Published by Awe-Struck E-Books, Inc.
Copyright 2002
ISBN: 1-58749-303-9
In my prior life as a civil service employee, I spent a number of years at Fort Huachuca, one of the Army's communication and military intelligence centers. Andy vs. The Colonel is the outgrowth of that experience. In spite of this background, the entire story and all its aspects are strictly figments of my imagination. All units and the described items of communication and other equipment and their designations, with a few obvious exceptions (i.e. HUM-V), are totally fictitious. Most especially, the characters are pure fiction. Any resemblance to any person living or dead, actual equipment or real incidents is coincidental.
Although I have tried to stay close to reality in terms of attitudes, atmosphere, typical events and activities, as well as personality types one often encounters in the military environment, the story itself has no basis in reality, in events that have taken place, or in anything I observed or became privy to while working for the Army.
I delve into the issue of women in combat neither to defend or debunk the validity of this policy. I simply explore it through the points of view of two people caught up in situations beyond their control, seeking to portray how these people react and deal with the issues they confront. My goal was to explore the interpersonal problems which might arise in units where men and women serve together in both peace and wartime environments.
To call Andy vs. The Colonel a romance is perhaps misleading, although the love story is central to the plot. I consider this book essentially a tale of one woman's struggle to find her best self and truly be all she can be, aided and abetted by one man's faith in and love for her. I hope you will find it both inspirational and entertaining.
GM
This book is dedicated with deepest devotion and respect to the men and women who go willingly into harm's way to defend our Country and its principles. I can never forget that Freedom is not Free. Thank you all for paying that price for me.
Fort Gordon, Georgia.
Spring 1986
"So he finally retired." Sergeant Andrea "Andy" Hollis slowly lowered the copy of Air Force Times to her bed. She sighed, catching her lower lip between her teeth to still its unexpected tremor. Damn it, I shouldn't care any more.
Across the room, Staff Sergeant Letitia Aldrich bent to the task of painting her toenails. "What? Did you say something, Andy?"
"Not really." Andy glanced down at the officer's photograph with a frown. He didn't look like he'd changed a bit. "Just thinking out loud. I saw where somebody retired and it caught me by surprise."
Letty looked up then, shooting a keen, dark glance at her roommate. "Oh, General Hollis -- it just hit me. Same name. He's some kin of yours isn't he? I saw the picture. Guess he's quite a hero, huh?"
"A hero? Yeah, I suppose..."
"But is he? Kin of yours?"
Andy nodded slowly. She hated to admit it, hated the distance between herself and her father, even after six years. He'd made his goal -- stars on his shoulders, two of them. Now he'd retired. "He's my father, but it doesn't mean anything, not anything at all."
"Well, if my daddy was a general it'd sure mean something to me." Letty rolled expressive eyes and grinned. "I'd use it for all it was worth."
"As far as he's concerned, I don't exist, and that's just fine with me. I don't need to ride on his name. I'll make it on my own, and one of these days, I'll be a general myself. I'll make it if it's the last thing I do. Maybe I can't succeed at anything else, but I'm going to be the best female soldier anybody ever saw."
Letty's expression reflected her shock at Andy's defiant pronouncement.
"You're kiddin', right? You gotta be kiddin'. Girl, we're just regular Army NCOs, and the likes of us don't become generals, not in the real world. If I can find me an officer or even a Sergeant Major who wants to get married, I'm outta here. And when my enlistment is over, if I'm not married, I'll just get out and go to college. That's better than anything this Louisiana gal could expect if I'd stayed home."
Andy nodded. "You do what's right for you, Letty, and I'll do what's right for me. One thing sure, I don't want to marry a military man. That's the quickest way to grief I can think of. Nope, I'm going to be a lifer, and I'm going to become an officer, first chance I get."
Letty looked at Andy, blinked and shook her head, her usually merry face unusually serious. "You mean it, don't you? I'm not askin' why. Guess you got your reasons. Well, good luck, girl. I reckon you're going to need it, but if anybody can do it, it's prob'ly you."
Andy barely heard her, lost in remembering, in painful flashbacks to the first twenty years of her life. Make that her other life. This one had begun the day she took her oath of enlistment, five years ago today, the day her divorce became final.
Camp Grant, Korea.
October 1992
Colonel Cory Costain stood outside the Operations Building of Boynton Army Air Station, an adjunct of Camp Grant, Korea. He hunched his shoulders and turned his back to the biting wind to observe the camouflage-painted aircraft, swarming with the service crew. That plane would be his transportation on the first leg of his long journey home.
With a mixture of relief and regret, Cory looked around at the now-familiar rugged hills and ramshackle buildings of the Air Station and adjacent Army Camp. Today, maybe because he was about to head home, it reminded him of the Idaho ranch where he'd grown up. Funny, the turns life took. It was just chance he was here today instead of there, running the family sheep ranch, wasn't it?
No, not chance at all, but fate. Some things were just meant to be. He'd came home from Vietnam, weary of military life, ready to settle down. But that was before he found the girl who'd promised to wait living with his best friend, the one who couldn't get into the military because of a football injury.
The pain of that betrayal changed his plans. He'd wanted to get as far away from Idaho as fast as he could. Somehow, except for short visits, he'd never made it back. It had ceased to be home, became only another temporary duty station in a long sequence of them. The story of his life.
Well, he'd made a better Army officer than sheep rancher, while his brother Ketchum was just the opposite. Things had a way of working out for the best. The Army had been a pretty good career, lonely at times, but so was ranching. I don't regret a minute of it.
Returning to the present, he glanced around. At least a ragged line of telephone poles no longer marred the landscape. The buried lines he had ordered were more secure, required less maintenance, and improved the view. That was just one of the more obvious changes he had brought about during his tour.
You done good. Maybe the world doesn't care, but Camp Grant is just a little better because Cory Costain passed through. That was as much as a man could expect, really, to leave some small improvement behind. If he managed that every place he went, he could die content.
A shrill voice called his name. He turned as Kim ran up, flushed and breathless The young Korean woman had served as his secretary the past fifteen months. Though untrained, she'd always tried hard and learned quickly. She was a good kid. Maybe something had come of their recent efforts to locate her GI father.
"I got a letter!" she cried, "A letter from my father! I think he's going to help us. Thank you, sir, so much. Without your help, never this would happen! You...well, I will miss you. In Korea forever you will be not forgotten." In her excitement, she fractured her second language, but joy and gratitude made her plain round face almost pretty.
Cory patted her shoulder clumsily. These emotional scenes embarrassed him. "I'll miss you too, Kim. Good luck. I hope everything works out for you and your mother."
At that moment, the crew chief beckoned. Saved by the bell. Cory breathed a sigh of relief. He said good bye to Kim and strode out to climb aboard. Eagerness to get home suddenly filled him. Home. Back in the good old U.S.A. In about twenty hours, I'll be landing at Travis Air Force Base.
Then on to his next assignment at Fort Cochise, Arizona. There he'd be taking over the Twenty-fourth Signal Brigade. The large unit with its broad-based communications mission just might be his last duty. It could prove challenging too, but he looked forward to it.
Aboard the transport, he wedged himself into a jump seat. He wiggled his shoulders, trying to get comfortable. Lousy seats were always too low for his six-foot two-inch frame. As usual, his knees threatened to bump his chin, but this time it didn't matter. He was going home.
* * *
Fort Cochise, Arizona.
October 1992
Captain Andrea "Andy" Hollis frowned at the shining expanse of desk before her as if it was a toxic waste dump. But it was just an ordinary desk -- government issue, wooden, office, double pedestal, GSA #123xyz. Her disgust centered around the fact it was the desk of the Twenty-fourth Signal Brigade Executive Officer or XO in Army slang, the position she'd reluctantly filled for just two weeks.
She glowered at the back of the new brass name plate which read "Captain A. R. Hollis, United States Army." The farewell gift from her old outfit only served as another painful reminder.
A slender young woman wearing shiny new sergeant's chevrons on her collar glided in and placed a handful of papers in the "in" box. With only a quick sidelong glance at her supervisor, she turned and glided silently back out.
Do I look that forbidding? Andy couldn't help wondering as she released her breath in a deep sigh and reached for the top document in the box.
Two long weeks ago, she'd been Company Commander of the Wireless Communications Company. The subordinate unit of the Twenty-fourth dealt with radio, radar, and microwave. There, her desk had been a battered gray, metal one, stacked with Technical Manuals or "TMs", test equipment, and the avalanche of paper that fell to every officer with administrative tasks.
There, all her troops came and went freely and were certainly not afraid to speak to her. At seven in the morning, she would have been out in the shop watching things get started. She was always watching when her troops piled into trucks to drive out to remote sites on Fort Cochise or settled into their well stocked work benches to test and repair electronic components of Army equipment. There they trusted and counted on each other.
But now Andy was XO, a combination of second-in-command and administrative assistant to Colonel Standish, the Brigade Commander. It was political and a desk job, staff rather than command. When the phone jingled, she reached automatically, stopping when she heard Stacy Jones, the Colonel's secretary, answer the call.
Andy picked up the checklist she'd made to be sure everything was ready for the change of command ceremony taking place the following Friday. The send-off for Colonel Standish, who'd been a good mentor and friend since Andy arrived at Fort Cochise, it was also the first official act she'd perform for her new boss.
The ceremony could go a long way towards creating a good impression, or a bad one if things went wrong. First impressions had a way of sticking in a person's mind, in spite of whatever might happen later. Knowing that, Andy planned to leave nothing to chance.
She might not like the XO job, but she didn't want to start off on the wrong foot with the man who'd be writing her next rating. In the modern Army, competition was keen. The higher in rank you advanced, the more important it became to leave a good impression on everyone you dealt with, especially senior officers.
To Andy, who'd grown up in an Air Force family, military customs and courtesy were second nature. She knew that used in excess, they could become a sign of fawning respect or very subtle derision. With the slightest change in tone, she could make it either, or she could simply project the absolutely correct image, which she usually chose to do. Because the traditions dated back to colonial times in the United States, they often appeared strange and stilted, but it was still "the way things were done."
A glance at her watch told Andy it was 1130. Maybe it would help to get out, breathe some fresh air and grab lunch at the Post Exchange snack bar. Although it was October, the sun was still bright and warm at midday. Leaving the Twenty-fourth's offices, Andy walked briskly down the sidewalk which divided the historical two-story buildings housing the Fort's many offices from the parade ground, a smooth expanse of grass bordered by ancient cottonwood trees.
For a moment, she forgot the aggravations of her job and let herself enjoy the beautiful fall day. She drank in the golden warmth and rested her eyes with the pleasant harmony of blue sky, green grass and gilded leaves. Those huge trees had probably turned colors a hundred times, witnessed cavalry drills and watched the mule mounted infantry that had guarded the border during World War I. The Army had a fine sense of history which gave Andy a secure, rooted feeling.
At the end of the block, she turned to cross the street. A pickup truck pulled up and stopped even with her. Several years old, its once-bright, metallic-blue paint had faded and spots of rust marred its finish.
The driver turned a pleasantly weathered face toward her before he spoke. "Excuse me, Ma'am, can you point me to the In-processing Section of MILPO He wore a well- used gray Stetson and a plaid western shirt, mostly blue, the shade perfectly matching his eyes. He spoke in an easy drawl, completely in tune with his rugged, outdoorsy appearance.
Andy could not hide all of her surprise. Why would a cowboy need to find Military Personnel In-processing? She couldn't imagine him in uniform. Still, from habit, she answered with reasonable courtesy, pointing as she spoke. "See that fourth building on the right? In-processing's on the second floor, enlisted at the north end. I'm not sure if they close at lunch time or not."
"Thank you, Captain. Reckon I'll just have to go see, won't I?" The man smiled then, and she gulped. That's a smile and a half. The images of a couple of her favorite old time western movie stars flashed across her mind.
"You're welcome. Have a nice day." Andy replied automatically, still curious. Why, she amended, did a gorgeous hunk of a cowboy need to find In-processing? Well, it wasn't her concern. She turned and started away.
"Ma'am?" The gentle drawling voice arrested her step. "Thought you might not know it, but you've got a nasty run in your hose, up the left leg there."
For a startled instant, Andy whirled back and stared at the man. His tone and expression were both carefully neutral, but something about him still said "gotcha," loud and clear.
Just who did he think he was? He might be good looking, but he really was crude! Andy huffed, faced around, and marched on toward her destination. Not until she was safely inside the PX did she stop and check her nylons.
Darn it, he was right. She did have a run, a big one. It went from her ankle clear up over her knee to vanish under her skirt. She hated to appear anything short of perfect when in uniform, and that sure ruined the effect. Why hadn't she noticed before she left the office? This was turning out to be a lousy day!
***
But the worst was yet to come. Why should Colonel Standish be out of the office when his replacement arrived? He'd told Andy they were old buddies. Not only was he out but Stacy too, leaving only Andy herself and Sergeant Rita Perez, her enlisted clerk.
Buried under the constant deluge of paper, Andy barely heard the outer door open and Rita's pleasant greeting, perfectly correct for someone dressed in civilian clothes.
"Good afternoon. How may I help you?"
The reply caught her attention. It pulled her to her feet and across toward her open door before she actually registered anything familiar about the low drawling voice.
"I was hopin' to have a few minutes with Colonel Standish."
"I'm sorry, but he's not in this afternoon. I think they're picking up his household goods. His wife is in poor health, so he wanted to be there himself. This is his last week on duty here, you know. Could someone else help you?" Rita gushed, her tone almost sugary.
Why was she being so much more effusive than normal? If Rita was almost falling over herself in an effort to be helpful, Andy had to wonder why. The young sergeant was usually much too casual, about as likely to say "Yo, dude" as "Yes, sir."
Then Andy reached the door, looked out, and understood. The visitor had his back to her, but she recognized the blue plaid shirt and the wide shoulders. What business did he have in Twenty-fourth Signal?
"Maybe Captain Hollis, the Exec..." he was saying.
"I'm right here, Sergeant Perez." As always when caught off guard, Andy fell back on military courtesy, the stiffer the better.
At the sound of her voice the visitor turned, a smooth facing turn betraying long familiarity with military drill. The motion was oddly at variance with his dusty, scuffed cowboy boots and the faded jeans which fit his narrow hips and long, lean legs like a well-made glove. He looked at her, one eyebrow cocked quizzically, surprise and only the merest hint of recognition in his faded blue eyes.
"Captain Hollis..." he said, with barely perceptible hesitation, "I'm Colonel Cory Costain."
Andy shut her mouth sharply, the only way to keep from blurting a torrent of profanity. No! It couldn't be, it just couldn't. But it was. Same hat, same shirt, same ruggedly appealing face and lazy drawling voice.
She felt her face redden as a barnyard epithet kept repeating in her mind. Shutting her eyes against the unhappy scene, she fought the maelstrom of embarrassment and regret. And she'd been concerned about first impressions -- Enlisted In- processing, she'd said, assuming. Ohmigod! No, no, no!
There was only one thing she could possibly do: drag out the very best of her rigid military courtesy and pretend the other incident had never happened. What would she say and do, how would she act if she had never laid eyes on Colonel Costain before? That's exactly what she'd say and do now.
Cory took a deep breath and counted backwards from ten. For a long moment, neither spoke. They simply looked at each other. He felt sure Captain Hollis also mulled the consequences of an event which neither of them could erase, however much they both might wish it. So much for first impressions.
Oh hell, what have I done to deserve this? Earlier, he really hadn't noticed much about her appearance. He'd been too aware of her attitude, but now he did notice. Captain Hollis might be spit and polish, even snooty and stuffy, but she was also attractive, damned attractive in spite of herself.
She wore no obvious makeup and her short, dark brown hair fell sleekly into a simple, almost severe style. She was clearly a woman who had no intention of flaunting her femininity, not that she needed to. A man could not deny or ignore it. She had snapped to attention when he identified himself, which put her shoulders back and lifted to prominence the curve of her breasts.
Under that crisp and carefully tailored uniform, he'd bet she hid a fantastic figure. He could see just enough hints of it to speed his pulse. Even if she did wear the lowest heels available on the official black pumps, her legs were definitely great. He'd been looking at them when he spotted that unfortunate run.
He didn't usually pay so much attention to a woman's appearance, but there was just something about Captain Hollis. She wore the dress uniform instead of the camouflage Battle Dress Utilities or BDUs, in which almost everyone looked bulky and untidy. In the tailored uniform, she appeared neat and precise, almost recruiting-poster perfect. The contrast of that with her undeniable feminine attributes struck him forcibly.
She finally spoke, with almost robotic formality. "Welcome aboard, sir. I'm Captain Andy Hollis. At present, I'm the Brigade XO. When did you arrive on post, sir?"
This time he recognized her voice: the same one he'd heard on the phone when he called from Korea. It had nagged at the back of his mind ever since. Now he knew why. Though low pitched, it was definitely a feminine voice. How could he have missed that?
Down two strikes already. There was just one thing to do: pretend he'd never seen her before. Cory knew he wasn't good at conning himself, but he'd better try. He could use military courtesy too, when necessary. He stood a little straighter, called up his command presence, and gave back as good as he got.
"I just arrived, Captain. At ease, please. This is a very unofficial visit. Rick...er, Colonel Standish and I go back a ways. I hoped I could catch him for a few minutes, but since he's not here, I'll get out of your way."
Cory forced himself to relax, revealing none of the tension and dismay he felt. This assignment wasn't going to be the comfortable last post he'd hoped for after all, was it?
"Your room is ready, sir, over in Visiting Officer's Quarters. You'd told us to expect you tomorrow, but everything's been arranged. There's a copy of the weekly real estate catalog and a few other things waiting there for you."
"Thank you, Captain. You've been most helpful. Do you expect Colonel Standish in tomorrow?" There, he was talking as stiffly as she was.
"Oh, yes sir," Rita interjected. "Right here on his calendar -- he has a staff meeting at eight. It usually runs about an hour."
Cory turned back to the young clerk. "Okay, I'll be in about nine fifteen then. Will you let him know I've arrived?"
"Oh, yes sir!" Rita accompanied her answer with a flashing smile, bright as daybreak on her dusky face.
"I...if there's anything else, sir, we're just a phone call away." Andy's words drew his gaze back to her. Her face and posture looked equally rigid. She must be feeling as uncomfortable as he was. Well, it served her right. Cory acknowledged her comment with a nod.
"I'll remember that. Thank you both again." He gave both women a smile before he turned and strode out. No use making things any worse than they were. But he might make some reassignments, once he got on board.
As he walked out and got back in his truck, Cory wished he could take back that little dig about the run, but it was too late. One of these days, your mouth is going to get you. But damn it, she'd asked for it, directing him to the Enlisted Section! What rule said an officer couldn't wear blue jeans or drive an old pickup?
Since his nephew had totaled the vintage Mustang Cory had left with his sister in San Jose when he went to Korea, he didn't have much choice, but that was beside the point. He'd never had any patience with the snobbery and elitism still prevalent in the military community, anyway. If that ruffled a few feathers, so be it.
At this stage of life, he wasn't about to change. He didn't expect to advance any higher in rank, so he didn't need to follow the inflexible rules as closely as those colonels who had stars in their eyes. He wasn't general material and he knew it.
***
Colonel Costain's departure left both Andy and Rita stunned. Rita seemed to recover first. She did a little pirouette and half-fell into her chair.
"Ooo-ee! He looks like the kind of man my Mama worried about when I joined the service! Ay de me! Qué hombre!"
Andy didn't say anything. Somehow she managed to get back to her own desk and collapse into her chair before her knees failed, but that was it. Why did he have to be so thoroughly masculine, so tall, and so good looking in a rough-hewn way? The lines in his tanned face hinted at good humor, a ready smile and a hearty laugh. If she didn't know better, she'd think him a really nice guy. But she did know better, even if he had chosen to ignore their first encounter.
Andy swept a scatter of half formed thoughts ruthlessly aside to summon some protective disapproval for his casual dress and manner. Why would a Colonel drive a beat up old truck, dressed like an out-of-work ranch hand? It just wasn't done!
She tried to visualize her father in anything less formal than sharply pressed golf slacks and a matching shirt but she found it impossible. General Hollis would never veer a degree off of perfection. There had to be something wrong with an officer who didn't fit the mold.
Nonetheless, to Andy's chagrin, she discovered she could not easily dismiss his image. She was definitely going to need every reason she could find to dislike this man since dislike was the safest thing she could think of to feel and it was going to be impossible not to feel something.
She darn well wouldn't let that great physique and high voltage smile distract her. Cowboy colonels? If there was ever a mutually exclusive combination, that was it!
Before she closed the office and went home for the night, Andy had chewed every nail to the quick and begun wishing frantically for a cigarette. She hadn't smoked in two years, but she could sure use a one now. Resolutely, she turned her car toward home instead of the ShopQuik, at the Post Exchange.
She was not going to let some maverick colonel drive her back to smoking! But all the way home, she cursed men in general and especially good looking, smart-ass officers. What had she ever done to deserve this?
Crossing the threshold into her apartment, not far from Fort Cochise's main gate, Andy caught her heel in the carpet. Flailing wildly to recover her balance, she dropped her purse and the contents scattered across the floor. "Oh damn it all to bloody hell!"
With a savage kick, she sent the offending shoe flying across the room. It smacked against the wall with a satisfying thunk. She hopped and kicked again. The second shoe followed its mate. A third and final kick cleared the purse from her path as she bolted blindly for her bedroom door. She threw herself down across the bed, pounded the pillows with her fists and wept until she felt weak and breathless.
Sometime later, she sat up and scrubbed at her burning eyes. Whatever had come over her? If it was PMS, she'd never had it this bad before. She never lost control like that, never! Well, better here at home than in public, but still, it was an intolerable lapse, one she simply must not allow herself to repeat. She continued to chide herself as she dragged out to the living room and carefully picked everything up.
The day of the change of command, Andy got up at four 0430 on a day which, much to her relief, dawned clear. At 0630, she toured the parade ground a final time to make sure everything was in order.
The band arrived before she finished and began to tune up. Lips and fingertips stiff with the morning chill, they created a squeaky cacophony. The raucous sounds grated on Andy's fraying nerves. She walked back to her car and poured herself another cup of coffee. The thermos she habitually carried was a lifesaver on PT mornings, but never more so than today.
Finally, eight o'clock rolled around and the ceremony began. Both colonels arrived, resplendent in crisply pressed greens, with brass agleam and banks of colorful ribbons pinned over their hearts, above the left breast pocket of their blouses, the formal military suit coat.
Today Andy could find no fault with Colonel Costain's appearance or bearing. Almost too perfect, he stood tall and lean beside Colonel Standish's dumpy figure. If she were not already negatively prejudiced, Andy would have named him the best looking man present.
The entire Brigade and representative troops from many of the installation's other units had turned out to do the 'march past' and then stand at attention while Brigadier General Hutton passed the brigade colors from one colonel to the other.
By 0900, the ceremony was over and everything had gone without a hitch. Andy still felt too tense to be more than vaguely grateful that, for today, her career was safe.
Colonel Standish found a moment to come over and shake her hand. He offered lavish compliments on the ceremony, which left Andy hard put not to blush and fidget. She never had been comfortable with praise; criticism she could handle -- not that she liked it, but it was at least familiar.
Compliments, though, were something else altogether. Andy found it a novelty to be praised, especially in such florid and glowing terms as the outgoing commander employed. When Colonel Costain approached to add his appreciative words, Andy had even a harder time trying to remain impassive.
"Let me add my commendations too. That was an outstanding ceremony, Captain Hollis, and I understand you orchestrated the whole show."
Andy looked down, carefully avoiding his vivid, blue gaze. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."
He glanced around at the waiting troops, who had not yet been officially dismissed. "Isn't it customary to give the troops a training holiday after these affairs?"
"Yes, sir. I believe it is, sir."
"See to it, then, Captain, yourself included. I'll see you Monday morning."
"Yes, sir." Andy saluted smartly and turned away, almost weak with relief at having been dismissed. Now, she'd have another seventy two hours to come to terms with the distressing idea of working closely with Colonel Cory Costain.
How could she maintain her composure and professional distance around a man who made her heart beat double time, rendered her tongue-tied with just a pleasant word, and almost melted her with a single blue-eyed glance?
I've got to fight this. I just don't believe it! Why him? Why me? Why now? This is crazy. I wasn't hit this hard even when Jody started courting me, and look what a disaster that was. Why, why, why?
***
Life didn't get any easier. Andy rationalized and played a variety of mental games with herself, but nothing really changed. Something about Colonel Cory Costain set her nerves on edge and ruffled her usually even temper.
Of course it couldn't have anything to do with his undeniable charm and good looks. Somehow, his joking and habitual informality grated on her as Colonel Standish's never had. Perhaps because his manner made her efforts to maintain a correct distance just that much harder. At any rate, he brought out every bit of her usually well controlled defensiveness and hostility. She knew she was just short of rude much too often, but she couldn't help herself.
The worst of it was almost everyone else thought him a great guy and nobody could understand her attitude. Well, if she were totally honest, a part of her readily admitted he was, indeed, a great guy, a handsome, appealing and sexy great guy. But that part of herself she was ready to disown, for the same part had gone mushy and moonstruck over his physique, his ruggedly pleasant face, and his charming personality.
Half the female officers and most of the enlisted women on Fort Cochise were eager to check out the new single colonel -- but not Andy. What could be more unprofessional and less military than a massive crush on one's commanding officer? Whatever it cost her, she would not give in. She'd resist with every resource at her disposal. Unfortunately, her arsenal was barely equal to the task -- on good days.
***
Within a week, Cory realized something was wrong between himself and his new XO. In a twenty-six year career, he'd never encountered a problem quite like this one. Of course, he'd never before had to work so closely with a female officer, but her gender shouldn't make such a difference. He'd always prided himself in the ability to maintain good working relationships with all his troops. He considered himself reasonably broad minded and accepting when it came to women in the military.
So, what had he done in a few short days to arouse such determined hostility as Captain Hollis demonstrated? He knew he'd avoided any of the typical faux pas such as calling her "honey" or "dear," referring to her, Stacy and Rita as "girls", or saying or doing anything which could be construed as male chauvinism or sexual harassment. Surely she didn't still hold one little dig about a run in her hose against him, did she?
But the fact remained she refused to meet his eyes, spoke to him only when necessary, and appeared extremely uncomfortable the few times he called her into his office to discuss Brigade business. He'd hoped she'd be willing and able to share whatever knowledge she had with him -- like who were the good troops and the bad, where any special strengths or weaknesses might lie, and things like that. No joy there.
Andy volunteered nothing and answered direct questions with the fewest possible words. She was efficient; he had to give her that, but they were far from becoming the effective team he'd visualized, and he could see no progress in that direction at all.
Rick Standish had spoken very highly of Andy, and she'd clearly done an exceptional job with the change of command ceremony. Was the fault with him, then? There were too many demands on his time to allow him to waste much concern on this one problem, but it kept popping into his thoughts at odd times, and disturbed him more than he cared to admit.
What started as a small irritation grew until it really began to aggravate him. Finally, at the end of the second week, Cory decided to try a direct approach. He had expended far too much time and energy on the matter already. Time to get some answers. He reached for his phone
***
Andy finished going through the morning's distribution, sorting out the suspense- dated items, keeping two for herself and addressing the rest to the appropriate people in the Brigade for action. She knew Colonel Costain was in. Although she usually arrived first, she always contrived to be busy and not look up when he came in.
That didn't mean there was as much as one cell in her body unaware he was in the next room, though. The quiet rumble of his voice when he talked on the phone and the occasional creak of his chair seemed screamingly loud. He wasn't an unobtrusive man, but active, enthusiastic and people-oriented.
