The Aviators

by W. E. B Griffin

  "General Mobutu came by the house to pay his respects to my mother," he said. "He asked me how I was doing in the Army-the U.S. Army-and I told him fine except they wouldn't let me fly. The next day, as I was getting on the airplane to come home, one of his aides showed up with the wings. And the appropriate certificate."

  "I'm not sure they're authorized," General Hanrahan said.

  It was an observation, not a criticism.

  "They are," Lowell said with finality. "You need Congressional approval to accept a medal, but wings are qualification badges. You can wear them. See Felter, Colonel Sanford, and Fullbright, Colonel Richard. Between them they must have a dozen sets-jump and pilots'."

  "Yes, I guess that's right," Hanrahan said, chuckling.

  "Well, Marjorie will be dazzled."

  "Yes, Sir," Portet confessed. "That was the idea."

  "Now let's get this show on the road," General Hanrahan said. "The first priority, Johnny, when it can be arranged with his schedule, I'd like a few minutes with General Bellmon. The sooner the better."

  "I don't think that will be a problem, Sir," Oliver said.

  "You're in the Magnolia House. Why don't you call him when you get there?"

  "OK," Hanrahan said. "How did he react to the news that you're coming to work for me?"

  "I haven't told him, Sir."

  "You haven't?" Hanrahan asked sharply. "Why not?"

  "I . . . Sir, I was about to say there hasn't been the opportunity. But the truth is I haven't made the opportunity. I plan to tell him tonight at his party."

  "He already knows," Hanrahan said. "The orders were changed by DA TWX. I have a copy."

  "Oh, God!"

  "You should have told him, Oliver," Hanrahan said.

  "Yes, Sir, I should have."

  Hanrahan started to say something else but stopped when Marjorie Bellmon walked into the lobby.

  "The USO has arrived," Lowell said sotto voce. He shifted into a thick but credible Southern accent. "Why, Miss Marjorie, whateveh brings you heah?"

  "Oh, shut up, Uncle Craig," Marjorie Bellmon said. She went to General Hanrahan and kissed his cheek. "Thank you," she said."

  "Thank me, it's my airplane," Lowell said. He extended his cheek.

  "OK," she said and kissed him. "Thank you, too." Then she went to Jack Portet and kissed him, lightly, on the cheek. And looked out of her intelligent gray eyes into his for a moment, and' kissed him again.

  "It's the wings," Lowell said. "I remember that from my youth. Wings'll get 'em every time."

  "Uh uh," Marjorie disagreed, smiling. "It's the green beret. We girls go gaga over green berets. I'm surprised you haven't noticed." She put her hand under Jack Portet's arm and leaned her head against his shoulder.

  "May 1 presume," Lowell said, "from that awful display of affection, that I will not have to concern myself with Sergeant Portet's well-being while we're here?"

  "I'll take care of him," Marjorie said. "You won't have to worry about him at all. "

  In that case, let's get out of here," Hanrahan said.

  XXII

  [ONE]

  The Magnolia House

  Fort Rucker, Alabama

  1820 Hours 18 December 1964

  Major General Robert F. Bellmon, in mess dress uniform, pulled his Oldsmobile into the driveway of Magnolia House and walked quickly to the door. He knocked at the door but entered without waiting for a reply.

  He found Lieutenant Colonel Craig W. Lowell in the living room. Except for the jacket, Lowell was also in his mess dress uniform. He was watching the news on the television; holding a drink in his hand.

  "Hello, Craig," he said, signaling for him to remain seated. "Where's Red?"

  "On the horn, checking in with his wife," Lowell said.

  "Would you like a little taste?"

  "Please," Bellmon said. "What are you having?"

  "Scotch," Lowell said. He stood up and walked to a sideboard on which sat a row of bottles and shining silver accoutrements. Before he reached them, the steward, a moonlighting GI in the employ of the Officers' Club, came into the room from the dining room.

  "That's all right, Sergeant," Lowell said. "I'll pour the drinks. As a matter of fact, why don't you just pack it in?"

  The steward, surprised, looked at General Bellmon for guidance.

  "I've known these gentlemen long enough, Sergeant," Bellmon said, "to know they need absolutely no help in getting at the whiskey. Why don't you go over to the club and see if you can't help out with the bar for my party?"

  "Yes, Sir," the steward said with a smile. Lowell mixed a scotch and soda and handed it to Bellmon.

  "Mud in your eye, Robert," he said.

