It happened in Church - October 19, 1962
Chapter Eighty Seven – Wed done
Saturday Nov 25 (begins)
Colonel Goldie
Navy and the Irish Sergeant knocked on the door of the Colonel’s home. The wife opened. “Welcome Mrs. Colonel Ears. Sure, you look fine the early morning.” She was not amused, but this fellow would never be at her door if wasn’t huge. 4AM meant humongous. NAVY in tow meant it was the kids and not intelligence. “It’s the middle of the night, you buffoon. I’ll wake him. Coffee?” “Yes, Mrs, it’s probably a two pot problem.” She showed them into the living room. It was a modest home. His neighbors watched out for him and his family. If they knew what he did, they never let on. And, snoops and reporters were run off. That might be just on general principles. But it might be a concerted effort.
The Colonel was down in a minute. “OK, what’s wrong?” NAVY chimed up: “The bishop is denying his permission for the Dogs’ wedding.” “Oh?” mused the Colonel. Mrs Colonel Ears delivered coffee and departed silently. The Sergeant spoke up: “When the Regimental First Sergeant delivered the used sacred vessels. He’s reported that the Bishop asked when he’d be getting the rest of the payoff. The RFS did a double take. The Bishop explained he expected all of the assets the Children brought to Vermont to be turned over to the Church as their recovered property as recovered by their students.” “Chutzpah!” spat the Colonel. “RFS reported the conversation to me, and I had him log it with the MPs as an affidavit. And then called NAVY.” NAVY picked it up: “I spoke to the RFS and he repeated the story to me verbatim. I called my Dad, he called the JAG, the JAG called the Chief Justice. It’s everyone’s considered opinion that you call the Bishop to the woodshed and make the problem go away.” “Thanks a lot” echoed the Colonel, “Did any of the esteemed legal minds think the Bishop had a case.” NAVY was in the zone: “No, but he can stop the wedding. He can make trouble. He’s unlikely to prevail, but we don’t have time to fight it out.” The Colonel was deep in thought.
The Irish Sergeant spoke quietly: “He’s obviously exceeding the bounds of his office. And, he may even be interfering in the legitimate duties of an intelligence officer.” That was a serious matter.
The Colonel had wide latitude on that basis. As the Chief of the General Staff, he could sign a Carte Rouge, indefinitely detaining the Bishop incommunicado without judicial review. Even in his role as the Colonel of Intelligence, he could sign a Carte Azure, which would hold the Bishop as before but permit a judicial review in twenty one days. He could propose a Carte Blanche to the Governor that would lead to an unpleasant end for the Bishop.
“Sergeant, let’s see if his Grace plays poker. Prepare the white, red, and green forms naming the Bishop personally. Have them on my desk in an hour. Call my driver.” The Colonel walked to the phone, picked up the phone, and spoke firmly: “Yes, Lieutenant, you know who I am? Yes, authentication Seven Able Six Zulu. Wake up the Top Cop. Have him take a detail and arrest the Bishop of Bennington now. Bring him to my office for questioning, possible arraignment, and possible subsequent detention under a Carte Rouge that I will sign. Tell him to be gentle, but not too gentle. And, to follow procedure, with the irons. Questions?” “Yes, put your sergeant to confirm the order.” The Colonel listened as the Sergeant repeated his order. “That’s correct, Sergeant, execute.” “Sir, the Louie has the Top Cop on the line now.” “Does he have any questions?” “No sir.” “Good man.” “CGS out” and hung up.
The Colonel started up his stairs. NAVY and the Irish Sergeant showed themselves out. NAVY went back to Ladd’s Inn to wait. The Irish Sergeant had some papers to prepare.
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Wakeup B
The Bishop was staying at one of the Diocese’s many houses in the state. Nothing to good for a Prince of the Church. He’d soon be one. His red hat would be a sure thing with all the loss of life due to the bomb.
He heard the bang on the door, the boots on the steps, and a mob of men bursting into his room. He was hooded and shackled. “What’s happening?” “Your Grace, this can be easy or hard. We have an order for your arrest. You can come quietly or struggle. But either way, you’re coming with us.”
The Bishop went quietly.
The Top Cop himself dropped the clergyman in the paddy. He had no love for this fellow for many personal reasons. But, he didn’t do anything more than his orders allowed.
Within an hour, the Bishop in his PJs was standing in front of the Chairman of the General Staff, who was attired in his simple uniform empty of decoration except for the one gold shoulder board. In front of the CGS were four sheets of paper. An affidavit. The Bishop had been sued enough times to recognize that. A single sheet of white, red, and green paper. The Bishop’s name was in a large font on all three. The CGS was really studying the affidavit. The Bishop knew he was on thin ice. These Intelligence types were loose cannons. When they acted, people disappeared. Rumor hath it that they were all trained killers. The Bishop could feel the sweat forming all over his body. He wanted to get on offense.
“Sir, I must protest.” “SILENCE! I’m considering the evidence that has been presented against you.” “I demand a lawyer; I have rights.” “Not in an Intelligence hearing. You have only my sense of fair play and what is in the best interest of the People of the State of Vermont to protect you. Now silence, or I’ll sign the red and white, and I can go back to bed. You, sir, will be on a fast ride to hell!”
The Bishop new he lost that round.
The Bishop couldn’t see the clock over the door behind him. The Colonel was going to sweat him eight full minutes.
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Maire Whisked
NAVY, fresh from her visit to the Colonel, went directly to the bride’s door. Present and waiting quietly were Jody, Aunt, the Regimental First Sergeant, a nurse from the regimental doc shop, and two of the OGN. NAVY made sure that everyone met each other. NAVY set the expectations: “RFS in in charge of movements. Aunt and the OGNers will care for the family. The nurse will help the bride express the milk for the babes. Then, I’ll sweep up the bride and the L’s for treatment. Questions? Tight time frame. Church by 1300! Let’s move any problems the RFS is to be notified. He’ll relay it to me. OK, ladies, and gent, let’s make this happen.”
They let themselves in. NAVY went and secured the connecting door. Aunt woke Marie and swapped with her. The two OGNs circled to coddle any wakers. The Nurse was in the bathroom and was setting up the pump. Marie was in and getting hooked up. NAVY peaked in. Marie wasn’t happy, but was cooperative. “Now I know what a Mommy Cow really feels like.” NAVY laughed. She’d had to do it. “Better than when you get help with conception. That turkey baster is like a Coke bottle.” Marie had new respect for Moms.
She was pumped, dressed, and out in minutes.
