"Getting the arms into the ex-Belgian Congo poses no problem at all," Felter went on. "Nor does finding someone to give them to, someone who believes that he can take over the country."

"Both the CIA and the State Department tell me there is virtually no chance whatever of the government in Leopoldville being toppled, now that the Katanga business has been settled."

"I don't think it's been settled," Felter said. "Katanga may revolt again, just as soon as the last of the UN troops leave. And they will leave in June. Katanga is where all the money-in terms of resources and capability-is, and I understand their position. They don't want to share what they have with the rest of the Congo. But whether Katanga is in or out of the Congo doesn't really bother either the Russians or the Chinese, except that another revolt would contribute to what they're really after."

"Which is?"

"Social and economic chaos," Felter said. "Whatever hurts the West's economy-and by the West, I mean Europe, the United States, Japan, plus South Africa-is to their advantage. I don't want to deliver a lecture-".

"Keep talking," the President said. "When I get bored, I'll tell you."

"All right, Sir. The interruption of Congolese raw materials copper, lead, tin, for that matter, coffee and latex-flowing to the West first of all causes the price of those materials to rise, almost certainly causing an economic disruption, and with a little bit of luck, an inflation. But in addition to that, its absolutely knocks out the Congolese economy. Starvation comes in. And it's never very far away. The West, and especially the United States, then finds itself sending money or foodstuffs, which is the same thing-to replace the Congo's lost income; plus, of course military assistance to keep a government friendly to us in power. For peanuts, the cost of some small arms and explosives, they force us to spend billions."

"That's a pretty gloomy picture, Felter," the President said.

"Far gloomier than I've been getting from the State Department."

Felter shrugged.

"What does the shrug mean, Felter?" the President asked sharply.

"That I am not always in absolute agreement with the State Department's evaluation of a given situation, Sir." The President smiled, then chuckled. He looked at Felter thoughtfully for a moment, then took a swallow of his drink and swirled it around inside his mouth before swallowing.

"If you were the Secretary of State, what would your advice to the President be?" Johnson asked.

Felter's face showed that he recognized the question to be very dangerous.

"I'm a soldier, Mr. President," he said. "I don't-"

"Bullshit," the President said. "Answer the question."

"I would maintain a closer relationship with Joseph Mobutu than is presently the case-"

"Colonel Mobutu?"

"Yes, Sir. He runs the Annee Nationale Congolaise," Felter said. "Colonel Joseph-Desire Mobutu."

"I hope I'm not beginning to get, the picture," the President said.

"Sir?"

"I send one of our colonels over there to look around, and he runs into another colonel, and comes back and reports that you and the Colonel are right, and the State Department is all wrong."

Felter did not reply.

"What about this Colonel Mobutu, Colonel?" the President said unpleasantly.

"Sir, I believe that sooner or later, and possibly quite soon, the State Department will have to deal with Colonel Mobutu as head of state."

"Are you suggesting an imminent coup, Felter? That the army will take over?"

"When Colonel Mobutu decides to take over, he will."

"That's not what I hear from the CIA or the State Department Johnson said. He waited for a reply, and when none came, went on: "You don't seem concerned over the prospect of another military dictatorship, Felter," he said.

"Aside from the King of Morocco., I'd say Colonel Mobutu's our best friend on the African continent. He's really impressed with George Washington, for one thing, And it's not a superficial or sentimental thing. He'd like to do for his own country what Washington did here."

"How do you know that? You know him?"

"I paid a courtesy call on Colonel Mobutu when I was in Leopoldville," Felter said. "He was kind enough to have me to dinner. Just the Colonel, Dr. Dannelly-"

"Who?"

"Dr. Dannelly is a physician, a Mormon, from Salt Lake City. I'd say Mobutu is impressed with him as a friend, a Mormon, and a physician, in that order."

"CIA put him in there?"

