"Like hell," Bobby said. "God, it's all over the post that you and Major Lunsford are here recruiting people for some hush-hush operation."

"Where did you hear that?" General Bellmon asked, rather sharply.

"From a guy in my Mohawk class," Bobby said. "Tony Stevens. Black guy. Lieutenant. He said he and Captain Smythe, one of the IPs, and every other black aviator he knew were ordered to report to the chief of staff's office at 1300."

"And how did Major Lunsford's name come up?" General Bellmon asked. "And Jack's?"

Bobby looked uncomfortable.

"Well?" Bellmon asked impatiently.

"Mother said I was to get out of the habit of coming here whenever I wanted and drinking up all your beer," Bobby said. "So on the way over here, I stopped by Annex One to pick up a six-pack. And there was another black guy at the bar talking, and he said he'd been interviewed this afternoon for a hush-hush assignment by two Special Forces officers, one of them a black major named Lunsford and the other one . . . 'the guy who married the general's daughter.' "

"Good God!" Bellmon said, adding, "Do you know this officer's name, Bobby?"

Bobby shook his head, no.

"Presumably your friend Lieutenant Stevens does," Bellmon said coldly. "You go to him, Bobby, right away, tonight, and you tell him I said that if I ever hear another report of his irresponsibly loose mouth he will find himself counting snowballs on ground duty in Alaska. And tell him to pass the word."

"Yes, sir," Bobby said.

"Is this going to cause any damage, Jack?" Bellmon asked.

"I don't think so, sir," Jack said after a moment's reflection. "With one exception-Captain Smythe-Lunsford didn't go beyond 'classified mission' to explain what we were looking for."

"What about Smythe?" Bellmon asked. "We just gave him command of the Mohawk platoon we're sending to Vietnam."

"He was at Norwich-and in Vietnam-with Johnny Oliver, sir," Jack said. "Major Lunsford had already decided we were going to take him before we got here."

"Six senior officers spend God knows how many hours picking the right man for an important assignment, and one major comes along and steals him," Bellmon said, bitterly. "Goddamn it!"

Jack didn't reply.

"I know it's not you, Jack," Bellmon said. "Please excuse the temper flare." He turned to Bobby. "If memory serves, Bobby, my words were 'right away, tonight.' "

"Yes, sir," Bobby said. "Dad, I-I'm sorry."

"I know," Bellmon said. "But you've just got to learn that 'sorry' doesn't put things back the way they were."

"You going to be here later, Jack?" Bobby asked.

"Marjorie wants to go into Ozark to see Liza Wood," Jack said. "After that-"

"Right away, goddamn it, Bobby," General Bellmon flared.

Bobby fled.

He had almost made it to the corner of the house when Bellmon called after him.

"Your schedule permitting, come for breakfast, Bobby. You can talk to Jack and Marjorie then."

[ SIX ].

"What did you tell Liza on the phone?" Jack asked.

Lieutenant and Mrs. Portet were in Barbara Bellmon's Oldsmobile, approaching Ozark on the Fort Rucker/Ozark Highway. Marjorie was driving.

"Nothing. Just they we were here and wanted to see her."

"At the risk of destroying this marriage-made-in-heaven, my darling, in my studied judgment, this is a dumb fucking idea," Jack said.

"Why?"

"For one thing, it's none of our business, and for another, you can talk yourself blue in the face all night and not change her mind."

"I was thinking maybe I could make her ashamed of herself for what she's doing to Johnny."

"Right now, your sainted Captain Oliver is not one of my favorite people," Jack said.

"Really?"

"If he wasn't behaving like a lovesick calf, I would at this moment be chasing you around our apartment, while you pretended to want to get away."

"Oh, really?"

"Instead, because he got sauced last night, I get jerked out of my nuptial couch in the early hours of morning, have to fly down here, and now face the prospect of having to chase you around your girlhood bedroom with Mommy and Daddy listening."

"You are, in other words, in what could be described as a self-pitying, lustful, frame of mind?"

"In words of multiple syllables, Madame, you bet your sweet fucking ass I am."

"Is that how you think of it?" Marjorie asked.

"Do what you want to do, baby," Jack said. "On the way just now, I realized I'm already henpecked."

"I thought you tough Green Beret masculine types called that 'pussy-whipped'."

Jack didn't reply.

"How about this for an alternate plan?" Marjorie said. "We go to see Liza. We have one drink, no more than two. We play with Allan. We don't mention the name of Captain John S. Oliver, Jr., and if she does, we say 'Who?' Then we leave, we drive to Highway 231, we take a motel room. I will let you catch me before you get too tired, and later, much later, we will go to sleep in my girlhood bed."