First stop was a conference room in the Inn. There were four women and a man with a row of white wedding dresses. Navy said: “Fitting. Strip.” Marie was taken back there was man here: “Uhhh, him?” Pointing to the man in the chartreuse shirt. NAVY laughed: “Don’t mind whore hey; he’s not at all interested in you. But he is a cracker jack designer, fitter, and sewer.” One of the women said: “Nyet, I sew!” NAVY had to calm all the egos. “Yes, you do. There’s enough for everyone.”
Marie was shown a selection of twelve dresses. NAVY vetoed two! Marie didn’t like six. Jorge ixnayed one. That left three for her to try. She liked one, one made her look like a beached white whale, and the other was sexy tight but was a possibility. NAVY said “Your choice — Grace Kelly or Marilyn Monroe?” “Grace Kelly! Timeless beauty and class.” “I agree. And for your John, he’d be turned on if you came in a burlap sack.” Marie laughed. She said to herself ‘you have no idea’. NAVY said: “OK, put on Grace Kelly, and let Jorge and the rest of the Gals tune it up.”
Jorge and the women pinned the dress, marked and argued. NAVY mediated. “No, we don’t want her to fall out like a slut. Nor do we want it transformed into a Mother Hubbard. She needs room in the butt to sit down, but tight enough to drive the boy wild. She’s a milker so give us an extra finger in the bust.
They used some sewers tricks. All seams double double stitched for security. They’d stitcher in on the bounce back. The focus moved on to the “treatment” — hair, face, pits, toes, and certain many other private ‘adjustments’. While they were working her over, undies and shoes were selected. The flowers also came in then.
NAVY wondered was this for naught!
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Calling BK
Brother Kevin was in the hall having breakfast with Sam, Roy, and Andrew. They were deep in conversation. They were the wedding party standing by. John wandered thru the chow line and got some stuff and walked over to the gang. As he sat down, he noticed Brother Kevin was looking sharp. He was not wearing BDUs, nor the normal working cassock of his order, but the dress shirt with the collar and sharply pressed black pants. On the shirt breast, he had the two gold bars of an abbot with a school. John said: “I presume congrats are in order?” Brother Kevin was positively giddy. “Yes, I’ve been offered to be the Abbott of a Congregation in Montpelier by my order. Just like, Brother Prefect. It’s a failing school and I’ve been given three year contract and a free hand. I’m going to use Brother Prefect’s methods with what I’ve learned. And, I have been appointed to the Governor’s Task Force to eliminate the current public school system.” John was somewhat surprised but pleased. “So, you’re staying in the Order and not going to Africa?” “Yes. The person who was planning to do that no longer exists. Brother Prefect was absolutely right; that person had no business leading a school. He may have been too charitable leaving that person in the school at all. You Classmates have taught me a bit of what is possible. Even Brother Prefect wouldn’t have believed that all you’ve done was possible. He often said: ‘people will surprise you to the upside more than the downside.’ He was right there.” “Well, I’m glad you’ll be around to guide us.” “Guide? I was hoping for guidance. I’m swimming in the deep end.” The group laughed.
The conversation then steered to John recounting some of his more spectacular episodes of mischief. Filling the school’s trophy case with Jello necessitating steam cleaning the contents, pre-printing all the ‘blue books’ for test answered with ‘when in doubt, C out’ leading to a rewrite of all the standard tests where C was the correct choice of five answers 42% of the time, and the culmination of his career being busted twice in the same day for paper airplanes. Brother Kevin shared a side they had never seen. That was just how much Brother Prefect loved the “good clean fun”. Mother Superior failed to see how giving all the statues of the BVM a fresh corsage on May 1st was “good clean fun”; she thought it was disrespectful. Brother Prefect wanted to know how it was pulled off. Today, John solved the mystery; sharing that he had had enough detention to get a copy of the caretaker’s master key.
Breakfast came to an abrupt end; the Regimental First Sergeant interrupted them. “Excuse me, sir” John was uncomfortable with that. “Sergeant, do you have to say sir? You’re a man three times my age, with a ton of fruit salad, experiences, and it is I who should be saying sir to you.” “Begging your pardon, SIR, but I have faith in the people who gave you that designation, that (1) you’ll be earning it; and (2) you have kills I know I don’t have. I’m proud to be serving with you because I know the content of your character. So let’s observe the formalities and focus on the mission. My mission today is to get you gents in inspection order. And, between you and me, the Admiral’s daughter is a far more DEMANDING inspector than any gunnie. And, I for one, don’t plan to get on her bad side by disappointing her. So, with all due respect, you sluggards have to get the lead out, and come this way … … sirs!” So chastised, the “bachelor party” was on. The RFS had then shipped them to the barber, the zoot suit store, and the flower mart.
Along the travels, the RFS took John aside. “The man needs to see you for a few minutes when he’s free.” John wondered what that was about.
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Chatting with
The Colonel looked up at the prelate. The clock registered eight. The man’s face looked shook.
“Your grace, I understand that there is a problem with your Church and the marriage of a pair of my officers?”
Silence.
The Bishop was loaded for bear and with great sarcasm said: “Colonel, be serious! These are not officers; they are children.”
Silence.
The Colonel thought ‘bzzz, wrong answer. he should have said myob. this may be easier than i thought!’
“Your Grace, these so called children, as you’ve called them, have had more combat experience that most of my officers. They’ve killed more Bravo Golfs on the Opp For than some of my men. They have done more to make Vermont safer than most everybody. I didn’t propose, nor did Command approve, making the Officers out of sentimentality or stupidity! They will make more of a contribution to the COMMON DEFENSE then you ever have, or will. So, you have no standing to judge if they should be officers or their performance as officers. You, sir, don’t have that right. Nor, that responsibility. And, if the circumstances were different, that statement alone, would be enough to induce me to put down my badge of office and demand personal satisfaction for insulting my Brother Officers. Times don’t permit me that luxury; even today, I have to order men to go, and perhaps die, for Vermont. You, sir, will not impugn my Officers. I’d tread carefully here. This is not some Church convention where your opinion has weight. This is an arraignment to see if the State of Vermont needs protection from you.”
Silence.
