The New Breed
Page 50
As he neared the terminal building, he saw paratroopers loading body bags aboard one of the C-130s which had shut down only two of its engines. And there was a bunch of Europeans standing at the rear of the airplane, waiting for the bodies to be loaded. He signaled. to his driver to pull up beside a Belgian major.
"What's happened?" Wagner demanded.
"About what?" "How many were killed?"
"We don't know yet," the Major said. "When we first landed, the bastards lined up all the whites they could find and made human shield out of them. They were marching them toward the airfield when we showed up. Then they opened up on them." There would be no point, Karl-Heinz decided, strangely calm in asking the Major if he had a casualty list. Even if there was a preliminary one, it would not be complete.
"Command post in the terminal?" he asked.
The Major nodded. Karl-Heinz motioned for his driver to move on.
Colonel Laurent had his command post set up in the Sabena station manager's office.
"Sir, Captain Wagner-I'm the lead element of Column One. Wagner said, saluting.
Colonel Laurent, who looked exhausted, casually returned the salute.
"The column is about half an hour behind me, Sir," Wagner said.
"You have another officer with you, Captain Wagner?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Turn over to him. You have five minutes."
"Sir?" Colonel Laurent made a come-here gesture with his hand to the man standing just outside the office. He was wearing a U.S Army tropical-regions flight suit without insignia, and there was a Model 1911 A 1 Colt pistol in an Army holster hanging from his web belt around his waist. When he came close, Colonel Laurent said, "This is Wagner, Major."
"You're Karl-Heinz Wagner?" the man asked.
Wagner nodded.
"Glad to see you made it," the man said. "I've been sent to get you. Get your gear."
"who are you?"
"My name is Hodges."
"Fetch me where? Who are you?"
"You want to get your gear? I'll tell you on the way," Pappy Hodges said.
"Fuck you," Karl-Heinz said. "I'm not going anywhere with you."
"You know what DP means, Lieutenant?"
"No," Wagner snapped. "I don't!"
"It means Direction of the President. I've got a DP TWX that says I am to locate you and get you out of here."
"My sister and nephew are here," Wagner flared.
"ah, shit, I'm sorry," Pappy Hodges said. "I don't know what the fuck's the matter with me. I should have told you first thing. Hanni and the baby and the Portets were on the first plane to Leopoldville out of here. They're all right. Geoff Craig is with them.
"They're all right?" Karl-Heinz Wagner asked very softly.
"They're all right," Pappy repeated. "You know the Portet kid?"
Heinz shook his head no.
"He's got a busted nose," Pappy said. "He fell off a truck. They evacuated him, too."
"I can't go to Leo?" Karl-Heinz asked.
"You've got five minutes to turn over."
"What about Colonel Hoare?"
"Wagner, you're in the U.S. Army, not the Katangese Gendarmmerie. You get a DP, Lieutenant, you say Yes, Sir and you ---"
Wagner looked at him.
"Yes, Sir," he said after a moment.
"We're in that L-23 across the runway," Hodges said. "I don't want to have to come looking for you. Five minutes, Lieutenant." The left engine of the L-23 was already turning over when Karl Heinz ran across the runway to it. He jumped up on the wingroot and climbed in. Pappy Hodges leaned over him to make sure the door was properly closed and then started to taxi across to the end of the runway.
A hand touched Karl-Heinz's shoulder. He turned and found a bottle of Johnnie Walker Black Label being thrust at him.
"Here you go, you fucking Kraut," Captain George Washington Lunsford said. "A little liquid courage for the flight." Father Lunsford looked awful. He was wearing a flight jacket that had Geoff Craig's wings and first lieutenant's bars on it. And he was obviously quite drunk.
"What's up, Father?" Karl-Heinz asked.
"Well, I don't suppose there will be flags flying and bands playing, but we're going home, pal. Back to the land of the Big PX. And about fucking time, too." Karl-Heinz took the bottle from him and took a healthy pull.
Pappy Hodges turned the L-23 onto the runway and without slowing pushed the throttles to the firewall
"If we're going home, why aren't we going to Leo?" Karl Heinz asked when they were airborne.
"Because there's a Presidential Special Missions jet waiting for you at Kamina."
(Five)
Quarters #1, The U.S. Army Aviation Center Fort Rucker, Alabama 1 December 1964
Major General Robert F. Bellmon walked into his living room.
His daughter, Marjorie, was sitting before the television but not seeing anything.
"How goes it, honey?" he asked.
"Did you find out anything for me?"
"No. I told you I have no need to know, and I know better than to ask. If something had happened to Jack, we would have heard. Sandy would have got word to us."
"No news is good news, right?" she said sarcastically. He chose to let it pass.
"If I had to make a guess," he said, "Jack is probably on Ascension Island. That's as far as they would let him go. And the planes didn't return that way. So he's out there waiting for transportation." He handed her the New York Times and the Atlanta Constitution. "I asked somebody to get these for me. For you. They'll have more in them than that goddamned Dothan Eagle." The same picture was on the front page of both newspapers over the caption: Bloody-Bandaged, Battle-Weary Belgian Paratrooper Tenderly Comforts Rescued Girl in Stanleyville.
Marjorie glanced at the picture and started reading the story.
"They killed that- doctor," General Bellmon said.
"What?" Marjorie asked, and looked up at him.
"I said, they killed that doctor-the missionary. Carlson? It's in there. Just shot him down in cold blood as the parachutists were taking the town."
"oh, my God!" Marjorie wailed.
General Bellmon looked at his daughter in surprise.
"What?"
"Look at that!" she said, thrusting the Constitution at him.
"What am I looking at?"
"That's no Belgian paratrooper," Marjorie said, tears running down her face. "That's my Jack! I can tell by his eyes! And that girl is his sister. I've seen pictures of her. Oh, my God; he's been shot in the face!" General Bellmon examined the photograph carefully.
"I'll be damned," he said. "I think that's Jack, all right;" Then he raised his voice. "Barbara! Come take a look at this!"
Second Lieutenant Robert F. Bellmon looked at the photo after his mother and then informed his sister that he had been shown a film at West Point demonstrating what miracles of reconstructive surgery were now possible.
Marjorie, her mother saw, was about to respond when the telephone rang.
"Bobby; answer that," Barbara Bellmon ordered very quickly.
"Your brother gets his tact from his father," Barbara said to Marjorie "But Bobby's right, honey, they can work miracles."
"Hey, Marg!" Second Lieutenant Bellmon called.
"W what?" Marjorie snapped.
"You've got a collect call from Sergeant Jack Portet at Pope Air Force Base, North Carolina. You want to pay for it?"