"I've been trying to tell myself that girls are like streetcars.
If you miss one, another will be along in a while."
"I guess that's true."
"They don't have streetcars anymore."
"Not like Mrs. Wood, anyway, huh?" she said sympathetically.
"I didn't mean to bore you with this."
"Don't be silly," she said. She started to say something else, changed her mind and stopped, and then changed it again. "This is none of my business, but. ."
"Go ahead."
"You're going places in the Army, Johnny. Statement of fact. I have been around the Army all of my life. You get so you can tell."
"I will order a larger hat tomorrow."
"A wife who doesn't like the Army, or who spends all of her time waiting for the chaplain to knock at the door, is a burden you don't need."
"Oddly enough, the same thought has been running through "my mind."
"Maybe J shouldn't have said that."
"I need a shoulder to weep an," Johnny said. "My problem is that I may not need the Army as much as I need that lady.' , She pulled back from him and looked into his eyes.
"You had better think that over very carefully, Johnny," she said.
"I am. I have been all night."
"And for God's sake, don't tell Bob. Or anybody else, for that matter."
"There's nobody else I could tell. I don't know why I told you."
"I think I do, and I'm flattered," Barbara Bellmon said.
"It means you like me nearly as much as I like you." He could think of nothing to say.
"Damn," - she said. "I wish you and Marjorie had hit it off."
" He nodded across the dance floor, toward Marjorie and Charley Stevens.
"Marjorie seems to be otherwise occupied."
"That's not him," Barbara Bellmon said. "I don't know who it will be, but that young man is not him." A moment later she added
"I've had three drinks. Whenever I have three drinks, I tend to talk too much." There were forty-two officers and their ladies present at the Annual Dinner of Graduates of Norwich University. There were cocktails and hors d'oeuvres, and a shrimp cocktail and a roast-beef dinner, and remarks by Colonel J. Franklin Dampell ('45) (the senior graduate); Second Lieutenant Karl Massbach ('63) (the junior); and Major General Robert F. Bellmon, the post commander. Dinner was followed by dancing, with music provided by the New Orleans Fox Trot Orchestra, imported from New Orleans for the occasion.
A good time was had by all . . except Captain John S. Oliver, Jr. ('59).
XIII
{ONE]
Office of the Commanding General
The Army Aviation School & Fort Rucker,
Alabama 1805 Hours 9 March 1964
Captain Johnny Oliver had seen lights glowing in the second-floor comer windows of General Bellmon's office when he drove up to the headquarters building. But neither the staff car nor Bellmon's Oldsmobile was parked in the space reserved for him near the front door, so he decided that it wasn't the General; the carpets were being vacuumed, or the furniture polished, or something.
That was annoying, too. He had work to do, and it was a pain in the ass to try to concentrate with some surly maintenance man shoving his vacuum cleaner hose under your nose, while he sang along with" And here's a real toe-tapper from Bobby-Joe Jones and His Arkansas Stump-Stompers" on the transistor radio in his shirt pocket.
Oliver nodded politely at the FOD sitting at his desk in an anteroom off the main lobby. Then he went up the narrow staircase, two steps at a time, pulling his tie down and unfastening his blouse as he did so. ' Major General Robert F. Bellmon, Jr., was not only in the office, he was sitting at Johnny Oliver's desk in the outer office.
"Obviously you are an affront to uniform regulations," Bellmon greeted him. "You did not expect to find your general in here."
"Sorry, Sir," Oliver said, starting to pull up his tie.
"Hey, I'm pulling your leg," Bellmon said. "Relax."
"Did you need me, Sir?" Oliver said, continuing to adjust his tie.
"Not really. There was a call from Colonel Felter for you, so I thought I'd better see what he wanted. Then there were a couple of loose ends-"
"Colonel Felter called me, Sir?" Oliver asked as he finished buttoning his blouse.
"He wanted to know if there were any problems with those two officers, and their airplane, for Africa. He said he didn't want to bother me. I said, if there were any problems. . ." He stopped and looked inquisitively at Oliver until Oliver shook his head, no. ". . . you would have said something.
So he said to tell you thank you and give you his regards."
