"Your people have taken pity on a freezing tourist, Captain," Lowell said, holding up the coffee cup.

"Is that what you're doing here, sir?" the captain asked.

"Actually, I came over here to find out how Mr. Stenday managed to stay out of the stockade long enough to become an MP," Lowell said.

"You know Mr. Stenday?" the captain asked.

"I knew him before he became respectable," Lowell said.

"You play ball with the Seventy-third Heavy Tank, or we'll stick the bat up your ass," Stenday quoted. It was the motto of the Seventy-third Tank Battalion.

Lowell chuckled. "It's been a long time since I heard that," Lowell said. "How did you wind up in the MPs, Stenday?"

"What they do with tanks in Berlin, Colonel," Stenday said, "is polish them. Once a month they take them out for a parade, and then they polish them again. I'm not much on that, so I wangled TDY with the MPs."

"You want to know about Berlin tanks, Colonel?" Stenday went on. "They're kept ready to roll. And you know what we're going to do when the Russians come through the wall? We shag ass down to Berlin Military Post and assume a defensive position." What that means is, we wait until they burn papers and blow up the RIAS tower, and then we blow up the tanks and surrender'

The captain looked at Stenday and then at Lowell. American officer or not, Lowell had no Need to Know the details of what would happen if the Russians should decide to overwhelm the small American garrison. It was a clear violation of military security.

"I didn't hear him say anything, Captain," Lowell said.

"Neither did I, sir," the captain said after a moment. "What did you think of the wall?"

Lowell made a look of disgust. "What's the reason for the Off Limits' sign on that gallows?" he asked.

"They don't want any incidents, people giving the Voikspolizei the finger or throwing things at them," the captain said.

"I'm here in Berlin with a cameraman," Lowell said. "He's at the film festival. Could he get permission to shoot some pictures over the wall?"

"You'd have to get permission from PIO, sir, but that wouldn't be any problem."

"Where would I find the PIO?"

"I get off at 0800, Colonel," Stenday said. "I'll run you by there if you like."

The captain was wrong. Lowell encountered the bureaucratic mind when he went to the Public Information Division of Headquarters, Berlin Military Post. The PIO, a lieutenant colonel, said the decision whether or not a civilian photographer not accredited to Berlin Military Post would be allowed to climb the observation platform and take pictures would have to be made by higher authority. Higher authority turned out to be the Chief of Staff, a starchy full colonel of infantry. After asking questions about what Lowell was doing in Berlin in the first place, he finally asked to see his orders.

Lowell gave him the single copy of his orders that he had folded into the shape of a dollar bill and put in his wallet. The Chief of Staff's eyebrows went up when he read them.

"Very impressive orders, Colonel," he said. "I can see no problem in letting your photographer take whatever pictures he wants to."

"Thank you very much, sir," Lowell said. He had no idea what had impressed the colonel. He hadn't even looked at his orders.

They left what had been the Groffes Haupt quartier of the Luftwaffe and was now Headquarters, Berlin Military Post, trailed by an olive-drab Opel Captain bearing a Public Information Officer and his assistant. Once settled in the car, he took the orders out and read them. He smiled. No wonder the colonel had been impressed.

HEADQUARTERS.

The ARMY AVIATION CENTER AND FORT RUCKER, ALA.

Letter Orders: 26 December 1961 1. Ref TELE CON Vice Chief of Staff, USA and CG Ft Rucker Ala 1545 hours 24 December. 2. Verbal orders V/C/S USA confirmed and made a matter of record: LT COL C. W. LOWELL, 0439067 Armor, USAAB, Ft Rucker Ala is placed on TDY eff 27 Dee 1961 for pd not less than thirty (30) days in connection with activities of DC SOPS Off will proceed at his discretion to Hq USAREUR, Hq USARPAC, Hq USA MAC(Vietaam). Off auth NI by Govt and Civ air, motor, rail and water T. When utilizing Govt T Priority AAB. Off auth 200 lbs excess baggage. Off auth at his discretion up to fifteen (15) days lv at any point in his NI. Off auth civ clothing. Off holds TOP SECRET sec clear. Questions concerning nature of asgmt will be referred to undersigned or V/C/S.

