Brotherhood Of War: The Lieutenants Part 24

"Thank you very much, sir."

"Well, I guess he went the way he would have wanted to go. Playing polo."

"I was thinking just that, sir."

"My aide is laying on your plane reservations, and he'll be in touch. I'll come up for the funeral, of course."

"Thank you, again, General," Bellmon said.

"He was a little unusual, Porky Waterford," the general said, and his voice broke, and there were tears in his eyes, "But G.o.dd.a.m.n him, he was one h.e.l.l of a soldier!"

(Two) The president of the Airborne Board walked into Major Bellmon's small office to find him standing with a coffee cup in his hand and looking out of the window. "Bob, I called your quarters and they said you were here.

First of all, I'm terribly sorry; and secondly, I certainly didn't expect to see you here."

"Thank you, sir," Bellmon said. "Caroline, the chief of staff's wife, is with her. She's something like an adopted aunt to her. . . wanted me out of the house. And then there was a call from the Air Corps, General Deese, who was a cla.s.smate of General Waterford. He's sending his plane. He insisted we take it. So I had time to kill, and this seemed to be a good way to kill it."

"Anything we can do, of course. I've sent Janice over to your place."

"A soldier's death, sort of," Bellmon said. "Playing polo. Polo!"

"A soldier should die with the last bullet fired. in the last battle," the colonel said. "I guess this is close. Why don't we have a drink?"

"I've got the Ranger honor graduates coming in," Bellmon said. "I don't want to breathe booze all over them."

"I'll take them," the Airborne Board president volunteered.

"If you don't mind, sir, I'd rather handle it. It's either that, or look out the window."

"I understand," the president of the Board said. "However, if you change your mind, I'll be in the building most of the afternoon."

"Thank you, sir."

"I understand the M24 drop was a failure," the president said. "Any ideas?"

"I think we better find a better way of air-landing our tanks," Major Bellmon said.

"Let me have your thoughts in a memo, Bob," he said. "When all this is over, of course."

"Yes. sir." Bellmon's secretary, a civilian woman whose services he shared with three other officers, put her head in his door and knocked on the door frame. Bellmon looked at her.

"You've got five lieutenants to see you, Major."

"I'll get out of your hair, Bob," the president said. "Again, I'm very sorry."

"Thank you, sir," Bellmon said. He nodded at his secretary.

"Send the first one in, please." First Lieutenant Sanford Felter, Infantry, United States Army, his cap tucked under his upper left arm, marched into Major Robert F. Bellmon's office, stopped three feet from his desk, saluted crisply, and announced: "Lieutenant Felter reporting to Major Bellmon as ordered, sir." Bellmon smiled as he returned the salute, but there was no recognition on his face or in his eyes.

"Sit down, Felter," he said, indicating a straight-backed, upholstered chair. "How do you take your coffee?"

"Black, sir, please," Felter said.

Bellmon looked much better than the last time Felter had seen him. His face and his body had filled out, and the unhealthy brightness was gone from his eyes. Bellmon filled a china cup from a restaurant-style coffee pot and walked around his desk and handed it to Felter.

"Congratulations, obviously, are in order," Bellmon said.

"I was nowhere near being the honor graduate when I went through the course. As a matter of fact, I was way down the numerical list."

"One of my cla.s.smates, sir," Felter said, "developed a theory that small people, having less weight to carry around, should be handicapped."

Bellmon laughed, and looked at Felter with new interest.

That wasn't the sort of remark he expected from a young lieutenant. It wasn't flip, or arrogant, but self-confident.

"He has a point," Bellmon said, chuckling. "What I'm going to do, now, Felter, is take a quick look at your record. I'm telling you that, because I don't want you to think I'm waging psychological warfare by making you wait for me as I do it. I just didn't have a chance to do it before."

"Yes, sir," Felter said.

Bellmon found the service record interesting. Even fascinating. He would never have suspected that this little man, this little Jew, had ever marched in the Long Gray Line. But-there it was, the first entry on his service record: 1Jan45 Ron Dischf/Corps of Cadets USMA (Cla.s.s of 46) for purp of accpt comm.

2Jan45 Comm 2ndLt Inf AUS ABgd Trans Off Det, USMA West Point NY 2Jan45-19Jan45 En Route 40'US Armd Div, APO 40,NYNY 19Jan 45 40MP Co, 40 US Arm Div (Dy as ABst 0in -0 POW Interrogation Div) 23Apr45 Ofc of Mil Govt For Bavaria (Dy as Captured Doc.u.ments Evaluation Off) 3Jul45 Prom 1st Lt, Inf AUS DOR 1Jul45 (Compl 6 mos satts comm avc) 17 Aug45-40ct45 En Route ZI (Incl 40 Dys Ret from OS Iv) 50ct45 Basic Inf Off Crs, USA Inf School, Ft Benning Ga 2Apr46 Dist Grad, Basic Off Crs USA Inf School Ft Benning Ga 21Apr46 Qual as Prchst, USA Inf School, Ft Benning Ga ....

23Apr46 USA Ranger School, Ft Bragg NC 2Jul46 Honor Grad USA Ranger School, Ft -Bragg, NC "I see you were with h.e.l.l's Circus," Bellmon said. Felter was not wearing the division pat<:h on="" his="" right="" shoulder,="" as="" his="" wartime="" service="" ent.i.tled="" him="" to="">

"Yes, sir."

