W E B Griffin - BoW 03 - The Majors Page 10

  "I'm sorry to disappoint you," Felter said.

  "Next time, don't get my hopes up," Lowell said; "Next time, stay dead."

  "Somebody will come along, Craig," Felter said. "Aside from your morals, you're every maiden's dream."

  "I know, I know," Lowell said. "But it embanasses me so when they get on their knees and start kissing my hand."

  "He's right, Craig," Andre Pretier said. "You'll find someone."

  "I don't really think I want to," Lowell said. And then, quickly: "For Christ's sake. Let's start telling dirty jokes or something."

  (Two)

  Aviation Detachment

  Headquarters, Seventh United States Army

  Augsburg, Germany is April 1954

  Lieutenant Colonel Ford W. Davis, Commanding, Aviation

  Detachment, Headquarters, Seventh Army, happened to be in the outer office of the detachment when the civilian walked in.

  He was curious to the point of being annoyed. He didn't like what he saw.

  The civilian was dressed in a mussed sports coat, and gray flannel slacks, a civilian-model trench coat hung over his shoulders.

  There was a silk foulard in the open collar of his white button-down-collar shirt.

  A reporter, Colonel Davis decided. Probably an American, probably from the Munich American, a tabloid published by a bunch of wise-ass ex-GIs, catering to the enlisted men, a bunch of god damned troublemakers always looking for a story that made the army generally, and the officer corps specifically, look bad.

  Colonel Davis laid the file he had been reading on top of the file cabinet and walked over to where the civilian was talking to the sergeant major.

  "What's going on?" Colonel Davis asked.

  "This officer is reporting in early from delay-enroute leave,

  Colonel."

  Davis looked at him. Colonel Davis was suspicious of tall, handsome men, particularly the kind that wore scarves around their necks and trench coats over $heir shoulders. The officer came to something like attention.

  "Actually, sir," the handsome young man in the movie actor costume said, "I'm not coming off leave. I'd hoped to be able to get a PX card."

  "When are you due off leave?"

  "My orders call for me to report to Camp Kilmer 20 April,

  sir," he said.

  "Then what are you doing here now?"

  "I was married to a German, sir," the officer said. "I have a son here."

  "How'd you get here?"

  "I came commercial, sir.

  Davis put everything together. As a general rule of thumb, only German whores married Americans. Officers did not many whores. Not officers with any smarts. So what this young buck had done was marry a kraut whore, and he was smart enough to realize that meant he had ruined his career. What officers who fucked up their careers in their branch of service did was apply for flight school.

  Colonel Davis was a career soldier, out of Texas A&M into the artillery. He had gone to flight school as an artilleryman in War II, when the primary function of army aviation was artillery fire direction, using Piper Cubs as airborne forward observation posts. In those days, there had been an "L" superimposed on pilot's wings, to differentiate between "liaison" pilots flying Cubs and "real pilots." Colonel Davis had been a liaison pilot in those days.

  He'd stayed an army aviator, not because he was a fuck up, but because he and a tiny clique of others saw the future role of light aircraft in the army. The air force, when it had become a separate branch of the armed services, had made it clear they weren't going to bother giving the army what aerial services it would need. They were going to fight the next war with nuclear weapons dropped from 40,000 feet; with fighter planes flying at twice the speed of sound; with rockets, for

  Christ's sake, from space. They were not going to waste their time fucking around with the guys in the mud on the ground.

  The army was going to have to have its own aerial capability, not only artillery direction and liaisonŽmessengerŽflights, but medical evacuation, probably by helicopter (Korea had proved that theory) and, eventually, an aerial transport capability in the fifty miles behind the front lines. What the army really needed was its own close support aircraft, low and slow and near the ground. They were a long way from that, but

  Colonel Davis believed that, too, would come in time.

  He had stayed in army aviation because he believed in it.

  And because he was a professional soldier, he had looked for and found the weaknesses in army aviation. If you don't know what's wrong, you can't fix it. He was sure he had found the greatest weakness in army aviation, but he had no idea how to fix it.

  The weakness could be described simply: the officer corps of army aviation, like Ivory soap, was 99 44/100 percent pure incompetents, malcontents, the'er-do-wells, and fuck-ups. Instead of throwing the incompetents out of the army, they were allowed to go to flight school. There was no question, looking at Handsome Harry standing here before him with a god damned silk scarf wrapped around his throat, trying to look like Errol

  Flynn, that he was about to get one more fuck-up that nobody else in the army wanted, an officer so god damned dumb that he had married a kraut whore.

  "I don't know what you expected to f..id here," Colonel

  Davis said, icily. "But this is a military organization, and we expect that when newly assigned officers report for duty, they do so in keeping with the customs of the service. That is to say, in uniform."