Nothing warned Andy who was on her intercom. The phones rang constantly, and Stacy and Rita routed to her most of the calls they were unable to answer. She assumed that was again the case. Without taking her eyes off the note she wrote to the Wireless Company chief to explain a tasking she'd sent him, she picked up the phone. "Captain Hollis here."
"When you can break away a minute, I need to see you."
Andy's heart stopped and then did a forward march in double time. "Yes, sir. I'll be right there, sir." Hanging up, she muttered a single un-ladylike word under her breath as she dropped the papers into her out basket. Once on her feet, she glanced quickly at the full length mirror on the back of her office door which told her she looked neat and correct as usual, everything shiny except her nose and nothing out of place.
She'd lost at least ten pounds since coming up from Wireless Company though, and it was beginning to show. Much more, and she'd have to get her uniforms re- tailored. At the open collar of her shirt, her collar bone protruded, and her blouse hung loose on her shoulders. Too bad the weight didn't first come off her hips. The darn mirror made her look a yard wide, especially in these slacks.
She tugged the spread collar a bit closer, drew a deep breath, and stepped briskly around the corner to the next office. "Captain Hollis reporting, sir."
Andy saw the colonel's mouth tighten, as if he restrained an urge to snap at her. She knew he found such formality neither necessary nor welcome. Still he spoke pleasantly enough.
"Come in and have a seat. I want to ask you a few questions."
Andy obeyed, crossing the room to settle on the edge of a straight wooden chair rather than one of the more comfortable upholstered ones around the small conference table. She folded her hands neatly in her lap and looked just past his right ear, which fixed her gaze on the plaque he'd received as a farewell gift from the unit in Korea. That was certainly safer than meeting his gaze.
He hesitated a moment, as if framing his thoughts in words. "How long have you been serving as XO, Captain Hollis?"
Andy answered promptly, carefully keeping her voice as tonelessly neutral as possible. " Nine weeks tomorrow, sir. Major Donnelly left the second week of August, and Colonel Standish reassigned me the next week."
"Before that you were the CO of Wireless Company?"
"That's correct, sir."
"And you'd been there nearly ten months?"
"Yes, sir. I assumed command in Kuwait, when the prior CO was wounded and evacuated."
Colonel Costain tipped his chair back a bit, crossed his arms in front of his chest and looked at her intently. Andy refused to meet his gaze, but assessed his posture and felt it boded no good for her.
"What exactly is bothering you, Captain? You're clearly not at ease and I'd like to know why. Is it the job or personal problems or what? Can I do anything to make things better? Because if so, I'd like to know so I can do it."
Andy sighed softly. "I...everything is all right, sir. I don't think I'm well suited for the job, but I'm trying."
Cory resisted saying the first thing he thought. Blurting "I'll say you're trying!" would not help matters. Instead he asked a question. "Were you 'well suited' to be CO of Wireless?"
"I believe so, sir, begging your pardon. I thought I was doing a good job. We got a high rating on the inspection in July and our backlogs were down. Morale even seemed to be pretty good."
He heard pride in her voice for the first time and some animation. So, she'd liked being a company commander. "You didn't want to leave there, then?"
"No sir, I did not, but I was reassigned. Nobody asked me, of course. It was Colonel Standish's decision."
He shook his head, completely baffled by her attitude. "Frankly, Captain Hollis, I'm confused. Most young officers would jump at the chance, consider becoming XO as moving up. The job's got visibility, offers more opportunities to impress the higher brass, and allows more 'wheeling and dealing' than a mere company commander post." Cory put a challenge into his words, seeking to bring out her feelings, perhaps the reasons for them.
She looked at the floor then, her face going still and tight. "I'm not a politician, sir, nor a diplomat. I'm not even a very good clerk. And I'd just as soon not have high visibility. I feel like I've been set up, sir, given an opportunity to screw up publicly. I'm really not staff material."
Cory could not accept her self-assessment. "I can hardly agree with that. Since Colonel Standish had nothing but good to say about you, I'm sure he meant the assignment as a reward, a form of recognition. It'll look good on your records, you know, when they convene the next board for major."
"Only if I have a good rating."
"Don't you expect to?" Cory couldn't keep his surprise out of his tone. Hell, nobody expected a poor rating, did they? Most people thought they were doing a much better job and were more deserving than reality supported. Either she tried to fake him out with false humility or this pretty captain had a real problem.
"I -- ...No, sir. I really don't. I couldn't give myself better than an average at this point, and you know that isn't going to be competitive."
Her defeated tone bothered him. Something had to be seriously wrong. Why was it so hard to uncover?
"Give yourself a break, Captain! There's a learning curve to these things. You're a Signal officer, not Adjutant Corps, so all this administrative stuff is new to you. It takes awhile, but I haven't seen where you've made any serious errors. You seem both quick and conscientious. I couldn't ask for more, except that you relax and let yourself grow into the job."
"No...er, yes, sir."
Cory deliberately smiled, warming his tone. "Loosen up a little. You can't do your best work when you're stretched tighter than a guitar string. Just relax and roll with things for awhile and see if it doesn't get better. There's nothing to be afraid of. I don't believe in a zero defects approach. Mistakes happen and the only cardinal sin is failing to learn from them."
She still didn't look at him or meet his gaze, but she sat a little straighter, lifted her head. "Yes, sir. I'll try, sir. But, well, if it doesn't get better, would you consider relieving me? I'll accept any other assignment in the Brigade."
"Give it a fair chance first, Andy. Don't be too quick to give up. That doesn't sound like the officer I see in your records. Don't deny yourself the chance to learn and grow. You really don't want to do that. I don't want you to do that either." For a moment, he caught and held her gaze.
The flare of fear and anger in her eyes surprised him. After a moment, although he still didn't understand, he took pity on her and looked away.
"Is it...am I difficult to work for, Andy? Is that what you're trying to tell me?"
She still refused to meet his eyes, staring fixedly at the floor, her shoulders slightly hunched and her body language almost shrieking distress.
"No, sir," she mumbled. "Everyone seems to be pleased having you here."
"If I've done or said something that didn't seem right, I'm sorry. If I do it again, let me know, okay? I don't intend to be inapproachable, and I don't think rank makes anyone perfect. I never intentionally tread on anyone's sensibilities, but I might by accident. When I was growing up, rules and customs were different. Maybe it's harder to change than I realized."
"No, I mean, yes, sir. You haven't, sir. Not that I recall."
Was she alluding to the run incident or was it simply an awkward choice of words? He swallowed his defeat as gracefully as he could. "That will be all, then. Thank you, Captain."
Andy stood, saluted crisply, faced and marched out. Back in her office, she sank into her chair and sat staring at nothing while she tried to still her involuntary shivers. She'd probably said the wrong things, but at least not the most wrong ones. She hadn't said a word about the dreams which were beginning to haunt her nor the wholly unaccustomed urges and wanton impulses that had descended on her out of nowhere with his arrival.
She hated the man -- how dare he turn her life inside out this way? If I mess up badly enough, he'll have to relieve me. The question was, how grave an error would it take, and how much long-term damage to her career might result? Howard Hollis had retired a Brigadier General in 1986. More than anything, Andy wanted to equal or exceed that rank, but female Major Generals were few and far between. And surely, they had no serious blots on their careers, none at all. So, she couldn't do anything too bad.
Maybe just once she should surrender to one of those ridiculous impulses and literally throw herself at him. He'd have to relieve her then and be discrete about the reasons. No, that was too big a risk. It would have to be something else. There was no way she would admit this awful and awkward attraction, least of all to him.
Somehow, she'd overcome it; surely it was just a temporary aberration, an untimely flare up of juvenile hormones, for all she was thirty-two years and seven months old. Somehow, she'd get out of this damn job and away from him. Somehow...That was her only hope. Why didn't he take the easy alternative and reassign her?
She picked up a pencil, glanced at her shaking hands and grimaced. Damn it, why? Talking to anyone else, she could be coherent and persuasive, but with him she became tongue-tied and almost dumb.
She jumped at the snap and then realized she'd broken the pencil cleanly in two. For an instant, she stared at the two pieces blankly, shocked at herself. Get a grip, Hollis! You can't afford this kind of crap. A good officer is always in control. Wearily, she picked up a new sheaf of paper from her 'in' basket and went back to work.
After Andy left, Cory gnashed his teeth in frustration. He'd accomplished precisely nothing and was no wiser than he'd been twenty minutes earlier. Because he couldn't sit still another moment, he got up and stalked out of his suddenly-confining office. "I'm going down to the Company area, Stacy. I don't have any meetings 'til after lunch, do I?"
"No, sir. You're calendar is clear until 1330. You aren't expecting any urgent calls, are you?"
"Not that I recall. If any come through, route them down to Wire Company." He walked briskly out the door. What a relief to be outdoors, away from the stifling atmosphere of the office.
He'd rather walk than drive. Nothing was all that urgent, and maybe the exercise would work off a little of his stress. He had to do something before he exploded. Frustration could do that to a man. He'd thought he had his temper under control, but lately that control had gotten a bit shaky. He almost wished he was back in Korea.
***
As usual, Andy skipped lunch. The flow of paper never stopped and there were simply too few hours in the day to get everything done. Then too, she seemed to have trouble concentrating today. She found it hard to believe, but just for a minute, she would have sworn she saw a trace of vulnerability in Colonel Costain's face and heard genuine distress in his voice when he asked if he was hard to work for.
He wasn't fishing for compliments, she felt sure. He seemed honestly perturbed, almost as much as she was. For a second or two, she'd nearly felt sorry for him. That would never do!
Commanders ought to be like her father, always dominant and confident to the point of arrogance. Still, she was glad she didn't have to work for someone like that, but it didn't make Cory Costain any easier for her to handle. The idea he might be anything less than completely confident and secure troubled her. A trace of weakness made him all too human and as needful of kindness and consideration as...No, no way! He was a senior officer, her superior officer, and that was that. Something had to change, soon and drastically. She could only pray for such change.
Andy was still hard at work, and Colonel Costain had not returned when Rita Perez burst into the office upon her return from an early lunch. Even more noisy and nervous than usual, she looked pale and big-eyed instead of her normal ebullient self.
"Captain Hollis, Ma'am. Turn on your radio! There's something terrible going on in a place called Delgado! I heard about it in the mess hall."
Although radios in the office were not looked upon with much favor, Andy had a small portable on her desk which she played quietly at times, especially when she worked late alone. She flipped it on and dialed quickly to an all-news station.
The announcer sounded almost hysterical as she described the horrible carnage in a tiny Central American nation called San Juan Delgado. For the first few minutes, Andy made little sense of it, but gradually the picture of a very ugly situation began to emerge. For the rest of the day, no one on Fort Cochise did much except listen to the shocking news. The Twenty-fourth Signal Brigade was no exception.
A tiny state which commanded the only useful harbor on hundreds of miles of rocky, cliff-lined coast, San Juan Delgado had been significant enough in the past. Recently the country had achieved even greater importance with the discovery of a rich vein of gold in mountainous, land-locked El Dorado and oil in the inner plain of Santo Domingo, neighboring nations.
The tiny near-worthless patch of real estate found it a heady experience to control the shipment of these valuable commodities. Having nothing of value in their own land, the ruling class of Delgado determined to make as much as possible from their new status by charging exorbitant fees for the use of their harbor.
Rebel factions in the surrounding nations, which included the still totally impoverished Los Dolores, felt they were not getting enough of their region's new prosperity. They focused their resentment on their neighbor and decided to take matters in hand, banding together to invade tiny Delgado.
The armed forces of the miniature nation consisted solely of the personal guard of El Presidente, currently Domingo Veracruz Y Santillan. Veracruz and his family narrowly escaped, fleeing to their private island off the coast, but others were less fortunate. The legislators were harried from their halls and shot in the streets. Then the rebels turned to the "foreign exploiters" and gave full vent to their wrath and blood lust.
At the American consulate, the Marine guards fought back until they ran out of ammunition. Then they were systematically slaughtered as was the embassy staff, right down to the four month old son of an attaché. The representatives of other nations fared no better.
Captive news crews filmed the massacres at gunpoint, and soon the bloody deeds were broadcast to the world. However, the reaction was not the abject terror the rebels naively expected but collective outrage. Within hours, the United Nations had troops on the way to revenge the martyred folk.
As the next few days passed, quick successes in what the media quickly labeled The Three-D War, lost momentum and began to bog down. The rebels fought fiercely with a total lack of fear. Though mostly untrained and poorly armed, the group consisted of various factions each unwilling to give up their autonomy to create a cohesive force. Still with the little they had, they battled like tigers until air power, munitions and finally sheer numbers carried the fight, and they were swept out of San Juan Delgado's capitol, Ciudad Delgado, the harbor area of Bahia Buena and then the surrounding countryside.
But that was not enough. Their brutality and criminal disregard for all conventions of civilization could not be ignored. International consensus decreed the leaders and perpetrators of the outrage must be captured and made to pay for their misdeeds.
As these illusive quarries faded into the mountains and jungles of their rugged homelands, the invading commanders realized it was not going to be an easy task. To support the required long term efforts, supplies and troops continued to arrive and they began to dig in for the duration.
Bahia Buena and the harbor facilities occupied every flat inch of land at the mouth of Rio del Diablo, which created the bay. Behind the narrow beaches, nearly vertical cliffs rose above the sand. It was on the flats atop those cliffs that Ciudad Delgado had been built, a modernistic capital which had risen volcanically from barren plains. On these flats, just beyond the new city, the command post was established. Around Ciudad Delgado's airport, a veritable new city of tents and prefabs sprang up, extended for over a mile back from the cliff-side.
At first, except for the Quick Reaction Teams dispatched immediately to the war zone, the Twenty-fourth had no new or added mission. After the initial flurry of activity, when it became clear the war would not be over in a matter of hours, everyone just sat and waited, plagued by anxiety and an excess of adrenaline. The tension crackled in the air, almost visible.
Within the first week, larger elements of both Wire and Wireless Companies prepared to leave, but no one seemed to know if the whole Brigade would be called on or not. Andy had served in the Gulf War and the Balkans. She found it galling in the extreme to go on with business as usual, especially the endless reports and other routine actions which seemed both tedious and pointless. The idea she might be totally left out of the war effort seemed completely intolerable.
Although he didn't say so and tried not to show it, Cory felt the same way. He and Andy had reached a sort of uneasy, wordless truce by which they managed to work, together but separately, mostly keeping out of each other's way. Cory knew it was far from an ideal situation, but perhaps the best compromise possible for the time being. At least he knew the mission was being accomplished which, to him, was the first and most important consideration.
Still, he felt no surprise when two weeks after the start of the war, he received Andy's written request for a change of assignment. If she was surprised that he denied it, he didn't know, but he more than half-expected some sort of response from her. He got the first hint from Stacy when she mentioned, just before she left early to run an errand, that he had an appointment at 1600 that afternoon.
The late hour didn't seem strange because every day had been jammed full since the war began, but he wondered vaguely who it might be. His curiosity vanished when Andy appeared at his door. He looked up at her knock and said "Come."
She walked in and stopped, two paces in front of his desk, coming to rigid attention as if she had never been there before. "Captain Hollis reporting, sir." Her set jaw and hooded eyes spoke of anger, carefully concealed in her voice.
"Cut the crap, Captain. You know you don't have to go through all that with me. Sit down. What's this all about?"
"Yes sir. It's a personal matter, sir, and I didn't feel...This doesn't relate to my official duties as Brigade XO...Well, it does, but not directly. Anyway, I felt this was the right way to handle the matter, sir." In spite of his invitation, she remained standing.
Cory struggled to contain a grimace of irritation. "At ease, Captain. If you're in some kind of trouble, I haven't heard about it. Oh, there's been a little grumbling about your strictness regarding suspense dates and quality correspondence, but I haven't felt you were out of line. Anyway, whatever the issue is, we should be able to sit down here and discuss it man to...uh, as colleagues."
Andy relaxed imperceptibly, moving her left foot ten inches to the left and clasping her hands behind her back in the parade rest posture.
"Yes sir. I would like to know why the Colonel did not see fit to accept my request for a change of assignment. Begging the Colonel's pardon, Captain Petty is much better suited to be XO than I am, and Lieutenant Hale would be more effective in Wire Comms, where his experience lies, than in Wireless."
Cory took a moment to gather his wits and assume a semblance of calmness. "Andy, I'm fully satisfied with your performance here and I think it's beneficial for Lieutenant Hale to become familiar with Wireless. Frankly, I'm puzzled by your request. I know you weren't comfortable for awhile, but I'd gotten the impression you were fitting in and things were running pretty smoothly."
He saw Andy's lips tighten into a straight line. When she remained silent, he went on. "We discussed this before, and I told you I thought it was good for your career and personal development to serve here. I was a Captain myself once, not so terribly long ago, and I regarded the XO billet as a plum assignment, but never had the chance to try it out. After our previous conversation, I spoke with Colonel Standish. He said he'd intended to reward your stellar performance as Wireless Chief. Those were his exact words. He felt the XO position should be reserved for the best and brightest young officers and I agree. It's a great place to learn and to shine."
For an instant, Andy's face reflected surprise, but then she schooled her expression to its previous neutral mask. "I didn't realize that, sir. In the Air Force, it seemed they usually put the misfits in the job, the ones who couldn't fly and weren't going to make it somewhere else."
"You were in the Air Force?"
The expression on Andy's face was priceless. She looked as if she'd just accidentally divulged a terrible secret. "Oh, no sir. I...I grew up in an Air Force family. But, well, I'd still prefer my old job. I mean there's a war going on, but you'd never know it at my desk. All the same old garbage is going on, business as usual. I can't believe all these dumb reports -- we spend more time reporting than working!"
She floundered to a halt, apparently realizing she'd voiced opinions which had by no means been requested and were hardly politically correct.
"I'll forget you said that," Cory said, struggling for a stern tone as he tried not to grin. So she's got some spunk, some sass after all! "You know Army business is not garbage nor dumb, not ever. To some degree, I happen to agree with you that things are too routine here, but I expect that to change very soon. In fact, if we don't have orders to ship out -- the whole Brigade -- within a week, I'll be surprised. That's not for public dissemination, but it's my honest opinion based on information definitely stronger than rumor."
Andy's face brightened slightly. "I hope you're right, sir, I really do. But, well, is there no chance of changing your mind about my assignment?"
Cory shook his head. "Not now, Andy. It's my considered judgment that existing assignments are in the best interest of both the Army and all of your careers. You're going to have to trust my judgment. I'm sorry you're still not comfortable in the job, but I think it's good for you."
"Yes sir. I understand." Andy's voice sounded totally flat, devoid of emotion.
Cory suppressed a sigh. "I'm not sure you do, but that can't be helped Anyway, it's past quitting time. Would you care to join me at the O Club for a beer before dinner time?"
Andy replied promptly in a clipped and almost chiding tone. "Thank you sir, but no."
Cory knew a trace of his exasperation crept into both his face and voice. He couldn't help it. He recognized a weakness he needed to guard against, but there were times he was a man first and commanding officer second, just for a moment, and this was one of them.
"Damn it, Andy, we've been working together for a month and I thought things were smoothing out. I also thought you realized I'm not a spit and polish officer. To me, there's a time and place for military formality, for all the starch and pomp and polish anyone could desire, but that's not my style for every day business. If you'd care to sit down, friend to friend, and tell me why you don't want to stay on here as XO, I'd be glad to listen. I don't promise to do anything else, but I would listen."
Andy's gaze dropped to her toes, though she hadn't truly looked at him once, and her shoulders drooped. She shook her head. "No sir. I don't think that would help anything. I do trust your judgment and I'll do the best job I can, war or no war."
"I have no doubt your best is much more than adequate, Andy. Good night now, and have a nice weekend."
"You too, sir." She saluted, turned crisply and marched out. Cory finally released his sigh as he sank back into his chair after returning her salute. He sat, deep in thought, long after the small sounds of her departure faded.
"Damn it, I wish she was a man," he muttered. From a military point of view, the wish was strictly true, but from a personal perspective, nothing could have been farther from the truth.
Andrea Hollis might be as militarily correct as was humanly possible, but he could never forget or ignore the fact she was also a damned attractive woman. Although he wasn't sure yet, he'd begun to suspect a similar awareness on her part played no small role in her wish to transfer. Maybe, for both their sakes, he should allow it. The explanation he'd given her was not untrue, but it certainly wasn't the whole story, either. Somehow, in a few short weeks, she'd become a fixture in his life, a critical cog in the machinery of his routine.
They called her "Iron Andy" behind her back, fellow officers with a subtle derision stemming from a mixture of envy and grudging admiration, and her former troops and friends with almost worshipful respect. As a company commander, he'd heard she'd been hard but fair, uncompromising in both what she demanded of her troops and the lengths to which she would go to defend and support them. She exhibited all the traits he wanted to see in a young officer -- except she was the wrong gender. He could not see, hear or even sense her presence without feeling a very elemental masculine response.
Cory had never seen a woman who worked harder not to be sexy, but at least for him, her effort was in vain. It was probably a good thing she'd refused his spontaneous invitation, even though he'd made it innocently enough. There was no telling where even such a small and innocuous degree of socializing might lead, and the last thing he needed in his life was a woman, particularly a woman who was also a junior officer in his command. Damn, women in the military was a piss-poor idea. It really was.
***
After Andy walked out of the Brigade Office, she sat in her car for several minutes. She didn't want to be there when Cory -- Colonel Costain -- came out to his truck. He drove a newer one now than when he'd arrived, and today he'd parked two spaces from her compact. But for the moment, she felt too shaky to drive.
Damn him! Why didn't he take the easy way out and reassign her? He clearly hated formality and the artificial barriers the military erected to separate the ranks. Except for the most formal occasions, he preferred to be on a first name basis with all his people and said so. But formality was the only defense she had, the only way to keep from saying and doing something totally feminine and foolish.
For years, she'd been independent and self-sufficient, prided herself in the hard- learned lessons that made her so. Had she been living a lie? Was she really just another weak, clinging woman like he mother, willing to tolerate infidelity and verbal abuse rather than stand on her own? Was she still the naive girl who'd wed Lieutenant Joseph Hazlett with starry eyes only to learn he'd really married not her but her father's rank and prestige, considering her a necessary evil in the arrangement?
No, she wouldn't be such a fool as to surrender to a man's lazy smile, give up everything for the teasing glint in his eyes or the way his most casual touch set her heart racing. But if she kept being a pest and aggravating Colonel Costain about a reassignment, her career could be ruined just as surely as if she resigned her commission to get married or made a total fool of herself over him.
Somehow she had to erect enough barriers to protect herself until she could escape, but it kept getting harder. She'd wanted so badly to accept his casual invitation, to walk into the club at his side and...No, no, no! Wearily, she turned the key to start her car and headed for home.
***
On Veteran's Day, a fleet of C130 transport planes delivered the Twenty-fourth to the mesa above Bahia Buena on the twentieth day of the war. Their mission: to provide necessary communications for command and control, linking the command post with the units fanned out in pursuit of the rebels.
Although a cadre had been left at Fort Cochise, Cory brought most of his unit to the war zone, himself at the helm. As some of the enlisted troops set up the tent which would serve as his field office, he thought over the resources he had.
First Lieutenant Fred Glass, to whom he'd assigned Wireless Company, was an unknown quantity. Because Lieutenant Hale had a very pregnant wife who was also diabetic, Cory had left him in charge of the home front. Glass came highly recommended, but that could mean a little or a lot. Steve Petty in Wire was steady as a well-built antenna. No worry there.
Tradition made Andy, as XO, his second-in-command. He had no qualms about that, except it was going to throw them together even more than the jobs had stateside. He would have to watch himself.
Not that he had any doubts about Andy's ability. Captain A. R. Hollis was nothing if not a good officer, competent, conscientious, and hard working. She knew the communication business inside out and was even -- mostly -- fairly good with people. The fact they didn't get along, was just one of those things. He'd tried to diffuse the situation with humor, but kidding only seemed to make things worse. Either she'd never forgiven him for the crack about the run in her hose, or maybe she just hated men, especially superior officers.
The senior NCO came over then to consult him about setting things up, and he put the puzzle of Captain Hollis to the back of his mind. Eventually, he'd crack that code, but right now, there were more important things to tackle, the main one being to get the Brigade up and running as quickly as possible.
For the first few days, that meant taking his eyes, ears and orders out to his key people instead of interrupting their work for staff meetings. Before a week had passed, Cory's observations told him he'd have to make at least one change, a change he both hated and felt vaguely relieved to make.
Once he reached the decision, Cory summoned Lieutenant Glass and Andy to the strong-backed tent which served as the Brigade Office. While he waited for them, he walked across to the Orderly Room in a prefab hut and bought a cold soda out of the machine there, one of a relative few scattered around the camp.
The calendar said late November, but here just off the equator, it felt more like July. July in the Deep South, hot, humid and miserable. The few available air conditioners went to the places where they were required to keep equipment cool enough to function. Cory had a fan, which helped a little, but not much.
Actually though, he reflected, heading back to his makeshift office, they had it pretty good here in camp. Those poor sons chasing rebels into the jungle and up those goat tracks into the mountains, now that was rough duty. Of his people, only the forward support teams had to suffer anything similar. He'd make sure they rotated frequently, anyway.
***
Andy hesitated outside the door of the Brigade Office to give herself a final pep talk and to try to regain some semblance of composure. It didn't come easily. Even in this new environment, her response to Colonel Costain didn't want to conform to her ideas of what was correct. By setting up her office across the 'street', with his tacit permission, she'd tried to minimize close contact between them, but even that helped only a little.
Finally, with a fatalistic half-shrug, she walked in. Here, the luxury of a civilian secretary was not available. A Specialist Four clerk occupied the outer desk. She obviously knew Andy was expected and waved her on into the colonel's office, behind a head-high partition.
Lieutenant Glass had already arrived. He jumped up and saluted Andy, which was not necessary, but she took it as a mark of respect and returned the salute it as soon as the Colonel told her to stand at ease.
Cory got up and came around his desk. "On second thought, let's just sit down together and talk about this." He pulled out one of the remaining chairs and indicated for Andy to sit, but she waited until he sat down in the other before she moved to sit, stiff as dry pasta, on the very edge of hers.
The Lieutenant, pale and anxious, sat with his white-knuckled hands clenched. He had to know his company had not been doing well. He looked ill and half-afraid. Andy didn't feel much better, but hoped she didn't show her distress quite as clearly.
She felt confident the colonel would not chew out either of them in front of the other, but she also knew her recent performance hadn't been the best. She'd heard some rumors and muttered complaints about her strictness and occasional tendency to be sharp and less than diplomatic on the phone. Neither a good diplomat nor a precise clerk, she still struggled in a job demanding both attributes.
"When a commander sees round pegs in square holes and vice-versa, he's a fool not to fix it, especially if the organization is suffering as a result. I probably should have acted sooner, but I'm a strong believer in the virtue of experience as a teacher." Cory paused to glance first at Andy and then Fred Glass.
When his attentive regard moved from her, Andy stole a quick look at him. She saw nothing but concern and compassion in his face. As if he felt her scrutiny, he turned his gaze back towards her, still holding the same expression. She let her breath out and then inhaled deeply again as her heart stuttered in her chest.
"Given time," Cory continued, "I think both of you would grow into the jobs, but right now, we can't afford to wait. They're both too important to the Brigade and we're too critical to the war. Andy, I know you were in Kuwait and took Wireless after Captain Thorne was evacked. From all accounts, you did a credible job. Although conditions are different here, I think you can make that experience work for you."
She forced herself return his level gaze, determined to merit the confidence he expressed. He held her gaze, eyes to eyes, for a long moment and then turned to the young Lieutenant.
