Command Decision (23 page)

Yet Brockhurst knew now that the foreseeable fate of Dennis was only a fragment, a shadow of the larger catastrophe he was witnessing. Dennis himself was safely beyond pity. Brockhurst’s brief glimpse inside the uniform had shown him a man who could carry himself, as he carried his convictions, inviolable through momentary changes of fortune.

The darker tragedy hid behind the form of Dennis, behind the army itself. The army was only the projected form of a deeper malignance. It had been created as a shield against a more highly developed tyranny than its own; it would survive by a superior ferocity.

It was futile to pity Dennis, to hate Kane, to rage at his own helplessness in the face of the army’s bestial stupidity and human venality; they were all manifestations of what had made them. It was not
the weaknesses, the faults, the mistakes of armies; it was their existence that proclaimed the tragedy of mankind.

Chapter 13

As General Kane’s party returned from the hold Malcolm paused on the threshold of the door, pointing like a bird dog while a beaming, beatific grin overspread his heavy face.

“Drinkin’ whiskey fum Gawd’s own country!”

He hurried to the bar which Evans had improvised on the map table and raised a bottle for critical inspection.

“General Kane, I declah youah a min’ readeh. Wheah in the worl’ did you get this oveh heah?”

Kane hesitated but Evans did not. “It was a present to General Dennis from an admirer, sir.”

Brockhurst noticed the whiskey for the first time now. A rueful grin spread over his face.

“Yes, Sergeant, it is,” he said.

The others thronged forward to it eagerly. Kane made the most of the prevailing satisfaction to report to Dennis what he had done, covering his evident sense of unease with formality.

“General, as you know I pride myself on never interfering with normal operations. But today’s diversions were so obviously unsuccessful that I felt it my duty to signal Colonel Martin discretion to abandon his primary objective for a target of opportunity under fighter cover if he chose.”

“Did you get a reply, sir?” asked Dennis evenly.

“Not yet. He’s probably preserving radio silence.”

Prescott appeared now with a glass for Kane. Over by the bar Brockhurst was watching with amusement the completion of a cycle. For intent as they were upon the whiskey, the Congressmen had not allowed it to eclipse their own horizons. Discovering Evans no longer in mute attendance upon Kane, they had turned to the earnest courtship of the potential voter in the Sergeant’s bemedaled blouse.

“…an’ may I ask which of ouah great states has the honoh of producin’ a man whose country has rewahded him with medals like them?” inquired Malcolm.

“You can but I’d rather not say,” said Evans.

“Not say! You mean you ain’t proud of youah home state?”

“I wasn’t till I saw what some of the others put out.”

“I declah! Gennel, youah Sahgen’s not only a hero; he’s a wit. Come on, tell us wheah you fum, son.”

“If I did you’d quit sucking around for my next vote.”

Dennis looked at his watch.

“General Kane, we’ve had relays from General Endicott and General Salmond. Both report their targets successfully attacked.”

“Gentlemen,” said Kane hastily, “we have had very gratifying strike reports from the other missions. To two very successful attacks.”

He raised his glass and the others joined him heartily. Malcolm handed his back to Evans with careful instructions for refilling it before he turned on Dennis.

“You don’t drink to youah colleagues’ success, General?”

“I’m waiting to drink to the whole operation. Did you enjoy the hole, gentlemen?”

“I was fascinated but I was bewildered, too,” said Field.

“It was impressive but too much for the layman,” said Stone.

“They wasn’t nothin’ to it but them girls at the tables movin’ little pieces of cahdboahd an’ them damn shoht-circuit spahks on the screen an’ the whole place coldeh than Chris’mas.”

Malcolm shivered and took more whiskey in a long gulp. Brockhurst saw both Dennis and Kane look at their watches now. Even through his modest share of his own whiskey he could feel tension tightening in the room. He saw Dennis start visibly as the teleprinter suddenly began to clatter again in the Ops room, but Stone had pinned the Brigadier down with earnest questioning.

“But we did understand, correctly, that the main purpose of these other attacks was diversionary?”

“They were very important naval objectives,” said Kane quickly. “Of course we did hope to split the enemy fighters.”

“And you considered that hope had failed, General?”

