"OK," he said finally. "Thank you. I'll get the paperwork going. Any reason you can't leave Bragg in the next couple of days?"

"No, Sir."

"I've got an Afrikaans instructor laid on at the Language School," Felter said. "He says he can teach a German-speaker enough to get by in three weeks. You'll go there first."

"Yes, Sir."

"But now it's lunchtime," Felter said. "I think under the circumstances that I should buy you a lunch."

"The Colonel is very kind, but that is unnecessary."

"I think we'll go to the Army-Navy Club. The food's not all that good, but I like to go there every once in a while and look at all the memorabilia. A career officer such as yourself, Lieutenant Wagner, should be able to say he's eaten lunch there at least once."

One L-26 Aero Commander was assigned to the U.S. Army representative to the Federal Aviation Agency, a colonel, for-his use in the execution of his official duties. This surprised few soldiers, too. It was generally accepted that the Army representative to the FAA was the recruiting officer for the CIA's airline, Air America, and that he had other CIA connections.

U.S. Army L-26 Tail Number 209 was at ten thousand feet over Eufaula when the pilot reached for his microphone.

"Cairns, Army Two Oh Nine."

"Two Oh Nine, Cairns," the tower came back immediately.

"Cairns, Two Oh Nine is VFR at one zero thousand over Eufaula. Estimate Cairns ten minutes. Request approach and landing."

"Two Oh Nine, Cairns, we have you on radar. Maintain your present heading. Descend to two thousand feet. Report five minutes out. The altimeter is three zero zero zero. The winds are negligible."

"Cairns, Two Oh Nine, understand two thousand, three zero zero zero. There is a code six aboard. We will require ground transport at the board parking ramp. No honors." There was aboard L-26 Tail Number 209 a device known as a transponder. It was state of the art. When triggered by the Cairns Army Airfield radar it responded electronically in such a manner that the air-traffic controllers were informed what type aircraft it was and its call sign.

Two Oh Nine had told the tower it had a full colonel (code six) aboard and that he wanted a staff car to meet him. Full colonels are not expected to stand around waiting for a bus or for someone to send a car for them. The "no honors" meant that the car was all the Colonel wanted; it would not be necessary for the AOD (Aerodrome Officer of the Day) to meet the airplane when it landed to officially welcome him to the Army Aviation Center.

"Roger, Two Oh Nine," Cairns replied. "Sir, may I have the name of the code six?" The pilot of L-26 Tail Number 209 wore the silver eagles of a full colonel on the epaulets of the blouse on a hanger in the cabin behind him. The blouse also carried the crossed flags of the Signal Corps and an impressive array of colored ribbons, the ordinary "I Was There" ribbons, and five, including the Distinguished Service Cross and the Distinguished Flying Cross, for valor. There were also parachutist's wings, the Combat Infantry Badge, and two silver badges testifying to the Colonel's skill with small arms.

(Three) Cairns Army Airfield Fort Rucker, Alabama 19 January 1964 The Army had purchased a half-dozen Aero Commanders sleek, lush, high-winged, relatively fast, twin-engine, six-place executive aircraft-"off-the-shelf" and designated the aircraft L-26. The justification of the purchase was that Beech Aircraft (which manufactured the military version of the Twin Bonanza, the L-23, which was the standard Army personnel transport) could not deliver sufficient quantities of them to meet the Army's needs. This was true, but few soldiers were surprised when the L- 26 Commanders wound up assigned to transport very senior officers. In some ways the Aero Commander became a sort of U.S. Army marshal's baton, a symbol of high rank and great responsibility.

There was one exception. By direction of the Chief of Staff, Colonel Richard C. Fulbright believed that if you've got 'em, flaunt 'em.

He was a tall, lithe, ruddy-faced officer with intelligent eyes and a mischievous smile.

He flashed the smile as he looked, his eyebrows raised in question, at the man in the copilot's seat. This was another full colonel. His blouse, on its hanger in the cabin, wore the crossed rifles of infantry, parachutist's wings, and the Combat Infantry Badge, but no ribbons. L Colonel Sanford T. Felter indicated with his finger that Colonel Richard C. Fulbright should identify himself as the code six aboard.

"Christ," Colonel Fulbright said, "if I didn't know better, I might think you're a spy or something." Then he pushed the mike button.

"Cairns, Two Oh Nine. Fulbright. I spell. Eff You Ell Bee Are Eye Gee Aicht Tee."

"I think, Colonel," Felter said, smiling, "the way you're supposed to do that is Foxtrot Uncle Love etcetera."

"Fuck 'em," Colonel Fulbright said cheerfully. "You realize you just ruined Bob Bellmon's day?"

"Bob loves you, Dick," Felter said, chuckling. "Everybody knows that."