"Fred, no blame falls on you at this point for lack of experience. You can't help not having what you've had no time or opportunity to acquire, but I know you do have a strong background in areas analogous to our situation here -- the need to coordinate, expedite, and occasionally mollify a whole range of people with problems they perceive as critical."
Glass gulped and tried to smile. "Y-y-yes, sir," he stammered.
"I want the two of you to switch assignments starting tomorrow morning. If you can take the rest of the day to bring each other up to speed on the hottest issues you have, I think you can both hit running, and that's what it's going to take."
Andy felt literally lighter as the rush of relief swept over her, and from Lieutenant Glass's expression, his reaction was much the same.
"I'll do my best, sir." They both spoke, almost as one.
Cory nodded. "I know that. I know you have and I know you will. I've worked with some fine officers over the years, but none any finer than those I have under my command right now."
As they all stood together, Cory put a hand on each of their nearest shoulders. The warmth of his touch flowed through Andy like a current. Dazedly, she wondered how it would feel without the insulating qualities of two layers of sturdy cloth between his skin and hers. She'd likely melt.
"I don't want either of you trying to kill dragons on your own, now. You don't have to prove anything to me or anyone else. We all have different strengths. I believe in letting people alone to do their jobs, as long as they remember there aren't any dumb questions except the ones that are not asked. There aren't any one-man wars either, never have been, so don't try to run one. Only a fool will sink alone when he can swim with a little help."
Again, Cory looked directly at each of the younger officers, as if using his eyes to punctuate his remarks.
Andy dared a look and met his steady gaze. She knew he was talking to her, talking directly to the pride which hated to admit there were things she could not manage by herself. In his eyes she found an additional unspoken message which seemed to say "I'll be here for you if you'll let me." It both comforted and frightened her.
"Yes, sir," she said. A smile's shadow ghosted across his face. His hand tightened for an instant and then released, falling away. Until she steeled herself, she felt bereft without that touch.
He was a toucher, she knew, someone who unthinkingly put an arm around you, a hand on your shoulder as he spoke. He often underscored praise with a pat on the back and softened criticism with a gentle cuff on the arm. There wasn't anything personal or sexual about it except for her reaction.
"I'll announce the change at staff call tomorrow. I think that will be soon enough." He gave both of them a slight push. "Go talk to each other. I'll see you at 0730 tomorrow."
Like a shadow, Fred mirrored Andy's turn and salute. He echoed her "Yes, sir" and followed her out the door.
Cory shook his head slightly and smiled after them, recognizing what Andy chose to ignore and Fred would not have admitted -- the green young Lieutenant had one hell of a crush on the prettiest captain in Signal. But then, so did his Brigade Commander, when you came right down to it.
He was going to miss her, even if it had been a strain, her being so close and so emphatically off limits. Commanders were definitely not supposed to have affairs with their subordinates. Not that it never happened, but it was a lousy practice, bad for morale and definitely hazardous to the careers of both parties.
For the present, however badly Cory the man needed Andy the woman, Colonel Costain needed Captain Hollis a hell of a lot more. Wireless was on the verge of total disaster, and Wireless was a keystone to the success of this crazy little war. He sighed as he turned back to the endless work on his battered little desk.
***
Andy led the way back out into the steaming afternoon. "Let's start at my desk with the XO's job, since it's right here."
"Yes ma'am."
She suppressed a moue of irritation. "Oh come on, Fred, it's Andy. We aren't that far apart in rank and you make me feel fifty years old!"
"You sure don't look it," he blurted and then went scarlet. "Sorry, ma'am, that just slipped out."
Andy led the way to her cubbyhole at the back of the orderly room. "No problem. Pull up a chair."
They spent the next hour and a half going over the XO's job and the most urgent tasks on Andy's 'things-to-do' list. Before they were done, Fred had come up with a half dozen short cuts and improvements.
"I should have consulted you weeks ago," Andy said, sincere admiration coloring her tone. "I guess Colonel Costain figured it right. You're a natural for this job."
"You must hate to give it up. It sounds like -- well, not exactly a piece of cake but just a lot of details."
"Yeah, that's for sure. And details -- 'specially this kind, are not my forte. No, you're welcome to it, Fred. Believe me, this job needs a change just as much as the Chief of Wireless does. I'm not good staff material. Like Colonel Costain said, people have different strengths."
"I'm afraid Wireless is going to -- well, I don't even know where to start. It's just one big problem and a million little ones inside it." Fred looked at Andy as he spoke, a totally rueful expression painting his face with woe.
"Shall we go on over, then, and have a look? Or is there something else you want to see here first? I hope I've covered everything. There's just so much."
"Don't worry about it, Cap...er, Andy. I can call you if I need to. And yes, we'd better get on over to Wireless."
They walked down through the Brigade area to the hut serving as Wireless Company's office. A grizzled old Master Sergeant looked up as they came in.
"Ya got some calls, Boss. Messages on the desk." It was just a little past lunch, but the man's red face, his slurred voice and lack of courtesy set off warning bells in Andy's mind.
"This is Master Sergeant Hasty. He's a 'Nam vet."
Fred's voice held more than a touch of awe, and he made no move to reprimand the enlisted man for his lack of proper courtesy. "Sarge, this is Captain Hollis. She's going to be assuming command here tomorrow."
The old sergeant looked Andy up and down with bleary eyes. "Well, welcome aboard ma'am-sir. They sure didn't make captains like that back in the old days, did they?" The second sentence was directed at Fred, with more than a trace of leer. The older man still did not stand up. Andy suspected he couldn't.
"We'll have a talk tomorrow, Sarge," she said, in a very gentle voice, which would have set off alarms with anyone who knew her. In direct opposite of Major General Howard "Howlin'" Hollis, the angrier Andy got, the quieter her voice became and the less likely she was to swear. Clearly, the old sergeant did not recognize his danger. He just blinked and grinned vapidly.
Although she did not say so at the moment, Andy felt sure many of the problems in the company centered on the old NCO. She followed Fred around the partition which divided off the company commander's office. The desk itself was more dilapidated and much more overloaded than hers had been back at Fort Cochise. Items marked 'routine', 'urgent', 'expedite' and 'mission essential' were jumbled together in a towering stack which threatened to spill out of what was clearly the in-box. Fred swore under his breath and grabbed a sheaf of them.
"I've tried and tried to keep things prioritized, but then somebody else calls and I have to reorder them. These," he paused and waved a group of work orders bunched in a large clip, "are all waiting parts. For some reason, we don't have any of the right transistors or circuit boards in supply."
Andy nodded her understanding as a picture began to take shape in her mind. It looked like Fred was both too ignorant to recognize the real priorities and perhaps too timid and easily swayed by name droppers and those who pulled rank. Clearly, the First Sergeant was not helping him, and was probably still trying to do things like they were done in Vietnam over twenty years ago, or more likely, as his alcohol-befuddled mind recalled they had been done.
She snorted. He'd either find a convenient broom closet to disappear into or she'd send him back to the S4 to be kept out of harm's way, unless he shaped up real quick.
While Fred tried his best to do a thorough show and tell on the current situation, Andy was already busily planning her initial attack -- because it would clearly take an attack to get Wireless back on track quickly.
When they finally left to go to evening chow, she felt confident she knew what needed to be done and how to do it. She understood how a few relatively minor errors and problems, with a sort of negative synergism, could easily bring a whole program to a grinding halt. This had very nearly happened, but with some quick actions and a bit of luck, she could turn things around before much more damage was done.
Important to both her career and Cory's, it was even more important to the success of the war. She had no question in regard to the relative priorities, but there was no conflict. She could satisfy both needs at once.
***
Andy was an early riser. It was an old habit, deeply ingrained from childhood. Responsible people didn't sleep until noon, or even 0800. At 0645, she slid into the lopsided chair behind the Wireless CO's desk and began to sort the contents of the in- box by priority and date.
While she worked, she listened, wondering if Hasty was an early rising alcoholic or a late sleeping one. He appeared just before 0700. An early one, then. Standing, she stuck her head around the partition.
"Morning, Sarge. Got a minute?"
"Yessir...er, Ma'am." This morning, he was making an effort, at least. He ambled over to the doorway and stood, very nearly at attention.
"At ease. I think we need to have a little talk." His eyes were bloodshot, but not bleary and they held an animal wariness.
"Yes'm, if the Captain thinks so."
She'd bet he'd made some inquiries and perhaps determined the new CO would not be as easy to snow as the last one. Knowing that made her job a slight bit easier. At least his alcohol- induced lack of respect was gone.
"You've had a war and so have I, Sarge, but that doesn't mean we know everything there is to know about this one. San Juan Delgado and the three Ds may have jungle, but they aren't Vietnam. They may have sand, and we may have similar equipment, but they aren't the Persian Gulf, either."
His gaze met hers briefly, flickered away. He shuffled his feet, swayed slightly as he stood. He's nervous. Good, maybe I'm getting through.
"What I'm saying is our experience is only as good as our ability to modify what we've learned to fit new circumstances. Everyone who was in 'Nam wasn't a hero any more than everyone in Desert Storm. You were the one place and I was the other, but now we're both here and we've got some new jobs to do. Mine is to see Wireless Company gives the men out there on the lines the very best support possible and yours is to help me do that."
He squared his shoulders and stood a tad straighter, a hint of the good NCO he might once have been in his demeanor. There was still a core of true metal somewhere inside him.
"First off," Andy continued, "I'm going to establish some rules for prioritizing requests and work orders, and you're going to enforce them. If you can't, bring the problems to me. Second, we don't take no for an answer when it comes to things we need to get our job done. We turn our own supply operation inside out and then we move up to the next echelon and make sure they jump through their tails. We keep going up until we get what we need. Got that?"
He nodded. "Yes'm. Got it."
"The troops will be here in a few minutes. Today, I want you to get that supply room in A-1 order. I want a complete inventory on my desk tomorrow morning and I don't care if it takes all night to get it. We aren't working union rules now; there's a war on out there. Got that?"
"Yes, Ma'am." There was a strong trace of respect now in both his face and his voice, grudging respect perhaps, but that was good enough.
"One more thing, Sarge. I don't tolerate drinking on duty. If that's going to be a problem, I suggest you pull any strings you can to get yourself reassigned."
He swallowed once, hard. "Yes, Ma'am. Is that all -- for now?"
She nodded. "I think so. Go get a working party organized to tackle that supply mess."
He gave her a credible salute before he turned and marched out. The rest of the day went much the same. She got around to almost every key person in the company. Sometimes she asked questions; sometimes she issued orders, and now and then, she had a word of praise to offer, but by sundown, Wireless Company definitely knew somebody was in charge.
Not too many Army folks knew of a retired Air Force General named Howard Hollis, but if they had, they would not have been surprised to learn the new CO was his daughter. Unlike Howlin' Howard, though, she didn't have to raise her voice or utter one word of profanity to make her presence felt. That night she slept better than she had in almost three months, even if she did dream about Cory Costain.
***
After things settled down, Colonel Costain held staff call for his officers at least once a week, first thing Monday morning. If there was business enough to make it worthwhile, he held another, usually on Thursday. Otherwise, he just called or went to see whoever he needed to talk to. Meetings took up too much valuable time -- he had no patience for them unless they were absolutely essential.
As XO, Andy had held the task of ensuring everyone was reminded and collecting everything required for the briefings. The rare times when Cory was not available, she had conducted the meetings herself. She was not timid, but still, standing up in front of every officer in the Brigade and pretending to be in charge took a kind of brass she lacked. It was never easy.
Now though, as CO of Wireless once again, she had only to worry about her own brief report. The second Monday after she changed assignments, she slipped in a few minutes late, trying to be as silent and unobtrusive as possible.
Cory gave her a quick hard glance but did not otherwise acknowledge her tardiness. Steve Petty looked up as she slid into the adjacent chair, a question in his dark eyes.
"Trouble?" he asked in a whisper.
She shook her head. "Not really. Actually a problem solved. We found those darn circuit boards and antenna parts we've been needing."
Cory looked her way again and she fell silent, knowing from experience he wasn't above a sarcastic comment if he was in that sort of mood. She didn't want to push her luck. Going back to Wireless was all the favor she could possibly hope for. Now, she wanted to draw as little attention to herself as she could.
In a few moments, Cory finished his briefing and began to call for reports from his staff. When he got to Andy, she stood up, as was the custom.
"By the end of this week, we should have no item in for first echelon maintenance that's been on the dead line for more than five days. All second and third echelon work in has gone forward, and we've received about sixty percent of our due-in replacement components. I'm pleased to report the missing circuit boards and antenna spares have been located and the problem resolved. The two forward support teams are still on the road, taking care of the equipment problems the Third and the Twenty-first were having. I understand we can even talk to the Marines out there again."
That comment drew a chuckle while she caught her breath.
"Sir, listening to the briefings, it sounds to me like there's a real need for a relay antenna somewhere like Sangre de Cristo Peak. I think we could do it, probably within about five days, unless the insurgents get around behind both the Third Armored and the Marines."
"You're one step ahead of me, Captain Hollis. General Corcoran is requesting that very thing. I was hesitant to make him any promises until we'd discussed it."
"We can do it, sir." Excitement surged through Andy as she resumed her seat. Her thoughts were already on the move, planning the best and fastest way to get the components for a repeater/relay antenna up the 12,850 foot peak which overlooked most of the region the U.N. forces were slowly wresting from the rebels' control.
She kept just enough attention on the rest of the reports and briefings to be sure she didn't miss anything critical. Still, she was startled when Cory dismissed the group and more so when he addressed her.
"Captain Hollis, may I have a few minutes of your time?"
Oh, oh. I'm going to get chewed out for being late or for talking to Steve. As she approached him, Cory was frowning, clearly deep in thought.
"Yes, sir. What is it?"
He looked up, his pale blue eyes intent. "In your best judgment, Andy, is it do-able? I didn't make any commitments, any promises. There's no road past the village of Todos Santos, and that's only about ninety-five hundred feet, quite a ways from the summit. There's close to a ton of material in one of those antenna assemblies. That's a lot to pack."
Andy didn't hesitate. "It can be done, sir. I'm sure of it. We set one up on Al Buraq Peak in Saudi, right on the border. It wasn't as high an elevation, of course, but we were under threat of Scud attack all the time. I don't think the rebels have missiles -- at least they haven't used any. If there are burros or mules we can rent in the village, it'll help, but the antenna and the tower will break down into man-transportable pieces if we have to do it that way. Just makes the assembly a little slower."
"They're different than the NXC73s, then."
"Oh yes, sir. Lighter, especially. They've used that airframe type metal and a sort of honeycomb construction in the main beams. And you can put more than one type of antenna on the tower, too."
He nodded, smiled slightly. "Good stuff, then. We keep improving things. All right, if you're comfortable with it, I'll pass the word back to the General. How soon?"
This time she did hesitate, just long enough to make some quick mental calculations. "Give me a week. Ten days at the most, in case of real problems. It should be sooner, though. If I can get the trucks today to take everything to Todos Santos all at once..."
"You've got them. Whatever we have to divert or delay, you've got them. This is top priority."
"I'd like to have some MPs to guard stuff while we're moving it, but I guess that's too much to ask."
"You drive a tough bargain, Captain." Cory shook his head, a hint of a grin softening his lips and steady gaze. "I'll try. That's not a promise, but I'll try."
"Good enough, sir. And sir, I think I'd better go with the team. Lieutenant Webster, the new guy, can take the company while I'm gone. He's sharp, but I've done this before and he hasn't."
Cory looked at her for a long moment, not speaking. For a breath, she thought he was going to argue the point, but then he said, "You're running Wireless, Andy. It's your call. Whatever I can do to help, I'll do, but I won't second guess you. Keep in touch; that's all I ask."
"Yes, sir. I...we owe you that. The rest of the mission may suffer a little, sir, but I'll cover everything as best I can."
His expression gentled. "I know that, Andy. Wireless has done a one-eighty degree turn since you took over; it's back on track, as far as I can tell. Don't worry; I'll keep an eye on things, and put a bug in Webster's ear if it looks like I need to."
"From all I've seen so far, Webster's a good officer. I've got things moving, some rules and procedures in place. All he has to do is keep them going. He's just, well, not that familiar with our brand of Comms yet. If this was just an exercise, I'd send him, for the experience, but it's for real and it's critical. That's why I feel I should go."
If Cory was either irritated or swayed by her need to explain, he didn't show it. "How many trucks?" The question sounded completely matter-of-fact.
Go for broke, Andy decided. "Five. By noon, if possible. With drivers, at least some of 'em. And maybe a sixth, for the rest of the team. I think about ten or twelve should go."
He didn't even blink. "I'll have to check with Major Peyton in the motor pool."
"Okay, sir. Is that all?"
He drew a deep breath, then exhaled sharply. "Be careful."
Andy looked back at him, then, not just past or over him but squarely at him, eye to eye. For a breath, there was something different in his face, a concern that thrilled and scared her. It wasn't only the concern of a commander for one of his junior officers, more than that, but not quite the concern of a man for his woman, either. Perhaps both and yet neither. She swallowed.
"Yes, sir. I...we will." She turned away before she could say or do something stupid.
Cory watched her go, his feelings too mixed to sort out. He probably shouldn't have said those last words. Would he, to any other of his officers? Perhaps, but more likely not.
She was a good officer, a strong, sure, no-nonsense officer. In two weeks, she'd turned Wireless from a disaster to an asset. If it was possible to put a repeater/relay on Sangre de Cristo Peak, she'd get it done. As far as he'd heard, the people of Todos Santos were not sympathetic to the rebels. The war had cut off the mining that provided the villagers their livelihood. But who knew, really?
Like in Vietnam, it was hard to tell the good guys from the bad. He felt a sudden urgency to confer with the S-2, Colonel Harlow. He still had contacts with the military intelligence folks -- if there was a hint of rebellion in Todos Santos, he'd soon know it. And then, get with Peyton about the trucks.
Andy almost ran, once she left the Brigade Office, racing to keep pace with her thoughts and plans. Hasty looked up as she burst through the door and Webster stuck his head around the partition to investigate the commotion.
"Sarge, call the section chiefs and get them up here ASAP. We've got to get moving! General Corcoran wants that antenna on Sangre de Cristo Peak and they needed it yesterday."
"Yes, Ma'am!" The change in the old sergeant in two weeks was little short of phenomenal. He had taken a new lease on life and found a new purpose. He still hearkened back to Vietnam, but without the alcoholic haze, his perspective proved considerably clearer. He might head for the temporary NCO club as soon as he left work at night, but during the day, Andy felt sure he stayed sober.
Within a few minutes, the key people of the company gathered in the hut, crowded like sardines, their excitement coloring the muggy air.
"We've got a job to do," Andy announced. "Vic, it looks like we think the same way Major General Corcoran does."
"The Peak?" Master Sergeant Victor Ortega's jet eyes lit with enthusiasm. "All right! When?"
"ASAP. Like last week. We're going to hit the road today. Have you got all the parts for one NTQ79 ready to go?"
"Yes ma'am."
"Good. Colonel Costain promised me five trucks by noon. We want to set up a microwave repeater and a shortwave, too. So that'll mean an extra load of parts. We'll need at least ten people to set things up. With a little luck, we can rent some pack animals in Todos Santos, but we can't count on it. We may have to be our own mules."
Andy looked around, touching each person with her gaze. She saw her excitement reflected in every face. This would be the kind of assignment they all hoped to do, directly accomplishing a task critical to the war.
"Once we're up and running, I'll want about three teams of five to operate and monitor the system. We'll rotate the duty. That antenna has got to stay on line, so we'll have to keep a maintenance crew right there, at least in the village. If we keep our preventive maintenance up, we should be able to keep it on line. Any questions?"
"Are you accepting volunteers, Ma'am?"
Andy smiled at the questioner, another of her best NCOs. "Do bears crap in the woods? You bet! So long as we get the right mix of people. We need at least two fully trained technicians. That's seven-level mechanics, and everybody's got to be able to carry a pretty good load, say seventy pounds or more. No altitude sickness in your records, either. It's over twelve thousand feet up there."
"How many did you say?"
This from another NCO, a new man in the unit.
"At least ten, for now. If we can get fifteen, that's even better. No more than that, though. One technician and four others from the setup crew will have to take the first watch while the rest come back. I'll get that five relieved as soon as I can."
Pride surged through Andy at the positive reaction of her people. This was what she lived for: providing leadership to a gung-ho group of the Army's best.
"Who's going to be in charge?"
"I will. Lieutenant Webster will carry on with things here."
"Anything else, ma'am?"
"No, I think everybody knows what needs to be done, right? We've still got repairs to take care of and all the usual stuff. Everybody has an important job to do, whether you go or stay. It doesn't matter if you're climbing that peak or replacing circuit boards in the shop. I don't want anyone to lose sight of the that. There isn't anybody here we don't need; if you weren't essential, you wouldn't be here. Be sure all the troops know that."
Andy heard a muted chorus of assent as everyone turned to file out.
"The trucks should be here by noon, maybe sooner," she reminded them. "I want everything ready to go. That includes chow -- MREs -- for all of us for seven days and for five days more for the maintenance crew. A full instrument and tool kit to stay there. Spares. We don't want any excess weight, but we can't come back for anything we forgot, so think it through. That's your responsibility as NCOs."
Again, all the answers were affirmative. Still smiling, Andy turned to her own tasks.
Cory proved as good as his word. Promptly at 1130, a convoy of five trucks pulled into the company area. It didn't take thirty minutes to load up. There were three drivers from the motor pool and two of Andy's troops with government licenses volunteered to take the other two trucks. Not long before they were ready to head out, still looking for places to stow everyone's packs, a HUM-V rattled up, pulling a utility trailer. Cory stepped out from behind the wheel.
"Best I can do, Captain. This will carry the packs, anyway, and a couple or three of the troops. The rest will just have to bunch up in the truck cabs."
"This is fine, sir. We appreciate everything, we really do."
Andy reached when Cory held out the keys, careful not to touch his strong, brown fingers. He stepped back while the two privates started loading packs. In a few minutes, they were ready to go. Besides Andy, there were twelve enlisted.
She'd had to turn down two volunteers. Hasty had asked to go, and he was hardest to refuse. She felt sure he wasn't in shape to carry a load at the altitudes where they'd be working, and although she hadn't checked, she knew he was well past forty. She framed her refusal as gently and carefully as she could.
"I need you here, Sarge. Lieutenant Webster is still pretty new. He's got to have somebody to help him keep things going, a cool head and one who knows the ropes. You're the best I have for that. I'm counting on you. We've got to keep things on track, not lose any of the ground we've picked up these last two weeks."
He nodded. "Yes, ma'am, we do, and I'll see to it. Good luck up there."
"Thanks, Sarge. I expect we'll need it."
He stood now in the doorway of the office, a mixture of pride and regret stamped across his blunt features. When Andy caught his glance for a moment, he saluted smartly. She returned the gesture and glanced at the other two senior NCOs who were going with her, Ortega and Sergeant First Class Campbell. "We all set?"
"Yes, ma'am. Everything's ready." Campbell, a lanky man with a close cropped head of dusty blond hair, grinned at her as he spoke.
"Well, let's go."
Somebody opened the gate in their segment of the parameter fence and the first truck rolled out. Andy tossed the HUM-V keys to Corporal Hawkins. Private Sloan scrambled into the back as she climbed into the passenger seat and clipped her seat belt.
Just before they started off, she looked back at Cory. He stood at the edge of the porch in front of the company office hut, his feet a little apart and his back very straight.
"Good luck, Captain." His face looked set and stern, but she caught a hint of warmth in his eyes that belied the expression.
"Thank you, sir. We should be back by Friday evening unless we run into trouble. We've got the radio; we'll be in touch."
He nodded, his face impassive, giving away nothing. She had no clue to his thoughts except for a vague sense he would have preferred to make the expedition himself, were it possible. But Brigade Commanders had responsibilities far too complex and deep to set aside to do a company grade officer's task. They exchanged salutes as the HUM-V rolled forward.
Andy sighed. Maybe she should have stayed herself and sent Lieutenant Webster, but she didn't think so. And as Cory had promised, he didn't try to second guess her.
For the first eight miles, they followed a paved road. Then it forked and their route was the narrower, unpaved branch. Within a mile, Andy had to slip her sun glasses off and blow the dust from them. At the end of the convoy, they got the worst of it.
When she could see again, she studied the terrain. The mountains were not far from the coast here, and the foothills started near the point where the cliff edges plunged down to the sea.
About a hundred miles up river, she'd heard, a rich and fertile valley lay, shared by the three little countries. Cut off from the outside world by the mountains and the two thousand-foot high cascades by which the river sought sea level, this was the area where the battle now raged. For some reason, the rebels had chosen to make their stand there. The terrain made communication difficult to impossible.
But over the valley, one dominant peak loomed, nearly two thousand feet higher than the rest. Visible from the coast and even miles out to sea, Sangre de Cristo Peak dominated the region. An antenna on its summit would do much to alleviate the communication problems. A road of sorts wound up to the village of Todos Santos and its mine, over halfway up the peak. The mine dated back to the time of the Conquistadores. Andy hoped they could get that far with the trucks.
From the village, according to the map and recon photos she'd studied, a trail went on. That narrow track circled not far below the summit on its way to a pass, about twenty-five hundred feet lower, and several villages, even more isolated than Todos Santos. Somehow, they'd get from that trail to the summit. The upper reaches of the peak were steep and rugged, but at least not quite vertical. Maybe there would be some game trails or something. She'd just have to wait and see.
The road twined its way up the mountain, through jungle covered foothills and on to more sparsely wooded slopes, skirting cliffs and crossing tumbling streams, some at fords and others on rickety bridges.
More than once, Andy wanted to close her eyes and pretend she was somewhere else. Hawkins had begun to look a little green beneath his natural deep tan, but he drove on, the HUM-V making the caboose of their little train.
Never more than one truck at a time on a bridge. They made and followed that rule instinctively. Fortunately, the all-wheel-drive six-by-sixes had short wheel bases and were able to maneuver around hairpin turns and partial washouts. Luckily for them, the war had cut off mining efforts, so no ore trucks were careening down the track on their way to the cog railway which moved ore from the mesa down to the docks at Bahia Buena.
Dusk was falling when they reached Todos Santos. So far, their only casualties were a few tires punctured by the sharp rocks. They pitched camp on the outskirts. The village well provided ample water, but it smelled a bit musty. Andy reminded everyone to use their Halzone tablets. After they dined on MREs, they all spread sleeping bags under the trucks.
Andy and the two enlisted women had the dubious privacy of one truck to themselves. Even though officially summer, since they were barely south of the equator, it grew chilly when the sun set. Andy detailed teams of two for two hour watches to be sure nothing was stolen or damaged. The villagers seemed friendly, but it would be foolish to be too trusting.
Ortega talked briefly with the village alcalde and returned to assure Andy they would have a selection of pack animals the next day from which they could rent as many as they needed. So far, everything was going almost too smoothly. Andy counted her blessings, not trusting the unusual luck to hold.
She awoke at sunrise, her bones protesting a chilly night on the rocky ground. At least they had water, and could use Sterno tabs to heat enough for coffee. Victor Ortega and Billie Perkins produced old fashioned coffee pots and soon had a hot cup for everyone. MREs weren't the greatest way to start the day, but everyone ate them, just the same.
"Anyone here raised on a farm or ranch?" Andy asked as the Privates gathered up the empty containers. "I hope somebody has been around livestock because I'll need help selecting and loading the pack animals we're going to use."
Sergeant Jed Jones and Specialist Katie Conroy raised their hands.
"Ma'am, my dad was a big game hunting guide in Wyoming. I've packed a few mules in my younger days," Jed said. "I'll be glad to help any way I can."
Andy refrained from smiling at his use of 'younger days'. He couldn't be over twenty-five at the most.