Kane hesitated perceptibly. “You can’t be certain. But the screen is reasonably accurate at that range and the technicians identified no fighters. What do you think, General?”

“The other strike signals would have mentioned any significant scale of fighting, sir.”

“So you had to assume, in fact, that the main enemy forces are free to strike our central attack?”

“We had to assume it to begin with, sir,” said Dennis. “The diversions were only a hope—the best we could do, but still a hope.”

“Well,” persisted Stone, “if the main force had already gone so far…”

“You mean
been sent
so far,” said Malcolm. He had brought his glass over to join the argument now and his voice had taken on truculence with the whiskey. “An’ it had been sent by Gennel Dennis when he knew his own self that his divehsions probably wouldn’t succeed. Am I not correct, General?”

“You are.”

Haley appeared in the doorway with teleprint paper in his hand.

“Liaison message from an R.A.F. recce plane, sir.”

“Read it.”

Haley lifted the paper and read aloud, his flat unemotional accents falling like stones into the silence.

“‘Twelve hundred thirty-nine sighted large formation of USAAF Boeings approx ten forty east fifty forty north altitude twenty-two thousand heading ninety-eight…”

“Ninety-eight!” exclaimed Kane. “He’s still going
into
Germany!”

Haley waited but no one spoke. He resumed: “‘unescorted under heavy attack formations good over.’ That’s all, sir.”

He executed a sharp about-face and closed the door behind him, muffling a little the teleprinter, which had begun to clatter again. The men looked at each other blankly, heavily. Dennis lifted an eye from his wrist watch for a long look at the map. It was Malcolm who broke the silence. The liquor was dissolving the thin restraint over his natural volatility; he sounded nearly hysterical.

“…unescohted an’ undeh heavy attack. Gennel Kane, I’m wahnin’ you if you eveh let Gennel Dennis…”

“Aaathur, you better shut up,” said Stone.

“I agree,” said Field. “If they think it necessary…!”

“Necessary! To slaughteh American youth foh one pigheaded Brigadieh…”

He was walking toward Dennis again. Evans quietly stepped to the side of the table, his foot itching hopefully again when, unconsciously, they all froze with the cessation of sound from the teleprinter, the quick rasp of tearing paper, and then the approaching beat of Haley’s feet. Entering, he looked uncertainly at Dennis.

“Message for you, sir.”

“From Ted?”

“Not exactly, sir. Could you step out here?”

Dennis started for the door but Malcolm blocked him.

“No you don’t, neitheh. You don’t play no back room games on me. Weah heah representin’ the whole people an’ I’m goin’ to heah the whole story…”

“Colonel, read the message aloud,” barked Kane hastily.

Haley stepped through the door and read as unemotionally as before.

“‘Relay on administrative cable from message center London for Colonel Edward Martin in clear new copilot made first successful landing four-fourteen this morning everything fine Helen.’ There is no ‘over’ sir, but they sometimes omit it on administrative messages,” said Haley apologetically.

Brockhurst saw the strain in Dennis’s face break into the first elation he had ever seen there.

“Jesus! Ted’s got a son.” He strode over to Garnett and extended a hand, his smile widening. “Congratulations, uncle!”

The Congressmen reacted to the news with a unanimous and purposeful convergence upon the bar. Prescott brought Kane another drink and even Haley unbent for comment.

“I imagine the Colonel and Mrs. Martin will be pleased.”

“Gentlemen,” said Kane. “Colonel Martin’s son.”

The others raised their glasses. Dennis spoke quietly to Haley.

“Get a copy ready to relay to Ted in the clear, Haley.”

“It’s being done, sir.”

“But don’t send it till we hear.”

“No, sir.”

“Till you hear what?” demanded Malcolm.

“His strike flash. It’s due very soon now.”

“You tellin’ me this cunnel out theah leadin’ the attack been bohn a daddy an’ you ain’t even goin’ to tell him…”

“He needs his mind on his work now.”

“Gennel Kane, this the mos’ inhuman thing…”

But to Evans’s continuing disappointment Kane himself now appeared to be disgusted with the Congressman; his answer was short.

“General Dennis is right. Colonel Martin must have gone ahead, on his own judgment, of course. How long do you make it now, General?”

“Seven if we’re right on the wind, sir.”

Kane nodded and summoned a conciliatory smile for the Congressmen.