“Now getting down to business. I have an affidavit here. Sworn by two men. Under the usual penalty of perjury and at risk, the new risk, of a demand for satisfaction! That you, sir, during the delivery of certain used sacred gold articles recovered from New York, ranted that all of the convoy’s material was yours. Further it is alleged that you demanded that all the convoy be delivered to you personally for disposition. And, I quote from the affidavit: ‘I don’t care what the laws say. It’s mine because it comes from them surviving in Church property. I’m the Church’s representative. It’s mine. I don’t care what the Vermont Law says. I’ll make everyone’s lives miserable until I get it.’ Then, later the affidavit states: ‘If those brats don’t give me the convoy, they’ll never set foot in a Catholic Church again. I’ll see they are excommunicated. They will get away with this over my dead body.’ Your Grace, surely you must see the irony in this situation?” As the Colonel pointed to the white page. The Bishop recognized the threat, but saw nothing funny in it.
The Colonel continued: “Normally, I could care less what you and your Church does. But, this concerns my Officers. Your disparagement of the People of Vermont, their laws, and their faith in you as a Church Leader, certainly puts you firmly on my radar. You seem to be making this about money. Not Church rules about suitability, banns, pre-Canna, and the age of consent. Yes, the man who signed accepting the affidavit is Catholic and was horrified. The JAG is Catholic and sits on your Chancery Court. He briefed me on the Cannons you should be operating under. So, let’s shift to my area, the civil authority I have to protect the people of Vermont. Sir, (deliberately dropping the religious title), it appears you have committed extortion, attempted theft by deception, and attempted facilitation of bribery of a Serving Commissioned Officer. Add to that two counts of Interference In A Criminal Investigation and a few counts of Disparaging An Officer In Performance Of His Duty, you have quite a load of explaining to do.”
The Bishop was down, but not out yet: “I’ll take my chances in Court.”
The Colonel, pushed this one easily back over the proverbial net. “Sir, this is your court. The People of Vermont will demand satisfaction. They trusted you by accepting you into high Church office. In that office, you did these things that violate the Laws of ALL the People of Vermont. You abused that trust. Frankly, this will never see an open court. It would be too damaging in times when The People need no distractions.”
The Bishop turned white: “You can’t!”
The Colonel said: “Oh, but, SIR, I CAN! And will. I suggest you quickly reconsider, retract your ill considered remarks, and make ammends. Everyone is allowed to confess their sins and claim absolution aren’t they?”
The Bishop had a little life left yet: “Your doing the same thing. Extortion.”
The Colonel was getting bored with this morality play: “No, sir, I gain nothing personally out of this. I get two fine Officers who can continue to work for the People of Vermont without distraction. I promise that this is the most expensive and important decision you make. Even, if I didn’t have the Carte powers of my office, as a civilian, I’d lobby for the Religious Freedom Act removing your tax deduction status. I’d have the AG investigate every decision; review every dime you had ever spent. I’d petition Rome for an Ad Lumina visit recalling you for a period of study with the Pope. And, don’t think you’d be back, I’d lobby to have you declared Persona Non Grata. Yeah, I know you have filed papers as an ‘Ambassador from the Vatican’ to put yourself further above the law. Finally, if had to, I’d go door to door, trashing you publicly to every Catholic in the state. Do you get a sense of how much, sir, you disgust me? And, how easy it would be for me to sign any of these forms. Do you?”
A long silence followed that enraged outburst.
The Bishop was green: “Perhaps, I was too emotional. To overwrought with the joy of recovering these dear sweet children and worried how Holy Mother Church would provide for them in their hour of need. Brother Kevin assured me that while the Children were in his care, they had been chaste, faithful, and conducted themselves appropriately. I can certainly see the great job that you and others have preparing for them. I can see my way clearly now to giving them my blessing.” The Bishop didn’t blink putting the lipstick on that pig.
The Colonel had his objective. From his top draw, he removed another form. The Catholic religion’s form for the approval of marriage. “Sign it!”
The bishop quickly obliged.
The Colonel took the form, examined it, and logged it in his personal journal.
He swept all the papers into the top draw. He concluded: “One more thing. Perform the ceremony today, with a smile. Then get out of my State.”
The Bishop now looked confused: “But we had a deal.”
The Colonel said: “I don’t make deals.” He pressed the buzzer on his desk. The Top Cop stepped in and saluted: “SIR!”. The Colonel said: “Release the bishop. He’s recanted the extortion. He wants to perform the wedding, before he goes on his vacation. Please guard the Bishop, ensure his safety, that he gets to the wedding on time, and that he’s not delayed on his trip. Collect his passport at the border. I understand he’s going to Rome for prayer and won’t be back.” “VERY GOOD, Sir!” With that the Top Cop waved to the detail who unlocked the Bishop. Then gestured to the cleric: “This way Bishop”
The Bishop glared at the Colonel, but had the good sense to keep his yap shut. Especially in front of witnesses.
The Colonel never looked up as they took out the trash.
After they left, the Colonel buzzed twice for his adjutant. “Yes, sir?” “Flash the RFS that the marriage is a go!” “Very good, sir. And, may I say well done.” The Colonel smiled: “No, you may not. You may only tell me what you see that I am doing something wrong! Then you may administer it when I need a kick in the a double q. Dismissed!”
He did his after action report. In his personal journal he recorded the high points. His motivation and feelings. Everything in his office was video and audio recorded for the Governor. He never knew if the Guv looked at it. But, as the old coot said: “Rules don’t matter. Doing the right thing does.” And, getting this scum squared away was the right thing to do.
Now he had to deal with General Armody’s latest idea.
He sighed.
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Pass the word
NAVY was supervising a pedicure while there was plucking going on. The RFS himself, with his eyes covered, was led, by a female aide, to NAVY. Amused, NAVY took his hand and said quietly “we’re alone” “The Colonel’s compliments, Ma’am. He wishes you to know roadblock removed.” “That you, RFS. That’s good news that no one else needs to know.” “Yes, Ma’am” She wave to the aide who led the ‘blind RFS’ out.