  "Nastrovya," Bellmon said, and took a sip. "That's good.

  "What is it?"

  "McNeil's," Lowell said.

  "Never heard of it."

  "I have it sent over," Lowell said.

  "From Scotland, you mean?" Bellmon asked.

  Lowell nodded.

  Bellmon shook his head from side to side. "It must be nice to be rich."

  "It is, as you well know," Lowell said, smiling. "Don't poor-mouth me, Bob. I know better. "

  "Not that I'm not delighted to see you, Craig," Bellmon said just a little sarcastically. "Especially since you brought your mess dress-I presume you brought the golden saucer, too? "

  I never leave home without it," Lowell said, gesturing toward one of the armchairs. On it, suspended from a purple sash, was the four-inches-across golden symbol of membership in the Greek Order of Saint Michael and Saint George.

  "That always gives people something to talk about when the conversation pales," Bellmon said.

  "A regular conversation piece," Lowell agreed..

  "As I was saying, while I'm thrilled you're here, I can't help but wondering why you're here."

  "Well, I was invited, for one thing," Lowell said.

  "You know what I mean."

  "OK. I suspected you were going to be annoyed with Red about now, and I came here to protect him from your righteous wrath."

  "Then you know? Maybe you're involved?"

  "Tangentially," Lowell said. "Peripherally."

  "Well, Red better have a damned good explanation or I'm going to fight it, right up to the Chief of Staff if necessary. I like Johnny Oliver, and I'm not going to see him throw his career down the toilet-have it thrown down the toilet by you cowboys. "

  Brigadier General Paul T. Hanrahan appeared at the bedroom door. He was in his mess dress.

  "Howdy, Tex," Lowell said. "Go for your gun. It's high noon. I told you he was going to be pissed."

  Bellmon flashed Lowell a coldly furious look and then faced Hanrahan.

  "Goddammit, Red, I wasn't even consulted!"

  "I think I better have a drink," Hanrahan said.

  "I think you better tell me what the hell you're trying to do to Johnny Oliver," Bellmon insisted.

  "All right," Hanrahan said as he mixed himself a drink.

  "Captain Oliver came to me, asked if he thought there was someplace around the Center where he could be useful, and I said there was. "

  "He came to you?" Bellmon asked, genuinely surprised.

  "He had his assignment. George Rand, who is writing his own TO and E, came up with an executive-assistant slot for him. It's a damned good assignment."

  "He came to me," Hanrahan repeated.

  "I just don't understand. that," Bellmon said.

  "Well, he got together with his pal Lunsford."

  "He's mentioned him. Who is he?" Bellmon interrupted.

  "They knew each other in Nam. He was the A-Team commander Johnny was trying to extract when he got shot down. Felter had him in the Congo, walking around in the woods with the Simbas. He got a Silver Star for it-from the President, incidentally-who put him on the Majors' List. Good officer. "

  "And this is his idea, then?" Bellmon asked.

  "No, it was Oliver's idea. They showed up drunk. "

  "Drunk?"
<
br />   "Drunk. That didn't surprise me about Lunsford, but I was surprised about Oliver. And then it occurred to me, Bob, that he was damned near as emotionally exhausted as Lunsford."

  "You're suggesting I burned him out?" Bellmon asked' coldly.

  "I'm suggesting he broke his hump working for you," Hanrahan said. "He thinks the only reason you don't walk on water is that you don't like wet shoes. And then he had some personal problems. "

  You mean the reluctant widow?" Bellmon asked.

  "Yeah," Hanrahan said. "She told him fish or cut bait.

  Her and the kid or him and the Army. He chose the Army. "

  "And then there was the beloved sister," Lowell said.

  "I don't know about that," Bellmon said.

  "When he wouldn't let her cheat him out of a million point three, she told him what an ungrateful sonofabitch he was."

  "I didn't hear about that," Bellmon said. "There was something about a sister, but."

  "From what I hear she is a real bitch," Lowell said. "But she did raise Johnny from a kid . . . I know why it bothers him."

  "He told you all this?" Bellmon asked.

  "No. He told Father Lunsford, and when I asked Father why Oliver wanted to join the Foreign Legion, he told me."

  "Tell me?"

  "Right now it's those two against the world," Hanrahan said: "Lunsford's on the outs with his family-or some of them, anyway. And Oliver has been kicked out by both family and the widow."

  "And he thinks running around in the woods with you guys, eating snakes, is going to make things better?"

