W E B Griffin - BoW 03 - The Majors Page 15

  John was back out at Camp Rucker, thank sweet Jesus for, that, and not only as a fireman, GS-2, but as a fire equipment vehicle operator, GS-3. It wasn't really a promotion, just that he was qualified for the higher job because of his experience and seniority. What it was, officially, was that he had applied for a new job instead of just getting his old one back.

  It was sort of funny, he told her, because now that he was a fire equipment vehicle operator, GS-3, there weren't any fire equipment vehicles. Not real ones. They'd auctioned off the old fire engines (some man from Chicago had made the high bid and come all the way down to take them away) when the post was supposed to be closing down for good. The new equipment hadn't come yet, although the army had issued the purchase order for them, and they were supposedly being built.

  All the fire department at the post had to fight fires with until the new equipment was delivered were some regular trucks with water pumps on the back, and some regular water trucks, regular army trucks. John and some of the others had gone to

  Georgia, to Fort Benning, to get them. It was the first time

  John had ever ridden in an airplane.

  When she arrived at the Clayhatchee Springs Church of God, a white frame building set on brick piers, nobody was there.

  She hadn't expected anybody to be there, and would have been disappointed and maybe even a little embarrassed if there had been. She got the door unlocked and turned her kids loose in the nursery and asked them please not to tear anything up.

  Then she went into the church office.

  When she got to the door, it occurred to her for the first time that maybe they locked the office. She had keys to the church and even the food cupboards in the kitchen (because she was on the Hospitality Committee and the Ladies Altar

  Guild), but if they locked the office door, she would have been out of luck. She had no reason to have keys to the office.

  The office door was open. And there was the typewriter, right on top of the pastor's desk, with an oilcloth cover over it.

  A month before, right after John had gone back to work,

  Darlene had been in the post office to send some wrong-sized corduroy overalls for Johnnie back to Sears and Roebuck, and she saw the civil service announcements on the bulletin board next to the FBI's Ten Most Wanted Criminals posters.

  Fort Rucker was hiring typists, clerk-typists, and typist- stenographers on a competitive examination, and you could write for application blanks or call a number somebody had written in the notice with a Magic Marker. There were vacancies from GS- 1 through GS-5 for something they called secretary

  (stenotyping).

  So she called, and the lady in the personnel office said that all you had to do to get taken on as a typist, GS-l or GS-2, was be able to type. If you typed twenty-five words a minute, you could get hired as a GS- I. If you typed thirty-five words a minute, you could get yourself hired as a GS-2. They would teach you whatever else you had to know once you were on the payroll.

  Darlene had given it a lot of thought. John had been a GS2 before they closed the post, and they'd had all the money they needed. If she could get a job as a GS-l, now that he was a GS-3, that was probably the same thing as two GS-2 paychecks.

  That was all the money in the world.

  The only trouble was that John probably wouldn't want her to work. He would tell her that she should be home with the kids. And she couldn't type; there was that little problem, too.

  Darlene Heatter sat down at the pastor's desk and pulled the oilcloth cover off his typewriter. Then, from her purse she took a package of typing paper, wrapped in cellophane, for which she had paid twenty-nine cents in the Piggly Wiggly

  Superette, and a battered book, bound at the top, which she had borrowed from the Choctawhatchee regional library bookmobile:

  Typing the E-Z Way.

  She put a piece of paper in the typewriter and lined it up.

  She'd already read the first part of the book, and understood what she was to do.

  Darlene Heatter put her fingers on the keyboard, and very slowly but with firm strokes, she began to type: aaa Ill aaa 111 aaa Ill alal alal alal lala lala Ia.

  (Two)

  The U.S. Army Ground General School

  Fort Riley, Kansas

  23 February 1955

  ROUTINE

  HQ DEPT OF THE ARMY WASH DC

  0905 21 February 1955

  TO: CG USA GOS AND Ff RILEY KANS

  1. THE DEPUTY CHIEF OF STAFF, USA, WILL PAY

  AN INFORMAL VISIT TO THE USA GROUND GEN SCH

  & FT RILEY KANS 24-25 FEB 1955.

  2. GENERAL E. Z. BLACK, USA, AND HIS PARTY,

  CONSISTING OF ONE VIP CIV, TWO OFF, AND TWO

  EM, WILL ARRIVE VIA PRIVATE CIV AIRCRAFT AT

  APPROX 1100 HOURS FT RILEY TIME 24 FEB 55 AND

  DEPART FT RILEY BY PRIVATE CIV AIRCRAFT

  APPROX 0900 HOURS Fort RILEY TIME 25 FEB 55.

  1. GENERAL BLACK DESIRES TO EMPHASIZE THAT

  VISIT IS INFORMAL. THE V/CS USA DOES NOT,

  REPEAT NOT, DESIRE HONORS. HE DESIRES THAT ALL

  ACTIVITIES AT FT RILEY CONTINUE WITHOUT INTERRUPTION.