"Two Oh Nine, Cairns. Colonel Fulbright, ground transportation will be waiting for you at the board ramp."

"Cairns, Two Oh Nine, Roger. Passing through eight thousand. " It was the SOP (Standard Operating Procedure) for the Cairns tower to report by telephone the arrival of any full colonel or more senior officer to the office of the Fort Rucker Commanding General, specifically to his aide-de-camp.

They did so now.

Captain John C. Oliver, a good-looking, young, recently returned from Vietnam Armor officer who was aide-de-camp to Major General Robert F. Bellmon, walked into the General's office and waited until General Bellmon raised his eyes from a staff study, an inch-thick stack of typewritten pages held together with a sheet-metal clip.

"Sir, a Colonel Fulbright is about to land at Cairns," Oliver said.

"Johnny," General Bellmon said almost kindly, "there is only one Colonel Fulbright liable to come here."

"Yes, Sir."

"I think it highly unlikely that Colonel Fulbright will do me the honor of paying his respects. either to the Commanding General or to me personally, but if he does show up here, we will keep the sonofabitch waiting at least fifteen minutes."

"Yes, Sir," Captain Oliver said, smiling.

"Anything on Colonel Felter?" Bellmon asked.

"No, Sir. With your permission, Sir, I thought I'd take the H-13 and meet the Southern 1430 flight in Dothan." The H-13 was a two-place, bubble-canopied Bell helicopter.

"Go ahead, Johnny," Bellmon said. "I won't be needing you." Bellmon knew that one of two things was true about Oliver wanting to take the Bell to meet the Southern Airlines flight from Atlanta on which Sandy Felter might, just might, be arriving.

One was that he was just doing his job, that he understood that Colonel Felter was entitled to VIP treatment not only because he was in a very high place, indeed, but also because he was ~n old, close friend of Bellmon. The other was that if he took the Bell, rather than laying on someone else, it would give him a chance to fly. Not much, but fly. As his aide-de-camp he didn't get much chance to fly.

Bellmon liked Captain Johnny Oliver. Not only was he a very bright young officer who had done well in Nam and almost certainly had a rewarding career ahead of him, but he was a pleasant, happy, and so far as Bellmon knew, highly moral young man. It had entered his mind more than once that Johnny Oliver would make a welcome addition to the family as the husband of his only daughter, Marjorie. Oliver was Regular Army, and a graduate of Norwich University, which to Bellmon's mind was the equivalent qualification for a potential son-in-law as being a West Pointer. The Military College of Vermont had been turning out regular Army Cavalry and Armor officers of distinction for a long time. Bellmon had served in the 2nd Armored "Hell on Wheels" Division until he had been captured in North Africa. His division commander had been Major General Ernest Harmon. Harmon was now President of Norwich. And he had turned over the 2nd Armored to another Norwich graduate, I. D. White, who had wound up with four stars on his epaulets. Marjorie could do a lot worse than Johnny Oliver.

Marjorie had, at twenty, just graduated from college, Southern Methodist, getting through in three and a half years with a 3.8 grade average. She was going to need a strong, intelligent man, somebody like Johnny Oliver. Bellmon agreed with his wife that the worst thing he could do would be to let either one of them know how he felt, but he thought about it. God forbid that she fall for one of the locals and be doomed to spend her life in Ozark, Alabama. It was a possibility. Marjorie had taken a job with the First National Bank of Ozark, and the locals seemed to be fascinated with her.

Fifteen minutes later Johnny Oliver walked back into Bellmon's office.

"General," he said, "Colonel Felter is here." Felter walked into the office and saluted.

Bellmon made a vague gesture in the general direction of his forehead as he got up and came around the desk.

"How are you, Sandy?" he asked, punching Felter's shoulder.

"It's good to see you."

"Good to see you, General," Felter said.

"Johnny, you haven't met Colonel Felter, have you?"

"I spoke with the Colonel briefly on the telephone, Sir."

"Sandy, Johnny Oliver. I probably shouldn't say this where he can hear it, but he's the best aide I've ever had." They shook hands.

"I've heard a good deal about you, Sir," Oliver said. "I'm pleased to meet you."

"Coffee, Sandy?" Bellmon asked. "Sit down."

"I'm coffeed out, General," Felter said. "Thank you, anyway.

There were two thermoses-thermi? in the plane, and we emptied both of them."

"Fulbright's airplane?" Bellmon asked.

"Yes, Sir."

"Johnny, let this be a lesson to you," Bellmon said. "You cannot always judge a man by his friends. Despite the friends he keeps, Colonel Felter is really a very nice fellow and a good officer. "

"Yes, Sir," Oliver said, smiling.

"Colonel Fulbright asked me to pay his respects," Felter said.

"While he's down here stealing my best pilots, right?" Bellmon said.

"Is that what he's doing?" Felter inquired innocently.

