And finally, before a Congolese in a much-too-large-for-him set of white coveralls came running onto the taxiway with wands in his hands to direct Jack to a parking spot, Jack saw a U.S. Army L-23 parked next to the Hercules.

  He idly wondered as he moved the K where it was supposed to go and went through the shutdown procedure wondering if it could possibly be Geoff Craig.

  It was. When Jack dropped to the ground from the K's hatch, Geoff was standing there with Pappy Hodges.

  "Dr. Portet, I presume?" Geoff said. "Welcome to the Heart of Darkest Africa."

  "Hello, you ugly sonofabitch," Jack said. "How are you?"

  "I didn't know they let common enlisted men like you fly fancy airplanes like that," Geoff said.

  "Hello, Jack," Pappy Hodges said, offering his hand. Luis Martinez, the former Cuban Air Force captain who had been Jack's copilot, threw their luggage to the ground through the hatch and then dropped down after it. Jack made the introductions.

  "I got something for you, Jack," Pappy said. "I don't think you're going to like it."

  "What?" Jack asked.

  Pappy Hodges handed him a quarter-inch stack of mimeograph paper.

  HEADQUARTERS UNITED STATES STRIKECOMMAND McDill Air Force Base, Florida

  SPECIAL ORDERS: NUMBER 107

  EXTRACT *************

  THE NEW HREED 259

  21. PFC PORTET, Jacques Emile US53279656, Hq & Hq Co USSTRICOM, McDill AFBFla is relieved present assignment and transferred in grade and, will proceed to Hq & Hq Co, US Army Garrison, "Berlin, Germany, effective 25 July 1964. Auth: TWX Hq Dept of Army dated 25 Jul 1964. EM. will travel by US Govt or civilian air, rail, or motor transportation as required. EM is NOT authorized transportation at government expense of dependents, household goods, or private automobile.

  Tvl is authorized in civilian clothing at option of EM.

  Travel will be accomplished, within seven (7) days of departure. The exigencies of the service preclude the granting of any delay en route leave. Hq & Hq CO, USA Gar, Berlin, is directed to notify Hq Dept of Army (ATTN: PERS-II-A.3) by most expeditious means of acquisition of EM. Service and allied records of EM are being forwarded by registered US Mail.

  BY COMMAND OF GENERAL EVANS:

  OFFICIAL:

  Dennis V. Crumpette Lt. Col, GSC Scty Gen Staff

  "What the hell is this?" Jack asked.

  "I have supplemental verbal orders regarding you, PFC Portet," Pappy said dryly. "I am to lead you personally by the hand to one of those Air Force Hercules and hand you over to the aircraft commander. You will then be flown to Evereux, France.

  At Evereux, France, you will tell the Air Force people that you have just arrived from the states. . . directly from the States. They will then arrange your transportation from Evereux to Berlin by me mast expeditious means."

  "What the hell is going on?" Jack asked.

  "Just guessing," Pappy said, "I would say that somebody wants your ass out of the Congo as soon as possible."

  "Why? And why Berlin?"

  ""Berlin is a puzzler," Pappy said. "Why, I can make guesses. If I were a betting man, and I am, 1 would bet that Fulbright has his ass in a crack for letting you fly that B-26 over here and that may want to get you as far away from it and from the whole operation as they can; and as quickly as they can."

  "How come you did fly it?" Geoff asked.

  "The guy that was supposed to fly it crawled into a bottle," Jack said. "There was nobody else to fly it."

  "OK, then," Pappy said. "That's it. Presuming that they can get you to Berlin right away, it's deniable. What they call 'credibly deniable.' "

  "What the hell does that mean?"

  "If some sonofabitch in the State Department, or the CIA, or the White House leaks it to the press," Pappy said, "or for that matter if the Russians are watching Hurlburt and have found out what's going on, and arrange for some reporter to make a scoop that U.S. military personnel are flying B-26s over here, it can be credibly denied. 'Portet? Don't be silly. Portet is a PFC-and he's in Berlin, not the Congo.'"

  (Three)

  Orly Field,. Paris, France 29 July 1964

  The Transportation Office at Evereux, an American-operated air base on which several squadrons of C130-E Hercules aircraft were based in support of NATO, provided PFC Portet with a ride on a Gooney-Bird to Orly and a voucher for a ticket on Pan American to Berlin. Pan Am didn't seem at all surprised to have a PFC traveling alone show up asking for a ticket. Jack decided that people apparently hitchhiked rides into Evereux. It was a transport-aircraft base, and that made sense when he thought of it.

  There had been no way for him to place a call at Evereux to Hanni and Jeanine on the Cap d' Antibes, or at least none that he could discover. The military switchboard was not equipped to accept pay calls onto a French trunk. He would, he decided, call from Orly.

  On the Gooney-Bird to Orly, however, having nothing better to do he reread his orders assigning him to Headquarters & Headquarters Company of the U.S. Army Garrison, Berlin, wondering what the hell they intended for him there. And then he noticed the line saying "travel will be accomplished within seven (7) days." That meant he had seven days
to get there, starting on the twenty-fifth.

  Thirty days hath September, etcetera told him that meant he had until the first , of August. And they didn't really know when he had left. He could tell them he had left the States on the twenty-eighth, which meant that he didn't have to be in Berlin until August fourth.

  Air France said they would be willing to deadhead Captain Portet of Air Congo into Cannes, but the planes were full, and he was liable to be left standing at the gate. He wasn't sure if that was true or whether the French were just trying to weasel out of giving him a free trip, but he couldn't take the chance. He bought a ticket, and there was just time to call the number Geoff had given him at Kamina before he made his flight.