  HOWEVER, THE V/CS USA WILL,

  SHOULD THIS BE THE DESIRE OF THE CG USA GCS &

  RILEY, AND PROVIDING IF DOES NOT INTERFERE

  11-I PRESENT PLANS, PARTICIPATE IN GRADUAtion

  CEREMONIES FOR WOCRW Flight Training CLASS 54-40N

  24 FEB 55.

  4. THE V/CS USA DESIRES THAT HE AND HIS PARTY

  RF PROVIDED TRANSIENT QUARTERS OVERNIGHT.

  GRADE TRANSIENT QUARTERS AND GROUND

  ATION ARE DESIRED FOR THE THREE (3)

  MAIN LIV AIRCREW OF THE CIV ACFT.

  5. PROVISIONS OF PARA 3.(B)l THROUGH PARA

  3.(b)16 STANDING OPERATING PROCEDURE NO. 1.3

  WILL BE COMPLIED WITH.

  BY COMMAND OF THE CHIEF OF STAFF:

  EDWIN W. BITrER, MAJOR GENERAL, USA

  SECRETARY, GEN STAFF, USA

  The TWX posed several questions to Major General Evan

  D. Virgil, USA, Commanding General of the U.S. Army Ground

  General School and Fort Riley, Kansas, first and foremost of which was, "Why the fuck is Black coming out here?"

  The Chief of Staff, U.S. Army, devotes most of his time to the Joint Chiefs of Staff, of which he is a member, and to the President of the United States, the President's cabinet, and to the Congress. The Vice Chief of Staff, who is also a four star general, devotes his time to the U.S. Army.

  And he has a role in the scheme of things should the balloon go up. If the balloon went up, it was entirely likely that there would be casualties not only in the executive branch of government, but in the Congress and in the Department of Defense as well. The line of succession to the man who has the authority to push the button descends through the Vice President to

  Speaker of the House of Representatives, various other elected officials, and only far down the line comes to the itary.

  As a practical matter, it was tacitly recognized that if seat of government should go up in a nuclear mushroom, order to push the button, when received from a four-star general. or admiral, would be enough to convince the bright young in the classified ordnance dumps that they could forego 5ting Operating Procedure for Issue of Classified Weaponry pass out the Nuclears and the Chemical, Biological, and Radiologicals.

  It was agreed that the orders would come from the surviving four star general or admiral. It was recognized that the order would be given by the first surviving four-star to be able to get through to the red phones connecting the brass to the men in the classified ordnance dumps.

  The first thing the commanding general did on receipt of the TWX was call in his signal officer and instruct him to have radio telephone links with scrambling devices instantly installed in two separate locations, the VIP guest house and a secret concrete bunker, and to insure that each separate link was capable of communication with each of the sev
en places on the list he was provided.

  Then he called in his aides and his sergeant major and put them to work. The junior aide was to see to transportation and quarters for the crew of a civilian airplane. The sergeant major was to make sure that the VIP guest house was made ready for the Vice Chief of Staff of the United States Army. The senior aide was placed in charge of having new programs printed for the graduation exercises of Warrant Officer Candidate Rotary

  Wing Right Training Class 54-6, listing General E. Z. Black,

  Vice Chief of Staff of the United States Anny as guest speaker.

  The Commanding General, USA Ground General School and

  Fort Riley, Kansas, would introduce the Vice Chief of Staff.

  "And I want the band there, all of them, not the ragged collection of clowns I saw the last time," the post commander ordered. "And make sure we have a four-star flag for the platform.

  I don't care where you get one, get one. Uniform for all hands will be Class "A" with medals. No ribbons. Medals. The general staff will attend, and tell them I expect to see their wives. I don't know what flight training has laid on, but there will be a reception afterward. A cake. I want it done right, Scott."

  "Yes, sir. I take the general's meaning."

  "And get with Whatsername, the officer's wives' club ad-

  .....

  "Mrs. Talley, sir."

  "Tell Mrs. Talley what's going on and get her to make sure the WOC wives look like officers' ladies. No slacks. Hats and gloves, if that's possible."

  "Yes, sir."

  "Get your show on the road, we don't have much time."

  At 1030 hours, the commanding general, the deputy commanding general, and their wives arrived at the Fort Riley airfield, driving past long lines of Cessna L-19s----used for training of fixed wing aviatorsŽand long lines of Bell H- 13 helicoptersŽused for training of rotary wing aviators. The commanding general's junior aide-decamp and the sergeant major were already on hand, shepherding a line of olive-drab

  Chevrolet staff cars. The junior aide-dc-camp had also arranged for a jeep with a radio tuned to the tower frequency to be on hand.

  At 1050 hours, the radio in the jeep came to life.

  "Ah, Fort Riley, this is Martin Three Zero Seven. I am five minutes out. I have General Black and party aboard. Request approach and landing."

  "What the hell is a Martin?" the commanding general asked his deputy. The deputy shrugged his shoulders.

  "Martin Three Zero Seven, Fort Riley," the tower replied.