  "They both need a rest," Hanrahan said. "After which I can find something for them to do. I don't intend to have them running around eating snakes. They've had all the on the-job training they need in that area."

  "If he goes to work for George Rand," Bellmon said grimly, "there is absolutely no question in my mind that he would make the Majors' five-percent list in a year. I just wrote him one hell of an efficiency report."

  "What he does not need at this point in his career is another year or so of sixteen-hour days working for a general officer," Hanrahan said just as firmly. "Can't you see that?

  As soon as he gets home from Nam, you put him to work.

  He would work just as hard for George Rand. And his lady love, who threw him out, would be just a couple of hours down the road. That's a prescription for a breakdown if I ever heard one. "

  I vote with the redhead," Lowell said.

  Bellmon looked at him coldly, shrugged, then turned back to Hanrahan.

  "So what would you do with him? Notice the tense. If you had him. I am still ten seconds away from calling the Chief of Staff. "

  "OPERATION EARNEST," Hanrahan said.

  "What the hell is that?" Bellmon asked.

  "I'm going to put both of them in it," Hanrahan asked, "so they can be together. Lunsford will be G-3 and Oliver will be the Aviation Officer. The TO and E slots are for majors, and I'll be writing their OERs. It's just starting, and I don't think anything is going to happen for six months at - least. "

  "I asked what the hell it is," Bellmon said impatiently.

  "What is OPERATION EARNEST?" Hanrahan looked at Lowell before replying.

  Lowell shrugged.

  "Che Guevara has dropped out of sight in Cuba," Hanrahan said.

  Guevara, Argentinian by birth, had helped Fidel Castro achieve his revolution in Cuba, first by fighting in his army and helping shape its strategy, then by holding several important posts in the new Cuban government, including that of minister of industry. Lately, however, he had taken more interest in spreading communism in Latin America by revolutionary warfare.

  "His Christian name," Lowell said dryly, "is Ernesto."

  "I'm not quite sure I understand," Bellmon said. He obviously did not like what he had heard. "You're going to try to locate him, is that what you're saying? Isn't that going a bit far afield from your mission? Isn't that the CIA's business? "

  Hanrahan shrugged.

  "What are you going to do if you find him?"

  "Reason with him," Lowell said. "Try to point out the error of his ways. He wasn't always a murderous sonofabitch who beats prisoners to death with baseball bats. And, as Father Whatsisname of Boys' Town said, there is no such thing as a bad boy."

  "You mean assassinate him," Bellmon said. When it became apparent that neither Hanrahan nor Lowell was going to respond to that, Bellmon asked, "And Felter is going along with this?"

  "You weren't listening," Lowell said. "Operation EARNEST wasn't a Special Forces proposal. It came down, yea, from Mount Olympus, damned near graven on stone tablets. I suppose that someone convinced the powers that be that Red's people can handle this better than the CIA. I mean, what the hell, Bob, if the CIA did it, they'd get mud on their shiny loafers. Couldn't have that, could we?" General Bellmon had absolutely no doubt that the "someone" was in fact Colonel Sanford T. Felter, and the "the powers that be" was in fact the President of the United States.

  No one else had the authority to assign to Red Hanrahan's Special Forces a mission that clearly belonged to the CIA. And after the Felter-run operation to rescue hostages from Stanleyville had gone off so well, he clearly enjoyed the admiration of the President, for the moment at least. The President admired results.

  "I don't see why you would put Johnny Oliver in something like that," Bellmon said. "He has neither the training nor the experience."

  "Something dirty and illegal, you mean?" Lowell asked.

  "Craig," General Hanrhan said, "shut up."

  He turned to Bellmon.

  "1 have no intention-at least until somewhere way down the pike-of sending either Lunsford or Oliver operational on this. What we do need is some one at Bragg who know what it's like to be running around in the woods and can train people to stay alive. That's Lunsford. And someone who knows what's going on and can take care of moving both bodies and paper. Someone who can control the air supply system, material, and aircraft. And someone; as Sandy put it, with not only a grasp of the situation, but who knows how to keep his mouth shut."

  "What's Felter's involvement with this? I mean with Oliver. I can guess what it is with this assassination operation of yours."

  "Who do you think had Oliver's orders cut?" Lowell asked.

  "No one gets assigned to OPERATION EARNEST without Felter's approval," Hanrahan said. "And he said- he thought Oliver was just the man for the job."