"Did you ever happen to meet General W Waterford?" Bellmon asked. .

"One time, sir, for about fifteen minutes."

"I'm sorry to tell you, Lieutenant," Bellmon said. "that General Waterford died yesterday. Playing polo, of all things."

"I'm sorry to hear that, sir," Felter said.

Bellmon had a sudden urge to challenge this self-confident little Jew.

"Why do you say that?" he demanded. "If you only saw him once for fifteen minutes, why would you have any feeling about his death, one way or the other?"

"I suppose I was considering what his loss means to the army, sir," Felter said. "General Waterford was recognized to be one of the better large armored force commanders."

Bellmon nodded, impressed that the reply had come walkout thinking, that Felter had not been offering condolences-to curry favor.

"Yes, he was," he said. "I'm curious to hear your plans for your career, Felter. Do you plan to stay? Are you going to apply for regular army?"

"Yes, sir," Felter said.

"Since you left the Academy, you don't have a college degree. What do you plan to do about that?"

"I am enrolled in the Extension Department of the University of Chicago, sir. I hope to have my degree in a few months."

"You're talking about getting a degree by correspondence?

Through the mail?"

"Yes, sir. I'm going for a degree in political science."

"Commendable," Bellmon said, dryly. The little b.a.s.t.a.r.d had an answer for everything. Then he suddenly realized that he was being hard on him for no good reason. Because he was a Jew? Or because his own father-in-law, who he really liked, maybe even loved, had just dropped dead, and he was upset by that?

"Felter, I apologize," Bellmon said. "I've been picking on you. For what it's worth, I have just had a death in the family. That's no excuse for picking on you, but that's what happened. I'm sorry."

Felter did not reply.

"Lieutenant," Bellmon said, smiling at him, "in token of the V. S. Army's profound appreciation of the splendid showing you have made at John Wayne High School, also known as the V.S. Army Ranger School, an effort, a real effort, will be made to give you your choice of a.s.signment. There are about twenty-five different vacancies."

"Yes, sir," Felter said.

"You seem neither outraged nor amused at my somewhat irreverent reference to the Ranger School," Bellmon said.

"I've heard it called that before, sir," Felter said.

"And what was your reaction? Amus.e.m.e.nt, or outrage at, the mocking of the sacred?"

"Amus.e.m.e.nt, sir," Felter said. He ran his hand over his closely cropped hair, which was already starting to thin. The movement served to shade his face. Bellmon looked at him -- very closely.

"And are you amused now, Felter?" Bellmon asked, and there was ice in his voice. He was furious with himself for not having recognized Felter immediately.

"Sir?"

"Do you find this situation amusing?"

"I don't quite know what you mean, sir," Felter said.

"You know precisely what I mean, Lieutenant. We have met before, haven't we?"

"Yes, sir."

"You did not elect to remind me," Bellmon said. "May I ask why?"

"I was offering the major the option of remembering me," Felter said. He paused, then added: "Or not."

"What happened to you when we got back?" Bellmon asked, after a moment. He ran his hand nervously over his head. "I was ordered not to discuss Task Force Parker," Felter said. "And then I was sent to Munich."

"Did you hear what happened to me?"

"I heard the major was hospitalized," Felter said.

"In the nut ward," Bellmon said. "Did you hear that?"

Felter just perceptibly nodded his head.

"Did you elect not to remind me of our previous meeting because you believe I was temporarily bereft of my senses at the time?"

"I have examined the Katyn material," Felter said. "I believe the Russians executed the Polish prisoners."

"Where did you examine it?" Bellmon asked, surprised.

"The Polish government-in-exile, what used to be the Polish government-in-exile, presented it to Congress. The hearings are a matter of public record."

"But you took the trouble. . ." Bellmon said.

"I was interested," Felter said.

"And have you discussed either the Katyn business or Task Force Parker with anyone?"

"Not until today, sir."

"Not even with your wife?"

"No, sir. My wife is a sensitive woman."

"Similarly, Lieutenant Felter, I have not discussed what happened with anyone."

"Yes, sir."

"I was reduced in grade shortly after the war ended, Felter.

That might have been because I was too young for the grade I held. I have been led to believe that my mime is number fourteen on the next promotion list to lieutenant colonel. I will still be a rather young lieutenant colonel. Does that suggest anything to you?"

"It would suggest that there is no question concerning the major's stability," Felter said. "Or his discretion."

"There are some things, Felter, which should not be discussed unless one is absolutely sure of the audience."

"Yes, sir."

"You and I are not alone, Felter," Bellmon said.

"Yes, sir."

"You demonstate a rather unusual understanding for someone of your rank and length of service," Bellmon said. He let that sink in. Then he smiled. "You may even be able to grasp what a crock of s.h.i.+t the ranger philosophy is."

Felter smiled.

"Well, I owe you one, anyway, for-keeping me from getting blown away the day I was liberated. Tell me what you've been thinking about your career."

"I don't know quite what to say, sir," Felter said.

"Where do you want to be twenty years from now? In 1966? By then you should be a major, possibly even a lieutenant colonel. Battalion exec? What?"