"I was with General Rand, Sir. He invited-it was more, in the form of a command-me to have a drink with him." Bridgadier General George F. Rand had come to Fort Rucker that morning to begin his flight training.
"I knew where you were," Bellmon said. "Everything go all right?"
"Yes, Sir," Oliver said. "He's set up in the Magnolia House. I drew his books, and the rest of the student crap, and got him flight suits and a helmet. And, not without trouble, I got the signal officer to promise to put in a private telephone line for him tomorrow. I introduced him to the kid who'll be driving him, and checked with the club to make sure they'll send somebody first thing every morning to make the bed, et cetera. He's all set up." Bellmon grunted and nodded his head.
"We're having him for dinner," Bellmon said. "I told Mrs. Bellmon I knew you had other plans. But you're welcome, of course. . . ."
"Thank you, Sir. For telling Mrs. B. I had other plans, 1 mean. "
"Do I infer you're not especially fond of General Rand's company?"
"No, Sir. I think he's a fine officer-"
"But he asks one hell of a lot of questions, right?" Bellmon interrupted. "It's like being interrogated by the NKVD?"
"Well, maybe the IRS."
"You're not alone," Bellmon said. "I told my wife that she is to get him started down Memory Lane and keep him there." Oliver chuckled.
"But that desire to know everything that it's possible to know," Bellmon said, "is one of the reasons George Rand is one of the best planning types in the Army. He was pumping you about Vietnam, right? Not his going through flight school? "
"No, Sir, today he wanted to know about flight school. He pumped me about 'Nam the time I flew him to Benning," Oliver said.
"Flight school generally, or vis a vis Vietnam?"
"Both, Sir. But mostly, come to think of it, about how well were training people to fly in 'Nam."
"He's probably going to have trouble here because of that.
I'm going to bend his ear about it at dinner."
"Sir?" Oliver asked, not understanding.
"He will go through the training here, unless I can talk him out of it, trying to relate that training to what will be required when the division goes operational in Vietnaminstead of putting that aside and just learning how to fly."
"Oh," Oliver said. "Yes, Sir, I see what you mean."
"Part of the trouble with sending senior people like George Rand through flight school is their perception of aviators, generally. "
"I don't think I follow you, Sir."
"Kids going into the program think of John Wayne," Bellmon said. "Flying 'is something only supermen can do.
They're not at all sure they're supermen, so they pay attention. A senior officer, particularly a general officer, has had experience with some really stupid people sporting wings. 'If that moron can fly, anybody can. I'm going to breeze through this.' See?"
"I never thought of that, Sir."
"It's a problem," Bellmon said, then changed the subject.
"One of the loose ends I've been tying up is the leave program. You remember that, Johnny?"
"Yes, Sir."
"As a matter of fact, I think you wrote it for me, didn't you?"
"Yes, Sir, I drafted it for you. "
"Then you will remember that it is the policy of this headquarters th
at the accumulation of leave beyond forty-five days is discouraged, and that it is the desire of the commanding general that no one will accrue leave to the point where it will be lost?" Leave is earned at the rate of 2.5 days per month, or 30 days a year, except that no individual may accrue more than 60 days.
"Yes, Sir." Oh, shit! I know what's coming.
"And you will recall that I directed the G-l to inform the immediate superior of individuals who have accrued in excess of fifty days' leave, so that he may counsel such individuals vis a vis the leave policy of this headquarters and strongly encourage them to comply with the commanding general's desires in this area?"
"Yes, Sir."
"The G-l has followed his orders," Bellmon said, and handed Oliver a mimeographed form. "So tell me, Captain Oliver, now that I've counseled you, where are you going on "Your leave, and when?"
"Sir, I can't take off."
"You've been in the Army not quite five years, and you've already lost about three weeks' leave, and you are losing more at the rate of 2.5 days a month. You have sixty days' accrued leave, Johnny."
"Sir, I don't mind losing the leave," Oliver said.
"Sometimes you're a little dense, Johnny," Bellmon said.