"You mean is he working for the CIA? Or the State Department? No, Sir. He went over there as a missionary. He got together with Mobutu and he now considers it his duty to stay there."

"His duty to who?"

"To God," Felter said evenly.

"Not his duty as an American, for Christ's sake?"

"No, Sir. His religious duty. He's over there to help the Congolese people. And he has obviously decided that the way to do that is through Colonel Mobutu. I understand that's been difficult for State and the CIA to understand. Or accept."

"Meaning what?"

"Since he has made it plain that he intends to take no 'suggestions' from State or the CIA, they tend to pretend he isn't there."

"I've never even heard of the sonofabitch!" the President said angrily.

"Mr. President," Felter said cautiously, "if you brought Dr. Dannelly up to Mr. McCone or Mr. Rusk"-the Director of the CIA and the Secretary of State-"I think they would both feel obliged to do something about Dr. Dannelly. If they did it would destroy my relationship with both Dannelly and Mobutu."

"Not to mention that they would be even more pissed at you than they already are," the President said. "They would know where I got it."

"Yes, Sir," Felter said, smiling. "That, too."

"So far as you're concerned, Dannelly is all right?"

"As I understand it, our interests in the Congo are to keep the Katanga Province in the union, and to keep the communists--Russian and Chinese-from causing us more trouble than we can easily handle." The President nodded.

"Dr. Dannelly told me he believes the Congo would be an economic nightmare without Katanga," Felter said.

"What did he have to say about the communists?" the President asked dryly. "Chinese or Russian?"

"He didn't have to say anything, Sir. He's a devout member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. They regard the communists as the Antichrist."

The President grunted. "Pity Benson wasn't Secretary of State," the President said. "Maybe he could have sown some of those seeds in Foggy Bottom. "

Felter smiled. He also respected Ezra Taft Benson. Benson had been the very conservative Secretary of Agriculture in the Eisenhower administration. A devout Mormon, he later headed the Mormon Church.

"If Mobutu can take over the government why doesn't he?" the President asked.

"There are several reasons, I think," Felter replied. "He doesn't want to do it without the proper preparation. And it's not time yet. And the Colonel is aware what our State Department thinks about colonels." The President grunted and then smiled. "What shape is his army in?"

"He's got a regiment of parachutists that aren't nearly as, good as he thinks they are."

"You saw them, I suppose?"

"Yes, Sir. I was given the honor of jumping with them."

"Colonel Mobutu arranged that?"

"Yes, Sir. He jumped, too." The President snorted again.

"And the rest?"

"If anything happens soon, Mr. President, they're not going to be of much use." "You're not suggesting that mercenaries will have to be used again?"

"Yes, Sir, I'm afraid that would be necessary if anything happens in the next six months or a year."

"Do you know what that means politically? White soldiers in use against black Africans?"

"I also know what the fall of the 'Congo,' or a renewed civil war, would mean politically, Sir."

"Jesus Christ! Damn it, ten minutes, ago I was feeling, pretty good. Now you come in here and tell me the CIA and State have it all wrong, that Mobutu is the real power in the Congo, not Kasavubu, and that the Congolese Army is not prepared to put down another rebellion. And that I'm going to have. to use mercenaries, which will piss off every country in Africa except Israel and South Africa. And," he added, "it will do me no damn good with the black voters here, either."

"That, Sir, is the situation as I see it."

"If I had McCone and Rusk in here, and they beard you say that you have just said, you know what they would say? Politely, of course, because they're gentlemen, but what they would say would mean you're full of shit, Colonel."

"Yes, Sir, I think that's probably true." The President drained his-drink.

"OK," he said, obviously having come to a decision. "I hope you're wrong, Felter, but I can't take that chance. Do what you think you have to do. Keep me advised. I'll keep the heat off you."

"Thank you, Sir."

(Three) Cairns Army Airfield 22 April 1964 1015 hours: "Cairns, Air Force Three Eleven."

"Three Eleven, Cairns, go ahead."