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Indian Chat
General Amody’s away team was brought for his inspection. The odor preceded them. He smelled sweat, booze, and smoke. He had to laugh. Here was his cracker jack First Squad of the First Regiment’s recon team dressed like drunken hobos. “Gentlemen, I hope that liquor all went on you; not in you. At ease.” The men stood down from attention. General Armody looked the over. He knew the Officers and NCOs had been over things with a fine tooth comb. He noticed that attached to one man’s fishing pole was one of the Children’s Atlatls. He asked: “Is that weapon authorized? And are you any good with it?” “Sir”, the man braced, “No sir. To new to be authorized, and I’m deadly at 25 yards. And, it’s silent and inconspicuous. On my own initiative, Sir.” “Well done, man, well done! The People of Vermont want initiative. Who taught you?” “The little girl who killed the garbage can, sir.” “How good is she?” “Sir, in my opinion, she’s deadly to 200 yards.” “I guess we should hire her to teach this to everyone.” “Sir, yes, sir. It’s a great survival situation weapon. I made my own in under ten minutes with a small pocket knife.” “When you get back, report to the Red Top (the Regimental First Sergeant) with a plan to equip and train everyone. Even the officers, but that will take extra classes.” The men laughed. Officers were for ordering; not doing. “OK, men, here’s how I see it. The children exposed that there’s an organized Bravo Golf ring operating to the South somewhere. We, hell I, guessed they are using I95 to move contraband. So you guys go down and sit on it. You got the kid’s new encryption scheme?” “Yes, sir!” “Well, don’t lose it. You see now why we valued these waifs. Questions?” “Sir, is it true the children invented this in the shelter?” “So I am told. So I am told. Scary. I’m glad they are on our side. But remember, not a whisper about this stuff to anyone. If could kill a lot of innocent people; just as sure if we handed the Bravo Golfs a Fifty!” There were knowing nods around the room. These were SMART dangerous men. They knew the value of secure tactical and strategic communications. WW2 in the Pacific was won by ‘ears’ and ‘snoops’. And that’s just what they knew about.
“Good luck. God speed. God Bless Vermont. Dismissed”
The General left the conference room. His attache said “New Goldie is waiting for you. He has two Indians and looker with him.” The General was not pleased; he smelled politics.
“General Goldie, so nice of your to call on me. You could have summoned and I’d have come to you.” Ears knew a polite brush off when he heard it. “General, I assume you’re acting and putting your scouts out. I invited our new friend and ally Chief Simon Tallgrass, his Top Cop Steven Shortgrass Jones, and their consuliere the beautiful young Ms Jill to have a frank discussion.” General Armody was rumored to not trust his own mother; so needless to say he wasn’t happy. “Whatever you feel is appropriate!”
“Simon, Steven, and Jill, what the General has just said was that I’m on my own here. He really doesn’t agree. Did you know he turned down my job, threw me under the bus, and made me take it? So he could stay close to the action. Don’t blame him. I’m going to open Vermont’s kimono a little. I’m going to tell you stuff. And we’ll see if it stays between us and gets actioned appropriately. Then, maybe the General will trust you some more, and our mutual kimonos will be opened further. The General is responsible for the hottest section of our border. He led the recent clean up of your newly acquired tribal lands and you can win him over to your side by keeping the peace on your side. If you don’t, he has my complete support to help. If you can’t, we will have no qualms about replacing you with some one who will. We want peace. And we’ll kick butt till we get it for our people. Now with that unpleasantness out of the way, let me tell you about our mutual problem.”
General Armody was placated with the tough talk. Knowing Ears has he did, he’d have no doubt the man would sadly sign the Carte Blanches for a heart attack, traffic accident, and suicide. And, then stand at the funeral and weep quietly. The man bled Vermont syrup. There was no doubt of his loyalties; nor the willingness to do what was necessary. The General wondered if the folks across the room knew that they were facing a deadly snake. Few knew that the Office of Special Services directly reported to whoever wore the gold shoulder board. He, himself often wondered, if the Governor’s signature was need on that Carte Blanche. It’d be faster than an impeachment, he mused. He knew, for sure, he didn’t want such a crushing responsibility.
Ears continued: “We KNOW that there is an organized opposition force in the field. In the coming days, you will hear the terrible things that the refugees endured. One is a organized slave market that trafficked in slaves. Mostly female. What you will not hear is that there was an organization behind it. We KNOW it survived the Classmates blowing up of that market. We are placing units in the field to surveil, recon, collect evidence, prisoners, or anything that can expose who the big end points are. We require you to, at least, not interfere should they identify themselves to you. It would be nice to have your cooperation should they ask for it. It would be helpful if you passed along anything that you heard pertaining to this matter. It would be good if your enquired of the Bravo Golfs you encounter if they know anything. We have no concern how you extract such information. Other than it be reliable. Information extracted by torture, in our experience, is very unreliable — a person in pain will say anything to make it stop; we prefer subtler methods that can give confirmation. As we become better friends, we will share some of those as needed. Are there any questions?”
Jill, the blond brains of the outfit, spoke right up: “Well, for sure, we’d like to help, but you see, how will we know them? We can’t have every Dick claiming to be youse guys.” The Colonel smiled. Editing for the jargon and the accent, it was a logical question. “The gentlemen in question will ask for ‘white rose’. It could be White Rose tea or to speak to Chief White Rose. They all have a white rose tattoo on their forearm. Close examination of the rose shows a petal that looks like Vermont. Since they are very dangerous men, I’d advise your folks get ‘white rose’ in some form into the conversation. Perhaps you might have you men chat about reporting to Chief White Rose for extra duty, time off, or equipment. I am most concerned about ‘friendly fire’.” The girl didn’t quit. “Ya kare to tell us where we’d find them?” “No, besides neither I, nor anyone, really knows exactly. This way a spy at our end can not kill them by betrayal.” “Whaa u donna trust pee pull!” “My dear Ms. Jill, spend some time with General Armody and you’ll find he’s well known not to trust his own Mom. I’m more skeptical then he is.”
General Armody was laughing silently: “Now, Ms. Jill, you could be holding my mother’s cat hostage to turn her into a double agent. So why would I put my Mom at risk? If it’s known I don’t trust her, she useless to anyone. Even if you threatened to kill her or kill her, I’d just go to the funeral and then move every rock to pay you back.”
Chief Simon spoke: “See daughter, these are, as I told you, very dangerous men. Good men. Loyal to the People. But none the less, dangerous. Accidents happen to people who aren’t honest with such men.” Turning to the Colonel: “We’d love the opportunity to repay Vermont’s generosity.”
Everyone knew where the chips would fall in case of a leak!
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Visit Ear HQ
After the men all were fitted with zoot suits complete to the shoes, the Regimental First Sergeant appeared: “Sir, Gentlemen, Colonel Under Dog has an errand to do. He’ll meet you back at Ladds to proceed to the Church to complete the maneuver’s execution.” John laughed: “Sergeant, could you choose better words?” “Certainly, Sir. But having been married twice and divorced twice, I chose my words well.” The men grinned at that.
Outside, there were two motorcades, pointing in different directions. The RFS put John in one, tapped the roof twice, and the cade left at high speed with sirens. The remainder of the party went in the other. That one left at a normal pace.
