The Lieutenants by Griffin W. E. B

Author:Griffin, W. E. B. [Griffin, W. E. B.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: thriller, Historical, Adventure, War, Military
ISBN: 9780515090215
Amazon: 0515090212
Goodreads: 1071085
Publisher: G.P. Putnam's Sons
Published: 1982-09-01T07:00:00+00:00

(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 classmate 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.

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