"I used to train horses," Katie admitted. "It's been awhile and I don't know too much about packing, but I think I can pick out the sound and gentler ones, ma'am."
Red-headed and splattered with rusty freckles, the tall, lean girl seemed very shy, but now her tone held a certain pride and confidence.
Andy nodded. "Good. I appreciate your help, both of you. Okay Jed, you're in charge of this project, and Katie will back you up. Vic, you come along to interpret for us. Seems like your border Spanish works better than my textbook version with these folks. The rest of you can start breaking down the gear into ten equal piles of two hundred pounds or so. It's got to balance -- not one big heavy item, if possible. We'll have to carry the smaller and more fragile stuff ourselves."
Campbell nodded his agreement. "Yes, ma'am. I'll take care of that while you're gone."
"All right. We'll be back with the pack train as quickly as we can. You're in charge here until we return, Mike." The lanky NCO nodded and began to direct the others in unloading the trucks.
Andy and the three she had chosen walked quickly down through the village to the large stone walled corral just off the central plaza. There the alcalde, or mayor, of Todos Santos waited with several other villagers.
Andy wrinkled her nose at the pungent odors of the livestock and the village's morning fires, all apparently smoky. A few substantial looking buildings rimmed the plaza, but most of the homes were little more than huts built of gray stone and odd scraps of wood.
A stone-walled corral just off the plaza held about thirty burros and small mules. Most of them were shaggy and bony, and they all looked too small and frail to carry much beyond their own poor bodies. Andy shook her head in dismay, but after a brief conversation with the mayor, Vic told Jed and Katie to go on in and look the animals over. Though an interested observer, Andy could not see what made them select one animal and reject another, try as she might. It took almost an hour to pick ten for their pack train.
Two of the villagers produced enough crude rope halters for all of them and Jed and Katie soon led their choices out. Vic bargained a few minutes and finally gained agreement on a rental fee which included pack saddles.
They started back to the temporary camp, Jed and Katie each proudly leading five pack animals. Under Jed's supervision, the ten beasts were loaded and then the smaller items were distributed among the soldier's packs.
Finally, at mid morning, they started off up the trail. Narrower, steeper and even more poorly defined than the road, in the words of the two Privates, it made 'awesome going.' As they climbed up the side of the peak, the route got progressively worse.
At one point, they had to traverse a ledge from which the mountain fell away in a near vertical slope, unbroken for almost fifteen hundred feet. Corporal Hawkins led the seventh burro. When he reached the start of the ledge, he came to a dead stop. Behind him, the remaining three animals and their leaders also stopped.
Andy had dropped back along the column to be sure everyone was all right. She now brought up the rear, having entrusted to Jed the task of finding and following the trail.
"What's wrong?" she called, after they had been halted for a minute or so.
"I think it's Hawkins," Katie replied. She'd been assigned as rear guard, watching to see that no one straggled or had any problems with the burros.
"Okay. I'm coming up." Andy edged along, past the burros, mindful of their heels, although none showed any inclination to kick. She took one look at the young man's face, pale and greenish beneath his dusky tan and knew she had a problem.
"I...I can't go out there, Ma'am," he said weakly. "I'm gonna fall off, sure as sin."
"It's all right, Hawkins. Let me help you." With him half behind her, on the inside, she took the burro's lead and started off. The young man walked a few steps and froze again.
"I just can't do it," he said. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have volunteered, but I never guessed it would be like this."
Andy shook her head, struggling with a moment's despair. Oh boy. What now? I can't send him back alone and I really can't spare more from the team. She backed the burro several steps to the wider area, leading the trembling corporal with her. Then, she sent the other three on, staying behind.
"Have Jed unload one burro and bring it back here," she told Katie. "I've got a wild idea." They waited for almost twenty minutes, Andy holding the burro while it munched with unconcern on the scraggly shrubs along the trail. Hawkins sat on a rock, his head bowed forward almost to his bony knees. Finally Jed returned, leading a larger but singularly ratty looking burro.
"Okay, Ma'am. Got here as quick as I could. Want's the problem?"
Andy waved a hand at the seated soldier. "We've got to get Hawkins past this. He's got a real phobia about heights. My idea is to blindfold him and tie him on the burro so there's no way he can fall off and just sort of pack him across."
Jed reddened a bit. "I understand his feelings. To tell the truth, I'm spooked too, Ma'am. I wouldn't let myself look down or even over that way or I couldn't have made it."
"It's nothing to be ashamed of," Andy said. "I have a problem about caves and such. Close me up where it's dark and I freak. But do you think my idea would work?"
"I honestly don't know, ma'am. Hawkins, are you willing to try it?"
The corporal nodded. "Yeah, so long as I can't see, I think I'll be all right. Those donkeys are s'posed to be real sure footed, aren't they? Do you think that one will let me ride it?"
"Don't know why not," Jed said. "Come on and we'll see." The tall corporal looked a little foolish, once astride the small creature, for his feet were only inches from the ground, but Jed tied a secure line around his waist and fastened it to the pack saddle, front and rear. Then, they made him a blindfold from a bandana and started out across the ledge.
It looked worse than it was, Andy soon realized. A yard wide, it seemed quite stable and the stone was just rough enough not to be slippery. She sighed her relief as she walked slowly along, just behind the burro.
"Want me to lead the burro?" Andy offered belatedly, recalling Jed's confession.
"No, ma'am. It's easier if I have something to do, keeps my mind off of it. Just make sure Hawkins doesn't slip."
"Okay, Jed. Just keep going." Andy walked carefully, a hand ready to grab Hawkins if he swayed too much in the improvised harness. Somehow, they made it. The ledge was only about a quarter of a mile long, and curved around a main spur ridging off from the peak.
They could now see the craggy top which loomed over them like a massive gray castle. Beyond the ledge, the trail dipped into a small valley. The rest of the team waited there. When she rejoined them, Andy decided to call a lunch break.
They ate their MREs, drank and watered the burros in the rushing, ice-cold stream which meandered down the grassy little meadow, and checked all the packs. After the break, they all seemed ready to start off again. Andy hoped they'd passed the worst spot, but looking up at the frowning gray crag above, she had her doubts.
By mid-afternoon, they could see where the trail dipped into a saddle between Sangre de Cristo and another peak, as the twisting path headed off to an even more remote village. The time had come to leave the trail and make their own way to the summit.
When they stopped for a rest, Andy conferred with Jed. They compared what they could see with the topographic map. Finally, they selected a route, not quite direct, but one which would skirt the cliffs and the roughest looking part of an old rock slide.
"We don't need to try any technical climbing," Andy said. "I don't think the burros, agile as they are, can use pitons and ascenders."
"I don't care to either, Ma'am," Jed admitted. He traced a route with his finger on the map and then gestured to the mountain side, looming above them. "This looks like the best we can do."
"Do we try for the top or camp here in the saddle and go up in the morning?" Andy queried, polling the group who stood in a loose bunch, both burros and soldiers drooping from their efforts.
"Have you seen any signs of altitude sickness? We're getting up pretty high." Sergeant Campbell voiced the question, a frown of concern creasing his angular face.
"No, have you?"
"Well, I was wondering about Hawkins-thought that might be part of his problem."
"He seemed all right once we got off that ledge, though," Jed said, glancing back at the man they discussed.
Andy also looked and then nodded. "Let's go on. I think we can make it before dark." There was still a good three hours before sundown. With a little luck, they'd make it.
They did -- barely. The weary and bedraggled group straggled onto the summit just as the sun settled in a fiery ball on the distant horizon. They found the summit nearly level for perhaps an acre or two. A jumble of jagged black rocks ranging from basketball to Volkswagen size scattered across the area, and a broken hollow marred one side, perhaps the remains of a very old volcanic crater.
Among the boulders, the group made camp. They ate quietly and spread sleeping bags, trying to find shelter from the incessant wind. The boulders offered some protection, but not enough.
Tired as she was, Andy took the time to check with each team member before she settled down for the night. She found blisters and bruises but nothing worse. Everyone seemed as cheerful as could be expected. They all agreed the effort was off to a good start.
Even the burros huddled together, tails to the wind. Although there was nothing for them to eat, the villagers had assured Vic the hardy little animals would be all right. Jed tied the forefeet of the big old jenny together to limit her mobility, explaining to Andy that the rest would not leave their leader.
As eager as she was for the warmth and comfort of her sleeping bag, Andy first took out the two way radio and set it up, extending its small built-in antenna. She didn't know if she could reach the Base Camp, but she had promised Cory -- damn it, no. Make that Colonel Costain -- she would try.
Huddled beside a rock on the coast side of the summit, she adjusted the short antenna with chill-stiff fingers. If she used her imagination, she could believe she saw the lights of the Base Camp, almost a small city.
On the open and well-patrolled mesa, they had no reason to observe black-out discipline. As far as anyone knew, the rebels had no aircraft. So far, it had been strictly a ground war. The rough terrain made for dangerously violent and unpredictable air currents, so even helicopters were not practical. Driving a jet among the peaks and over the steep-sided, narrow valleys would be tantamount to a suicide mission.
Andy picked up the mike and keyed it. "Base Camp, this is Mountain Goat. Do you read me? Mountain Goat calling Base Camp."
She heard a crackle of static and then a voice. "Ten four, Mountain Goat. We read."
"We made it. We're up here. Please pass that word to Colonel Costain. We're on top, no casualties. Tomorrow we start the mission."
"Good going, Mountain Goat. Just one thing, Intel said today that the killer bees may have stingers. Suggest you attempt to build a bunker, just in case."
"Got that, Base Camp. Build bunker. Roger, over and out." Andy turned to Vic Ortega, who had come to kneel beside her. "Did you hear that?"
He nodded. "Sounds like the rebels have some kind of missile, huh? Maybe kinda like the Scuds."
Andy smiled with a certain grimness. "Yeah, but unless they're a lot better, at least the guidance systems, the chances of one hitting up here must be astronomical. Still, you never know, I guess."
"We can probably roll some of those rocks up and make a pretty good shelter. It'll help with the wind, anyway," Vic suggested.
"That's true. I'll put about four on it tomorrow, while the rest of us start on the tower."
As she slid into her sleeping bag a short while later, Andy felt a niggle of worry. Trying to do two things at once was that much more difficult. Still, shelter was a critical need, especially for the maintenance team who would be staying behind. The wind really got to you.
When they awoke the next morning, clouds swathed the peak and a near-freezing drizzle fell, chilling them even through parkas and ponchos. Andy needed only one look at Hawkins to tell he was definitely ill.
"Jed, we're going to have to get Hawkins down the hill," she said, after they all crawled out and started to make coffee. "Is that biggest burro pretty steady?"
"Seems to be. We going to have to pack him all the way down?"
"If that beast is strong enough to carry him all the way back to the village. If not, we'll have to rig a litter and several of us carry him down. If it's altitude sickness, he's going to keep getting worse, the longer he stays. We don't have much choice." Andy scowled at her steaming cup, hating the hard decisions she faced.
Jed hunkered beside her, blowing across his cup. "I think the big old jenny can handle him. Those burros are a lot stronger than they look."
"Okay. We'll have to tie him on again. I don't know what else to do. There's no way to get a helicopter up here. It's just too risky, but he's got to get off this mountain. Will you need help, getting him and the burros down?"
"I don't think so, ma'am. You need everybody that came up here."
Andy nodded reluctantly. "I know. Since we left two trucks down in the village, plus the HUM-V, maybe you'd better drive him back to Base. He's definitely got a problem. My first guess is altitude sickness, but it could be something else."
"I can see that, ma'am. You're right, but I hate to be the one to go."
"How about Katie? Can she drive a six by six?"
"I can drive the HUM-V, at least." The lanky girl crossed to squat beside them. "Overheard part of what you were saying, ma'am. I can get the burros down all right and unless Hawkins passes out on me, I'll manage him too. I'm not a real technician, either. I just changed my MOS six months ago, so I'm not fully trained yet, probably as expendable as anyone, but I'll come right back, anyway."
Andy looked at her. Katie had always been quiet, keeping in the background, and Andy had assumed she was very shy or lacking in either confidence or capability. Now though, Andy could see the determined jut of the girl's jaw and the firm glint in her brown eyes.
"Are you sure? We can't afford any accidents. I don't want to lose anyone or any equipment on this mission." Andy studied the younger woman as she spoke, watching her reactions, trying to read her thoughts
"I can do it. Like I said, I'm not a technician and Jed is. He's more valuable here than I am, and I'm not sure anyone else could manage the burros. Hawkins might feel better when we get down to the village, but if he can't drive, I'll get him down to Base and then I'll head right back."
"No, I'll just put you on the next team, since you know the way up here now. Okay, Specialist Conroy, you've got it. Jed can help you get ready."
"Yes, ma'am," they both spoke, almost together. In less than an hour, Katie started off, leading the big old jenny. Hawkins, tied in the pack saddle which they'd padded with two sleeping bags, slumped over the burro's neck. The rest of the animals fell in line, starting willingly down the hill.
"Good luck," Andy called. "Take it real easy."
Now, she had ten soldiers left plus herself. She detailed the four least experienced to work on the shelter, stressing the need for protection from the wind and weather and mentioning the possible missile threat casually, as an afterthought. Then, with the others, she set about the main task of erecting the tower for the antenna.
The antenna had to be positioned carefully where it commanded a line-of-sight angle to the base camp while also reaching as much of the inner valleys as possible in the same manner. Struggling with the complications made by the uneven terrain and the wind, they made a slow job of it. Everything had to be as sturdy as they could make it, simply to withstand the constant battering of the wind.
At midday they took a short break for food and coffee. The whole team huddled together the partially completed shelter. The wind sapped their strength while the cold drizzle had everyone chilled to the bone.
Perkins came over and squatted beside Andy. "I've got an idea, ma'am. If we dig some, maybe get down two or three feet, we can stretch a couple of tarps from the packs across the top and still almost be able to stand up. There's no permafrost, anyway. In between the rocks, the ground isn't even too hard. Does that sound all right?"
"It sure does," Andy said. "You might be able to use some of the cardboard and other packing material we bundled the beams in, too. Take any of it you can use."
***
It took them two days to erect the tower. To stabilize it, they tied each leg to a boulder with some of the steel bands with which the beams had been bundled together, and heaped more rocks at their bases to add further support. At least the second day, the clouds broke in the afternoon, giving them the respite of several hours of sunshine. Even the wind eased a bit.
That evening, Andy called Base again to report on their progress. She also needed to assure herself and the others that Katie and Hawkins had made the trip down safely. The first few minutes, she got nothing but static. Finally, she sorted a voice out of the erratic noise.
Shutting her eyes, she visualized the busy clutter of the Comm Shack, set up in one of the prefab huts at the Camp. Even in communications, they tended to think of the dedicated equipment operators as "the gnomes." Many of them did seem strange and half-fey. Their normal posture was a bit hunched from long hours crouching over a radio, radar, or other piece of equipment, every sense focused on getting the messages through.
Not every message was critical, of course, but in war, many were. So you treated them all that way. As part of their initial training, most communications officers learned how to operate one or more of the systems, but it was mid-level enlisted people who dedicated their lives to becoming human links in the networks. Andy had never appreciated them quite so much before.
"Go ahead, Mountain Goat. We read you."
"Ten four, Base. We sent back two troops in the jeep yesterday. Did they get there okay?"
"Yep, about seventeen hundred yesterday. Lieutenant Wallace took Hawkins right to sick bay."
"Any word on him?"
"Altitude sickness. The Colonel says he's going to be all right. The Colonel also wanted us to tell you there are reports of a real bad storm coming in off the ocean. Out of season, but it looks like a rough one, lots of wind. You may have to sit it out up there. Got that bunker made?"
"Ten four, base. We can do whatever we have to. Pass the word we have the tower up. We'll install tomorrow and may have it on line the next day."
"Ten four. Is that all?"
"Roger, over and out."
Andy folded up the radio and carried it back into the shelter, which had taken shape very well. Sergeant Perkins, Sergeant Evans and the two privates had done a fine job. Using loose rock, they'd made almost an igloo, the opening on top covered with tarps, cardboard, and a layer of dirt and smaller rocks.
It almost looked like a natural formation. That made it unobtrusive, should any high- flying surveillance aircraft pass over. Tomorrow, they'd finish the ramp leading down inside and a zigzag walled entrance to baffle the wind. Inside they were much warmer. Even the constant wail and moan of the wind was softened.
That afternoon, the privates had gone down to the nearest little valley where a spring supplied clear water. Enough brush and scrubby trees grew there to make a little firewood, too. On the crude hearth near the entrance, a fire now burned, lighting the hut as darkness fell.
Andy praised everyone, recognizing the outstanding team efforts by which they'd accomplished so much so quickly under decidedly adverse conditions. She smiled at the ten grubby faces bent over their meals as an almost maternal love for each one swept over her. True, three of the NCOs were actually older than she was, but the rest were young, down to Private Sloan, who had just turned nineteen. Compared to that, her thirty-two seemed almost ancient.
If a child had resulted from her short-lived marriage, she'd have a teenager now, a kid only a little younger than the two youngest she now led. Thank goodness for small favors. She'd rather 'mother' her troops any day.
They were all tired and ready for bed soon after supper. Although she wasn't sure it was necessary, Andy insisted on maintaining a watch at night. By twos, the troops guarded in two hour stretches. At least one person stayed outside the hut at all times, and each sentry team walked around the mountain top every half hour. Once again, the night passed quickly and quietly.
The next morning, although the sun shone brightly, the wind came up, fitful, gusty and raw. The gusts made their job of assembling and positioning the repeater dish a real challenge. Two people had to climb the tower, hoist the dish and bolt it in place. After that, they linking up the tuning assembly so the precise adjustments could be made to relay signals between the inner valleys and the Base Camp.
Porterfield and Campbell volunteered for the tower work. They used safety harness to minimize the risk of falling, but it was still neither safe nor easy. Andy watched anxiously. Several times, the wind threatened to snatch the dish away from them and hurl it off down the inner slope of the mountain.
Finally they managed to get it bolted down. Next, they hauled up the tuning assembly and anchored the mechanism in place. Meanwhile, on the ground, Ortega and Cummins knelt with the test instruments, ready to calibrate and fine-tune the antenna.
"Okay," Campbell yelled down. "Give it a try."
Andy looked over the shoulders of the two NCOs. It wasn't that she didn't trust their competence, but sometimes one more pair of eyes could provide a critical back up, catching a small hint of something wrong, or a needed adjustment otherwise unnoticed. The rest of the team stood by. Everyone looked both hopeful and concerned, almost holding their breaths. What if some fragile but critical component had been damaged in transit or the wind would disturb the fine-tuning needed to achieve maximum accuracy and operation?
Vic twitched a dial, pushed another button and peered at the readout. He looked at Cummins and then at Andy.
"What do you think?"
"Good to go," Andy said. "It's right on."
"Right there. Latch it down quick. Don't even breath on it. She's perfect," Vic yelled. Campbell tightened the last bolts before he and Porterfield scrambled down.
"Well done, guys," Andy said. "We've got more than half the job done. Let's see how what the weather's going to do before we start to put up the Super Ear. It's about lunch time, anyway."
The joy and pride radiating from the ten dirty faces was surely matched by hers, Andy knew. She was so proud of them she almost ached.
The Super Ear was a newly-devised piece of equipment designed to scan for and pick up potential enemy communications. The system was so secret they didn't even officially discuss its existence. Everyone hoped it would provide the United Nations forces the edge they needed to defeat the rebels who had the advantage of familiarity with the difficult terrain.
The rebels, mostly native born Indians, could slip around in the jungles and mountains unseen, dash in to attack and run, almost without warning. As the war advanced, it became increasingly clear that somebody had to be planning operations and giving orders though. Since this was true, perhaps they could tune in on some of the communications to find what was happening, or about to happen.
As the morning passed, Andy had been too busy to notice, but she now saw the sun dimmed while a gray wall of clouds rimmed the western sky, obscuring most of the view towards the coast. The wind had risen to become even more gusty and violent.
"I don't like the feel of this," Jed said, as they trooped back to the hut to eat. "If I was back home and had a hunting party out, I'd be heading for shelter about now."
"You're probably right," Andy agreed, "but we're stuck here. We couldn't get down the mountain before the storm hits, and we'd still have to come back and finish the mission. When I talked to Base last night, they mentioned a tropical storm was headed this way. Maybe it won't be too bad. At least with two less people, rations won't run short for a couple more days if we're delayed."
By the time they ate, the clouds had swallowed the westering sun. Soon a mixture of icy rain and sleet began to slash down, driven by fierce wind.
"Nothing to do but sit tight," Andy said, peering out the doorway into the blizzard. "We may as well relax."
It turned into a long, slow afternoon. Even with a small fire, the inside of the hut was dark and gloomy. By the light of a battery-powered lantern, six of the crew played Hearts while the others crawled into their sleeping bags and napped. Andy fidgeted, listening to the keening wind.
Inside the shelter, they were well enough protected, but outside, the temperature was only slightly above freezing. The wind velocity set the chill factor close to zero. Andy realized the storm was as bad and perhaps more dangerous than the Saudi dust storms.
As the afternoon wore on, the wind shifted when the storm center apparently passed them to the north. Then the wind fell off rapidly. They realized at that point just how loud it had been as something near silence fell with the approach of twilight. Then they could hear a strange grating, creaking noise.
Jed, who had been napping, got up and stepped just outside the entrance. "What's that sound? Wait, something must be wrong with the tower or the antenna!"
Before Andy could respond, he was gone. She grabbed her parka, ducked out and hurried after him. It took the rest of the group a few minutes to struggle into boots and parkas before they emerged to scramble after them. Andy struggled into her parka as she ran, keenly aware of the biting cold.
Sure enough, something was very wrong. Against the paler gray of the cloudy sky, she saw the repeater dish now hung at an odd angle. When she reached the base of the tower, she could see one of its support beams was bent or broken. Even in the very light breeze, the fragile dish wobbled as she watched.
Jed grabbed a rope. Before Andy could stop him, he began to climb the tower. In a few seconds, he reached the top and got the rope in place to steady the wobbling dish before it could be damaged by hitting the tower. The rest of the crew pelted up, dismay written on every face.
"Looks like two of the bolts tore right out of the beam," Jed called down. "We're going to have to reinforce it somehow, improvise something."
Mike Campbell shrugged another rope over his shoulder. "I'm coming up to take a look. We've got some of the boards left from the packing around the leg beams. Maybe we can do something with them."
"We used some for the shelter," Perkins said. "but I'll go get the rest."
Andy waited, unsure what she could do to help. From the ground, she couldn't see the full extent of the damage. Still, using the wood seemed like their best bet.
She heard Mike Campbell warn Jed when he reached the junior man's side.
"You better get down and get into a harness."
"I don't dare let go. Another swing or two and this thing could just bust loose."
A cold dread began to build in Andy's stomach. Everything had gone too well. Inevitably, their luck had changed.
As darkness fell rapidly, the wind began to rise again, this time from the northeast. They got out more lanterns and began the emergency repair. Using hardwood slats from the shipping pallets and packing, they reinforced the damaged honey-comb beam.
For awhile, four team members were up on the tower, two steadying the dish while the other two bolted the wood into place. Finally Mike Campbell declared it secure. He slid down, just as a bolt of lightening illuminated the mountain top to daylight brightness. He whistled through his teeth as the crash of thunder seemed to rock the mountain before it rumbled away.
"That was too close," he said.
"Come on, guys, get down as fast as you can," Andy yelled. "I don't like this one bit."
Porterfield and Evans scrambled down like monkeys, but Jed sat, frozen in place.
"Come on, Jed. Now. You've got to get down."
The wind picked up rapidly, nearing gale force again, while lightening sizzled around them. Andy turned to Mike Campbell.
"He's scared of heights, Sarge, and he's up there without the safety harness. I think he just panicked and froze. One of us has to go up and help him down."
"Gimme that harness, Porterfield, and hand me some more rope. I'll go up for him."
Vic Ortega started for the nearest leg of the squat tower but he didn't reach it before a brilliant bolt of lightening made the whole structure glow. Although the tower was well-grounded to prevent the equipment from shorting out, it was also just one big lightening rod.
The blast of electricity and noise, detonating around them like a bomb, stunned everyone. Most were knocked off their feet. Somehow, even above the din, Andy heard an inhuman scream. She knew it was Jed. She even imagined she saw him fall, the image burned into her eyes along with the arc-bright blaze of lightening.
"Oh my God! Oh, no!" She didn't know if she also screamed or only thought the anguished words, because after the thunder, she couldn't hear anything for several seconds. The shock threw Vic back several feet and she ran first to him.
"Mike, help me! The rest of you get back to the shelter. Hurry, before someone else gets hit."
Before Andy and Mike reached him, Vic struggled up, shaking his head like a pole- axed steer, swearing in Spanish.
Andy reached out to stop him. "Take it easy a minute. I don't think you were actually hit, but it came awfully close. Do you feel all right?"
"Yeah, I think so. ."
"I'll go see about Jed," Mike said. "Why don't you take Vic on back to the shelter, ma'am?"
Conflicting needs tore at Andy. Instinctively, she knew Jed was beyond help, but it wasn't an admission she wanted to make. Even if it were true, since he was under her command, she felt responsible. But Vic needed help, too. She could postpone the inevitable moment of unwelcome knowledge.
"I...uh, all right. I'll be right back."
The hut was only about seventy five yards away. Before she reached it with Vic staggering beside her, Private Sloan came out and met her. "Is everything all right, ma'am?"
"I'm not sure yet, Rick. Can you help Sergeant Ortega? Closest to the tower, he got a pretty rough shock. I've got to go back and help Sergeant Campbell."
"Yes ma'am." Though he was wide eyed and pale, the habit of obedience was firmly ingrained in the young soldier. He did as Andy directed.
She hurried back, scrambling down over the lip of the half-crater, where she knew Jed had fallen. Mike had a flashlight which led her to him. He knelt beside a camouflage-clad lump.
"He...he's gone," he said as Andy approached. "I expect he was dead before he ever hit the ground, but it's hard to tell. Uh, it isn't very pretty, ma'am."
"I understand, Mike. You don't have to run interference for me. I saw some casualties in the Gulf and in that big flood in Texas two years ago. I've got a pretty steady stomach."
Andy hoped she wouldn't make herself a liar before this was over. They both crouched instinctively as lightening flashed again, but this time it wasn't even close.
"We could prob'ly use a sleeping bag to move him," Mike suggested. "That's about all we have."
Andy nodded. "I'll get it." She hastened back to the hut and explained, as gently as possible, to the rest of the crew. Sergeant Perkins went back with her, and the three of them managed to get Jed's burned and broken body into the sleeping bag and carry him back to the hut. By unspoken agreement, they left their grim burden outside, against the leeward wall.
The rest of the mission was almost anticlimactic. The next day, they re-tuned the antenna and set up the Super Ear, which was smaller and went up without a hitch. The storm had moved on with scarcely a trace, while the sun mocked its remembered horrors.
Andy waited until the following day to start back, leaving Mike Campbell, Todd Evans, Pete Blair and Jim Porterfield to guard and maintain the precious installation.
"Be careful, guys," Andy cautioned, as they prepared to leave. "I'll get the relief team up here as soon as I can. We'll leave one truck, just in case there's a problem. You've got the two-way, too. Don't hesitate to yell for help if you need it. And, important as this equipment is, don't take any foolish chances. That damned antenna isn't worth any more lives."
She bit her lip hard and blinked against the sting of tears, but she couldn't wholly keep the bitter anguish out of her tone, however hard she tried. Turning resolutely, she led the subdued group down the mountain toward Todos Santos.
They reached the village before noon, taking turns carrying the crude stretcher bearing Jed Jones' body. The trucks left in the village seemed to have been untouched, but Specialist Hargrove and Sergeant Perkins checked one over carefully before they loaded up for the harrowing trip down the mountain.
