Fifteen minutes later, with Jimmy Whittaker in the right seat, Canidy lifted the C-45 off from God man Field.
THREE I Pope Army Air Corps Field Fort Bragg, North Carolina 2005 Hours June LIS, 1942
The D18S was an hour out of God man Field at Fort Knox when, very faintly, Canidy heard Cincinnati calling him. “This is Navy Six-one-one.
Go ahead, Cincinnati.”
“Navy Six-one-one,’ Cincinnati replied so faintly that they had to re THE SECRET WARRIORS 0 IST peat it four times before Canidy could understand, “this is a Navy Department priority in-flight advisory.
You are directed to divert to Pope Field, North Carolina.
Acknowledge.”
Canidy acknowledged the message. But it took him several minutes to find the place on his aerial navigation chart. It was on the Fort Bragg reservation, just about as far on another heading as Washington.
He turned the plane in the general direction of North Carolina, gave the controls over to Jim Whittaker with an admonition to keep it as straight and level as his limited ability would permit, and went back in the cabin to plot the course. Eric Fulmar, in hospital pajamas, robe, and slippers, was sitting in the leather-upholstered chair intended for the admiral whose plane the Beech was to have been.
There’s something about Fulmar, Canidy thought, that makes the purple U.S. Army hospital robe look like a Silk dressing gown. “Change of plans,” Canidy announced.
“We’re going to North Carolina.” Why?” Fulmar asked, concern in his voice. “I really don’t know, Eric,” Canidy said.
“But I wouldn’t worry about it.” Fulmar raised himself out of the leather chair and, fascinated, watched over Canidy’s shoulder as Canidy went through the business of plotting their new course. “As closely as I can figure it,” Canidy said when he had finished, “we will either make Pope Field with an hour-thirty’s fuel aboard, or we will run out of fuel and crash-land somewhere along around here in the foothills of the Great Smoky Mountains.” Fulmar laughed dutifully.
“You really know what you’re doing, don’t You?” he asked.
“Whittaker know how to do this, too?”
“Yes, he does.” When Canidy went back to the cockpit and handed Whittaker the marked chart, he saw that Fulmar had followed. “Is it all right if I stand here?” he asked. “Sure,” Canidy said quickly.
“Just don’t touch anything,” Whittaker snapped. That surprised Canidy, until he realized that Fulmar was being reminded he was a non flier, an outsider, that there was a Brotherhood he was possibly, probably, not worthy of joining.
Whittaker, Canidy thought, seems to have a Baker-like talent for manipulating other people. Between that point and Pope Field, Navy Six-one-one received three more of the priority in-flight advisories ordering diversion to Pope. Whatever’s going on at Pope, Canidy thought, someone considers it important enough to make one hell of an effort to make sure we get there.
As they approached Pope Field, Canidy took the controls and made the landing, wondering whether he had done so because Whittaker had never landed a C-45 before, or whether it was because he wanted to establish his superior position in the pecking order. A Follow Me jeep met them at the threshold of the runway and led them to the transient parking ramp in front of base operations. When Canidy opened the door, a captain and a second lieutenant of the 508th Parachute Infantry Regiment of the 82nd Airborne Division were standing there. They were wearing gabardine jumpsuits, glistening jump boots, and steel helmets covered with netting. Over their jumpsuit tunics they wore an arrangement of straps and web belting from which hung canteens and pouches for first-aid kits, spare magazines for their.45 Colt pistols, compasses, and leather holsters for the pistols. The second lieutenant had a Thompson submachine gun dangling from his shoulder, and at his feet was a stuffed canvas Val-Pak. “Major Canidy, Sir?” the paratroop captain asked, saluting crisply and holding it until Canidy made a vague gesture in the general direction of his forehead. “I’m Canidy,” Canidy said. “I have a classified message for you, Sir,” the captain said, “if you’ll be good enough to show me your AGO’ card.” Canidy found the card and passed it to him, and the captain said, “Thank you, Sir,” and handed him an envelope. Canidy tore it open and read it.