PAUL T. JIGGS.

Major General, USA.

The nature of his assignment, of course, was quite simple: Get the sonofabitch out of the country so that he won't be available to give the wrong answers to questions likely to be put to him by the Secretary of Defense. But the words could be interpreted to mean that he was carrying out some high priority and most secret mission for the Vice-Chief of Staff himself.

He found Peter-Paul and the photographer in the restaurant of the Hotel Am Zoo.

"Charley, I want you to meet an old friend of mine, Warrant Officer Stenday. He has some very interesting file shots' for you." "Is that so?"

"He knows a place where you can take pictures over the wall," Lowell said.

The photographer's eyebrows went up.

"I think I'm going to like you, Stenday," he said. "Sit down and have some breakfast."

"This is my son, Stenday," Lowell said.

"How do you do?" Peter-Paul said formally, offering his hand. Then he turned to Lowell. "Father, one of Grandfather's men has a message for you."

"He does? Where is he?"

"I believe they went to get the car," Peter-Paul said in his British accented English.

Lowell saw the look of surprise on Stenday's face. "Peter-Paul lives in Eumpe, Stenday," Lowell said, "to explain the accent."

"Oh," Stenday said.

One of the neat young German men came to the table. "I have a message for you, Herr Oberst," he said. "I had no idea where you were." The last was a reprimand.

"I was safe in the hands of the MPs," Lowell said. He ripped open the envelope the man handed him. It was a photocopy of a cable gram: DOrHAN ALA 3 JAN 1962 VJC RCA.

C W LOWELL.

SCHLOSS GREIFFENBERO.

MARBURG AN DElI LAHN WEST GERMANY POPPA SAYS COME HOME ALL IS FORGIVEN.

MAGGIE.

Poppa was obviously Major General Paul T. Jiggs. Maggie in the comic strip was married to Jiggs. Whatever it was, it was some sort of good news. He looked at his watch. It was nine-fifteen, or four-fifteen in the States. He was not going to risk Jiggs's ire by getting him out of bed. He would have to wait until Charley had taken his pictures over the wall to find out what was really going on.

The rest of the morning went very well. Charley was delighted to be able to photograph the minefields on the East side of the wall. He even took a few pictures of East Germans laying the mines. To Lowell's surprise and relief, his son was outraged at the notion that people should be kept behind a wall.

At half-past twelve he got through to Paul Jiggs at Fort Rucker. Jiggs had just walked into his office.

"That report you had something to do with was rejected as unacceptable," Jiggs said.

"Damn!" Lowell said, bitterly. "How badly was it cut?"

"It was returned for reexamination," Jiggs said. "Oh. Christ. So that's why I'm forgiven. I'm the re examiner "Yes, you are," Jiggs said. "Let me read you something, Craig. Quote: I shall be disappointed if the army's reexamination merely produces logistically oriented recommendations to procure more of the same, rather than a plan for employment of fresh and perhaps unorthodox concepts which will give us a significant increase in mobility." End quote."

"Read that again," Lowell said. Jiggs did.

"Not to mention any names, was there once a band named after the man who signed that?" Lowell asked.

"I don't know about a band Oh. Yes. There was a band by that name."

Lowell was exultant. Secretary of Defense McNamara had not only rejected the cutback request for 250 airplanes as being inadequate, he had as much as ordered plans for an air-mobile division.

"We won," Lowell said. "Presuming he means it."

"He means it. How soon can you come home?"

"Right away," Lowell said. "Just as soon as I can get on a plane."

Peter-Paul von Greiffenberg Lowell's only reaction to his father's announcement was anger: His father's departure would mean the end of his being coolie.

"Why don't you ask Grandfather if I mightn't stay?"

Peter-Paul sulked on the Pan American flight to Frankfurt am Main. He was still feeling sorry for himself and annoyed with this near stranger who appeared at odd intervals in his life when he got in the Mercedes that would cariy him back to Marburg an der Lahn.

He did not look out the windows of the car, so he did not see his father waving good-bye to him.