Andy gave Perkins the keys and climbed into the cab, settling between him and Vic Ortega. The others shared the back with the improvised body bag.
As they wound down the hairpin turns, Andy slumped in her seat, tormented by nagging guilt. She knew she should have called in yesterday and informed Colonel Costain of the accident. She wasn't quite sure why she hadn't except perhaps by not talking about it, she could pretend it hadn't happened. That was a lousy excuse, though, and one the Colonel was not likely to buy.
Well, I guess I'll just deal with that when it's necessary. Sighing, she tried to push it all from her mind. She could not actually sleep in the jolting truck, but she managed to slide into a dulling stupor, just short of sleep and almost immune to any thought at all.
The closer they got to the Base Camp, the more Andy dreaded her inevitable debriefing with Colonel Costain. Although he had never done anything to indicate he disapproved of women in the military, particularly in command positions, she suspected he was just following the official Army position rather than expressing of his own feelings.
She knew he'd been in Vietnam, probably as an enlisted man, and few such old timers were really receptive to or supportive of equality in the military, to include command and combat roles for women.
Now she had a nagging suspicion she'd just proven their opposition right. Somehow she should have prevented the loss of one of her soldiers-a 'real' commanding officer would have. She wasn't sure how, or where she had gone wrong, what she should or should not have done, but there had to be something.
Then, there was the sweet faced young woman and the two little kids back in Wyoming. The family whose pictures Jed had carried wherever he went and shown with such pride. She owed them a debt she could never repay. Not that anything she could do would give them back the husband and father they had lost. Oh hell, now she was going to cry. She blinked hard against the tears and sniffed fiercely.
Vic Ortega now drove, and he concentrated on the road, not even glancing her way. On her other side, Sergeant Perkins slept, slumped against the door. No one showed any urge to talk. That was a mercy, anyway. She felt so damn tired.
Finally, at dusk, they approached the gate. The sentry waved them in and they turned down the rutted lane to the Comms Area, stopping beside the company office. Andy stumbled down from the cab and looked around. Surprise washed over her when she saw everything looked about the same. Surely, they'd been gone a decade, at least. The others scrambled out and gathered around her.
She pulled up her pride and strength enough to dismiss them. "Go on, gang. You're off duty. If your names are on any rosters for the next two days, I'll have them changed. No duty 'til Tuesday for any of you. Now, scram."
Vic handed her the truck keys. Then they all picked up their dusty packs and scattered to their barracks. Andy stooped stiffly to hoist her own pack just as Lieutenant Webster stuck his head out the door.
"Hey, Andy, is that you? I thought I heard something out here."
"Yeah, it's me. We're back. Got it working." Andy couldn't find the breath or will to go on.
Tom Webster was a mustang officer too, new to the officer corps but experienced in the Army. Only a year younger than Andy, he'd made the promotion list for Captain, right after he arrived, two weeks before.
He'd come just in time to take over as her assistant before they headed for the peak. Now he looked at her keenly as she climbed slowly up the three steps to the porch and came in the door.
"You look beat. Why don't you just put everything else off until tomorrow?"
Andy shook her head. "No, it won't get any better. I owe the Colonel a report, anyway. Maybe you can do me a favor or two, though. I need...well, we have to drive the truck over to the morgue first before we turn it in to the motor pool. I lost a soldier."
She sighed, hoping Tom could read more into her bald words than simply what she said. Hearing herself, it sounded so cold. She took a deep breath and went on.
"If the troops who came back with me show up on any rosters for the next two days, take 'em off; I promised. That's Ortega, Perkins, Hargrove and Sloan. We need to get a relief crew headed for Todos Santos first thing in the morning, too. I want to relieve the four who stayed up there. Conroy can go with them as guide. She knows the way now." Andy sank onto a chair and stared blankly at the floor for a long moment.
"I'll get right on it, skipper. Anything else?" When Tom's words jerked her back to the present, she looked up.
"Skipper? Your Marine time is showin' again," she said, with a weak grin. "No, I guess that's all. Let me get on the phone and see if Colonel Costain is still in."
"I'll do it. Get yourself a cup of coffee. If I had anything stronger, I'd give you a shot, but I don't even think there's any in Hasty's desk these days."
"Thanks, Tom." Andy almost wanted to reject his kindness. Too much would be her undoing.
As luck would have it, Cory was in. He said he'd see her right away. She drained the coffee before she headed for the door.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Tom, if not sooner. Thanks for the help. By the way, the casualty is Sergeant Jones." She stumbled out before he had a chance to reply.
Outside the Brigade office, Andy paused, steeling herself for the ordeal of reporting a success marred by the bitterest possible failure. True, the antenna was installed and operating, but at a price she hated to pay.
"Come in, Captain Hollis."
Cory himself opened the door and stood silhouetted in the stream of light. He stepped aside to let her pass.
"Yes, sir." Andy stepped in and came to attention in front of him. "Captain Hollis reporting, sir." The hand she lifted to salute him trembled.
Cory looked at her and smiled, as if her formality had become a private joke they shared. "Mission accomplished, I know that much."
His smile faded as if he read something stark and painful in her face. "We didn't think it would be easy, Andy. Maybe you'd better fill me in. And sit down, before you drop."
Somehow, her legs functioned, moving her the necessary three steps before they gave out totally. She sank onto one of the folding chairs, stared blankly at the rough plank floor for a moment and finally began to speak.
"The road up to the village was barely that. We blew three tires going up, but we made it Monday, before dark. Next day, we rented some burros at the village. I was fortunate to have a couple of troops who knew at least a little about livestock and packing."
She sighed, and went on, feeling the colonel's gaze on her.
"We made it to the top on Tuesday, late, without any major problems, but the next day I had a Corporal suffering from what I thought was altitude sickness, so I sent him back down with the burros. Specialist Conroy did the honors. I understand they got here all right."
Cory reassured her quickly. "They did, and your diagnosis was correct. I heard Corporal Hawkins will be back on light duty tomorrow. Go on, Andy."
"We got the tower up in two days -- that would be Thursday, I guess. And the dish installed on Friday. But that's when the storm hit. Let me back up. Wednesday I detailed four of the troops to build a bunker while the rest of us erected the tower. They did a great job. Shelter makes the place bearable. The wind howls around up there like a banshee. Drives you crazy if you let it. Perkins handled that detail and he did really well. It's kind of a rock igloo, I guess. Anyway, it works."
When Andy paused for breath and seemed to gather herself, Cory felt the first chilling shiver of dread. The bad part was coming, now.
"Well, Friday afternoon, that storm hit. I couldn't estimate what the wind gusted to, tops, but I'm sure it was over a hundred miles per hour. We took shelter in the hut and let it go by. The wind died down about sunset, in the eye of the storm. That's when we heard a noise and found the dish had almost been torn off. The bolts had pulled right through one of the beams. To save it, we had to act fast. We used some of the pallet wood to reinforce it, and I think it will hold. When the relief goes up tomorrow, I'll send more beams. They aren't heavy, just kind of clumsy."
Andy paused again. Cory's dread increased. He knew she wasn't deliberately dragging it out, but it felt that way. He wanted to yell at her to hurry, to go on and give him the bad part, but he didn't.
"Anyway, about the time we got done, the second half of the storm hit, and there was a thunderstorm. Of course that peak draws lightning like picnics draw flies. One of the guys had gone up without harness to grab the dish and he didn't make it down. We think lightning got him before the fall, but there's no way to be sure. We brought him back with us. Lieutenant Webster is taking the truck by the morgue. I'll do a full report, of course."
Andy rose from the chair, turning toward Cory, her face strained with anguish.
"Damn it, Sir, there wasn't a stupid thing we could do. Vic...Master Sergeant Ortega -- was going to go up the tower and help him down. Even though Sergeant Jones was afraid of heights, he climbed up there without harness and held onto the dish, used some rope to tie it until we could get the beam fixed. But then he froze and couldn't climb back down. Oh hell, I should have done something. There had to be some way..."
He saw her gulp, making a visible effort to steady her voice and maintain control.
"I heard him scream, saw him fall. I guess it's technically impossible, but I swear I did. It shouldn't have happened...it just...I just...Why? Just tell me why?"
Cory stood and came around his desk to intercept Andy as she began to pace the small room. The blank inward-looking misery of her eyes disturbed him deeply, as did the edge of hysteria he heard in her voice. He caught her shoulders and gave her a sharp shake.
"Andy, stop it. Stop it now." His voice cracked like a slap.
She looked up at him. Her eyes cleared for an instant before her face crumpled as tears, too long denied, finally broke free.
To hell with protocol and propriety. With his hands on her shoulders, it took almost no effort to bring her closer. A half step brought her against him, into his embrace. He dropped one arm to encircle her body and with the other he alternately patted her heaving back and stroked the sleek seal-brown cap of her hair.
Andy burrowed her face into his shoulder, clearly oblivious to the rough texture of his BDU jacket against her face. She clutched at him, her hands grabbing and crumpling handfuls of the heavy fabric as deep sobs wracked her. Control briefly gone, she wept without restraint.
Cory lost all sense of time. It might have been five minutes or five hours before she finally raised her dirty, tear-streaked face and drew back.
"I'm sorry, falling apart like that. It isn't professional and it damn well isn't soldierly. Maybe they're right, maybe women have no business in combat or even near it. Nobody was even shooting at us, and look what I allowed to happen."
Cory felt an illogical mixture of anger and sympathy. He kept his hold on her, but loosened it.
"Don't put words in my mouth, Andy. I've wept for good men I lost, and not just once. It's not an easy thing, being a commander. I sent home a lot of bodies and quite a few empty caskets from Vietnam, times the Army never told the families there wasn't enough left to pick up. It doesn't get any easier. I won't lie and say you'll forget. You won't, but gradually the hurt gets less. It becomes bearable, after a time."
She scrubbed her face with one sleeve, smearing tears and dust. To Cory, she'd never been lovelier, pain and a slight dawn of hope in her eyes, lashes wetly drawn into star points and a faint tremor still on her lips. He shook his heard, trying to dismiss the images that had no business appearing in his mind.
"It's a damn poor commander who won't...who can't cry, Andy. The troops you lead are family, your family. It hurts to fail them or to have one of them fail you. It hurts when accidents happen, especially stupid, senseless, wasteful accidents, but they still do. Try as we may, they still do. From what you've told me, I don't see how you could have prevented it, what you possibly could have done."
"Really? You aren't just...well, saying that to make me feel better, to calm me down?"
Andy's eyes had cleared, and her suspicious tone told him the worst of her first flare of grief was past.
"Hell no! I wouldn't lie to soothe anyone's feelings or stroke their ego or even ease their conscience. You should know me that well by now."
Andy drew away then, stepping back and stiffening her spine.
"I want to start the relief crew on their way first thing tomorrow. The four who stayed went through it all, too. They need to get back. And no duty 'til at least Tuesday for the ones who returned with me."
Cory nodded, agreeing with her decisions. "I'll see to it. Don't worry about anything. Right now, you need rest yourself. I don't want to see you anywhere except maybe the mess hall before Tuesday. Will you be able to sleep? Because if not, I'll roust out a medic to give you something."
"I'll be all right, sir. Maybe a good stiff drink if I'm not asleep before I get my boots off."
Cory could tell she was regretting her loss of control, trying to pretend it away. He'd let her keep her pride, for now.
"Tuesday will be soon enough to write your report. I think between me and Webster, we can keep Wireless going. And I'm sure Hasty has a list of who went, who else volunteered and all. He can help get the next team on the road."
Andy looked up and met his gaze. He fought the urge to reach out to her again. She looked, for the moment, very young and lost and alone, the brisk, business-like officer obscured by a dirty-faced waif.
"Go on," he said, his voice becoming a little ragged. "And don't worry, Andy. You did a great job. That antenna is already helping, saving millions of dollars and precious lives up there in the Escondido. One for many -- I think Sergeant Jones would have volunteered for that, don't you?"
"He was a good troop." Andy lowered her gaze to the rough wooden floor. "A good man -- I just wish..." She stopped, gnawing at her lower lip and struggling again for composure.
"It's not given us to bargain, Andy. Down here they say it 'Qué sera, sera.' We say 'When your number comes up'."
"Yes, sir. 'C'est la guerre,' right?" Her smile looked crooked and forced, but it was a smile.
"Go," he said again. "Now." Another instant, he'd be grabbing her, tasting the salt and dirt on her face, trying to kiss away the pain and horror, the worst of the memories.
But that went much too far beyond the bounds of protocol and propriety, war time or not. She was not only a woman but an officer of the United States Army, by her own choice. That meant there were things she had to face and deal with -- on her own.
As the days passed, Andy found truth in Cory's words; it did get better. No one made an issue of the loss of one man on the installation of the Sangre de Cristo antennas. She heard no snide asides or derogatory comments. Bit by bit, her intense feeling of guilt began to ease. She also had too much to do to indulge in the luxury of brooding on her errors.
The war began to move deeper into the winding valleys which reached like clawed fingers into the hearts of the three little countries who had conspired to begin it. Everyone now realized the Three-D War wasn't going to be a neat and swift thirty day conflict, but a slow and painful operation measured in months rather than days.
The U.N. commanders had come to suspect outside involvement. Some source beyond the three little countries had to be feeding transfusions of supplies and active leadership to the rag-tag rebels. They'd begun to demonstrate a new cohesiveness, improved tactics, and better weaponry. With the superiority of air power and automotive mobility, U.N. forces easily held the outer mesas above the sea. But within the twisting, jungle-choked valleys and upon the rugged slopes above them, the guerillas reigned supreme.
The council of generals decided to establish a second base camp inside the narrows, which the locals called The Devil's Throat. At that point, the river cut past the flanks of Sangre de Cristo and the neighboring Domingo mountains to the north, making a box canyon. While smaller aircraft could still access the new base, much of the matériel now had to move by truck.
Now a critical artery, the highway from the Bahia airfield was closely guarded by both Army and Marine troops with support from other U.N. forces. That vital link must remain open. General Corcoran, the commander of the U.S. contingent, was also determined that the peak antennas established by Andy's team must be maintained. Without them, speedy communication with the front line troops would be lost.
Along with other logistics units, Twenty-fourth Signal moved inland to the new base camp. They managed to get resettled in just two days, but it was going to take a bit longer to reestablish the smooth productivity they had just begun to achieve at the first camp.
Cory passed along the commendations of the U.S. and U.N. commanders with appreciative words of his own. He wanted to encourage the Brigade's efforts, but he was wise enough to know the impossible really did take a little longer.
Andy, in turn, drove her company and herself as relentlessly as she dared. She never doubted the colonel would call a halt if he determined she was being unreasonable. All she sought was for each one of them to give, do and be their best. Surely, that wasn't too much to ask? After all, there was a war going on, a real shooting war where people were being killed.
Here at the new base camp, they heard gunfire daily, and guards patrolled around the perimeter at all times. The camp had been set up as far from the heavily wooded foothills as possible, but that wasn't very far. It was more than a rifle shot, but not nearly beyond the range of artillery. The past two weeks, the U.N. forces had been surprised several times by the weapons the supposedly impoverished guerillas were using. Sophisticated artillery might be the next rude awakening.
A lively debate now raged: would it be best to deforest a section of the hills, fortify the camp, or both? The guerillas used the rain forest. If they hadn't, they would have no compunctions about destroying it, but the U.N. troops could not be so simplistic. Other influences were destroying the precious resource rapidly enough.
At this point, Tom Webster was called home on emergency leave. An only child, he learned his parents had been involved in a serious accident. The timing couldn't have been worse. Losing him, to Andy, seemed almost like losing her right arm, but two days later, she did get a Reserve Lieutenant replacement. She knew she was lucky to get anyone so quickly, but she doubted a Reserve officer would have the knowledge and proficiency they needed. When she met Lieutenant Seaforth, her misgivings increased tenfold.
Janine Seaforth was petite and blonde, band-box neat, and far too fragile and lovely looking to be taken seriously as a soldier. She looked like she belonged in a war zone about as much as a sheepherder belonged at an Officers' Wives Tea. Andy ground her teeth in frustration and cursed the day she had accepted her commission.
Everything just kept getting more complicated, more difficult. To make matters worse, as the only female officers in the Brigade, they'd have to share tent-quarters. Andy could not imagine anything worse unless it would be sharing quarters with Colonel Costain! Jan made her feel big, clumsy, plain and unfeminine.
At least the Antenna and the Super Ear were both operating well. They'd proved even more valuable than anyone had hoped. The maintenance teams rotated every five days. So far, the whole system had been operating as smoothly as a well greased bearing. That helped to ease Andy's distress, for at least Sergeant Jones' sacrifice was not without meaning.
He had been the first Comms casualty, but there were soon more. One of the forward teams was ambushed and lost two, and then another got caught in the middle of a pitched battle in the southernmost valley and had one killed and three wounded.
The forth day after the move, while they were all still in the midst of trying to gear up, a runner came down from the Brigade about 1000 and told Andy there was a short- notice staff meeting at 1130.
It was Lieutenant Seaforth's second day on site. Andy had to admit Jan could at least talk the communications talk, but she privately decided that proved nothing. Only time would tell if Jan could walk the walk as well. When Master Sergeant Hasty and the Lieutenant returned from a quick tour of the company area, Andy told Jan about the meeting.
"You may as well come along. Of course you met Colonel Costain yesterday, but this will give you a chance to meet the rest of the folks and get the latest news."
After that, they got busy sorting out work orders and service requests, while Andy explained priorities and the rationale she used in determining which items received the top rating. Time flew. All too soon Hasty interrupted them with a reminder it was 1120.
They had to hurry to make the meeting and were both a little out of breath when they scooted into the GP tent which now served as the Brigade office. The tent held a field desk for Colonel Costain and another for the XO and a half-circle of folding chairs. There wasn't room for much else.
To Andy's surprise, two Marine officers were seated at the right of the Cory's desk. They both stood when the women entered. Andy and Jan returned their salutes before they sat down, just as the other brigade officers tramped in.
Andy glanced quickly but guardedly at Cory, trying to ignore the little skip her heart insisted on making whenever she looked at him. He bent over a map spread across his desk, a grimness making his rugged face look harsh. Moments later, with everyone in place, he stood and swept a quick glance around the tent.
"This," he began, indicating the two Marines, "is Captain Blake and Lieutenant Yablonski. They've got some confirmation of the rumor we heard yesterday about rebels moving on Todos Santos. Of course that poses a threat to our antenna. Lieutenant Yablonski is taking a recon patrol up tomorrow. He'll need all the information we can provide."
He glanced quickly around the group before he went on. "We've made real progress since the equipment up there went on line. Nobody wants to see it lost. General Corcoran has ordered us to cooperate fully and pull out all stops to see it remains secure -- those are his exact words -- and we're going to do just that."
He turned again to the Marines. "Captain Blake, if you'll summarize what you've just told me, we'll all have the same information."
The grizzled Marine, who looked old for his rank, stood up and looked around the tent.
"We've had patrols out constantly, watching both the road up the peak and all the foot paths leading to the village. Last night about dark, one of them picked up two young men -- hardly more than boys, really -- who claimed to be from Todos Santos. They weren't real coherent and spoke a mixture of Spanish and some Indian dialect, so their story was hard to follow, but it sounded like a bunch of guerillas is terrorizing the village. The people are mostly holed up in the school and the alcalde's house, but they don't have food and water to stand a siege of any duration. I don't know if there are rebel sympathizers in the village, but I had the impression they were mostly with us."
"They certainly are," Andy interrupted. "They were very cooperative when we went up to erect the antenna. I'd say their attitude went way beyond simple acquiescence or appeasement. They really tried to help, and I'd hate to see them suffer for their support. If some kind of a relief effort is in the works, consider me a volunteer."
"This first is just a recon patrol," Captain Blake began. "At this point, we aren't asking for volunteers."
"I was thinking along the lines of sending one or two of our senior NCOs with Lieutenant Yablonski, just to provide whatever knowledge we have gained of the area," Cory said. "Maybe Campbell and one other."
"But sir, five of my people are up on that peak right now, and I've been to Todos Santos twice." Andy couldn't help protesting. That antenna and all it stood for meant too much to her.
Yablonski glared at her. "Ma'am, we don't know what we'll find up there. It could be a trap. We could walk into a firefight. This is a potential combat mission." His tone held an exaggerated patience as if he were speaking to an incorrigible toddler.
"It may be policy not to send women into potential combat situations, but you admit you don't know what the circumstances are. I don't see..."
"It's out of the question!" Yablonski jumped to his feet and swung to face Andy. "We're all Counter Intelligence or Special Forces trained. My men can live off the land and vanish into the jungle without a trace. They can't do their job if they have to be burdened with protecting..."
"I beg your pardon, Lieutenant! I do not need to be protected. I was enlisted for six years and spent four in Counter Intelligence myself. Maybe I haven't been to school to learn how to eat snakes, but..." Andy's temper approached the boiling point. No arrogant Nazi-poster jerk was going to tell her what her job and place were.
"That is enough! You will both sit down." Cory's voice cut through the escalating argument like a hot knife through butter. "We can continue this discussion off line after the meeting. Captain Blake, if you'll finish your comments."
The meeting was soon over. Captain Blake admitted to having been a helicopter pilot and volunteered to try to land on the peak with supplies or reinforcements, if all else failed. Cory thanked him gravely, expressing a fervent hope that would not be necessary. Everyone was dismissed and quickly left except for Andy and the two Marines.
In a moment, an Army major and lieutenant came in. Andy noted they both wore the Military Intelligence Corps compass rose on their collars. Cory performed introductions. Then Captain Blake repeated his tale once again, this time with details he had previously withheld.
Since Andy had a Top Secret clearance, apparently Cory decided she also had the need to know. That gave her a small bit of comfort, but she still smarted from Yablonski's chauvinistic attitude.
She sat stiffly on the edge of her chair, her gaze stabbing into the big blond lieutenant's broad chest as she listened carefully to Captain Blake's assessment and comments, now oriented to the intelligence aspects. Matters were probably even grimmer than she had realized. She had to go with that recon patrol, damn it. But how would she convince Cory to let her?
"We've deliberately stayed away from the village to keep the pressure off of the people , but it looks like we're going to have to go in. We had a contact -- a man posing as a novice priest assistant to Father Flynn. He was going to get us a map and mark the 'safe' houses of sure supporters, but it's too late for that now -- he's disappeared. I suspect we aren't going to like what we find. I'm starting to have bad feelings about this," Captain Blake concluded.
Cory looked at the grizzled captain, who was close to his age and clearly a mustang officer. He found the captain much more impressive than the blond lieutenant with his recruiting poster looks and arrogant manner. The lieutenant had certainly rubbed Andy wrong! Cory had to suppress a grin. She was almost too predictable, but he had to admire her spunk.
Again, she was on her feet. "I've been in the village. I may not know the safe houses, but I do know the layout and I've observed and talked to some of the people. I'm still more than willing to go with that patrol. Up to now, the road and the village has been 'Army territory' and my folks have been there more than anyone else."
The Marines spun on their heels. They all looked at Andy as if they had forgotten her presence.
"Five of my people are up there, right now," she repeated. "I've dealt with the leaders in that village. I know the alcalde and several of the others. The only other person in the company who's done that is Master Sergeant Ortega, and he's on the peak right now."
"Like I said before, ma'am," Lieutenant Yablonski said, with exaggerated courtesy, "this is a combat-type mission. We'll be moving fast with minimal equipment and no comfort items. I can't spare anyone to escort you back, once we get there, either."
"I do not need a bloody baby sitter," Andy grated. "When I went through Basic, you were probably in junior high. I was in the Gulf. I've shot two points short of sharpshooter with an M16 twice, and I even know a little about moving fast and light."
The lieutenant bent on her a look of complete disgust before he turned beseechingly to Cory. "Sir, it's not feasible. Surely you can see? I had in mind somebody who was on the team that did the installation."
"Captain Hollis led that team," Cory replied. He fought down a smile at Yablonski's visible start.
But the lieutenant recovered quickly. "I heard they lost a man."
"Lightning," Cory said, succinctly. "Could've happened with any team." He shot a sharp look at Andy, a non-verbal command to hold her tongue. She was fidgeting like a green colt in the starting gate, barely able to control herself. "I'm not saying she's the one to go, but I can't see a need to disqualify her out of hand."
Captain Blake nodded, once. He appeared old and wise enough not to make an issue of a point he might ultimately lose.
Lieutenant Yablonski was not that sagacious. "I don't believe even the Army has women in the Infantry, sir. At least not yet. Perhaps you didn't notice my branch."
"I've served with the Infantry, son. I recognize the insignia. When do you plan to move out?" Cory fixed the brash young officer with a steely glance and waited a breath.
Yablonski reddened but answered steadily. "Before first light in the morning."
"All right. Could you two use some chow? Let's go have lunch and I'll give some thought to who I'll send with you."
Cory rose to indicate the interview was over. "By the way, I'm acquainted with your Colonel Joseph. Our paths crossed a few times in 'Nam and the Gulf."
The Marines didn't notice, but Cory saw the two Army MI officers exchange a look as if to say "Maybe that's why these Marines had come to Colonel Costain instead of the G-2." Behind the backs of the two Marines, the MI lieutenant shrugged as if to say "Since when did the Marines ever go by the book, anyway?"
Meanwhile, Andy watched in silence, doubtlessly plotting.
As Cory passed, he glanced at her, keeping his face carefully impassive. No, by God, he didn't want her going up that mountain with a bunch of wild and crazy Marines, but he understood her need to go. "Coming with us?" he asked.
"Er, no sir." She shook her head. "I'd better get back to the shop. I'm still breaking Lieutenant Seaforth in, so we'll grab something later. But, if you decide -- I can be ready in just a few minutes."
For a moment, Andy was afraid he'd insist. She couldn't handle all of it at once-the strain of being with him coupled with her growing urge to throttle Yablonski. But he didn't. He just nodded and walked on past her.
"Okay. Don't forget to eat. We all need food to fuel our systems through the long hours and the pressures. We're lucky enough to have a mess hall here, so we better use it."
***
It was late afternoon before Andy learned she was going with the patrol. Fred Glass came by about 1530 to tell her Cory wanted to see her. She went reluctantly, expecting to have to endure a lecture and then be properly contrite when he told her why she couldn't go.
Andy was not altogether sure why she felt so determined to be included in the patrol.. Nor could she have offered a coherent explanation of that desire. She only knew it was something she badly needed to do.
When she entered the Brigade tent, she found Cory with Captain Blake. There was no sign of Yablonski. She heaved a silent sigh of relief. At least he wouldn't be there to gloat.
"Sit, Captain," Cory said, before she could begin her habitual formal reporting.
Andy dropped into the chair she had occupied earlier, sitting stiffly on the edge again, too tense to ease her tired back. For a long moment, no one spoke. The silence grew heavier than a full pack after a long day's march, but she dared not be the one to break it.
Finally, Cory spoke. "You're elected. Don't cheer. It's not because I want to send you or even because you volunteered, but with Ortega on the peak, there really isn't anyone else suitable. Campbell's a good man, but he can't speak Spanish, and that might be needed. Nobody else has been up there."
Relief washed through Andy, but when Cory continued, she realized she had nothing to celebrate.
"However, there are going to be some rules. You outrank Lieutenant Yablonski, of course, but only you and he will know that. You'll leave your rank insignia off your BDUs and you'll answer to Sergeant Hollis. That way, there will be no question as to who's leading the patrol, no conflicting orders or anything that could endanger the mission. Can you live with that?"
Andy nodded slowly, her mind tumbling the implications of this order. Well, she'd once been Sergeant Hollis; it wouldn't seem too strange.