John was in the car with a Lieutenant, a Sergeant, and two MPs. “Short military career? Am I under arrest?” The Louie wasn’t laughing: “NO SIR! But when Goldie calls for you, this is what you get. You may leave under arrest, but it’s our job to put you in front of him. You’re an intelligence asset and have been receiving executive protection since your arrival. You’re due to get the full briefing tomorrow.” John sat back and thought about that. First time any one ever called him an asset.
At the entrance to a non-descript working farm, they pealed off from the escort who proceeded ahead. A replacement car from the farm pealed out and took their place. Someone would have to have a way to track the substitution to know it happened. John didn’t know but the motorcade commander personally inspected the cars to ensure they were suitable non-descript and as close to twins as could be. No one would be targeting his guests.
They pulled into the barn. Exiting the car, they walked past a manned machine gun nest, down a simple stairway and into a modern reception room. The Old Hag was waiting: “John nice of you to drop by. Here’s your temporary badge. It had a picture of Goldilocks with a big numeral 2 on it. John didn’t ask questions. He noticed her badge had sleeping beauty on it with a 2 on it. She led him into an office where Colonel Ears was siting. With nothing else to do, he noticed the Colonel’s badge had sleeping beauty and a 1 on it.
She aimed him at a chair. She sat down; he didn’t.
The Colonel looked up: “Something wrong?” “No, sir, I don’t know what the proper protocol is. I’m sure there is one; I just don’t know it.” “Don’t worry about it. We in the Intelligence world aren’t spit and polish soldiers. Know why you’re here?” “I assume it’s got to do with the Slave Market ring?” The Colonel looked a the Old Hag and nodded knowingly. The Colonel had the right person for the job. “Yes, nothing we say leaves this room. That includes Top Dog.” “Not sure I can agree to that.” “She doesn’t need to know and by telling her you put her at risk.” “In that case, with that reservation, I agree.” “We’ve put a team into the field astride Route 95. We’re looking for who is the Kingpin. Starting Monday, you’ll assume the S2 seat in this command. You’ll see all the intelligence reports and you job is to identify what we are calling Bravo Golf 1 and Bravo Golf 2.” “Two points. One, you’re assuming existence. Two, you’re assuming they are each one person. Three, you’re assuming they can be identified.” “That’s three things.” “One and two are really the same.” “Yes, yes, and yes. You identify them and they will be no longer your problem. Understood.” “Yes, sir.” “OK; get lost and be here ready burn some brain cells asap.”
The Colonel pressed the buzzer twice. The adjutant popped in. “Colonel Under Dog has a wedding to go to. Make it so.” “Yes, sir.” And, John was on his way.
The Old Hag broke the ice: “You think the kid can do it?” “I hope so. I think there is a clue buried in his memory that will shake it lose. Or, he’ll see a pattern. Remember he deduced our existence, created a plan, and executed it flawlessly. I didn’t see it coming; did you?” “No, but it’s a big wager on basically a kid.” “Not so big. If he fails, we really didn’t put a lot of cycles on it. We’ll ease him out and move on.”
The Colonel was dangerous man. If the kid failed, and if he didn’t want to be ‘eased out’, he see just how dangerous the ‘intelligence game’ was.
“Never mind that, we have a wedding to go to.”
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Danger Will Robinson
NAVY was closing on the finish line. Marie was back at Ladd’s Inn and already being assembled by the team. They were fast approaching the ceremony. They were about to dress her. When NAVY’s checklist had one item. “Hold gang. Marie, bathroom. Where’s our nurse? AHh, there you are. Can you take out two quarts so she doesn’t leak and fits the dress? Stat!” NAVY hadn’t forgotten the babies needed feeding.
The expression completed. The dressing team began to assemble the parts. Marie was a little embarrassed at being “handled”. She really did fell like a prize cow.
NAVY took off her Dad’s 1911 that she was wearing over her BDUs, placed it in a beautiful white holster, strapped it on the bride, and announced “Old!”. Marie squeaked “I can’t”; NAVY just shook her head. NAVY placed a princess crown tiara on Marie’s head with the veil attached and announced: “New!” She tucked a gold American Eagle in Marie’s bra, easy accessible by a shoulderless design, and announced “borrowed”. Marie was stitched into the dress. She was afraid to breathe. NAVY produced a blue garter, slipped it over Marie’s white nylons, up her leg, and announced “Blue!”. And after inspecting the job, announced “Done!”
The sheet covering the mirror was ready to be pulled. Jorge said to her: “Now, sweeeethart, don’t cry, it’ll ruin your paint job, and we have to do it over again. Ready?” Marie couldn’t talk; she nodded. Jorge pulled the sheet. Marie couldn’t believe her eyes. In the mirror there was a beautiful woman. A grace kelly wannabie for sure. But, she was a woman today. A bride to be. If her Mother could see her now. And, Uncle Vin. Her whole family would be astounded at the change. A month ago she was a timid school girl. Now she was a warrior princess. Ready to wed and take her man where he’d only dream of being. Cry? For joy.
Navy saw the expression and that made it all worthwhile.
Marie turned and said: “I don’t know how to thank you all.” NAVY speaking for the team: “You just did honey. You walk down that aisle with that expression and all the boys will melt and the girls will be green with envy.” Marie sensed something: “You won’t be there. Will you?” “Nah, hon, I’m going to get my reward. I get to play with the babies. I’ve been to too many weddings.” SHe didn’t add ‘divorces and funerals’. She was concerned because these kids were so young. But, her grandparents had been younger when married at the doc! Marie continued: “I’ll miss you.” “Hon, up here, it’s custom for you to give the groom a gift. Here’s yours.” She passed her a box, opened it, it was an engraved Swiss Army knife inscribed “For use in ‘lack of zipper’ emergencies”. Marie laughed. “One last thing, Hon, I know your Catholic, but you might want this.” She gave Marie a small box. “It’s condoms. Some times girls don’t want to get preggers right away.” Marie returned them as if the box was hot. “No, thanks, NAVY, for the thought, but I’d like to get pregnant. After all the death and destruction, I want more babies. Lots of them. As soon as possible.” “OK, girl, I hope you get everything you want from now on. You’ve earned it. Everyone here loves you kids as if you were our own. You’re seen as our future. Now get going before you make an old broad cry.” Then she yelled “TRANSPORT!” The Top Cop entered and said: “Right this way, Colonel Ms. Top Dog. Your chariot awaits. Your wedding party is standing by. And, may I say, you look beautiful.” NAVY whispered knowingly “told you so”!
