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you love jumping, Jersey," he kidded her.
"Oh, yeah, boss-right."
Jersey, because of her size, was always the last one on the ground, and
should a sudden updraft occur, she had been known to soar hundreds of
feet back up, cussing and hollering all the way.
"You could always piggy-back with me," Cooper suggested hopefully.
Jersey gave him a very dark look.
Lamar Chase jerked open the door to the mobile CP and stepped inside. He
stood in the doorway and shook off his poncho. Cooper poured the doctor
a mug of coffee from the ever-present pot and Chase thanked him and sat
down. The chief of medicine took a sip and grinned at Ben.
Ben scowled at him. "I suppose you find this weather amusing, right, you
quack?"
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Lamar laughed at Ben. "It's keeping your ass on the ground, Raines."
"And that pleases you?"
"Immensely." He took another sip and lifted the mug. "Good coffee, Cooper."
"Thank you, sir. But I didn't make it. The boss did."
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Lamar frowned. "I retract that statement. It's probably poison."
"You're just PO'd 'cause you can't go along with us," Ben said. "When we
go, that is," he muttered.
"I have absolutely no desire to hurl my precious body out of a perfectly
good airplane, Raines," Chase countered. "If something would happen,
just think of all the disappointed women I would leave behind."
Ben snorted in derision.
"Did the doctors find anything wrong with me?" Jersey asked hopefully.
"Not a thing, Jersey," Chase told her. "You're as healthy as a racehorse."
The rest of the team laughed at the crestfallen expression on Jersey's face.
"I hate to bring this up," Beth said. "But Emil wants to go along."
"He can keep on hoping," Ben said. "That's all we need to screw things
up. Who told you that, Beth?"
"Thermopolis."
Ben smiled. "Tell Therm, Emil can go along only if Therm accompanies him."
Everyone in the mobile CP laughed, even Jersey, knowing that would put
at end to it. The ex-hippie wouldn't jump out of an airplane under
threat of death. Rosebud, his wife, would, but not Therm. Therm didn't
even like to fly. "God did not give man wings for a reason," he liked to
say.
Chase chatted for a few moments, then left the CP. He would stay in the
area until jump-off time, going over supplies his medical people would
take along on the offensive, and double and triple-checking everything.
Ben looked out the window and shook his head as the rain intensified.
"It has to stop sometime. God promised He wouldn't use water to destroy
the earth again."
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William W. Johnstone
Ben opened his eyes and glanced at the small travel clock on the
nightstand attached to the side of the wall of the mobile CP. 1:30. He'd
gone to sleep earlier than usual, and Ben had never needed more than a
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few hours' sleep a night to refresh his body.
Then he sat straight up in the single bed. Something was wrong.
He reached for his CAR, then pulled his hand back, smiling in the
darkness. There was no rain drumming on the roof. The downpour had stopped.
Ben dressed quickly and made his way silently through the CP, stepping
outside and looking up into the sky. Billions of stars greeted his eyes.
The moon was full and bright. There was not a cloud to be seen.
"What the hell? . . ." Jersey spoke from out of the darkness.
"It stopped," Ben said. "The rain's stopped."
"The meteorologists said a couple more days of rain."
"They were wrong. Get Corrie out of the sack and have her alert the
pilots to warm up their engines and stand by, then start bumping the
battalions."
"We jumping in tonight?"
"We're jumping in tonight."
Minutes later, the bivouac area wasi^ocked with light and quick-shadowed
with motion as hundreds of Rebels were rolled out of the sack and made
ready for the drop. At the airport, the engines of the huge planes were
ticking over and pilots swigged steaming hot coffee, went over their
maps, checked their instruments and controls, and thumped tires.
A half hour after Ben awakened on that clear, cold morning, he and his
team were struggling into the first plane. They were so weighed down
with gear their legs were slightly bowed.
"Mornin', General," the jumpmaster shouted to be heard over the roar of
dozens of engine.
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Ben nodded and took his seat near the door, his team lining up in seats
next to him. They would be the first ones out.
The co-pilot stuck his head out of the cockpit and motioned for Ben to
put on the headset hanging near him. It was Ike.
"How's it hangin', Ben?" Ike drawled.
"My dick is just fine, Ike. But my asshole is beginning to pucker up."
Ike laughed. "Yeah, mine, too. These things never get any easier with
age, do they?"
"Not that I can tell."
"I am perfectly relaxed," Buddy's calm voice came on the frequency.
"That's because you're young, boy," his father popped right back. "And
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don't have enough sense to know what you're doing."
Jersey, sitting next to Ben and wearing a headset, gave him a very
jaundiced look through her expressive eyes, but reserved comment. Ben
looked at her and winked.
She rolled her eyes.
Anna laughed at her antics.
"Any glitches so far?" Ben questioned.
"Nothing major, Ben. The usual hassles is all."
"Buddy?"
"Nothing here, Father. We're ready to go."
The plane containing Ben and team lurched forward. Ben's battalion would
be the first one airborne; they had the farthest to travel. The others
would he staggered behind 1 Batt and would fly at reduced speed and if
need be, circle until all jumpers were ready to go simultaneously.
"Good luck, you old fart," Dr. Lamar Chase's voice came into Ben's ears.
"Thank you, Lamar, but I assume you are speaking to Ike," Ben replied.
Chase laughed. "Yeah, good luck to you too, lard-butt."
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William W. Johnstone
"Lard-butt!" Ike shouted.
Buddy began laughing at the exchange.
"Keep your powder dry and your dick in your pants, boys," Lamar said.
"What do we keep in our pants, Doctor?" Jane Pollard, a platoon leader
with Buddy's 8 batt asked.
Lamar harumped a few times and refused to reply to that question.
"You tell 'im, you mean mama," Ike said with a laugh.
Real sexual harassment was virtually unknown in the Rebel army. That had
been accomplished in part by everyone knowing the next person had live
ammo, too, and would not hesitate to drop the hammer on the offender. In
the Rebel army, there were no special privileges offered to the female
gender. In physical training they had to perform as well as their male
counterparts, or they were reassigned to a less demanding non-combat
job. Fuck up, and you're out, no matter the gender.
"We get all the good jobs, General Ike," Jane kidded the ex-SEAL. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]