"You can draw an M16 and carry it if you want to, but you are to use it only in self defense, in the most dire and threatening of circumstances, like to keep from being taken prisoner. You're under Yablonski's orders, just as if you were enlisted, but he'll have some guidelines too. They'll include a direct order not to harass you in any way. This is no time for heroics or private agendas -- I think you realize that, but I want to be sure. Do you have any questions?"
Andy took a deep breath. She read a warning sternness in Cory's face and knew he meant every word. "Not many, sir. When am...when are we leaving and from where?"
Captain Blake answered, responding to Cory's slight gesture.
"We'll be taking two trucks about a third of the way up the mountain by the road, leaving from the Marine Corps motor pool about 0400. If you can be there by 0345 with your gear, Captain Hollis, that'll be fine."
He turned back to Cory after he spoke. "If you'll excuse me, Sir, I'd best be getting back. The skipper is going to think I got lost."
Cory nodded graciously. "Give Colonel Joseph my regards and tell him I appreciate the advance notice, a chance to contribute something. There are times when we tend to forget we're all on the same side." Blake saluted and strode out, leaving Andy alone beside Cory's desk.
He looked at her for a few long seconds and finally took pity on her obvious discomfort. "I'm not trying to trample on your pride and sensibilities, Andy, but you have to realize Yablonski has his, too. This is probably going to be harder for him than it is for you. Captain Blake and I talked with Colonel Joseph about it and worked out the guidelines to handle it as best we could."
Andy nodded, not quite meeting his gaze. "I understand, sir. I'll leave as much of my pride behind as I can. I'm not going for me, but for the people in the village and the ones on the peak, maybe a little bit for Sergeant Jones. Not to prove anything, honestly. Come to think of it, it might be kinda nice to be enlisted again, even if it is just for a day."
She slanted a quick glance at him, a look touched with a hint of mischief and spirit.
He tried not to grin, but it was a losing battle. "Get outta here! I could still change my mind. I just remembered, Specialist Conroy -- I mean Sergeant Conroy, was up there wasn't she? You said she helped with the burros."
Andy's face went swiftly straight. "Yes, sir, but no, sir. That would -- it would be -- well, not a good idea. Since we got word she's getting the Army Commendation Medal for bringing Corporal Hawkins down and all, she's gotten pretty cocky. She'd probably try to out-Marine the Marines."
"And you won't?" Cory raised one eyebrow in disbelief as he asked the question.
"No, Sir. I won't. I know when it's time not to push my luck."
"It could turn into a real combat mission, Andy. That isn't a joke, and it's not outside the realm of possibility. You've seen and done a lot, but the experience of being shot at is not one I'd wish off on anybody. Be careful. Keep your head and be real careful."
Maybe he shouldn't caution her like that, but Cory couldn't help himself. Her suppressed eagerness worried him. In spite of what she said, he sensed she was driven by forces beyond his ken, and was all too likely to play the hero if the chance came.
They had both stood as he talked. He took a half step toward her and stopped. For a moment, their gazes locked, and it was he who looked away first.
"Tell Lieutenant Seaforth to feel free to call me tomorrow if she has any problems. It's asking a lot for her to take over so soon, even for just one day."
"I will, sir. She seems to be pretty sharp, though. I admit I had some doubts, her being a Reserve and all, but maybe they learned something in the Gulf. She's quick and she has a better background than I dared to hope for. I think she'll do fine, and Master Sergeant Hasty is there to help."
Cory nodded. "I didn't think the old boy had it in him, anymore. You've done something out of the ordinary there, Andy. I congratulate you. He would thank you, too, if he realized, but that's the beauty of it. He doesn't. That's the thing about being an officer, a good one -- half the time, no one notices. But I do, and I wanted you to know. Oh hell, get going."
Andy looked up finally and the pride in her hazel eyes burned so strongly it dazzled him. For a moment, they shared something too deep and yet too fragile for words. Cory wanted to shake her hand, to kiss her, to do a thousand things he couldn't, shouldn't, mustn't do.
Andy looked down, back at him quickly and then away. Would she take the hint and go? If she waited to be dismissed, it might take too long. He simply could not get the right words out. There was too much that could not be said. She wheeled and marched out without looking back. It was a breach of courtesy, but one justified by the circumstances.
Cory did not take exception to her abrupt departure. He felt a surge of gratitude she had gone as she did. The temptation to lecture had been strong and the need to touch her even stronger.
"Damn," he muttered, sitting back in the hard chair. Get a grip, Costain. The lady has made it pretty clear she wants no part of you, so why can't you get the message? She's just another one of your subordinate officers, no less but no more. Now, if he could just make himself believe that.
As the dawn sky brightened, Andy kept pace with the score of Marines. The patrol, consisting of twenty Marines and one Army captain without insignia, moved quietly, a few feet apart. They made their way up the trail which wound through towering trees, steadily upward along the spine of one long ridge.
So far, Lieutenant Yablonski had hardly spoken to her and the others had been polite but reserved, clearly surprised the Army NCO joining them was female. The lieutenant offered only a sketchy introduction and explanation, which left many questions unanswered, but the other Marines were clearly too well trained to ask.
Well, she hadn't expected open arms, had she? Near the middle of the group, she took and relayed the whispered order to halt when they reached the shelter of a pile of boulders, just short of an open area crossed by the trail.
Dawn light was brightening rapidly, and if they wanted to keep their approach a secret, they would have to proceed carefully from here on. Yablonski sent three men ahead to scout, then took a pair of binoculars from his pack and began to scan the shoulder of the mountain visible above them.
Andy crouched silently with the others in the shelter of the boulders, waiting until they were ordered to move out again. About fifteen minutes passed before that order came. The scouts returned one by one and conferred with the lieutenant, then the whole unit gathered closer for instructions.
They were about five miles from the village by the trail, which they would leave now to circle around above the saddle where the village sat. Once there, they'd climb to a ledge where they should be able to observe unseen. The lieutenant spread out a map and quickly indicated their route and the spot.
Andy knew the area around the village had been almost denuded for firewood and mine timbers. The scrubby brush left offered scant cover, but combined with the omnipresent rocks, was better than nothing. She'd explained that to the lieutenant as they loaded into the trucks earlier. He had been noncommittal, but he'd clearly paid some attention to her advice.
It was late in the morning before they reached the chosen vantage point on the mountain side about a quarter mile above the village. Yablonski split the patrol into four smaller groups, two to survey the village and two to keep watch everywhere else. Then he called Andy to his side. "Okay, Sarge. There it is -- Todos Santos. Tell me what's what down there."
"Yes sir," Andy replied, careful to play her part. "Okay, you can see where the road comes in, there on the east side? The first larger building is a sort of company store, run by the mining company. Around the main square, the church is on the south with the school on its right and then the alcalde's house. There are some small shops along the west side, and across the north are the village corrals, where we got the burros to pack in the antenna. Back around on the east, there's the mine offices and that's about it."
He nodded, scanning the deserted-appearing area. "And?"
"When we were here, I got the feeling the houses behind the church and school are where the more important people live. Not that they're mansions, but the rest are no better than huts. These people don't live too fancy. When the mine was running, I guess they did have a better life than the average citizen here, though. Maybe that's why they were friendly."
"You don't think they're playing both sides, then?"
His tone had become less patronizing the longer they talked. Andy took that as a positive sign.
"No, I really don't. There might be some malcontents, but all the people we dealt with were...well, eager to help. None of that inscrutable Indian stuff, playing dumb or anything. Although I speak and understand Spanish pretty well, Master Sergeant Ortega did the dealing to rent the burros. But I listened, and there were none of the snide comments and asides you'd get if people are unfriendly. They weren't too polite, but they were courteous and pleasant. Nobody bothered the vehicles while we were on the mountain, either. The truck the teams use to go back and forth should be parked behind the company store. You can't quite see it from here."
As she talked, Andy watched the big blond man carefully, trying to judge whether he accepted her assessment. She couldn't really tell. He had a poker face if she'd ever seen one.
"Place looks dead now," he said, after a moment. Indeed it did. Andy felt a vague stirring of dread. Just then, one of the other men crawled over to join them.
"Don't see nothing, sir," he said. "Place looks deserted."
Yablonski nodded. "I agree. A few of us better go down and get a closer look. The rest of you can cover us, just in case." He beckoned the others closer and turned back to Andy. "I suppose you want to come?"
"If I can," she said, "but you're in charge."
He raised an eyebrow but then went on as if her agreement was no more than he expected. "Okay -- whatever you want. You've been there, you said, so it might help. Looks to me like the north side offers the best cover to get in close. We'll circle around and come in from that little gully there."
He selected four men from the group, including two who were reasonably fluent in Spanish, and they started down.
Although some time had passed, Andy, as an enlisted soldier, had been involved in several exercises which required patrol techniques and urban warfare practice. She dredged up the memories now, as she watched the Marines. She noted how they used the landscape to cover their movements, crouching and crawling from one shelter to another. Being considerably smaller than Yablonski and two of the others proved to be an advantage. It was not easy for the six-foot three-inch lieutenant to be unobtrusive, even flat on his stomach.
They seemed to take a long time to get there, but finally they all huddled in the shelter of the stonewalled corrals, which appeared to be empty except for a couple of goats and one bony old burro.
"I don't like it," Yablonski whispered. "Something doesn't feel right."
Andy could only agree. The silence felt both threatening and oppressive. They had still not seen anyone move, had not heard any human sounds. Not much any sound, really, except their own muted noises and the incessant wind.
"It wasn't like this, before," Andy said. "The place wasn't exactly bustling, but people were coming and going all the time. Something has happened, that's clear."
Almost as one, they glanced up at the mountain to the southeast, where the rest of the patrol watched and waited, out of sight. Andy knew they all felt relief in knowing their comrades were there, but still they were over a quarter of a mile away and could only give limited support.
"Mason, you and Cap -- Sergeant Hollis come with me. Clayborn, you cover us, and Bradley, you and Sanchez slip around the other way. Come in by the church, and we'll meet behind it."
It was near noon now. Overhead, the sun cast only short shadows, but the clouds forming over the peaks had begun to spread. Suddenly they cut off the sun, bringing a chill as Andy and the Marines started their stealthy movement around the corrals.
No one was cocky or careless now. The silence weighed heavy on them. They moved cautiously, slipping one by one from shadow to shelter, this wall to those bushes to that doorway.
Andy crept along between Lieutenant Yablonski and Staff Sergeant Mason. She carefully made no more noise and moved with no less caution than did they. It seemed more like forever, but in about thirty minutes, they reached the shelter of the stone wall around the village cemetery behind the church and waited there until Bradley and Sanchez joined them.
They were trying to decide what to do next, when a slight whimper startled them all. The sound was not loud and seemed to have been cut off suddenly, but it was the first possibly human sound they had heard.
"What was that?"
"Sounded like a kid, a baby."
"Yeah, it did, didn't it?"
"Could it have been an animal?"
"Where did it come from?"
They all whispered, almost simultaneously. Andy glanced around the group and saw reflected in each face her own curiosity and anxiety. But the Marines were also all trying not to show any fear. Finally they decided the sound had come from a crude shed in one corner of the walled cemetery, a building probably intended to house a few simple tools.
Sanchez and Mason volunteered to go check. The others covered them, waiting tensely. It was almost anti-climactic when the two sergeants returned, leading three children.
The eldest, a boy, looked to be about eleven, and Andy judged the youngest to be no more than four, probably the source of the whimper. The middle child was a girl, perhaps eight, and the little one could have been either sex. They all wore ragged short pants and tattered, dirty shirts. They all stared fearfully at the Marines until their darting glances seized upon Andy.
"They won't talk, sir," Sanchez complained. "I talked to them in Spanish, and I know they understand, but they won't say a word."
"Let me try," Andy offered. Kneeling, she brought herself nearer their level and addressed the girl. She kept her speech simple, both for the children's sake and to use Spanish words she was sure of.
"Do not be afraid. We are not going to hurt you. Can you tell me where your parents are? Where are the rest of the people?"
The girl looked quickly from Andy to the older boy and back several times, clearly torn. Finally, he shrugged slightly. As if it were a signal, she began to talk, half weeping.
"All are gone, all gone, maybe dead. When the soldiers came, Mama told us to hide. Now they are all gone, everybody. Sentilde;ora Soldado, are you going to hurt us? Mama said the soldiers would hurt us. Did you take her away?"
The little girl's fear and pain slammed Andy in the solar plexus, as intensely as if it were her own. She struggled to speak calmly. "No, we did not take your mama and we will not hurt you. I promise you that."
"Eat," the smallest one said, suddenly. "I want to eat."
The older children both tried to hush the little one, but it began to cry. "No, I am very hungry. Eat now!"
Lieutenant Yablonski shuffled his feet. "Geez, just what we need," he muttered. "We still have to check the whole village. Cap -- Sergeant Hollis, can you fix some MREs and keep these kids quiet while we finish the recon?"
Now Andy felt torn. She resented being singled out and relegated to the "woman's job," but her heart had gone out at once to the frightened, ragged children. She knew they felt more at ease with her than with they did the men. Their need overrode her pride. "Yes sir," she said, after a moment.
They all pulled rations out of their packs and she made a makeshift stove with two broken bricks and a few Sterno tabs to warm up a quick meal for the children. She watched the three kids tackle some of the less appetizing MRE dishes with great gusto. They had to be very hungry, as the little one had said.
After he used his walkie-talkie to call half the men down from the hillside, Yablonski and the other Marines started off on a stealthy patrol. In spite of the children's assertion that everyone was gone, they did not quite dare to believe it.
While a deserted village might solve the immediate problem, Andy hoped it wasn't true. She dreaded to find the villagers had been killed or taken captive as punishment for their help to her and the construction crew, but that looked more and more likely as the quiet minutes ticked by. On a vague hunch, she made sure her M16 was locked and loaded -- just in case -- and sat back on her heels to wait.
Although she had more than half expected it, Andy jumped when a burst of gunfire erupted through the quiet. The sound seemed to come from the east side of the plaza, as nearly as she could tell. Cringing at the noise, the children crouched, wide eyed and trembling, in the corner of the cemetery wall.
She reassured them as well as she could, trying to conceal her own anxiety. Glancing around quickly, she tried to decide what to do if a real fight seemed eminent. The shaky little shed offered no real shelter. Her best course was probably to flee.
Scanning the wall, she saw there was a gate at the rear of the cemetery, too. If they slipped out that way, perhaps they could drop into the arroyo and head down the mountain.
"I thought they were all gone," the boy whispered. "Qué paso, Sentilde;ora Soldado?"
"I don't know," she replied honestly. "Maybe some of the bad soldiers came back or were hiding somewhere. Our friends are brave and careful, though. We will be safe."
He nodded. "Yes, that could be. Tiacute;o Manuel, he says the soldados are all sneaking foolish cowards. Because of them, the mine is closed now and everyone is poor and hungry." The young voice held a bitter and weary knowledge, too old for the speaker's years. "I would have fought them with him, but Mama said I must take care of Maria and 'Nito."
"She was right. They are too small to be alone." The little one, at the sound of his name, whimpered again and crept closer to Andy. She put her arm around the wiry, thin little body to give what comfort she could.
"Do not go, Sancho," the girl begged. "You promised Mama and Father Flynn says it is important to keep your promises. Anyway, they are shooting guns. Do not go!"
The lad puffed out his chest. "I will stay, hermanita, but only because I promised Mama. The guns do not scare me."
There were only two brief bursts of shots and then more silence. Minutes ticked by. The stillness ate at Andy's nerves. What had happened? She built various scenarios in her mind. Had a Marine been startled, perhaps by one of the others or some animal and fired without reason? Had some of the villagers been hiding and mistook the Marines for their enemies? Or were guerillas just waiting to catch an unwary Marine or even all of them?
She was on the verge of ordering the children to stay safe in their corner while she slipped out to try to see what was happening when a soft hiss drew her attention. One of the Marines from the first squad was crouched at the gate.
"Sergeant Hollis," he whispered. "The Lieutenant sent me to tell you everything is under control. There are some people hiding in the company office and store. We don't know who they are yet, but we suspect rebels. Somebody shot a few times but we returned fire and they went to ground. That's all we've found so far, but we're checking house to house now. The Lieutenant was worried about the kids. If it isn't their folks in the store, they need somebody to look after them, a place to stay, food and stuff. He doesn't know what to do about them."
Andy sighed, knowing the responsibility was going to be hers. "I think we need to get them down to the base camp. There's no telling where their family is, if they're even still alive. I can find my way back to where the trucks dropped us off, so I guess I should take them. Do you think that's agreeable with him?"
"Sh...shoot, I don't know. You mean you aren't afraid to go by yourself?"
"Not really. I'm no more likely to run into the rebels there than anywhere else. And I've got my rifle."
"Well, wait here for...maybe half an hour. I'll go back and tell Lieutenant Yablonski your plan and see what he says. If he doesn't approve, I'll come back and tell you what he wants you to do, okay?"
"All right, but if I'm going to take them, I want to start as soon as possible so as to reach the road before dark."
"Sure. I understand. Just wait a half hour, okay?"
"All right." Andy glanced at her watch. "It's almost 1400 now. I'll wait until 1430, but then I'm starting. We can get out the back gate here and down into the arroyo where we'll be out of sight of the village. If they're in the store, they can't possibly see us."
The young Marine nodded. He turned and scampered back along the wall in a tight crouch. Andy watched until he was out of sight between the school and the church and then went back to reassure the children and tell them of her plan. Yablonski got there before she had finished the explanation.
"Are you sure you can handle this yourself?" he asked, without preamble. "It must be twelve miles by the road and at least six or seven by the shortest trail. I'm not sure these kids can walk that far."
"They're mountain raised," Andy said. "I can carry the little one if it comes to that. He weighs a lot less than a full pack. I think the older ones can make it on their own. You need all your people, don't you?"
"Well, I could spare a couple, if you need them. We don't know yet how many we've got in the store, but I'm pretty sure it's rebels and not villagers. I think the villagers would realize who we are. But we've got them pinned down and we can hold the village unless they send in a lot bigger force than I expect. General Corcoran will likely want a permanent party garrisoned here, but that will be up to him. As soon as I get a handle on things, I'll be in touch with my CO. The radio operator is setting up right now."
"It's up to you. I can take the kids down myself if you don't think you can spare anybody. I'm really not worried -- I can handle it. Like I told PFC James, I'm no likelier to run into rebels there than anywhere else. I just want to get down there and be ready for the truck before dark. These hills are pretty spooky when the sun goes down, especially with a couple of little kids."
"Yeah, I know what you mean. Go ahead. As soon as we finish the house to house, I'll pull a couple of men and send them after you. It won't be long, and you can't move very fast with the kids. You said you'd go down the arroyo?"
"That's right. I think it hits a trail about a mile down. That's what it looked like on your map. I'll take it easy and keep my eyes open. I've got my rifle."
The Marine hesitated. "Yeah...well, good luck, Captain Hollis. If all women in the military were like you, things could be different. You surprised me." He held out his hand with a small, sheepish grin.
Andy returned his handshake firmly. "No problem. I get a little upset with some of the women myself, to be honest. I guess it's going to take awhile to change attitudes and behavior all around."
She turned back to the children and beckoned them to her. Yablonski waited and watched until they slipped through the back gate and out of sight. At the gate, Andy turned and waved. She thought the young Marine officer shook his head as he moved back along the wall to join his men. There had been something near wonder in his eyes when he shook her hand. Score one for me in this round.
"Sentilde;ora Soldado, I know a trail, one that goes to the road," Sancho said. "I will show you." He started off confidently as soon as she nodded her permission. Maria scampered at his heels.
Andy saw at once that little 'Nito's short legs were not equal to the pace. She loosened her pack to let it droop enough to allow him to ride piggy-back above it. It wasn't easy to hold her rifle ready with the child on her back, but she managed.
The trail Sancho chose was not the one they had come up, but she decided it would do. Once it met the road, she'd be able to tell whether they were above or below the spot the trucks had dropped them off and go up or down accordingly. The two trucks were supposed to return at dusk and wait two hours for them to show up. With any luck at all, she'd be there in plenty of time.
They made good time, all considered. Twice Andy got off the trail and hid with the children when she heard other travelers coming. A lone man with several llamas passed, going down, and three men, who might have been rebels, since they wore some mismatched camouflage garments, went by, heading uphill.
The children crouched with her in the bushes, keeping perfectly still and silent. They were surprisingly patient and obedient. A couple of other times, they stopped for a brief rest. Finally, well over half way down by Andy's reckoning, she could see Maria growing tired. This time she took a longer rest, but the little girl still lagged when they started off.
"Sancho, can you take 'Nito? I've got to help Maria for awhile."
Sancho cheerfully hefted his little brother, while Andy knelt to take Maria on her back. Although the girl was considerably heavier than the toddler, she was lighter than Andy expected. Still, her back was aching before they reached the road.
They were able to glimpse it through the foliage when the two Marines Yablonski had sent after them caught up. PFC James was one of the two. He gave Andy a grin which reminded her of Hawkins.
"Ma'am, y'all shore do move out. We figured with them little kids you'd have had to stop, but here you are almost to the road."
Hearing a trace of awe in the young Marine's tone, Andy restrained her smile. "I told Lieutenant Yablonski the kids were mountain raised. Down here children don't get driven everywhere! Did you meet anyone on the way down?"
"Yeah, we saw three men. Talked to 'em a little and kind of thought they were rebels, but no way of telling for sure. We can't just take everybody off the hills, but it'd sure be easier."
Andy nodded. "We saw them too. The kids and I hid in the bushes and let them pass. I made sure nobody saw us, because you can't tell who's a friend and who isn't."
They emerged onto the road just before sunset. "We're above the turn-around where the trucks let us off," Andy said. "I think it's just around the bend."
The two Marines had taken the two smaller children, which was a relief. Andy regained a little spring in her step. Sancho insisted he was fine, and able to keep on walking, but he was clearly glad to surrender 'Nito to PFC James.
Andy suspected his assertion owed more to macho than reality, but there was no harm in letting him have a little pride. The boy had more than enough to beat him down, so if it gave him a boost to keep up with the Marines, she could hardly deny him that simple pleasure.
Her guess about the location proved correct. They sat down at the edge of the turn- around, and didn't wait long for the trucks to arrive. When the drivers learned no one else was coming, they suggested Andy and the kids ride in one cab and the two Marines in the other.
Once Andy was settled, she began to realize she really was tired. It felt awfully good just to sit, even in the jolting six by six, with 'Nito's bony little bottom digging into her legs.
Sancho was fascinated by the truck. He watched every move the driver made with eager attention, but Maria slumped against Andy and fell asleep.
Andy was surprised how quickly they reached the camp until she remembered it was almost twenty miles closer to the road fork than the original base, from which she had traveled to Todos Santos the other times. When they rolled into the Marine motor pool, she climbed stiffly down from the high cab and helped the children alight. She looked around, feeling as if it had been days rather than hours since she had climbed aboard that morning for the trip.
"What are you going to do with these kids?" PFC James asked, after he got out.
"Right now, try to get them fed, and a place to sleep. Tomorrow I suppose they'll have to go to that orphanage the Sisters of Mercy run at the edge of Bahia. At least until we find out if any of the villagers survived, if they are just hiding or something, although I fear that's not too likely."
"Let me drive you over to your area, then," the young Marine offered. "I got a license, so I can get a pickup." He loped across to the tent office and returned jingling keys. Although the Army compound wasn't far, Andy was grateful not to have to walk. She suspected the children were also, although they had made no complaint since they left the village.
"Just drop us here at the mess hall," she said, indicating the tent facility as they approached it. "And thanks, thanks a lot."
"That's all right, ma'am. Glad to help. And, ma'am, you ain't no Sergeant, are you? You gotta be an officer."
She grinned at the young man and shook her head. "I can't answer that," she said. "But it really doesn't matter."
There were times when she would swear the military community operated on gossip and rumors. At least news traveled faster by the informal grapevine than through any official channels. Andy shepherded the children through the chow line, knowing their presence would be all over the base within minutes.
***
Cory saw Fred Glass pick up the phone on his field desk before it could ring the second time.
"Oh yeah? Okay. I'll tell the Colonel." Glass replaced the receiver and swiveled to face to Cory. "Sir, somebody just saw Andy going into the mess hall with three Indian kids."
"You're joking!"
"No sir, really. Anyway, that's what Hasty just told me somebody had told him."
"Well, maybe we'd better check on it, then." Cory glanced at his watch and shook his head in mock dismay. "Didn't realize it was so late -- if we want to eat, we better get over there pretty quickly anyway. Come on, Fred. Work will keep for awhile."
Before they could cross the two hundred yards from Comms to the mess area, other phones had rung. Major Lewis Wallace strode out of his office in the Military Intelligence area and headed for the mess hall, too. Moments later, they all converged on the table where Andy and her three charges were eating.
Cory noticed the three children were wide eyed with wonder, but that didn't interfere with their appetites. They might not find all the food familiar, but they had known too little plenty to develop picky eating habits. It was food and it was there -- that was sufficient.
Attention focused on the children, Andy clearly didn't realize anyone was approaching until Cory stopped to one side of her and Major Wallace circled to halt across the table.
"So you made it back in one piece," Cory said.
She tried to rise, scrambling and struggling to get her feet under her.
"No, sit. There's no need to get up. I'll sit too." Cory pulled out a chair and settled himself at her side.
"I heard you had some refugees," Wallace said, breaking the brief silence. "You should have come directly to the G-2 so we could debrief them."
"Good grief! They're just kids, sir," Andy protested. "Give 'em a break! They've been through a lot, from all indications, and they don't need any more trauma right now."
The children darted black gazes anxiously among the adults, returning attention to Andy as if seeking her reassurance.
"Por favor, Sentilde;ora Soldado, what is it they want?" Sancho asked. "Are we eating too much?"
Andy smiled at them. "Don't worry. Everything will be all right. I know you're hungry -- eat as much as you wish. They're just talking about soldier business. It doesn't really concern you."
The boy looked unconvinced. Cory suspected he understood the tone and the gestures, if not the English words, sufficiently to recognize he and the younger ones were the subject of discussion.
"Go ahead and eat," Andy repeated. She turned to Cory. "I was going to come over to the Brigade Office just as soon as they ate, sir. The kids were really tired and hungry. We fed them some MREs, but that was before they walked down the mountain. I thought they needed to be fed first, at least."
"Are they from Todos Santos, then?" Cory assumed that was the case but wanted to confirm it.
Andy nodded. "Yes sir. They may be the only ones left." She paused, shook her head and sighed. "The place was virtually deserted, although some people were holed up in the company store. They're probably rebels, since they fired a few shots at the Marines when they started their house-to-house. Yablonski seemed to have everything under control, though. The patrol stayed there except for the two troops he sent back down with me and the kids. By now, he should have made a radio report to his CO, and the two PFCs were going to go right to their First Sergeant and report. It still isn't clear what's happened. Have you heard anything from the Peak?"
"They called in at 1200 as usual and said everything was calm and under control, no unusual problems. But we'd better double the team size from now on, at least. That'll make it a little easier for them to handle the watches. I expect General Corcoran will want a platoon of Marines up there permanently. I know he's determined to keep that system on line."
Cory could see his words reassured her. Relief flashed across her face.
"Good! I mean, our folks are the odds-on best Comms people anywhere, but they aren't supposed to be shooting soldiers. I don't want to see them hanging out up there with no protection. This bunch is due back day after tomorrow. Do you think we could start a team of ten up that way a day early?"
"Sure, Andy. Might make everyone feel a little easier." Cory stood. "If you'll come over to the office as soon as you're through, I'll leave you to eat in peace. Fred and I better get through the chow line before they shut down for the night, anyway."