Taking the Top Cop’s arm, paused by the door. The old Russian seamstress handed her the bridal bouquet. Beautiful purple “red clover”, Vermont’s state flower, Trifolium pratense! The old woman said: “from old country, grow here native now, like you.” Marie air kissed the woman’s cheek: “thank you”; the woman teared up. Marie also grabbed her atlatl; after all, it was the symbolic weapon of the Classmates.
She strolled out to a small white bus configured like Cinderella’s Carriage. Jody, Linda, and Lisa were already there in beautiful rose sheath dresses. Upon seeing, the forty five, the rejoinder was “John would be afeared to leave Marie at the alter”. Then she showed them her atlatl. And, they all broke into laughter as they retrieved theirs from the bench seat. Jody had even brought HER M1A. Marie asked: “Are we going to a wedding or a war.” Jody replied: “Sometimes they are hard to tell apart.” Everyone laughed at that; Jody was serious.
Marie didn’t sit down, but help tight to a pole. She was afraid she’d split something. Jody poked her in the butt and said “Ripe for the plucking, pumpkin!” Marie was initially horrified, but joined in the general hilarity. She was ready for plucking.
Or something akin to that.
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Wedding Bell
Ladd’s inn was a buzz of activity. The Classmates, Guests, and Refugees were all shined up. Out to the buses and off to the Cathedral in Bennington. The press was pool coverage except for the public areas. The people wanted more news. The first press conferences were not scheduled until Monday.
There was a thirst for anything about these strange visitors from a war zone.
Dribs and drabs were leaking out. The wedding was between the two leaders of the refugees. They were obviously very young. The tabloids were making stuff up. Visitors from another planet sent to save us.
Some of the leaks were good information. Eighth graders. Childhood sweethearts. Marriage by special permission of the Bishop. Brevet officers in the Vermont Intelligence corps. Salvaged goods of great wealth. Someone was leaking the straight scoop.
Colonel Ears had friends in the press. He “investigated”.
The Old Hag had friends in the press. She leaked what she and the Colonel agreed on.
Yes, the “Intelligence Game” was a dirty game of information and disinformation. The tales of lurid sex slavery by Bravo Golfs went really well with the tabloids. The chaste teenage love of the leaders played well in the Social Circles. The action stories of the psuedo military ops went over with the men.
John arrived at Ladd’s Inn with less than an hour to spare. The RFS was waiting as the cade pulled up. He hurried him to the room. The rest of the men were dressed and ready. He SSSed while all the time being urged to hurry. He felt rushed. Suitably attired, the RFS inspected the output. He handed the groom an envelope with the proper paperwork. “Docs” he grunted. “Rings?” Roy held the box up. “Gratuities?” Sam held up several envelopes. “Sir, it is customary for the groom to gift the bride with a token. NAVY and I took the liberty of getting this for you. From his back waist band he extracted a box. He opened it. And showed John a charm bracelet. First and largest was heart charm with “Alban” on it. Then and arrow through two joined angels with “June & Brian”. Two angels on the same link labeled “Linda” & “Lisa”. Two angels on the same link labeled “Sean” & “Jasmine”. Four small angels on the same link labeled “Natalie”, “Hailey”, “Aaron”, & “Jose”. Four small angels joined hand in hand labeled “Clara & Clare & David & Anthony”. A single larger angel with no eyes labeled Dave D. Another large angel with no legs labeled “Doc J”. Five small angels arranged in a circle labeled “Ernin 5”. John was stunned. “Sergeant, I can’t I have no way to pay for it.” “NAVY said to tell you there will be an accounting when you meet the bankers tomorrow afternoon. Till then don’t worry about that. Unless you think she would NOT like it.” “No Sergeant, she love it, but I didn’t do it.” “Well, sir, as an old married and divorced man, let me share a secret, you’ll have to tell some white lies along the way. Besides, NAVY said that this was what you wanted. You’ll learn that your staff will do a lot of things for you that you would have done if you had time. You are what your staff does for you!” John shut up. He’d confess to Marie later.
At this point the RFS was ushering them to the door, John’s head was in twirl, but he remembered one thing. “Wait!”, he gasped. Was he as PTSD as Brother Kevin was. Maybe. “I’m naked!” The RFS thought the kid had finally popped his top. “First, I need a sidearm.” “For Church?” “Especially for Church. Guys grab your atlatls.” John grabbed his: “See, First, it’s the symbol of who we are! Brother Kevin, I see you have your sidearm. Are you still packing Ziggy’s?” Sheepishly, he whispered: “Yes”. “See, First, I need a sidearm.” First understood. He strode to the door. “Corporal, draw an extra sidearm with ammo from stores and meet us at transport. Double quick, son, if you please.”
That to the corporal was more than an order. The RFS never said “please”. The corporal was at transport before the party; for which, he received a “well done” from the RFS. The corporal handed the 1911 to the RFS, who handed it to John. It was stolen from a spare dress uniform in stores. The Q had everything; he’d take it as a personal affront if someone asked for an item and he didn’t have it. John strapped it on. Took the hogleg out, dropped the magazine, ejected the round, caught it, open the breech, cleared the barrel, put the extra back in the magazine, closed the breech, and reloaded. He slid the sidearm into the holster, closed the sissy flap, and snapped it. The RFS was impressed; this was no child. It was a warrior. Said: “Now I’m dressed!”
The RFS had the wedding party whisked to the Cathedral. John met with the priest who was to actually perform the wedding. The man looked askance at the holster. John saw his eyes as he said: “No guns in Church, my son.” John was in no mood to disarm. Ever again. “Father, this is my uniform. I’m a serving Officer. Don’t you marry Officers with swords in Church?” John shut up and went eyeball to eyeball with the priest. The priest blinked. John had gone up against Brother Prefect; this guy was a wus.
The priest told john that while the bishop would be there as officiating, he was doing all the work. He went through what was to happen. Then, he asked for the documents. John handed him the envelope. He looked through the papers: “License, check. Certificate, check. Groom’s church and Bride’s church banns, waived by the bishop, check. Any in the wedding party know of any impediment to the marriage of this couple.” Barely pausing, he continued: “Hearing none, check. Gentlemen we are a go. Please follow me and take your places. Rest easy. I’ve been told the bride will be precisely three minutes late. This wedding planner, a lady named NAVY, informed me that my side better be on time. Interesting person. Did you know that the bride never waits?” The men all laughed; they’d met NAVY!
They followed the priest out. The place was packed. John saw the Colonel and the Old Hag. On his side. Doc Jen was in a wheelchair in the far aisle on the bride’s side. The Classmates were split girls on her side; boys on his side. John started to wonder what in heaven’s name he had signed on for. Where would all the money come from?