"Cairns, Air Force Three Eleven, a Learjet at flight level two five thousand sixty miles north of your station. Estimate ten minutes. Approach and landing, please."

"Roger, Three Eleven, we have you on radar. Maintain your present course, begin descent to flight level five thousand now.

Report five minutes out. Ceiling and visibility unlimited. The winds are negligible. The altimeter is two niner niner three."

"Understand five thousand five minutes. We have a code six aboard. No honors. But please advise General Bellmon, 1 spell Baker Easy Love Love Mike Oscar Nan, that Colonel Felter, 1 spell Fox Easy Love Tare Easy Roger, is aboard."

"Roger on your Colonel Felter, and we know how to spell Bellmon, thank you, Three Eleven." 1018 hours: "Air Force Three Eleven, Cairns."

"Three Eleven."

"Three Eleven, we have you at one six thousand feet due north indicating four two zero knots. Please advise Colonel Felter that General Bellmon will meet him."

"Cairns, Three Eleven. Passing through one five thousand.

Roger on the message." 1020 hours: "Cairns, Air Force Three Eleven. Passing through ten thousand. Estimate Cairns five minutes."

"Three Eleven Cairns, understand ten thousand and five-minutes. Maintain present course and rate of descent. You are cleared to two thousand five hundred. Use runway two eight. Look out for local fixed- and rotary-wing traffic." 1024 hours: "Cairns, Three Eleven at twenty-five hundred. We have the field in sight."

"Three Eleven, Cairns, you are cleared as number one to land on runway two eight. The winds are negligible, the altimeter is two niner niner three. Report on final. Army Four Four Two, you are number two after the Air Force Lear on approach. Beware of jet turbulence."

"Four Four Two understands number two after the Learjet. 1 have him in sight."

"Three Eleven turning on final to two eight." 1025 hours: "Cairns Approach Control, Air Force Three Eleven on the ground at two five past the hour. You want to close us out with Atlanta, please?"

"Air Force Three Eleven, affirmative. We will close out your flight plan. Three Eleven, take the next convenient taxiway and proceed to Base Operations. Ground control personnel will direct you to parking. Will you require fuel or other service?"

"Need some go juice, thank you." At 1028 hours Major General Robert F. Bellmon, trailed by Captain John Oliver, walked out of the Base Operations building across the concrete parking ramp to the glistening Learjet. The fuselage door opened and a young black woman wearing the chevrons of an Air Force staff sergeant climbed down.

She saw Bellmon and saluted. Crisply, but not in awe. Lear jets of the Air Force's Special Missions Squadron got to see a lot of brass. The day before, Air Force Three Eleven had carried two four-stars, an admiral, and the Commander-in-Chief of the Strategic Air Command.

"I don't believe Colonel Felter is quite ready to deplane, Sir," she said to Bellmon.

"May 1 go aboard, Sergeant?" Bellmon asked.

"Yes, Sir." Colonel Sanford T. Felter was not quite ready to deplane because he was in the process of changing into a uniform.

"I am suitably awed, Sandy," Bellmon said.

"I asked my boss if 1 could come down here for a couple of days," Felter said as he tied his necktie in a mirror," and he asked why, and 1 told him, and he said, 'Take a jet and be back tomorrow.'" He shrugged into his jacket.

"I will admit I have learned to like traveling like this," he said.

"The memorial service is at eleven," Bellmon said.

"I know," Felter said. "That's one of the reasons I'm here."

"And the other?"

"I need replacement pilots," Felter said. "One of Dick Fulbright's people will deliver another airplane later today."

(Four) Quarters #1 Fort Rucker, Alabama 1345 Hours 22 April 1964 General Robert F. Bellmon was surprised when Colonel Sanford T. Felter accepted Barbara's offer of a drink.

"Please, Barbara," he said. "Scotch, no ice. As much water as ice. " Felter sensed Bellmon's surprised eyes on him.