"Yes, sir. I'll do that. I...er, I was thinking the kids could stay in my tent tonight. Lieutenant Seaforth has the duty, so she'll be out. Is that all right?"
Major Wallace started to interrupt, but Cory silenced him with a glare. "Sure. I don't see how three little kids can pose much of a threat or a security risk, but tomorrow we'll have to turn them over to the proper authorities -- like the Red Cross. We aren't set up to take care of children here."
"Yes sir, I realize that." Andy turned and looked hard at Major Wallace as she went on. "I understand. I just don't want to see them being treated like prisoners of war or something. All this talk about 'interrogation' and stuff is ridiculous."
The major bristled. "Now, wait a minute. We need to find out what's happening in Todos Santos, and it's damn hard to tell one Indian from another. How do you know which side these kids belong to? They may be able to shed some light, at least. I've heard there were kids no older carrying weapons and messages in Vietnam."
Indignation blazed from Andy's face. "A seven year old? A three year old? For crying out loud! Get real!!"
The major huffed. "Well, at least the boy."
"He's just eleven. That's still awfully young."
"We've at least got to have one of our Spanish language agents talk to him. Captain Hollis, you're being illogical about this and letting emotions interfere with duty. Just another instance where a woman..."
Cory put a hand on Andy's shoulder before her sputters of indignation could erupt into full scale discourtesy to a superior officer.
"I think we can effect a compromise here. I agree the children should not be subjected to further trauma, especially the two younger ones, but I think the boy is old enough to answer some simple questions. Captain Hollis, you take charge of the little ones, and I'll accompany the boy to the G-2 and then see he's settled for the night. I speak a little Spanish myself, so I can monitor what's said. If you explain to him now what's going to happen, I think he can handle it."
"All right, sir." Andy, though not totally happy, realized it was time to give in gracefully. "Sancho, this is Colonel Costain. He is my leader, and a good man. We need to find out all we can about the bad soldiers, so some of our soldiers need to talk to you. Colonel Costain will be with you and he'll bring you back later. I'll take care of Maria and 'Nito for you now. Do you understand? Is that all right?"
"Siacute;, Sentilde;ora Soldado. I will go and I will tell them all I can. I trust you. You have been fair and kind to us."
"Muchas gracias," Cory said. "We are grateful for your help. Will you tell me your name so I can call you properly?"
"Estoy Sancho Tallavero, mi Coronel."
"Thank you, sir," Andy said, quietly. Major Wallace had already risen and headed for the door. "Don't let them be too hard on him."
"Andy -- ," his tone was gently chiding, hinting at a limit to his patience. She wisely fell silent. He beckoned to Sancho and they hurried after the Major.
Andy realized then he had not stopped to eat. She glanced at Fred Glass, who'd been standing behind her, and shook her head. "Maybe you better get something for the Colonel while you're here," she suggested. "He'll be hungry later."
The XO looked at her oddly for a moment and then nodded his agreement. As he hurried off to get in line, Andy almost bit her tongue, but it was too late to take back any of her recent words. She realized she was guilty as charged, in more ways than one.
She'd let herself become emotional about the kids, and that wasn't all. Yet another weakness to guard against. Boy, she was losing ground fast. She gathered Maria and 'Nito and headed for her tent.
The little boy seemed much heavier now than he had been coming down the mountain. Surely he had not eaten that much. She had to admit then just how tired she was. The past half hour's confrontation had drained the last of her energy.
It had been a long day, a hard one, but she had survived and acquitted herself well enough, for the most part. Though not the easiest day she'd lived through, maybe she hadn't embarrassed herself too badly, except in her defense of the kids. Even Yablonski seemed to have gained some respect for her.
As Andy settled for the night, listening to the children's deep, even breathing, her thoughts drifted to what might be happening in the village, what must have happened already. Who and where were the parents of her kids? Would the little family ever be reunited? Even such worrisome thoughts were not enough to keep sleep at bay. The next thing she knew, it was dawn and reveille time.
Andy was trying to tidy Maria and 'Nito the next morning when Lieutenant Seaforth came in from her night on duty. Jan was surprised to see the children, and Andy quickly gave her a brief version of the previous day's events.
"I sure hate for these kids to have to go to an orphanage," she concluded. "But I guess there's really no alternative. The Company could get by with adopting a dog, but I guess a kid is out, much less two or three."
"I'm afraid so," Jan agreed. "They're cute little things, though, and so quiet. I've never seen kids quite like this before. I suppose they've led a pretty hard life."
Just as Andy stepped out of the tent, a pickup with the Red Cross logo on the door pulled up and stopped. A pleasant looking older lady sat at the wheel. Sancho and Cory were with her. Cory swung out, saying something which Andy was not able to hear.
"Come on," she said to Maria. "Here is Sancho now. You are going to ride in this truck with a nice lady and go to a place where there are other children and the bad soldiers will not come."
She led them around to the passenger door, where Cory stood. "That was quick, sir," she said, as she boosted Maria in behind 'Nito.
"No use delaying the inevitable, Andy. We aren't able to take proper care of them here, and we have more than enough to worry about without this added issue."
There was little censure in his tone, but her conscience prickled. "I know, sir. Maybe I made an error, bringing them down, but we couldn't leave them up there alone and unprotected."
"Nobody is criticizing your action, Andy. I understand Lieutenant Yablonski agreed with the plan, didn't he?"
"Yes sir, he did. He was afraid they'd be hurt if there was a firefight or anything. I'm just sorry to see them going -- they may never be reunited with their family, even if any of them are still alive. But at least they're together, the three of them."
Cory stared after the truck as it rolled away, a somber expression on his face. The departure left a cloud of dust to settle over them.
He turned back to Andy. "That's true. One of the saddest things about wars -- they don't take much regard for innocent people or their welfare. Usually the poor and the children are the ones hurt the most, whether they get shot at or not. But we can't change that right now."
He turned and started off. "Come on, you still owe me a briefing. I expect the coffee is ready by now, over in the Brigade Office. Let's go get some."
Andy fell in step beside him and began her narrative.
* * *
Once again, there was no time to brood. If Andy thought at all about the children, it was in those rare moments when she was not busy and plagued with a thousand other problems -- the few minutes before she fell asleep, maybe in a brief lull during the day. Events rolled onward and each day held its own threats and challenges.
As the holidays approached, most of the people in the war zone chose to ignore the season. It didn't look or feel much like Christmas, and the war effort kept plodding on, regardless of the date. For Andy, ignoring Christmas was no big effort. The holidays had held no real meaning for her for a long time, so this year was no different from many others.
She and Jan Seaforth had developed a surprisingly smooth working relationship in a brief time, and Andy had actually come to admire the younger woman. Jan's grit and determination belied her china doll appearance, and the two were on the verge of becoming friends. An incident soon cemented this cautious regard.
Once he was safely back in his capital city, Presidente Domingo Veracruz y Santillan of San Juan Delgado decided he needed to make a grand gesture of appreciation to the armies which had restored his small nation to a semblance of normalcy. For many years, the Veracruz family had owed, Jolla Azul, a beautiful little jewel of an island just outside the mouth of the bay.
After he assumed the Presidency, Sentilde;or Veracruz made it into a resort of astounding luxury, frequented by the first family, their aristocratic friends in the government of San Juan Delgado, and the jet-setters whose influence they cultivated.
Now, though, Sentilde;or Veracruz decided to put the facilities of Jolla Azul at the disposal of the Joint Command for an R&R site. It was ideal, safely out of harm's way, but close enough to be readily accessible. Beginning two weeks before Christmas, groups of 200 were airlifted to the island for forty-eight to seventy-two hour basket leaves. There, they could briefly forget the war while enjoying the pleasures of the very wealthy, for every possible amenity was available.
At his staff meeting on 21 December, Cory announced the Brigade had spaces for twenty-five people to go for 23 to 25 December and another twenty-five for the New Year's weekend. He suggested everyone write names on scraps of paper and toss them into a bucket. Lieutenant Glass, blindfolded to ensure impartiality, drew out fifty slips.
Andy was neither surprised nor dismayed when her name was not drawn. She was quite willing to congratulation Jan when hers was, but the younger woman was dismayed.
"That isn't fair! I've barely got here, really. There are a lot of people who need a break more than I do. Why don't you take my place, Andy? I'll just wait and try again later."
At first, Andy refused, but when Jan continued to urge the next day, she finally gave in. After all, no sacrifice on her part would bring back the people of Todos Santos, killed by the rebels.
A few days after her trip to the village with the Marines, Andy had learned the grisly fate of the folk there. The rebels had herded the entire population into the mine at gunpoint and then, the next day, blown up the entrance drift, sealing them inside.
There were only a few survivors who had managed to escape -- the three children, a nun who had been ill and asleep in a tiny cell beneath the school, and the village priest, Father Timothy Flynn, who had been away to minister to the needs of a smaller and poorer village which did not support a church of its own.
The good Father Flynn had returned just before the rebels blasted the mine entrance. He had been beaten for his pains when he tried to dissuade them from their cruel revenge, but he was recovering and would survive.
Todos Santos was now garrisoned with both Army and Marine forces, and a platoon camped on the peak with the maintenance team, guarding the critical antenna facility, to which even more devices had now been added.
It would not bring back any of the dead, but Andy did appreciate knowing that Father Flynn had been able to identify several of the rebels and provide that information to the Joint Command. Yablonski and two other Marine officers now led a vigorous search for the perpetrators, determined to kill or capture them all.
Yablonski had made a point of contacting Andy to tell her about it. She finally decided that was as much of a apology and mark of respect as he could unbend to give her.
Thus at midmorning on 23 December, she found herself aboard a helicopter, peering down as it circled the emerald island, surrounded by a glittering aquamarine sea. The chopper dipped and settled neatly on a white X, marked on a rooftop terrace of the rambling hotel-sized Gran Hacienda where she would spend the next two days.
After the helicopter settled, the passengers disembarked. They were immediately met by a virtual army of servants who made quick work of settling everyone in rooms while describing in detail all the available activities. Sailing, swimming, fishing, tennis, horseback riding, golf, a guided tour of the island, and so forth.
Andy finally decided to take the tour and joined a captain from the Chaplain's office and several enlisted women from Wire Comms, the Communication Security or COMSEC company, and other units waiting for the mini-bus. One of them had a friend who had already been there, and she described the gala parties which were held each night.
Andy felt a stir of dismay. "Oh, no! I don't have anything appropriate to wear to something like that!" In her haste the following evening, she had packed a bathing suit and some shorts and slacks with sporty tops, but nothing at all dressy. She had few civilian clothes here with her, anyway.
Much to Andy's surprise, there were some boutique style shops in the quaint little village below the Hacienda. There she found a simple but dramatic dress and a pair of high heeled sandals. The ivory dress had a fitted off-shoulder bodice and a short swingy skirt. It was actually more elegant than anything she owned except her formal mess dress uniform which was safely stored back at Fort Cochise.
* * *
Cory looked up as Fred Glass entered the tent. "I thought you were off to the Island. Didn't you trade a slip with Petty?"
The younger man shook his head. "Yes sir, but I decided to wait. Lieutenant Seaforth is going to try her chances for the New Year's weekend and I'd rather wait too. We -- we'd like to go together if we can. Why don't you go, sir, take my place? There's at least one more chopper leaving about 1400. I think things are going to be quiet here for a few days. Even the rebels are going to keep Christmas."
Cory shrugged. "Wasn't planning on going," he said. "I don't need an 'r and r' break nearly as bad as the folks who've been out on the front lines. I wouldn't feel right taking a spot one of them could use."
Before Fred could reply, the phone rang. Cory picked it up first. The gruff voice of General Corcoran surprised him. Even in a war zone, generals seldom did their own calling.
He recovered from the shock enough to take in the general's words.
"I want all my key commanders here," the general said. "We can combine business with relaxation and get in some planning sessions along with a few rounds of golf. When Sentilde;or Veracruz extended the invitation to join him for the holiday, I decided this could work to our benefit. Get yourself out here by tonight, Costain, and that's an order. I want to see you first thing tomorrow along with my other key staff."
"Yes sir," Cory replied, too startled to argue, even if he had dared. He knew Corcoran from earlier association and recalled the four-star did not calmly take no for an answer.
"I guess I am going after all," he said, flashing Fred a wry grin as he hung up the phone. "But probably not taking a troop's place to do it. I've got orders, straight from General Corcoran. He wants to have some kind of staff meeting with Sentilde;or Veracruz and the U.N. brass."
Fred grinned. "In that case, you may as well enjoy it, sir."
* * *
During the rest of the day, Andy got in a swim and even a nap. She awoke at 1700, feeling almost refreshed and as close to relaxed as she had in weeks. But she had fallen asleep with her hair still wet from the swim and it had dried so tousled no amount of combing would sleek it into its usual smooth contours. Finally, in desperation, she used the curling iron she found in her posh bath to fluff it into a passable style.
Then, she slipped on the dress. The bodice fit snugly. Probably the next larger size would have been better, but it had been the only one available. No matter, she probably wouldn't see anyone she knew, anyway.
When she looked in the mirror, she gasped. The person she saw was a total stranger. Lush feminine contours, usually concealed in baggy BDUs or carefully tailored greens were fully revealed, even accentuated by the clinging knit top. The tumbled curls looked young and playful. For a moment, she thought seriously about staying in her room rather than exposing this new and totally unexpected apparition to public scrutiny, but she was hungry and suddenly both lonely and rebellious. So far removed from anything familiar, some hidden facet of herself seemed determined to emerge. With a defiant little toss of her head, she turned and headed for the door.
The Hacienda sprawled around the highest hill on the island, stepping down in tiers toward the white beach. Andy's room was on the fourth story above the beach-front main level. She took the elevator down to the main floor to find the banquet rooms where, she had been told, the evening festivities took place.
When the doors slid opened silently, she stepped out. In the unaccustomed high heels, her feet slipped on the terrazzo floor. Her slide took her right into the path, almost into the arms of a distinguished looking gentleman. He stood tall and militarily erect, his silvered hair reflecting the gleam of the chandeliers overhead.
He reached out quickly to steady her. "Careful, Miss."
With a quick glance upward, Andy recognized her benefactor -- none other than General Corcoran himself. She felt the blush fire her face, from throat to hairline. Of all the people she might literally run into, this had to be the worst. Everyone was terrified of The General -- when anyone spoke of him, the title was all they used. It was like The King or almost a diety! She'd never met him face to face, but the stories of his towering rages and demanding attitude were more than enough. To her, he might as well be Howard Hollis all over again.
"Excuse me, sir," she stammered. "I'm afraid I've forgotten how to walk in heels. I certainly didn't mean to plow into anyone this way."
To her astonishment, he laughed. "That's quite all right, my dear. This floor is like glass. May I escort you somewhere to ensure you get there safely?"
A faint odor of brandy lingered around him, which might account for the mellow mood he seemed to be in. Still she didn't want to push her luck. Simple honesty seemed the best policy.
"I was on my way to the main banquet hall," she said. "And I'm not quite sure where that is."
"Then by all means, you must let me guide you." He caught her left hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm. Thus caught, Andy could do nothing but pace at his side. As they rounded a blind corner in the hallway, she almost bumped into the knees of a man seated there on a low marble bench. Andy skidded to a halt.
The General stopped when she did, his attention turning quickly to the man. For a moment Andy feared the hapless fellow was going to get a lecture. Instead, her companion suddenly smiled.
"Costain. So you did get here. Waiting for someone?"
Costain -- as in Colonel? Cory? For a moment, Andy could not associate the man who sprang to his feet and saluted with her commander. He wore dark trousers and an embroidered white Guyaberra shirt. Her heart recognized him before her mind did, but there was really no mistaking Cory's blue eyes, the craggy set of his sunburnt features. Save for her grip on the general's arm, Andy would have sunk through the floor.
"Not really, sir," Cory said. "More trying to get my bearings. To a sheepherder's son from Idaho, this is quite a place."
The general gave Cory a jovial slap on the back. "Well, son, since you have to eat too, you may as well join us. I picked up this charming young thing at the elevators. She literally fell into my arms."
At this, Cory's attention turned to Andy. If she'd blushed earlier, now she blazed. "It wasn't -- er -- I tripped and he caught me," she blurted.
"Captain Hollis? Andy?"
While Cory's acetylene-flame gaze swept her from crown to toes, alternate waves of fire and ice washed over Andy in rapid succession. He was clearly as startled to see her as she to see him.
The general watched them with obvious amusement as well as a bit of confusion. "Do you two know each other?"
Cory recovered first, calling up his command presence and military training to save him from the awkward situation. "Captain Hollis is one of the fine young officers in my Brigade, Sir. Neither of us realized the other was here. It's been some time since we've seen each other out of uniform. Took a minute for recognition to soak in."
"That calls for a drink," General Corcoran said with another jovial laugh. He grabbed Cory's arm and hauled him along down the corridor.
Cory knew better than to resist. He'd met the general in Vietnam, and even as a captain, the man had been formidable. Now with four stars and the role of supreme commander for the 3-D war, no one was going to gainsay him. Although he'd never heard anyone dare to use the term "lecher" in reference to Corcoran, the general was known to be a ladies man. After his good look at Andy, Cory couldn't blame Corcoran for being interested, but he had to hope she knew what she was getting into.
Mrs. Corcoran was almost as much an icon as her husband, but she was thousands of miles away at the couple's home in Arlington, Virginia. That left her unable to curtail his potential philandering here. Part of Cory wanted to see Andy tumble from her prim and proper pedestal, but he really didn't want General Corcoran to be the man to do that. Painful as the admission was, he saw himself in that role and no one else. He shook his head, trying to banish this entire unwelcome chain of thought.
"The dining room is right across there," Corcoran was saying, showing Andy the way. "But first you and Costain are coming in here with me for a drink." He led them into a dimly lit lounge on the right side of the hall. A vacant table miraculously appeared before them and a cocktail waitress was there for their order before the general seated Andy and turned to his own chair. Cory was the last to sit.
The combination of Latin music and a hundred voices competing to be heard made conversation difficult, so after one drink, the general rose.
"I'll expect you in the morning, Costain," he said. "In the Ambassador Suite on the top floor around 0900. Meanwhile, take care of young Captain Holly here. She's a treasure."
He bowed to Andy in a courtly fashion. When she moved to salute, he grasped her wrist and then stooped to drop a kiss on the back of her hand. Then he turned to start away, leaving them shocked and speechless. Tall as he was, the general was lost in the crowd before either of them recovered.
"I've got my orders," Cory said, "as you heard. Shall we go have dinner?"
Andy stared at him. Her face looked pale in the lounge's dim light, her eyes wide and overflowing with confusion and wariness. He took her arm and led her back out into the hall, where they paused.
"I didn't know you were here, were coming out this time." Andy blurted the words, uncensored.
"It was a sudden decision. Actually the General made it for me. I didn't realize you were here, either."
"Jan finally talked me into taking her place."
"As Fred was trying to convince me when Corcoran's call came in." Cory shook his head. "It almost feels like a conspiracy but I'm not that paranoid, are you?"
Andy swept a quick, startled glance his way. "No. I mean why would anyone want to get both of us here? We're not -- I'm not -- ."
"That obvious?" He watched her as the import of his words sank in. She paled and then blushed.
"Don't be ridiculous. There's nothing to be obvious about." Her vehemence was too quick, too strong.
Methinks she doth protest too much. Shakespeare? Where in hell did that come from? Cory took her arm again. "Let's go eat, anyway. You weren't planning to join someone, were you?"
"No sir, but you're under no obligation to me. I don't care what The General said. It wasn't exactly an order."
Andy looked up as she spoke, her eyes meeting and clashing with his bright blue gaze. She wanted to run as far and fast as she could to escape the warm regard shining in his eyes. He smiled, that warm, easy smile that turned her insides to Jell- O.
"Can't we drop the sir for now and just be Andy and Cory? We're in civvies and we're supposed to be here to relax, have fun, leave the war and all its pressures behind."
"I -- er -- are you sure? Do you really think...?" Her tongue was in knots, reflecting the tangled nature of her thoughts and feelings. This was terrible!
"I sure do. I most certainly do! Come on., I'd like to be the lucky guy who has you for a dinner companion tonight. Please?"
The 'please' undid her. He looked so young, both brash and bashful, command presence and authority left behind along with the uniform. Something in his eyes hinted he was teasing her, but she suddenly found she could not refuse. When he extended an arm, she slipped hers through it. She rested her hand on his bare forearm, warm and hard beneath her fingertips.
He reached across and covered her hand with his for a moment. "I'm really glad you're here. I was feeling like a lost soul, wandering around alone, looking for a familiar face, and beginning to think I'd just hitch the earliest ride I could find back to Del Campo. Then you appeared, just like magic. You look gorgeous in that dress, by the way."
"I just bought it today. It's too small, I'm afraid, but I didn't bring anything dressy at all. All I have with me here are BDUs and grubbies. I didn't expect to be doing any partying. Is it too obviously skimpy?" She smoothed her free hand restlessly down the bodice, realizing only after she felt his glance follow her hand just how sensual the gesture appeared.
" I'm no fashion expert, but it looks terrific to me. I didn't recognize you for a minute there. Corcoran is known for...well, an eye for the ladies. I just thought he'd found someone...I mean...well, it's not that you don't always look good, but not the same kind of good."
Andy jerked to a stop, startled. Cory was actually blushing and definitely floundering for words. It was so unexpected she had to struggle not to giggle. He stopped with her, looking first at her face and then down at her hand on his arm.
He chuckled awkwardly. "Oh hell, can I take all that back and start over?"
She shook her head, giving in to a need to grin. "Nope, I won't let you off that easy, but I'll accept the compliment I think you intended and let it go at that."
"Whew!" He pantomimed mopping his brow and then grinned back. "Thanks! It's been so long since I tried to socialize outside of dining ins and unit picnics that I've pretty near forgotten what to do."
They turned toward the dining room then, Andy still resting her hand lightly on his arm. She tried to pretend that simple and seemingly casual touch was not sending electrical shocks clear up her arm to disrupt her heart beat and muddle her thinking.
They crossed into a corner of the long room, lit with dozens of chandeliers, to a vacant table for two. He pulled out a magnificent carved chair for her and then sat down himself, a yard of pristine linen away.
Afterwards, Andy had no recollection of the meal. She was sure it had been elegant and delicious, but her senses were awash, filled to the brink and overflowing with Cory -- the deceptively lazy drawl of his low voice, the spicy-clean scent of his after shave, the way the sparkling lights made coppery highlights in his hair. The brightness of his eyes, aglow now with appreciation and desire, almost rivaled the gleaming chandeliers.
That glow had been there all along, she realized suddenly, but veiled, banked and denied. Heretofore, she had been so busy trying to suppress her attraction to him that she had not seen it. Either that or its presence frightened her so badly she'd refused to acknowledge it, even to herself. But tonight, the stranger she had glimpsed in the mirror was not so timid, insecure, or resistant. The girl in the sexy white dress accepted it as her due and let her own emotions respond.
The meal finally ended. They sipped delicious fruity flavored drinks and wandered down the corridor, following the sound of music to another vast room where a small orchestra played music made for dancing. Claiming a little marble topped table along one wall, they left their drinks there.
Cory did not ask; he simply held out his arms and Andy moved into them. They danced several sets, returning in between them to the table, where full glasses always awaited, until finally they had danced everything from waltzes to the lambada. When they were unsure of the steps, they simply improvised, taking from each other the subtle cues of movement so there was never a hesitation or misstep. They might as well have been partnered forever.
Finally, they moved down the room and out onto a terrace which seemed to float above the water. Their feet slowed and then stopped until they were just standing and swaying together. Cory's hands slid down to Andy's waist and below, just above the swell of her hips, bringing her close and still closer. The white skirt flattened against his hard-muscled thighs and her breasts against the warm wall of his chest until she could feel the throb of his heartbeat as clearly as her own.
She raised her head to look at him, clinging to his shoulders for the stability she suddenly lacked.
"Andrea..." Through a haze of sensations the half-whispered word came, strange and exotic until she remembered it was the other girl's name -- and for tonight, hers.
"Not Andy, but Andrea?"
Even in the near-darkness she could see his eyes, feel their brightness and heat. They drew her like a magnet. She tiptoed, reaching up as he bent forward. Their lips met and fused in an open-mouthed kiss full of hunger and heat and need.
She pressed into his body, as close as she could possibly be save for the few layers of clothing. They fit together like two parts of a whole and she found no surprise in that. She had known, from the very first day.
His hands swept up, cupping her bare shoulders and then slid on to clasp, one on either side of her head. His mouth left hers and brushed across her eyes, her nose, slowly exploring the whole of her face and slipping down her neck to the hollow of her shoulder.
"Andy, Andrea -- I want you so bad I can taste it," he said, hoarsely, against her lips. "Maybe I'm wrong, but somehow I think the same need is drawing you."
She nodded, wordless, the taste and pressure of his mouth stealing her voice.
"Let's go upstairs."
Again, she nodded. When they turned together, he kept his arm around her, holding her snugly to his side.
They found a door back into the corridor, bypassing the ballroom, and then went on to the elevator. In the privacy of the little dimly lit cubicle, Andy leaned limply against him, too deep in the lassitude of desire to move.
His room was across the hall and four doors down from hers, nearer the elevator. As they approached the door, he pulled the key card out of his pocket, never loosening his hold on her. He opened the door, a hand at her back to guide her in ahead of him, finally releasing her.
The room looked out over the ocean instead of the village, as Andy's did. It even had a little balcony, beyond an open French door.
Andy walked slowly across the thick plush carpet and out onto the tiled floor of the balcony. She swayed, suddenly dizzy and disoriented, all the euphoric assurance draining away to leave her scared and empty.
She clutched the cold iron of the railing and looked down at the water, foaming as the waves broke on the rocks far below. For a moment, she was not sure who or where she was, caught somewhere between Andy and Andrea, between the austere tents of Del Campo and the opulence of Jolla Azul.
Cory came quietly up behind her and settled his hands gently over her shoulders. "What's wrong?" he asked softly. "Everything happening too fast?"
"Yes -- no -- I don't know." She sucked in a deep breath, one that wanted to turn into a sob. "It's just the dress, isn't it? Not really me. This dress makes me somebody else..." She knew she was not making sense, but it was taking too much effort just to resist the urge to cry. She could not hold back her flooding tears and think and talk, too.
"I don't want a dress, Andy. The first time I ever saw you, you were wearing greens, prim and proper, stiff as you please, but I had to fight to keep myself from walking right up and kissing you. You can't blame that on a dress."
"Well, maybe the name, then. That's what turned Jody on. I didn't find out quick enough, but it sure wasn't me."
Whoever 'Jody' was, Cory had a sudden urge to wring his neck. Her hurt was clearly still bitter and deep. But he was lost, trying to figure out what she was talking about, still half drugged by her scent, the feel and taste of her. "Huh? I don't -- what do you mean?"
"The name, Hollis -- as in Howard M., BG, USAF retired."
"Not Howlin' Howard?" The question burst out before he could censor it. "No! It can't...you can't..."
"Oh yes I am. His daughter, his black sheep, disowned, wretched mess of a daughter. Damn it, will I never ever be free of him?"
"I never -- Andy, please, believe me. Until this very minute I never once made the connection. Hell, there must be thousands of Hollises in the world. Anyway, I don't hold it against you. I never really knew him, except by reputation, so I can't. He's not you. I mean, my dad raised sheep, after all."
"I guess an Air Force general couldn't do too much for an Army career, but you never know. Sheep? Oh, good grief." Her laugh held an edge of hysteria. She twisted sharply to shake off his hands and clutched frantically at the rail as if the rash movement made everything spin and whirl.