Too late now.
The organ shifted tempo. To a march. The Bishop came out and sat down. The priest left them, took the miter from the Bishop, and precessioned to the back of the Church. By tradition, he kissed the bride on the cheek. (Smelling for booze?) And ask the three questions: Was she there of her own free will, without coercion or inducement. Was she in full control of her facilities. Was she presenting herself fully and knowingly without reservation for the Sacrament of Marriage. Marie responded “yes” thrice. Then the priest asked of the wedding party: “Do all, or any, of you know any reason that this marriage can not take place?” Everyone replied “no”!
The Priest, still stinging from the rebuff about swords and guns in Church, took another run at the issue with the women. “Now, Ladies, you can’t bring your weapons into Church. The Lord’s House is a place of Peace.” Marie said: “Padre, we intend to keep it peaceful. Besides, per the Lord’s admonition, we’ve ‘sold our cloaks to buy a sword’. These swords were paid for every dearly. Besides as a serving Officer, don’t you marry Officers with swords. Can you explain to the Bishop and the Vermont Brass, how you killed the wedding?” And, she stood still looking him right in the eye unblinking!
Silence.
Marie had learned from her Uncle Vin to make her best argument and then shut up. First one to speak loses. “Very well, please follow me.” The Priest had already lost one hand of ‘verbal poker’ to the husband to be. Seemed like they were a perfect match for each other.
The prelate directed the alter boys to open the doors. He banged the Bishop’s miter on the floor thrice. He saw the Bishop stand up and motion arise to the Congregation. He banged once more. The lyric tones of Mozart’s “Ave Verum Corpus” sounded. It was a beautiful song, used for the initial prelate and bridesmaids procession. The alter boy with the crucifix lead off. Slow march. Then the four boys with candles in a standard two by two cover formation. Then the prelate, who handed the miter off to the bishop at the end of the run. Followed by the bride’s maids Lisa and Linda. Finally the Maid of Honor. The M1A slung on Jody’s shoulder brought a gasp from the crowd. The Classmates didn’t miss the atlatls.
Then the organ shifted tone. The familiar Mozart’s “Wedding March from the Marriage of Figaro”. Marie took Brother Kevin’s arm. He said: “Are you ready?” She smiled at him: “I’ve been waiting it seems all my life for this. Brother Kevin, you’re standing in for my Uncle Vin.” “And, I’m proud to cover for a fellow Marine.” With that they pushed off.
John was shell shocked. Marie was more beautiful than he imagined. To the tune, she marched confidently down the aisle. From top to bottom, a runway model of the new post Abomb modern woman. At the foot of the alter steps, she turned to Brother Kevin. He lifted her veil. By cannon, he couldn’t kiss a woman. But they bussed cheeks. “Good luck, my Top Dog Marie”, he said and returned to his seat. John stretch out his hand and he escorted her the last three steps.
In code, he squeezed out: ‘where marie. what have you done to my marie. who are you beautiful. come here often.’ She smiled, but didn’t laugh. The wedding party and some of the Classmates could see the coding and read it. Some of them laughed. Most of the congregation didn’t get the joke.
John turned and gull winged. The crowd quieted. He signed: ‘June and Brian’. Most of the crowd was clueless. Then, he cued the organist and the organ belted out the short version of Ave Maria. The Classmates were … … moved!
The ceremony was the average ceremony. Do you, i do, do you, i do, blah, blah, blah, by the power invested in me by Holy Mother Church and the State of Vermont, I know pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.
The first kiss was very polite and serious. They broke for air. John swept her around and they mugged another one with their patented struggle.
To which the Classmates roared in laughter. The rest of the crowd again ‘didn’t get it’. The newlyweds didn’t milk it for too long. But broke and turned to the Congregation. Then Marie and John pointed to the Classmates with their atlatls, a hush came over the crowd. Together they raised those tools of freedom high over their heads and the Classmate broke into wild cheering and applause.
It was Victory! They had made the goal.
The organist had talent. When the noise started to die down, the recessional was played. The organist had a sense of humor, belting out John Philip Sousa’s ‘Liberty Bell March’. The happy couple marched to form the receiving line.
At the back, the RFS said: “Congratulations, kids.” They were thankful. The RFS organized the line and kept it moving.
The Bishop broke tradition and didn’t come to greet them. They were told he was called away by urgent travel plans. He wasn’t missed. The Top Cop ensured he wasn’t late. And at the Canadian Border collected the Bishop’s Vermont Id Card and Passport. He was Canada’s problem now. The treatment was not unobserved by the Canadian authorities. While not every case they observed was troubling to them, they had no desire to be the dumping ground of Vermont’s trash. If the person dumped was a ne’er do well, they’d hap ply drop him off at the Maine - New Hampshire “corner” to be some one else’s problem. The Bishop would eventually make his way to Boston and, with the help of the Bishop of Boston, who had no use for another ‘queen bee’ in his hive, expedited his passage to Rome via a slow boat. Bon Voyage, Fallen Prince.
The Bride was told she was beautiful over and over. The Groom that he was lucky. There were no original thoughts expressed. John did take editorial note of how Marie knew every Refugee’s name. He wished he had such skill. No wonder everyone loved her. She cared.
The line exhausted. There were the mandatory pictures. Where had NAVY found a photog to work the event on such short notice? The kids didn’t understand. The photogs found Navy and bid for the right to shoot the wedding. What advertising? The winning photog gave them everything gratis and paid 35 ounces for the right to cite the event in an ad, but not use the pics. On Monday, the photog’s studio added a line on the window “–Marie and John’s photographer”. Simple and understated. His business tripled.
Outside the Church, John’s 57 Ford was waiting. He was overjoyed to see his ride again. With the military police escort. Marie whispered to him: “I may split something if I sit down.” John said: “Then we’ll skip the reception and go directly to honeymoon.” He could still make her laugh. “You have filled out nicely since we left the Eighth Grade uniforms behind.” “I hope you won’t be disappointed.” “Have you stopped wearing your Grannie’s bra?” Marie turned red at that memory. More pictures. He placed her in the coffin corner seat. She needn’t have worried. The Russian’s stitches were stout and doubled. John fired up the beast and said: “Ready for our life’s journey to begin?” “I’ve been journeying with you for my whole life. Begin, no. Get to the good part, yes.”