  "Yes, sir," Handsome Harry said.

  "The sergeant here will sign you in," Colonel Davis said.

  "And see that you're installed in the bachelor officer's quarters.

  I did hear you use the past tense in reference to your marriage, didn't I?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "And then you will present yourself here in uniform and report for duty. Clear?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "You've given the sergeant major a copy of your orders?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "When you're through with them, Morgan, bring them in to me," Colonel Davis said, and then he turned away and walked into his office.

  As he closed the door, he heard Handsome Harry say, his voice amused, "That, Sergeant, is what is known as starting off on the wrong foot."

  Wise-ass prick thought it was funny, did he? He'd straighten his ass out in a hurry.

  The first occasion Colonel Davis had to consider that perhaps he had made an error in his snap judgment of Handsome

  Harry was when the sergeant major came into his office a few minutes later and laid a battered, creased copy of Handsome

  Harry's orders on his desk. Colonel Davis glanced at them quickly, and then looked more closely.

  "A major?" he said. "A regular army major? He doesn't look old enough to be a captain. And regular army?"

  "No, sir," the sergeant major agreed. "He doesn't."

  "Do we have his service record?"

  "No, sir. It must be on the way. He wasn't due to report to Camp Kilmer until 20 April."

  Colonel Davis looked at Handsome Harry's orders again, reading them carefully this time, to see what they could tell him.

  HEADQUARTERS

  THE U.S. ARMY ARTILLERY SCHOOL

  FORT SILL, OKLAHOMA

  EXTRACT

  SPECIAL ORDERS:

  NUMBER 87:

  20 March 1954

  31. MM Craig W. LOWELL, 0439067, ARMOR

  Student Off Det, Avn See, The Arty Sch, having successfully completed the prescribed course of instruction, and having graduated from Rotary Wing Aviator's Course

  54-6, The Arty Sch, is designated an army aviator, effective

  20 Mar 54. (H-13 and H-23 aircraft only).

  32. MM Craig W. LOWELL, 0439067, ARMOR, is awarded Primary MOS 1707 (Army Aviator, Rotary

  Wing only) eff 20 Mar 54.

  33. MM Craig W. LOWELL, 0439067, ARMOR

  MOS 1707 Stu Off Det, Avn See, The Arty Sch, is relvd prsnt asgmt, trfd and WP Hq US 7th Army APO 709 do Postma
ster, NY,NY, for further asgmt with Avn Sec

  ARMY SEVEN as RW Aviator. Auth: TWX Hq DA

  Subj: Initial utilization assgmt newly designated RW

  Aviators did 3 Jan 54. Off will report in uniform NLT

  2330 hrs 20 Apr 54 to USA Personnel Cntr, Cp Kilmer,

  NJ, for further shpmnt to US Army Europe via mil sea transport. Off auth thirty (30) Days Delay EnRoute Lv.

  Home of Record: Broadlawns, Glen Cove, Long Island,

  NY. Off auth trans of household goods and personal auto at Govt expense. Permanent Change of Station. Effective date change Morning Report 20 Apr 54. Tvl & mvmnt household goods and personal auto deemed nec in govt interest. Approp: S-99-999-9999.

  OFFICIAL:

  Peter 0. Romano

  Captain, AGC

  Asst Adjutant

  * **** ** * *

  EXTRACT

  BY COMMAND OF

  MM GEN YEAGER:

  Jerome T. Wailer

  Colonel, AGC

  Adjutant General

  All that Major Lowell's orders told Lieutenant Colonel Davis was that Lowell was a just-graduated chopper pilot. But between the lines, Davis could read that he was a fuck-up. Majors didn't go to army aviation unless they had fucked up by the numbers. What piqued Davis's curiosity was Lowell's rank, and his regular army status. He didn't seem old enough to be a major, and Davis would have given odds that he wasn't West

  Point, or one of the other trade schools, A&M, the Citadel,

  VMI. Maybe Norwich. Probably Norwich. He was Armor, and

  Norwich turned out large numbers of RA tankers.

  Two hours later, the sergeant major announced Major Lowell.

  "Send him in," Davis said.

  Major Lowell marched into Lieutenant Colonel Davis's office.

  He stopped three feet from Davis's desk, raised his hand

  in a crisp salute, and announced:

  "Major C. W. Lowell reporting for duty, sir."

  Lieutenant Colonel Davis returned the salute.

  "Stand at ease, Major," he said. Lowell assumed a position closer to "parade rest" than "at ease." He met Davis's eyes.

  At "parade rest" he would have looked six inches over Davis's head.

  He was in a Class "A" uniform, pinks and greens," a green tunic and pink trousers. The uniform, Davis saw, had not come off a rack in an officer's sales store. The fit was impeccable.