  "You are cleared as Number One to land on Runway Four Five.

  The winds are negligible. The altimeter is two niner niner.

  Report on final."

  "Understand Number One on Four Five," the aircraft replied.

  A glistening black Cadillac came up beside the line of staff cars. A tall, erect black man in a gray suit got out of the car.

  "See who the hell that is," General Virgil ordered.

  "Sir, I believe that's Colonel Parker, retired," his aide told him.

  "Oh, yeah. I wonder what the hell he wants?"

  The tall, erect black man leaned on the fender of the gleaming black Cadillac and, shading his eyes, looked up into the sky.

  An airplane appeared, far off, fairly low, and approached the field at a surprisingly high speed. It passed a mile to the left, banked steeply, and started its descent.

  "Riley, Zero Seven on final," the radio said.

  "Jesus, that's a B-26," the deputy commanding general said.

  The airplane, a Martin B-26, a two-engine World War II bomber, was now making its approach. The flaps and landing gear were down. There was a screech as the tires touched, and almost immediately a deafening roar as the props were reversed and the throttles opened. The B-26 slowed very abruptly and started to turn around.

  "Riley, Zero Seven on the ground at one minute to the hour.

  Taxi instructions, please."

  "Zero Seven, a FOLLOW ME is enroute to meet you."

  A jeep with a huge FOLLOW ME sign mounted on its back seat raced out to the B-26, turned around in front of it, and then led the glistening ex-bomber to the line of staff cars. They could see what was painted on the vertical stabilizer now. There was a representation of an oil rig and the words: THE NEWBURGH

  CORPORATION.

  The pilot taxied the airplane nose in to them and shut down the engines. General Virgil led the small procession over to the door, which unfolded from the side of the fuselage. He had a moment's glance at the paneled interior before the door was filled with the body of a huge black master sergeant. He came down the stairs with surprising grace for his bulk, casually saluted the two general officers, said, "Good morning, gentlemen," and then opened a cargo door to the rear of the passenger door and started to take out luggage. His tunic was pulled up as he stretched, and General Virgil saw that he had a.45 automatic in the small of his back.

  And then General E. Z. Black got off the plane. He wore. an overseas cap, rather than the leather-brimmed headgear normally worn by senior officers, and he wore it cocked to the left, in the armor tradition.

  General Virgil saluted crisply. Black returned it idly.

  "Good to see you, Virgil," he said. "But you didn't have to come out to meet me." He smiled and nodded at the wives.

  "Ladies," he said.

  A full colonel and lieutenant colonel followed him off the airplane, then a tall, gray-mustached civilian, and finally a younger master sergeant, carrying a briefcase. The unmistakable bulk of a.45 in a shoulder holster was visible under his tunic.

  "General, do you know General Young?" General Virgil asked.

  "Yes, of course," Black said. "How are you, Young?" Then something caught his eye, and he walked quickly toward the tall, erect, black man.

  "Look at this, Carson," he called over his shoulder. "We've been met by the local undertaker."

  Colonel Philip Sheridan Parker III, retired, offered his hand to the Vice Chief of Staff of the U.S. Army. He got, instead, a bear hug.

  "Slats, God, it's good to see you!" General Black said. The mustached civilian walked up and shook hands with Parker.

  "I'm awed by your airplane, Carson," Colonel Parker said.

  "The last time I saw one of those, it dropped bombs on me.

  They said it was a mistake."

  "I was right there with you, Phil," Carson Newburgh said.

  "Outside Bizerte. Don't be impressed with the plane. It belongs to the company."

  General Virgil filed away for future reference the fact that the retired, outside-the-gate black colonel had friends in very high places.

  The colonel, who wore the insignia (lapel pins with four stars and a golden rope through his epaulets) of an aide-decamp to a full general, walked up to General Virgil.

  "The general desires to attend the graduation ceremonies for WOCRW Class 54-6," he said. "But he desires to arrive just as they begin."

  "I've, uh, taken the liberty, Colonel, of arranging for the general to address the graduating class," General Virgil said.

  "I don't believe the general had that in mind," the aide-decamp said. He walked over to General Black.

  "You're scheduled, sir, to address the graduating class."

  Black frowned, and then shrugged.

  "Oh, what the hell," he said. "You want to hear me give a speech, Slats?"

  "The general's speeches are usually something to hear."

  "Virgil, I don't want to arrive until just before the graduation starts," General Black said. "We haveŽ" he looked at his watch Ž"fifty-odd minutes. Where can I hide? Better than that, where can we all get a quick drink?"

  "My quarters, sir. I'd be honored," the post commander offered.

  "Let's open the club," General Black said. "I'll ride with

  Colonel Parker in his limousine, and the rest of you can meet me there."

  They were distracted by the sight of the enormous master sergeant heading their way, more precisely, marching their way. He marched up to
Colonel Parker, raised his hand in a salute far more rigid than the one he rendered to the post commander, and barked: "Colonel Parker, sir! Does the colonel remember the sergeant, sir?"