"For one thing, and I am not being facetious, all work and no play does indeed make Johnny a dull boy. And for another-and this is certainly not a criticism-disabuse yourself of the notion that you are indispensable around here. I've already talked to General Wendall, and he will send Jerry Thomas back here on TDY to fill in for you, whenever and for however long you're on leave."
"Yes, Sir."
"The other thing, Johnny, is that whether you like it, or I like it, or not, we're role models. If I force you on leave, then a hundred other captains-for that matter, fifty lieutenant colonels-will take the leave they're supposed to. If I don't, I am setting the wrong example. Verstehst Du?"
The intimate Du rather than the formal Sie. I'm touched.
"Jawohl, Herr General!"
Bellmon chuckled.
"Well, now that I've eaten your ass out," Bellmon said, "can I get you to give me a ride home?"
"Yes, Sir, of course."
"One final thing."
"Yes, Sir?"
"I had a look at the FOD's log a couple of minutes ago.
You've been in the office after hours just about every day, including weekends. Are you really that inefficient, or could some of the stuff you do after hours, like what you're planning to do here now, really wait until tomorrow morning?"
"I like to stay on top of things, Sir."
"When you fall behind, I will let you know. I realize you'll think this is the pot calling the kettle black. But beyond a certain point-I'm talking of hours, or fatigue-your efficiency-anyone's efficiency, my own certainly included drops to the point that when you think you're working, you're really spinning your wheels."
"I take your point, sir."
"Remember what I'm telling you, Johnny. "
"Yes, Sir."
"When you're a general officer, and you catch your aide putting in eighty-hour weeks," Bellmon added.
Oliver's surprise showed on his face.
"Yeah," Bellmon said. "I added up the times in the FOD's after-hours log. Now, if you will be so kind, drive me home." As Oliver reached for the switch to turn out the lights, the telephone rang. He went to the telephone and picked it up.
"Office of the Commanding General, Captain Oliver speaking, Sir."
"You weren't in your room, and you weren't in either the club or Annex One, so I figured you'd be working," Liza Wood said.
"I could have been out chasing women." He had not seen her in two weeks. Whenever he had called her, she had been "busy." Despite many solemn talks with himself-pointing out the growing evidence that so far as she was concerned, the whole thing was over, and the logical thing for him to do was face facts-he went to sleep. at night thinking about her. And she was the first thing he thought of when he woke in the morning. Or, for that matter, in the middle of the night.
"I'm glad you weren't," she said softly.
"God, I've missed you," he blurted.
"The most interesting thing has happened."
"Can I call You back in ten minutes? You home?"
"I'm in no hurry, Johnny," General Bellmon said. "Go ahead."
"You can't talk now?" Liza asked.
"Tell me about the most interesting thing that's happened."
"How would you feel about five all-expenses-paid days, including air fare, in exciting New York City?"
"I don't know what the hell you're talking about," he said.
"I was nationwide Kingsford Salesman-Sales person-of the month."
What is she talking about? Some kind of prize? Is she actually asking me to go with her?
"I don't know what that means, either," he said.
"It means I sold more Kingsford Houses-they're the ones mat come on a truck, and all they do is assemble them on lots, -than anybody else. The prize is the New York City trip for you and your wife, or husband."
He didn't reply immediately.
"Or friend," she said.
"Oh."
"You don't sound very thrilled."
"I'm thrilled that you just called me," he said. "But-"
"But you can't get leave, right? The goddamned Army would collapse without you, right?"
"When are we going? And are we taking Allan with us or not?"
"Take him, or leave him with Mother Wood, whichever you'd like."
"Let's take him. I missed him, too." There was no reply.
"Maybe I could come by later and we could settle the details," Johnny said.
"I'll be home all night," Liza said. "Have you had supper?"
"No. "
"Well, then, I'll make us something. Or fetch fried chicken. "
"I'll be there in thirty minutes."
"OK," she said very softly, and then the phone went dead.
Oliver put the handset in its cradle.
The feeling of euphoria was almost instantly replaced by anger.
Goddammit, now she's making a fool of me. She puts me down, and then she maybe changes her mind, and! obligingly raise my ass in the air so she can kick it again!
Why the hell did I do that?
Because I'm in love with her, goddammit!
When do I get enough?
The Aviators Page 32