On the way, from Church to Hall, he pulled over. The escort waited patiently; although the lead car was caught by surprise. John looked at Marie and said: “I’m told I am to give you a gift for marrying me. An elf supplied this, I wish I could claim I thought of it. But, I was told that I am my staff.” He presented her the box. She was curious. “It appears that we both have staffs. I to have something for you. More than the obvious gift I will give you tonight.” With that, she opened the box and was reduced to tears. “You’ll ruin your face.”, John exclaimed. “This is … precious.” Holding out her wrist, she ask: “Put it on and I’ll never take it off. Never ever.” He struggled with the clasp but obliged. She, then presented him with ‘her’ gift. He opened it and was impressed. She added: “NAVY said you might need this to peel a banana some time. By the way, this dress has no zippers.” They started laughing like giddy children on a first date. He waved to the escort and pulled out.
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Reception
NAVY had the reception organized. It was after all Vermont. The congregation was invited back to Ladd’s Inn. The tday / hiring hall / bfast lunch dinner buffet joint had been transformed into a winter wonder land. Blue fabric had been stapled to the walls and paper snowflakes at random around on the blue. The tables had red clover flowers. The lights had been filtered with blue or white cellophane. Navy could work on a low budget and fast. Blue and white candles were lit on all the tables. She’d even managed to round up a band. (Like the photog, they paid for the priv. NAVY was NOT running a charity; nor a loss leader. the tabloids were paying about 325k ounces for the pics.) The crowd at the church were given admit cards. The Fighting First were very intimidating doormen.
When the bridal party pulled up, the RFS formed them up and the maitre ‘d introduced them. They danced the first dance to the Shirelles “Mama said there’d be days like this”. Not a really great tune to dance to. But it had meaning to them. At the conclusion of that, first dance the happy couple went to the band and made a request. “Stand By Me” by Ben E. King. As the band began to play it, Marie pointed to John’s ears where he was “belting it out” and after the first chorus John pointed to Marie’s butt as she hula-ed out the next verse. The crowd was in hysterics. The Colonel turned to the Old Hag and said: “I think YOU are going to have your hands full.” Together they shared a knowing laugh. These were after all basically just kids. And, troublemakers to boot. Very smart trouble makers.
There were the obligatory pictures. NAVY brought the babies down when called for the ‘family’ photos. Then of course, each of the contubernium wanted their turn. So, skipping the normal Bride’s side and Groom’s side went unnoticed. A bunch of Strangers showed up with Colonel Ears and the Old Hag for their picture. The Colonel said: “These were your audio angels and will be your coworkers.” And, left it at that. Everyone of them looked at Marie’s hand. One asked her to make a fist in one of the pictures. She obliged. Didn’t understand the joke. But went along. She’d learn later.
NAVY had cut the first dances from the standard program. So they went directly to food. A Vermont Church style buffet was served. Courtesy of the three largest churches women’s auxiliaries augmented by the women from many of the smaller ones. A labor of love. For which, every church got a substantive donation from the children. The tabloid’s money had to go somewhere. Every Church got a hundred ounces. It was hard to spend more than a quarter million without prior planning.
The happy couple had a short break for a rest with some quiet words between them. John whispered some of Corinthians to her; she replied with a little Lady Chatterley’s Lover … “body without mind is brutish; mind without body…is a running away from our double being.” There was no doubt that Marie was not the ‘Ice Queen’ as titled in school. She was more like the vamp.
There were the usual games after dinner. Bride threw the bouquet; Jody caught. Groom throws the garter; Roy caught. There may have been some ‘fixing’ involved in that. I’m not sure that anyone would mess with a girl with an M1A slung on her back. That didn’t intimidate Roy. She was mildly shocked how high he put the garter. And the thigh squeeze sent her “temperature rising”. They’d be having some serious conversations tonight. She wanted to redeem his pledge.
Then came cake!
NAVY had outdone herself. Or, it should be said, she chose a slightly lower offer 250 ounces from a relative unknown who modestly asked for the opportunity than the 1,000 ounces arrogantly proposed by a baker from the capitol. With 325k ounces from the tabloid pictures, it wasn’t about the money. The cake was a masterpiece. The photog got a pic of it. It summarized their journey to date. Everyone wanted a slice with the target.
It was great!
The evening devolved into an unchaperoned high school freshman dance. This was the first time since Church Day that the kids just acted like kids. Even thought there was no alcohol, a good time was had by all. As the evening progressed, the Bride coded the Groom: ‘save some energy’ ‘your party say when nough’ ‘nough’. And they slipped away.
Well one doesn’t ‘slip away’ from the all seeing RFS and NAVY. As they left for the car, NAVY had the babies for a hug. And RFS had the escort ready. They were at the farm in ten minutes. On the drive in, John pointed out the pickets on sentry. The kids didn’t know it but the First was on duty. At the farm’s new house, the Groom did the obligatory Bride carry. There were little night lights through out the house. John didn’t need the lights because once he deposited her inside the door, he got a full frontal he would not soon forget. He was seeing stars. Correction, he’d never forget. He had lots of ’star light’ to guide him. Marie really wanted to survey her new digs, but there were more urgent matters to attend to. There were streamers that channeled them to the stairs and from the stairs to the master suite.
And here, as they say in the movies, we “Fade To Black”.
It was reported that there was no ‘curtain rod size’ complaints registered about equipment. And the Swiss Army Knife was essential to completing the night’s mission. The pickets did report hearing the sound of a struggle in the house, but that was attributed to “normal night time maneuvers”.
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Other Maneuvers
A not so light plane circled over the dark coastline. A team of fifteen men with scuba gear and a ton of other stuff preped for a jump. The pilot had come in from the sea making a wide arc. Overhead, up another 10k feet was his cap. He could see lights from Bridgeport and Stamford to one side and off in the distance New Haven. “Ready Lights”! Lights in the back went yellow and the tail gate opened. He lined up just beyond the surf line. “Green” And in the back fifteen brave men followed their ‘luggage’ out the door.
The water was cold. The team assembled like a school of fish. Like hope, their luggage floats. It served as a surf board that was paddled and propelled to shore. Two strong swimmers push out in front and secured the beach head. The rest drove the ‘raft’ to shore. The raft was broken down on the shore and the army of ants carried it away. The carcass was buried.
A dash to the hill over looking the bridge over the Connecticut river. Two man OP. two six man squads to the opposite ends. Everyone digs in. Watching for … … well, they’d know it when they saw it … … or so they were told. Just like the military, hurry up and wait. Long periods of boredom between burst of absolute terror. The three teams rigged out small radios, using wristbands collected from the classmates, began using their encryption. It took some thinking and deliberately short messages. But, these folks were the cream of the crop. Comm was secure.
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