"God, if you could cook, I think I'd marry you," Jack said.

XIV.

[ ONE ].

Foster Garden Apartments Fayetteville, North Carolina 1400 25 January 1965 When Major George Washington Lunsford let himself into the apartment he shared with Captain John S. Oliver, Jr., he found Oliver sprawled on the couch in fatigues. The television was on, but unless Oliver had suddenly developed an interest in As the World Turns, As the World Turns, he wasn't paying a hell of a lot of attention to it. he wasn't paying a hell of a lot of attention to it.

"Hey," Father said.

"Hey," Oliver replied.

"I need a beer. You want one?"

"No, thanks," Oliver said.

Lunsford walked into the kitchen and returned a minute later holding two bottles of Heineken beer. He handed one to Oliver, then slumped into an armchair facing the couch.

Oliver held the beer bottle up.

"I really think I've had enough of this for a while," he said.

"Moderation in all things, as it says in the Good Book," Lunsford said. "And I happen to agree with the patron saint of the Green Beanies, John Wayne, who said he never trusted a man who turned down a drink."

"I don't think John Wayne said that," Oliver said.

"If he didn't, he should have."

"Is Jack in his apartment? I want to apologize face-to-face."

"Jack's still at Rucker," Lunsford said. "Jeremiah flew me up.

I had things to do here. Jack's stripping the markings from an L-19, and getting SCATSA to check the radios. Jeremiah went back. Jack will bring the plane up here, and Jeremiah will bring Marjorie with him when he drives up here."

" 'Things to do up here,' " Oliver parroted. "Presumably including dealing with the drunk-on-duty Captain John S. Oliver, Jr.?"

"Among other things, yeah," Lunsford said.

"I'm sorry, Father, for what that's worth."

"You should be, buddy, and no, it's not worth much."

"Shit," Oliver said, and took a pull at his beer.

"On the way down there, Marjorie said she was going to see the Goddamned Widow and give her a piece of her mind for abusing Poor, Dear Johnny, driving him to the bottle."

"Oh, God, no!" Oliver said. "Did she?"

"At the last moment, according to Jack, wisdom prevailed. They went to see the Goddamned Widow, but neither side invoked the name of John Oliver."

"You stuck your neck out pretty far flying Marjorie down there," Oliver said.

"We got away with it," Lunsford said. "By the skin of our teeth, as it turned out. When we parked at Cairns, Jeremiah-he was giving a Mohawk dog-and-pony show to some brigadier from Hood-parked right next to us. If he had known Marjorie-"

"Jesus!" Oliver said. "He hates being called Jeremiah-as you obviously know."

"How long do you think it will take the team to start calling him 'Aunt Jemima'?" Lunsford asked. "He's got a tough skin. I did my best to piss him off, and couldn't."

"He's a good man," Oliver said.

"Anyway, I figured I owed Jack for saving your ass. And he's going to Buenos Aires on Friday. He's entitled to a little time with his bride."

"Yeah," Oliver agreed.

"What are you going to do about the Goddamn Widow, Johnny?" Lunsford asked.

Oliver met his eyes but didn't respond.

"The bottom line is that I'm wondering if I can trust you to handle things in Buenos Aires," Lunsford said.

"If I were you, I wouldn't," Oliver said. "If I were you, Father, I would have turned me in to Hanrahan."

"No, you wouldn't have," Father said. "And I need you, Johnny. But you've got to settle this Goddamn Widow business once and for all."

"You ever been in love?" Oliver asked.

"A hundred times, which probably means never."

"This is my first time," Oliver said. "It sneaks up on you, then whacks you in the back of the head. I can't believe the effect it's had on me."

"The other option, of course, is to take off the suit, settle down in a vine-covered cottage by the side of the road, and start spending your money."

"I'm a soldier, Father."

"Soldiers-good soldiers-don't get shitfaced when they're supposed to go on duty."

"Yeah. That thought has occurred to me more than once in the last couple of days."

"I can't let this hang in the breeze, Johnny," Lunsford said. "You have to get off the dime."

"All suggestions gratefully accepted."

"Jack will be back here tomorrow or the day after," Lunsford said. "I'll send you to Rucker in the L-23 to 'check on the L-19.' While you're there, go see her and get this settled, once and for all."

Oliver looked at him but did not reply.

"Option Two," Lunsford said. "I can probably arrange for you to take that assignment with the Air Mobile Division at Benning."

"Pass the problem of the lovesick drunk to someone else?"

"I can't deal with it, Johnny. If I can't have you bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, and sober, I don't want you," Lunsford said.