(Three) Pan American Flight 304 Clipper City of San Francisco Above the Ruhr 2130 Hours, 4 January 1962 The Pan-American stewardess did the modesty squat in the aisle beside the next to the last double row of seats on the right. Lowell was slumped back in the chair, holding a legal pad against his knee. If McNamara wanted "unorthodox concepts," unorthodox concepts he would get; and there was no reason they should not be drafted on an airplane. He looked at the stewardess in annoyance.

"Excuse me, Mr. Lowell," she said, flashing him what he thought of somewhat unkindly as the Stewardess Smirk. "Yes?"

"When all the seats in first class aren't taken, we usually move soldiers up from tourist."

He looked at her in some confusion. He had been deep in thought, trying to recall from memory the interlocking facts that affected the turning of a truck transported infantry division into a division capable of moving itself entirely by air. T-many troops could be moved by H-many Bell HUB helicopters. H-many Bell HU-lB helicopters required RWA-many rotary-wing aviators, plus M-many Maintenance Platoons, plus F-many fuel trucks plus SE-many spare engines. M-many Maintenance Platoons would require H-many more helicopters.

That was a nice thing for Pan American to do. he thought. it would not occur to Lufthansa. But why tell me? Does she want me to give her a medal?

She dropped her eyes to the empty seat beside her, on which he had placed his open attache case.

"Oh, sure," he said. Sorry."

"Thank you, sir," she said.

He closed the attache case and put it under his seat. In every silvery cloud, he thought, there had to be a black lining. He was going to get as a seat partner some sergeant's wife with a babe-in-arms or, worse, some finance corps officer who would regale him with the intimate details of the burden he had shouldered paying the troops on alien shores. In either event, he would not be able to get much work done.

The soldier appeared three minutes later.

The soldier deposited an attache case on the seat and then took off the uniform tunic. The soldier had captain's bars and a medical caduceus on her tunic, and a set of knockers that placed a severe strain on the buttons of her shirt.

"Hello," the captain said, displaying a mouthful of very uniform, very white teeth. The captain subjected her shirt buttons to another stress test when she reached up, unpinned, and then removed her uniform cap. The captain's hair was an admirable shade of red.

"Good evening," Lowell said.

The captain slipped into the aisle seat.

"I'm a little embarrassed at Pan Am's charity," she said. "But the alternative was remaining a sardine."

"I'm delighted to have you," Lowell said.

"I would be annoyed," she said, "if I had paid whatever it costs to ride up here, and someone appeared who was getting a free ride."

"We must all be prepared to make little sacrifices for the boys and girls in service," Lowell said.

The captain did not think that was especially funny. Her pale blue eyes, which were framed by dark red eyebrows, said so. But she said nothing aloud.

There are several reasons why I am suddenly overwhelmed with lust, Lowell thought. For one thing, I haven't been laid in nearly twenty-four hours. For another, there is something erotic about a female in uniform something like the eroticism of women running around an apartment in a man's shirt in lieu of pajamas. But what it really is is that I am excited about what McNamara wrote. That is probily the ultimate perversion.

The captain decided to be gracious.

"Were you in Germany long?" she asked.

"A little over a week," Lowell said.

"Then you didn't get to see very much, did you?" the captain asked.

"I saw the wall," Lowell said.

The stewardess reappeared.

"We have cocktails," she said. "But you have to pay for them, I'm afraid."

"It will be my pleasure," Lowell said.

"You've made enough sacrifice for the boys and girls in service," the captain said. "I'll have a Scotch and water, please. And bring this gentleman whatever he'd like to have." "His drinks come with his ticket," the stewardess said. "Scotch," Lowell said. "In that case," the captain said, "bring him a double." Lowell chuckled, and the captain smiled at him. When the drinks came, he raised his to hers. "Can we start all over again?" he said.

"All right," she said.

"Then, Captain," Lowell said, "how do you like nursing?"

"I don't know," she said, smiling artificially, "I've never been a nurse."

"But I thought I saw a caduceus," he said, confused.

"You did," she said, smiling at his discomfiture. "But there was no N on it."

"You're a doctor?" he blurted.

"That really surprises you, doesn't it?" she asked.

"I didn't know the army had any female doctors," he said.