  Obviously tailor-made. Obviously expensive. But what impressed

  It. Col. Davis was the fruit salad.

  Above Major Lowell's breast pocket was an Expert Combat

  Infantry Badge, a silver flintlock on a blue background, with wreath. A star between the open ends of the wreath indicated the second award of the CIB. Major Lowell had been to war, twice. Davis decided that he was obviously a good deal older than he looked, some freak skin and muscle condition that made him look twenty-four, twenty-five years old. Sewn to one shoulder of his tunic was the insignia of the Artillery

  School. Sewn to the other was a triangular Armored Force patch with the numerals 73. There was no armored division numbered as high as 73, 50 it must be one of the separate battalions. Davis recalled that a separate armored battalion had made the breakout from Pusan in the opening months of the

  Korean War.

  That tied in with some of the fruit salad: UN Service Medal;

  Korean Service Medal, with three campaign stars; and the Korean ( as well as American) Presidential Unit Citations worn over the other tunic pocket.

  Immediately below the Cffi were aviator's wings, obviously brand new. Below the wings were his medals. Distinguished

  Service Cross. That was the nation's second highest award for gallantry in action. He also had the Distinguished Service Medal.

  And the Silver Star with an oak leaf cluster signifying a second award. And a Bronze Star with "V" device, signifying that it had been awarded for valor. Two oak leaves on that. Did that mean he had four Bronze Stars or just three? Davis wasn't sure if they gave second "V" devices for second valorous awards.

  Purple Heart with three clusters. Wounded four times. Then there were ribbons signifying foreign decorations, four of those, and then the World War II Victory Medal (which didn't mean he had actually been in World War II; that hadn't been declared over until late in 1946, and if you were in the service then, you got the medal) and the Army of Occupation Medal (Germany).

  They were very careful about how they passed out the DSC.

  "I don't recognize some of those, Major," It. Col. Davis said.

  Major Lowell said nothing.

  "What are the foreign decorations, Major?" Davis asked, a somewhat menacing tone in his voice. "Korean?"

  "Three of them are, sir."

  "Tell me about them," Davis said.

  Lowell bent his head and pointed to the medals. "This is the Order of St. George and St. Andrew," he said.

  "Korean?" It. Col. Davis asked, a challenge.

  "Greek, sir," Lowell said. "And this is the Korean Distinguished

  Service Cross, the Korean Military Medal, and the Tae

  Guk, which is the same as our DSM."

  "If it was your intention, Major," It. Col. Davis said, "to dazzle me with your fruit salad, you have succeeded."

  "Sir, regulations stipulate that decorations will be worn when reporting for duty in garrison."

  "I didn't know that," Davis said, coldly. Lowell did not reply.

  "How do you plan to handle it, Major," Davis asked, "when

  Camp Kilmer reports you AWOL as of 20 April?"

  "Sir, I spoke with the AC of 5, Personnel, a Colonel Gray, who informed me that a TWX from my receiving organization would clear that up."

  "And you expect to be reimbursed for your commercial travel here?"

  "No, sir."

  "And you hoped to be continued on leave here in Germany,

  is that it?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "You made a mistake reporting in, Major," It. Colonel

  Davis said. "I'm very short of chopper pilots, even ones fresh from flight school. I am going to have to put you right to

  work."

  "Yes, sir," Major Lowell said, immediately. That was the

  first thing Major Lowell had done of which It. Col. Davis

  approved. He had expected at the very least a delay while

  Lowell thought that over, and at worst a recitation of tragic

  facts that made his being on leave a humanitarian necessity.

  Lowell hadn't blinked an eye.

  "You were with the 73rd Armor in Korea?"

  "73rd Heavy Tank," Lowell said, making the correction.

  "Yes, sir."

  "They were involved in the breakout from the Pusan perimeter?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Were you with them, then?'

  "Yes, sir."

  "Tell me something, Major," It. Col. Davis asked, with deceptive innocence, "what is a regular army Major with nearly as much fruit salad as George Patton doing flying a chopper?"

  Lowell met his eyes, and there was a pause before he replied.

  "I came to the conclusion, sir, that my future as an armor officer was going to be less than I hoped."

  "Fucked up, did you?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "And it was reflected on your efficiency report?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "And it was either into army aviation or out of the army?"

  "Very nearly, sir."

  "How much service do you have? Until you have your twenty years, I mean?"

  "I've got five years and some months of active duty service, sir."

  "You made major in five years?" Davis asked, disbelievingly.

  "I was out for two years, sir. From 1948 until 1950. I was recalled for the Korean War."

  "How old are you, Lowell?" Davis asked.

  "Twenty-six, sir."

  "And at twenty-six, you have had time to make major and then fuck up by the numbers?"