Remarkably, their off-duty hours were more relaxed now. They knew about the mission, and the high-spirited horseplay common to young men was muted. They watched TV in the open bay, read books or magazines, waiting for the word in the knowledge that halfway across the world other men were waiting, too, and in the quiet of twenty-five individual human minds, questions were being asked. Would things go right or wrong? If the former, what elation would they feel? If the latter – well, they all had long since decided that, win or lose, this wasn’t the sort of thing you walked away from. There were husbands to be restored to their wives, fathers to their children, men to their country. Each knew that if death was to be risked, then this was the time and the purpose for it.
At Sergeant Irvin’s behest, chaplains came to the group. Consciences were cleared. A few wills were drafted – just in case, the embarrassed Marines told the visiting officers – and all the while the Marines focused more and more on the mission, their minds casting aside extraneous concerns and concentrating on something identified only by a code name selected at random from separate lists of words. Every man walked over to the training site, checking placement and angles, usually with his most immediate teammate, practicing their run-in approach or the paths they’d take once the shooting started. Every one began his own personal exercise regime, running a mile or two on his own in addition to the regular morning and afternoon efforts, both to work off tension and to be just a little bit more certain that he’d be ready for it. A trained observer could see it from their look: serious but not tense, focused but not obsessive, confident but not cocky. Other Marines at Quantico kept their distance when they saw the team, wondering why the special place and the odd schedule, why the Cobras on the flight line, why the Navy rescue pilots in the Q, but one look at the team in the piney woods was all the warning they needed to mute the questions and keep their distance. Something special was happening.
‘Thanks, Roger,’ Bob Ritter said in the sanctity of his office in Langley. He switched buttons on his phone and dialed another in-house number. ‘James? Bob. It’s a go. Start pushing buttons.’
‘Thank you, James.’ Dutch Maxwell turned in his swivel chair and looked at the side panel affixed to his wall, blue aluminium from his F6F Hellcat fighter, with its even rows of red-and-white painted flags, each denoting a victim of his skill. It was his personal touchstone to his profession. ‘Yeoman Grafton,’ he called.
‘Yes, sir?’ a petty officer appeared in his doorway.
‘Make signal to Admiral Podulski on Constellation: “Olive Green.”‘
‘Aye aye, sir.’
‘Have my car come around, then call Anacostia. I need a helo in about fifteen minutes.’
‘Yes, Admiral.’
Vice Admiral Winslow Holland Maxwell, USN, rose from his desk and headed out the side door into the E-Ring corridor. His first stop was at the office in the Air Force’s section of the building.
‘Gary, we’re going to need that transport we talked about.’
‘You got it, Dutch,’ the General replied, asking no questions.
‘Let my office know the details. I’m heading out now, but I’ll be calling in every hour.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Maxwell’s car was waiting at the River entrance, a master chief aviation bosun’s mate at the wheel. ‘Where to, sir?’
‘Anacostia, Master Chief, the helo pad.’
‘Aye.’ The senior chief dropped the car into gear and headed for the river. He didn’t know what it was all about, but he knew it was about something. The Old Man had a spring in his step like the chief’s daughter heading out for a date.
Kelly was working on his woodcraft, again, as he’d been doing for several weeks. He’d picked his weapons load-out in the fervent hope that he would not need to fire a single shot. The primary weapon was a CAR-15 carbine version of the M-16 assault rifle. A silenced 9mm automatic went into a shoulder holster, but his real weapon was a radio, and he would be carrying two of those, just to be sure, plus food and water and a map – and extra batteries. It came out to a twenty-three-pound load, not counting his special gear for the insertion. The weight wasn’t excessive, and he found that he could move through the trees and over the hills without noticing it. Kelly moved quickly for a man of his size, and silently. The latter was a matter of where he walked more than anything else, where he placed his feet, how he twisted and turned to pass between trees and bushes, watching both his path and the area around him with equal urgency.
Overtraining, he told himself. You should take it easier now. He stood erect and headed down the hill, surrendering to his instincts. He found the Marines training in small groups, miming the use of their weapons while Captain Albie consulted with the four helicopter crews. Kelly was just approaching the site’s LZ when a blue Navy helo landed and Admiral Maxwell emerged. Kelly, by chance, was the first one there. He knew the purpose and the message of the visit before anyone had a chance to speak.
‘We’re going?’
‘Tonight,’ Maxwell confirmed with a nod.
Despite the expectation and enthusiasm, Kelly felt the usual chill. It wasn’t practice anymore. His life was on the line again. The lives of others would depend on him. He would have to get the job done. Well, he told himself, I know how to do that. Kelly waited by the chopper while Maxwell went over to Captain Albie. General Young’s staff car pulled up so that he could deliver the news as well. Salutes were exchanged as Kelly watched. Albie got the word, and his back went a little straighter. The Recon Marines gathered around, and their reaction was surprisingly sober and matter-of-fact. Looks were exchanged, rather dubious ones, but they soon changed to simple, determined nods. The mission was GO. The message delivered, Maxwell came back to the helicopter.
‘I guess you want that quick liberty.’
‘You said you’d do it, sir,’
The Admiral clapped the younger man on the shoulder and pointed to the helo. Inside, they put on headsets while the flight crew spooled up the engine.
‘How soon, sir?’
‘You be back here by midnight.’ The pilot looked back at them from the right seat. Maxwell motioned for him to stay on the ground.
‘Aye, aye, sir.’ Kelly removed the headset and jumped out of the helicopter, going to join General Young.
‘Dutch told me,’ Young said, the disapproval clear in his voice. You just didn’t do things this way. ‘What do you need?’
‘Back to the boat to change, then run me up to Baltimore, okay? I’ll drive back myself.’
‘Look, Clark-‘
‘General, I helped plan this mission. I’m first in and I’m last out.’ Young wanted to swear but didn’t. Instead he pointed to his driver, then to Kelly.
Fifteen minutes later, Kelly was in another life. Since leaving Springer tied up at the guest slip, the world had stopped, and he’d moved backwards in time. Now he was in forward motion for a brief period. A quick look determined that the dockmaster was keeping an eye on things. He raced through a shower and changed into civilian clothes, heading back to the General’s staff car.
‘Baltimore, Corporal. Matter of fact, I’ll make it easy on you. Just drop me off at the airport. I’ll catch a cab the rest of the way.’
‘You got it, sir,’ the driver told a man already fading into sleep.
‘So what’s the story, Mr MacKenzie?’ Hicks asked.
‘They approved it,’ the special assistant replied, signing a few papers and initialing a few others for various official archives where future historians would record his name as a minor player in the great events of his time.
‘Can you say what?’
What the hell,’ MacKenzie thought. Hicks had a clearance, and it was a chance to display something of his importance to the lad. In two minutes he covered the high points of BOXWOOD GREEN.
‘Sir, that’s an invasion,’ Hicks pointed out as evenly ?s he could manage, despite the chill on his skin and the sudden knot in his stomach.
‘I suppose they might think so, but I don’t. They’ve invaded three sovereign countries, as I recall.’
More urgently: ‘But the peace talks – you said yourself.’
‘Oh, screw the peace talks! Damn it, Wally, we have people over there, and what they know is vital to our national security. Besides’ – he smiled – ‘I helped sell it to Henry.’ And if this one comes off…
‘But-‘
MacKenzie looked up. Didn’t this kid get it? ‘But what, Wally?’
‘It’s dangerous.’
‘War is that way, in case nobody ever told you.’
‘Sir, I’m supposed to be able to talk here, right?’ Hicks asked pointedly.