“Fortunately, gentlemen, war also has its pleasant duties. We have just time for one of them now. General Dennis, will you ask for your adjutant and Captain Jenks?”

Brockhurst thought for a second that Dennis might refuse. For the briefest perceptible interval he appeared to be considering whether or not to obey. Then habit won. He turned swiftly to the Operations room. As he did Evans left the bar and stuck his head into the anteroom.

“Let’s go, boys,” he said.

2

In response to Evans’s request there now appeared from the anteroom three stalwart young soldiers. They were heavily armed with cameras and they swaggered with the arrogance men always take from the possession of significant weapons. Congressmen and soldiers alike made way for them and stood uneasily, adjusting blouses and ties, moving forward or back, meekly eyeing lenses and flashlight bulbs and the businesslike preparations of the young men.

In through the other door the Adjutant strutted with a sheaf of papers and a little box. Behind him, still sullen but cleanshaven now and clad in a be-ribboned blouse and freshly pressed pinks, came Captain Jenks. He hesitated for one nervous glance at Dennis but the Brigadier had stepped quietly into the background and did not speak.

The Adjutant arranged himself and Jenks before Kane, who had taken up a position with both eyes studying the cameramen. The Congressmen maneuvered themselves into a happy position, facing the lenses through the opening between Jenks and Kane.

“Is everything…?” queried Kane sharply.

“You’re okay, General. Just pull that blouse down a little,” said the head cameraman.

Kane smoothed the blouse around his hips, shot a quick glance around him, and cleared his throat.

“Gentlemen, few experiences in life are more gratifying than according proper recognition to a man who has fought for his country. Will Captain Jenks please step forward?”

Captain Jenks did. The soldiers raised their cameras, the room quieted with an expectant hush, and the Adjutant began to read from the paper in his hand.

“Captain Lucius Malcolm Jenks, for outstandingly meritorious and heroic achievement…”

“Excuse me, General,” interrupted Evans.

“WHAT?…” Kane regarded the Sergeant with impatience.

“Would the gentlemen from Congress like to put their glasses over here before the boys start photographing?”

The gentlemen from Congress looked at their glasses as if they held snakes, before marching solemnly around to deposit them on the map table. The camera detail now made ostentatious motions to assure the whole company that no lens would record the spectacle of that table. As the Congressmen returned to their positions Malcolm stopped, with a sudden chuckle, and clapped Evans on the back.

“You goin’ a long way in life, boy.”

Stone and Field muttered a somewhat more subdued gratitude and followed Malcolm toward the perspective of the lenses. The Adjutant surveyed them all with an expression of pain and began again.

Brockhurst did not follow the details of the citation. His first perceptive glance between Jenks and that little box in the Adjutant’s hand had filled in the last piece of the puzzle. He knew now how Dennis had done it. Briefly there stirred in him a hope that Dennis had extracted a promise of personal protection for himself as part of this diabolical bargain. His second thought rejected the idea.

A man who had been thinking of himself would not have driven the bargain. Dennis had been safe before, safe behind military secrecy, safe in the bland, self-protecting unity of the services that would have explained away disaster by jets as calmly as they had explained away Pearl Harbor.

Brockhurst watched him now, standing with silent composure through the enormity of the citation. Twice during the reading he saw Dennis glance briefly at his watch before returning his inscrutable, fixed stare toward the map. Not a flicker of feeling showed on his face as the Adjutant came to the end of his fulsome, rounded periods:—

“…thereby reflecting great credit upon Captain Jenks and the Army Air Forces, in consideration of which and for his example, achievements and contributions to the advancement of American Aerial Bombardment, Captain Jenks is hereby awarded…”

Kane lifted that famous jaw a trifle, glanced once more toward the cameras, and then, accepting the medal from the Adjutant, pinned it upon Jenks. An explosion of flashlight bulbs dazzled the room. Malcolm burst from the formation of Congressmen, threw his arm around his nephew, and accosted Kane eagerly.

“By God, Gennel, this the proudes’ moment of ouah lives. Do you reckon…?”

“Of course,” said Kane. “You have plenty of film, boys?”

“Plenty. You better get a little closer, General.”

The trio arranged themselves, Kane centered between the other two and clasping their hands for a new barrage.