"There is a rumor around that he's the recruiting officer for Air America," Bellmon said dryly. "Otherwise known as the CIA Air Force."

"Is there really?" Felter said. "I wonder how that got started?"

"To change to a less obscene subject, Sandy," Bellmon said, "what can I do for you?"

"After that, General, I'm almost afraid to bring it up." Bellmon looked at him curiously but didn't reply. He looked at his watch, then leaned forward and dialed one of the three telephones on his desk.

"Oh," he said, when someone answered. "You're home. Good. Uncle Sandy just walked in the door. I was going to ask your mother to meet us at the club for lunch. Have you got time, too?" He covered the mouthpiece with his hand and said, "Marjorie." Felter nodded and smiled."

"Well, bring her, too," Bellmon ordered the telephone. "Obviously. Twenty minutes." He hung up.

"Marjorie's got the afternoon off," he explained. "She has to work Saturday mornings, so they give her one afternoon off."

"Where's she working?"

"At the bank in Ozark," Bellmon said. "She's got Ursula Craig with her. They've become pals."

"Oh, good," Felter said. "I was going to call them of course."

"How long can you stay?"

"My ride's leaving tomorrow afternoon," Felter said, smiling.

"You were telling me what we can do for you?"

"I'm recruiting, too," Felter said.

"Not for Fulbright?" Bellmon challenged.

"No," Felter said. "For something else." He stopped. "I was about to ask you to excuse us, Captain, but I suppose both 'that you have been' cleared for Top Secret-"

"Yes, Sir," Johnny Oliver said.

"-and that you might as well hear this, anyway," Felter finished.

"I'd be happy to leave, Sir," Oliver said.

Felter shook his head no and then went on: "The staff of the Military Attache at the U.S. Embassy in Leopoldville, Democratic Republic of the Congo, is about to be augmented by one L-23 and two pilots to fly it. It's in connection with Operation Eagle, but the Military Attache doesn't know that. The L-23 and the two other pilots were on his wish list, and so far as he knows he's getting what he asked for."

"'Operation Eagle'?" General Bellmon asked.

"It's a classified operation," Felter said, "and that's all you have to know about it right now." Bellmon's face showed that he didn't like being denied the secret, but he simply nodded his head in understanding.

"The airplane has been acquired 'off-the-shelf,'" Felter said.

"It's at Beech in Wichita. They're installing auxiliary fuel tanks so that it can be flown over there. It will have to be brought here and painted in Army colors. He whose name cannot be safely mentioned will arrange with SCATSA to equip it with radios and navigation equipment necessary for operation over there." The Signal Corps Aviation Test and Support Activity, an agency of the Chief Signal Officer of the Army, was stationed at Fort Rucker to provide avionic support to the Army Aviation Board. It was whispered about that its highly skilled technicians did work on aircraft not assigned to the Board, or even the Army, which arrived and left by night.

Bellmon smiled and chuckled at the "he whose name can not be mentioned," but then the smile vanished.

"In other words it is one of Dick Fulbright's operations? I think I have the right then, to know more about it."

"It's my operation, General," Felter said. "The only thing Fulbright has to do with it was acquiring the aircraft with his funds and having it run through SCATSA."

"OK," General Bellmon said, "so what does it have to do with us? Why are you telling me all this?"

"DCS Pers," Felter said, referring to the Deputy Chief of Staff for Personnel, pronounced Dee Cee Ess Purse, "has come up with the names of three aviators, here, who are about to be reassigned and meet the qualifications for the assignment. They are L-23-qualified, have done a Vietnam tour, and speak French."

"In other words," Bellmon said coldly, "I am about to lose another two highly qualified pilots to Fulbright and the CIA?"

"No," Felter said. "They will not be under the CIA. This is a routine assignment. They will be designated assistant Army attaches and have diplomatic status."

"Fulbright provides the aircraft, SCATSA provides special electronics, and you're involved. And I'm to believe the CIA isn't involved?" Felter shrugged but did not reply to the question.

"I want to talk to all three of them, pick the best two, and make sure they are the ones that go, that they are not suddenly declared essential and replaced by two bodies two jumps ahead of an elimination board."

"What if they were legitimately essential?" Bellmon asked.

Felter ignored this question, too.

"In the Congo, they will work for Colonel Tony Dills, who is the STRICOM officer in that area," Felter said.

"General Evans is on this?" Bellmon asked.

"He knows about it," Felter said. "Craig Lowell's handling it for him at McDill. "

"And Lowell doesn't know what's going on over there either, right?" Bellmon asked sarcastically.

"He knows precisely what I'm telling you and no more," Felter said. He gave Bellmon the opportunity to look at him and then went on: "So far as I know, really, nothing is going on over there, but I have a gut feeling something is going to happen, and I want good men who know the area on the site."