In a moment of sudden clarity, Cory realized all that delicious fruity punch she had drunk so thirstily had been alcoholic. She was thoroughly intoxicated and getting more so by the moment. She reeled against the rail for a fearful minute until he caught her fiercely and drew her away.
"Come on, it's not so bad you have to throw yourself off the balcony, kid," he joked clumsily. She let him lead her inside, back into the luxurious room. She was crying now, no longer able to resist, only partly aware of where she was.
He sat down on a plush love seat and drew her down beside him. She stiffened for a moment, gulping between harsh hiccuping sobs.
"It won't work. It never does. I can't do it, can't do any of it right. I can't be a woman or a soldier or -- or anything."
He put an arm around her shoulders, patting gently on her arm, the sort of soothing touch one might give a frightened horse.
"It's all right. Calm down. Nothing's wrong. We won't do anything you don't want to, hon. Sometimes life's a rough tour, and sometimes it helps to lean on, to talk to a friend."
She stopped babbling and slumped against him. He held her then, like he'd hold a child, and let her cry.
It was all starting to make sense. Although he knew General Hollis only by reputation, as he had told her, that was enough. The fact Andy was in the Army rather than the Air Force, that she had been enlisted before becoming an officer, it was all adding up.
Her voice was muffled now, against his shoulder, but the defeat and despair in her tone came through clearly.
"Whatever I did, it was never good enough. It never will be. I'm no good as a soldier; how could I be, when I'm female, but I'm no good as a woman either. Jody told me that often enough. You shouldn't waste your time on me."
"Let me worry about what I spend my time on, Andy. Right now, I don't call it wasted. I'm concerned about you, care about you. How can I help?"
She pulled away, clasped her hands around her knees and hunched forward. "I don't know. I...well, I haven't gotten all that far, really, but I did get here on my own, not by sleeping with anybody or using Dad's name or anything. I know some women do -- sleep around and all -- but that isn't...that's why they all say women shouldn't be in the military. It wouldn't work for me, anyway. I didn't mean to flirt, wasn't trying to come on to you, sir."
She raised a tear-streaked face to look at him, her earnestness shining painfully in her eyes. "It's just this damn dress. It has to be. It's like I was trying to be somebody else, not me, and you were just the first guy I ran in to."
For a moment, she half-smiled. "And I really did too -- run into you." She giggled and then sobered again, quickly. "I like you but, well, you're my CO and all. I'm sorry it was you. With somebody else it wouldn't matter. I am sorry, sir, I really am."
For a moment, his ego flinched, but there wasn't time for that now. "Hush. We're just Andy and Cory here, remember? And we're just pretending. This isn't real, just a fairy tale for tonight. You're Cinderella all dressed up like a princess. I'm not much of a prince, but I like holding you, dancing with you. Still, if you prefer, we'll just pretend to be friends. We can go back down and dance some more or have another drink or walk on the beach. If it will make you more comfortable, go change."
"I'm too drunk already. Don't need 'nother."
She looked at him again, as if searching his face for clues of irritation or disgust. His shirt clung to him, wet on the shoulder and side where she had cried.
"So what will it be, Andy-rella? The Princess gets to choose, you know."
"Get rid of these shoes, first," she said. "They've already killed my feet." She gave a little kick and the high heeled sandals flew off. They looked funny, lying lopsided, half buried in the deep pile of the carpet. She giggled.
"I'm drunk, Cory, really drunk. I haven't been drunk in years." She thought back then to his question. "I just wanta stay here, with you, I guess. Since it's not real. It'd just be like a dream, huh?"
He shook his head, smiling at her whimsy. "Yeah, kind of. How about some coffee, then?"
She nodded. "Sure. An' let's watch TV. We can pretend it's a movie."
He got up and crossed the room to open the doors of an elegant carved cabinet which held the entertainment center. After flipping through several Spanish language channels, he finally found an old American movie, a classic western. "How's that?"
She clapped her hands in childish delight. "Great! It's one of my all-time favorites."
"Really? Mine too. One of these days, I'll buy the tape -- after I get a VCR." He called room service for the coffee and then settled back beside Andy again.
They spent an hour and a half watching the movie and drinking coffee. The last half hour, Andy tucked herself against his side, snuggled into the curve of his arm.
As the hero rode off into the sunset, she turned and looked up at him, tears again bright in her eyes, but her lips curved in a smile. One tear slid past her lashes and trailed down her cheek. He reached out to wipe it away with his thumb.
"See, I'm not just a typical male sex maniac, not even if you are the sexiest woman I've met in years."
She shook her head. "S'not me -- . S'the dress, or maybe the night, the magic. Or maybe you -- nobody else effects me like this." She swayed slightly, leaning closer to him. "It hit me right away too. Scared me to death. Still does..." Her eyes drifted shut, as if the hot intensity of his gaze had become too bright to bear.
Shaped by the silky knit, her waist was incredibly small. Above and below it, her body curved in enticing roundness. His hands shaped those curves with loving care. He moved one hand up her back and found the top of the zipper and the tiny hook on the cowled collar. He paused. Her head lolled back on his arm, her eyes shut and her lips slightly parted.
"Andy?" The only reply was a soft half-sigh, suspiciously close to a snore. She was sound asleep. Her hand lay softly against him, its heat burning through the gauze-fine fabric of his shirt, but her body was innocently limp, relaxed in childish abandon.
Cody shook his head, a wry smile curving his lips. "All right, Princess. Guess it is supposed to be rest as well as recreation, isn't it?"
He eased away from her, still supporting her as he stood and turned, scooping her up into his arms. Only a few steps to the bed alcove of his suite, which held an opulent king sized bed with a fluffy satin comforter for a spread. He put her gently down and watched as she wriggled slightly, getting settled and comfortable.
A slight smile curved her lips. She looked very young, in spite of the mature curves shaped by the dress and the long legs showcased as the skirt slid up, revealing sleek thighs.
"You're going to have to sleep in that dress, gal. From the looks of it, you can't be wearing much underneath, and my good intentions go only so far."
He bent and brushed a light kiss across her temple. Then he turned to walk slowly back out to the sitting area. The couch was way too short, but he'd try to sleep on it, anyway.
Andy awoke slowly, longing to deny her throbbing headache and the feedlot-dust taste in her mouth. Despite her wishes, awareness marched on relentlessly to overtake her. Besides the other discomforts, her clothing was twisted and binding. She opened her eyes reluctantly. The room did not look familiar, at least the little of it she could see in the dim light.
She was wearing a dress and the skirt had hiked up to an indecent level, bunched around her hips, but a satiny bedspread covered her to the waist, concealing the disarray. Then she realized there was an unfamiliar warm weight against her back. That brought her fully and suddenly awake as a disconnected jumble of memories surfaced abruptly.
With the memories came a recollection of where she was: Veracruz's island, in the Hacienda Grande. But she was positive this wasn't the room she'd been assigned. That meant her greatest need was to get from here to there as quickly and stealthily as possible.
Besides her tangled dress and the bed spread, there was an arm across her, she realized. An arm across her and a sleep-weighted body behind her. Cautiously, she began to edge away from the warm bulk. The owner of the arm -- she refused to look back and confirm her dreadful suspicion -- stirred and made a muffled grumbling sound.
She froze. When he again fell silent, she moved a bit more. Ah ha. Free. Her feet found the floor and sank ankle deep in plush carpet. She rose slowly, blinking back the dizziness and the pounding pain in her head before she tiptoed toward the open doorway, the only apparent exit from the bedroom alcove.
Somewhere in the next room she thought she'd find the small clutch purse she had carried, the one which held her key and her ID card and a few other essentials.
Every step sent pain jolting through her head although she moved as gently as she could. Morning sunlight streamed brightly into the sitting room through the French doors which opened onto a balcony, vaguely familiar. She flinched from both the light and the view, squinting to simulate the dimmer bedroom light which her eyes could barely tolerate.
There, on the table, was her purse. She snatched it up and turned toward the main door. The cool, slick knob moved easily beneath her hand, turning silently. When the heavy carved door swung open without a sound, she glided out, letting it slip closed behind her. Now, where was her room? Thank goodness the hall was but dimly lit.
She tiptoed carefully from door to door. Hers was 421, wasn't it? Fumbling the key from her purse, she peered at the number. Yes, the key read 421. One more moment and she was safe inside. Her ragged sigh of relief also hurt.
I won't leave this room until it's time to catch the flight back. She wriggled out of the rumpled dress and defiantly let it lie where it fell. Her half slip and pantyhose followed as she padded across to the bath. Without turning on the lights, she adjusted the spray and stepped into the shower.
She stood there for a long time, letting the water beat down on her, even turning her face up to the stinging cascade. After she got out, she felt enough better to turn on one light and search out some aspirin. Then, she pulled on a pair of shorts and an oversized tee shirt before she called room service for some coffee. Not until after the third cup did she seriously try to remember the previous night's events, and then, the more she recalled, the worse it got.
There were too many gaps, but what she did remember was sufficiently terrible by itself. At best, she'd made a total fool of herself, and at worst -- she didn't even dare imagine the worst. Waking up in bed with -- no, she wasn't even going to think about that, much less visualize what might have or could have happened. She found a slight comfort that she'd awakened fully dressed, even her hose in place, but that was far from the level of reassurance she needed.
Why did this have to be a stupid island? There was absolutely no place she could go where she would be sure not to run into Cory, no place except this room, and it was much too close to his.
She dared not even stick her nose outside the door, really. When was the next flight back, anyway? Maybe later today? Finally, she called the switchboard and inquired. Getting an answer took a few minutes, and was not worth the wait. The next flight was at 0800 the next morning. She could have cried, but cursed in frustration instead. Almost twenty-four hours before she could escape. Could she keep some kind of hold on her sanity that long?
* * *
Cory awoke to a half-heard sound, the muffled click as the outer door shut and latched. Not surprised to find Andy gone, he was still disappointed. He should have awakened first, found a way to reassure her, to ease whatever embarrassment she might feel. He might have convinced her he hadn't taken any further liberties while she was defenseless.
Outside of a dry mouth and a few stiff muscles from trying to sleep half the night on the couch, he felt normal. He showered and shaved, dressed in comfortable jeans and a sport shirt.
The first thing he saw when he wandered out to the sitting room was Andy's sandals, half-buried in the carpet where they had landed. She'd carried the Cinderella analogy to the max. With a chuckle, he stooped and picked them up -- two ounces of ridiculously fragile strips of white and gilt leather, molded plastic heels and soles, so small and so absurdly fragile and feminine. He turned them in his hands a moment, trying to reassemble his mental picture of the paradox which was both Captain Andy Hollis and Andrea Hollis.
In spite of what she apparently thought of herself, she was one hell of a woman and not too shabby as a soldier and officer, either. Somehow, he had to find a way to prove that to her, to reassure away all the doubts and insecurities she'd been burdened with. People could be so damn cruel, cold and unthinking, sometimes.
Parents especially. He cursed Howard Hollis and parents in general. After all, his folks had laid the names of Ketchum, Corvallis, and Bountiful on their three offspring! He sometimes wondered if they'd simply stuck pins in map while blindfolded or what. Towns in Idaho and the adjacent states of Utah and Oregon made strange names, otherwise.
When he called for his morning coffee, Cory also inquired what room Captain Hollis was in. If she had mentioned it, he had not caught the number. He declined the switchboard's offer to ring her, and instead walked down the hall to 421 with the sandals in his hand. When his knock went unanswered, he resolved to try again later. Perhaps Andy had just gone down for breakfast.
Later though, the results were the same. He came and went from his room several times during the day. Each time he knocked on the door of 421. Each time he got no response. Not until she failed to show up for dinner did he really begin to worry, though.
Was she ill? He expected she'd suffered from a hangover, but that should have worn off hours ago. What could be wrong? Finally, he had to admit it just might be that she did not want to see him. Maybe he had only imagined her response, or maybe it was simply as she'd said -- he was merely the first man she ran into. Not a pleasant thought.
Rather than face the insistent party mood downstairs, he spent the evening in his room, ate a light supper, and paced around while the TV flashed its customary inanity. He did not sleep well and was more than ready to leave when the first helicopter landing the next morning.
When he saw Andy was not in the waiting group, a vague worry again nagged at him. Angrily, he refused to acknowledge it. Damn her, if she wanted to get prickly and distant again, he'd let her. He'd been patient and sympathetic, as nearly an all around nice guy as he could be. What more could she possibly want?
* * *
Th next morning, everything was back to normal at Del Campo, at least in the Signal Brigade. Up at her usual pre-dawn hour, Andy shunned the mess hall and went directly to the company office. Back in a familiar routine on familiar territory, she could almost forget the hours spent on Jolla Azul and the heretofore unknown stranger hiding within herself who had emerged so unexpectedly.
Settling at her desk with a cup of re-warmed coffee, she could nearly pretend that emergence had never occurred. At least she could vow to herself there would be no more such appearances.
She glanced quickly through the last three daily bulletins put out by the Joint Headquarters to keep everyone up to date. Apparently the rebels had taken a holiday too; the past three days had been unusually quiet.
At least she'd made it back to Del Campo without encountering Cory again. It had been a near thing, though. The last morning, she'd just stepped out her door when she glanced up to see his starting to swing open. Quickly, she'd ducked back into her room and stayed there until he was safely aboard the elevator. Then, she waited impatiently until the next helicopter was loading before she ventured out again.
She was sure the persistent knocks on her door had been him, but she had stayed as still as a mute mouse each and every time, determined not to face him. Now, she would just have to pretend none of it had ever happened. Maybe he'd been truthful when he said it wasn't real. Maybe he'd pretend too.
If there was a staff meeting today, she'd have Jan go. After all, the Lieutenant had been in charge the last three days and was thus more current than she was. If her luck held, she might be able to avoid Cory for several more days. Maybe she'd even have a chance to go out with a forward team. If such a chance came, she'd jump at it.
Her wishful complacency was misplaced. The phone rang just as Jan arrived. Master Sergeant Hasty took the call.
"Captain Hollis, Ma'am, it's for you. Lieutenant Glass."
"Okay, Sarge. Thanks." Andy picked up the receiver and tucked it against her shoulder. "'Lo, Fred, what's up?"
"Sorry to bother you this early, but the Colonel wants to see you right away."
Andy cursed mentally. "Me personally or just somebody from Wireless?"
"He said to call you."
"Oh rats. I don't suppose you know what it's about?"
"'Fraid not. He doesn't seem too cheerful today, though. Just thought I'd warn you."
"Got the message. Tell him I'll be right up."
Andy hung up the phone and stood, wishing desperately she could simply disappear. "Gotta go up to the head shed," she told Jan. "I should be back soon."
"Hope it's not bad news or a problem," the other woman replied. "Meanwhile I'll get things lined out here."
On the short walk, Andy considered and rejected a dozen different approaches. Maybe it's just business, even a problem on the mountain or something. I guess I shouldn't borrow trouble.
Her hands were sweaty and her heart was doing double time, but she tried to act nonchalant as she slipped into the Brigade office. Fred was not at his desk, and Cory looked up as she entered.
"Morning, sir. Is there a problem?"
"Good morning, Andy. Thanks for coming up so quickly. We've got a hot one here - - -- some new equipment coming in. It's still in the R&D stage, but they want us to test it out. A new satellite was just launched from the Space Shuttle and this system works with it. A combination of communications and surveillance, I understand."
Andy felt relief trickle through her. It was business, just business. Thank God. She almost lost the thread of his words and snapped her attention back as he went on.
"We've got to train twenty to thirty people fast, get them ready to take it to the field. At least three ground units. Each one needs a team of four to run it. The calibration is critical, so we have to have people with both maintenance and operational experience. It's classified, of course, so publicly, we're just getting some new comms gear. Communication Security Company can't spare twenty people -- they're short all ready. I'm going to need at least eight from Wireless, and I've got to have the names by noon."
Andy sucked in a deep breath. "All right, sir. We can manage that, although it will make us short, too. What ranks and specialties are we looking for?"
"Nothing below Staff Sergeant -- E-5, any comm specialty, but they've got to have Top Secret clearance."
"Ouch! I don't have many of those; secret is enough for most of our stuff. I might have ten, at the max. I'll get on it right away. Is there anything else, sir?" The last sentence was a mistake, giving him an opening. She knew it as soon as the words left of her mouth.
Cory did not answer at once, but stood to come slowly around his desk toward her. Even though she had not once really looked at him, Andy felt his gaze on her. Hard pressed not to back away as he approached, she gasped out a hasty disclaimer.
"If that's all, I'll be going. There's a big backlog after being gone," she squeaked. Now she did back up, two steps, as he paused before her.
Cory folded his arms across his chest, glaring down at her, clearly too angry to try to hide it. "Damn it, Andy. What's wrong now? Why do we have to go through all this stuff again?" He stepped closer, reached out and caught her arm, just above the elbow.
She stared at her boot toes, wishing she could sink between them and vanish through the rough floor. "I don't like waking up and not remembering how I got there, 'specially waking up in somebody's bed." She spoke in a mumble, barely above a whisper.
"Oh, for crissakes! Nothing happened! You went to sleep -- probably 'cause you were tired and had a little too much to drink. I didn't even know what room you were in. What was I supposed to do? You were dressed when you woke up, weren't you?"
She nodded, still looking at the floor. "But I don't remember, there's so much I don't remember, so many gaps. I...well, it's scary."
"Haven't you ever been drunk before?" His words came out in a harsh burst.
"Once or twice, not very often." She felt the force of his glare but refused to look up.
"Well, it happens that way some times, a good reason to stay sober, I guess. But I swear nothing happened that you need to hide your face over. We had dinner, danced, kissed a few times, talked. That's it. I tried damn hard to be a gentleman, and I thought I succeeded. I figured now we could at least act like friends."
She shuffled her feet, feeling stiff and awkward. "Let's just pretend it didn't happen. I mean, you said it wasn't real. It was just R&R madness, that's what it was. I've heard about that, the crazy things people do. So, I guess we can't...well, it won't happen again, that's for sure. I really don't remember, anyway."
"You're lying through your teeth, Andy. You haven't forgotten that much."
"I did, I do; I mean I don't really remember any of it."
"Then there's nothing to be embarrassed about, is there?"
Oh hell, she was talking herself in circles, and he pounced like a cat with a dumb mouse! "I...nothing's changed. You're still my CO. I'm just another junior officer in your unit, and that's all."
Cory ground his teeth. The hell of it was, he couldn't even really be angry. There was so much genuine distress, near desperation, in her voice that he was left with no choice but to accept and agree with her. Not thinking straight, he had grabbed her arm, but now he let her go.
He let his hand drop to his side and sighed, a raw weary sigh. "I'm sorry, Andy. I'm not trying to -- oh, hell. Have it your way. But will you just look at me a minute? I can't talk to the top of your head!"
She looked up with obvious reluctance, her face set and an wariness, almost animal, in her eyes.
"I think we've established we're attracted to each other, and it isn't going to go away, whether we acknowledge it or not. It's been five months and it hasn't yet. I don't intend to do anything about it right now, but this war won't last forever and I won't always be your CO. For now, well, we aren't a couple of teenagers who can't handle our hormones. We're adults and we should be able to deal with this honestly and work around it. I agree that an affair here and now would be crazy, but we don't have to act like strangers, like enemies, do we?"
For a second, something flickered in her eyes, but then it was gone and her face was as sullenly closed as ever. "No, I guess not. But I don't have to like feeling -- well, attracted. It scares me. It feels dangerous. I may have to live with it, but I don't have to like it."
"Yeah," he said, wryly. "Being attracted is too close to caring and that makes a big crack in your armor and leaves you open to being hurt, doesn't it? I've been there too, but believe me, Andy, the alternative is worse. Not caring is not living. I came back from 'Nam and found my wife-to-be shacked up with a guy I thought was my best friend. For awhile, I decided I didn't need anybody, that the risk of caring was too great, but I finally found out hurting is better than being that kind of dead. Probably even being dead dead is better."
He saw her eyes widen and knew his words were hitting home. He saw the pain in her eyes too, but ruthlessly pressed on. "Hurting is part of living. Without life and pain, there's nothing. Sooner or later, you're going to have to let somebody closer than arm's length. It doesn't have to be me, but you need somebody. Somewhere out there you'll find someone else who thinks you're perfectly wonderful, just as you are, no dress or name or anything else, but just you."
Andy couldn't look away, but the intensity of his gaze was painful, stabbing like white-hot light into her eyes.
"By the way, I have your shoes. I tried to return them the next day, but you would never answer the door."
She flinched, blinked away his attention. "I don't expect I'll be needing them again. They were too small anyway, but I'll take them whenever you want."
"At your convenience. It's no problem. If you don't want them, I can get rid of them." He turned away, looking past her, out into the morning sunlight, then went back to his desk.
"Go pick your ten people, more if you can. Have Hasty bring me the list as soon as it's ready."
"Yes sir."
"And Andy, if and when I make love to you, first you'll admit you want it as much as I do, and you'll definitely remember it. I guarantee you that."
She swallowed a sound, half gasp and half curse, and bolted.
* * *
During the next several days, the thought came to Andy that she might, without intending or trying to, have hurt Cory by rejecting him. The first time, she discarded the notion as too ridiculous to contemplate, but it returned and the second time was a little harder to dismiss. Even more so the third and fourth times.
She couldn't disbelieve the sincerity of anything he'd said. The raw feeling in his voice and eyes was too fierce to be counterfeit, but by the time she admitted her notion was at least a possibility, she was stretching herself too thin to spend any time dwelling on it.
Her nerves were still raw over the knowledge she had kissed him and had confessed to an attraction as well as admitting some of her deepest and most painful insecurities. He'd said "Nothing happened," but she could hardly regard such confidences as nothing. Baring one's soul certainly felt more intimate than simply falling in bed with someone. He now knew far too much about her, having become privy to pains and fears she had never told anyone before.
So, why didn't he reject her and back off? If he was going to get hot and bothered about somebody, why not Jan or one of the other female officers around, of which there were quite a few? It took all her will power to drag her thoughts back to business, which was the operation and calibration of the "Star Trek Boxes", as they all called the new equipment.
After Hasty compiled the list of all the people in Wireless with Top Secret clearances and the needed basic skills, Andy reviewed it. She added her own name at the bottom. No one had seen fit to scratch it off, so here she was, sitting in on the emergency training class.
The electronics of the devices bordered on magic, as far as they all were concerned, but the two warrant officers conducting the class insisted they didn't need to understand how the device functioned to operate it. At least twenty-three of the twenty- five trainees sighed in relief at that assertion. Before the four half-day class sessions were over, each of the trainees was able to set up and operate the device with an adequate level of skill. Then came the hard part.
They went out in teams of five, each with at least a squad of infantry or Marines to provide protection and stand guard. At pre-selected sites throughout the inner valleys and foothills, they set up and operated the equipment. The points had clearly been chosen for their topography and spacing from each other rather than their ease of defense or distance from known rebel-held areas. Some were almost on the ill-defined front lines. Thus the guard force.
Andy and Captain Hackett, CO of the Communications Security, or COMSEC Company, had both taken the training with their people. When the first four teams went out, five were left to serve as replacements, if needed -- three NCOs and the two officers. In a pinch, Andy knew, she might have to go with a team, but she was prepared to if necessary. In fact, she'd relish the opportunity, should it arise.
It was harder than ever now to be anywhere near Cory. The fact she now always thought of him as "Cory" and not as Colonel Costain or "the Old Man" brought home the danger of her unsettled feelings. He didn't push, but too much had been said and done to ignore forever. Andy sensed her resolve weakening.
After the new systems went on line, two ground stations were established at semi- permanent locations, but the other two were mobile. They seldom stayed more than two or three days at any one site. Since there was less time to create a secure base, they were especially vulnerable. Everyone knew it, but no one voiced the concerns aloud, perhaps fearing a Murphy's Law reaction if they did.
Above all, none of the new equipment could be allowed to fall into rebel hands. The guerillas probably lacked even the rudimentary information to guess what it was or how it worked, but if they did have outside help, as seemed increasingly likely, someone on their side just might have that level of knowledge.
Of the twenty-five Special Communications Group trainees, five were women, but there were no comments from either the Infantry or the Marines about women in potential combat situations. Andy had no doubt Sergeant Katie Conroy and Specialist First Class Jackie Barnwell of Wireless could handle themselves as well as their male counterparts. She did not know the women from COMSEC Company as well, but they, too, seemed capable and businesslike.
One of the COMSEC women was a real wizard with electronics. She probably understood the inner workings of the complex devices better than anyone except the developers and their instructors. A Master Sergeant, she'd been recommended for appointment to Warrant Officer, according to the local grapevine.
After a holiday lull which lasted through Twelfth Night, the war heated up again. The UN troops were pressing the rebels hard in several areas. Perhaps the insurgents began to feel desperate. One of the mobile ground teams came under attack. Andy heard about the ensuing fire fight even before the team straggled back a day later, bloody and battered. Two of her own troops had been involved, and they both briefed her once their wounds were treated. One had taken a bullet in the arm and the other was cut by flying shrapnel
The four communications people, they told her, had eventually been forced to pick up the weapons of wounded infantry troops and fight for their lives until a larger group of Marines reached the besieged team. A soldier from COMSEC company took a rebel bullet in the abdomen and had been evacuated to the main hospital at Bahia. They'd been lucky to get off with only superficial wounds.
The war was coming to the communications soldiers, whether or not they were ready for it. Damn it, Andy thought, I want to be out there. My people are out in harm's way, and I ought to be with them.
Janine, she knew, was fully capable of running Wireless for a week or more without any intervention from Andy. That was one concern off her mind. Besides, Master Sergeant Hasty had taking the young lieutenant under an avuncular wing and would obviously do almost anything for her. All the other NCOs seemed to like and respect her, too. The petite blonde had adapted to their situation with efficiency and calmness which amazed Andy. You can't judge a book by the cover, she admitted finally. Still, she was glad that she and not Jan had trained with the Star Trek boxes. Better Andy go out to the field than Janine Seaforth, regardless.
Andy still envied Jan for her slim neatness, but with no real resentment. Since the unfortunate night in Jolla Azul, she was much more aware of her femaleness while simultaneously feeling even less feminine, visualizing herself as bulky and slovenly in her BDUs -- which had pockets in all the wrong places to flatter the female figure. Somehow, even in them, Jan managed to appear neat and trim.
Jan and Fred had begun to develop a special closeness. They were already acquainted, having gone through Basic Comms School together. It was soon evident their friendship was deepening into a yet-stronger affection. They faced no real problems, being of equal rank and neither subordinate to the other. Since they were circumspect, everyone was tolerant and half-protective rather than being critical of their relationship.
Again, Andy envied her sister officer, but she had long ago decided it was simply not her fate to enjoy such things. Rather than fight or rail against kismet, she bowed to the inevitable. Love was not for her. She would be wisest never to forget that or imagine otherwise.
Less than a week after the attack, two team members at one of the stationary sites came down with a mysterious fever and also had to be evacuated by helicopter. Now the cadre was short three, and trained replacements were not due in for a couple more weeks. A sizzle of tension began to build in all the communication units. Who would be next and how would the casualty occur?
At least the new equipment seemed to be working. They still were not sure who was using it for what, but word came down that General Corcoran was greatly pleased with the output of the new devices. He credited the system with advancing progress of the war on a geometric scale.
Some more troops with Top Secret clearances who had already been trained were due in any day, but until they arrived, there were only three replacements left: a Sergeant Donner, Captain Hackett and Andy. In a pinch, three people could operate a station, especially the stationary ones, but it would be difficult.
About 1000 two days later, Mobile Team Bravo straggled in, two of its members walking wounded. Their injuries had occurred in a skirmish with a band of rebels who had been much closer to the Del Campo Headquarters than they should have been. One had been severely cut by flying glass when a HUM-V windshield shattered from a bullet. The other had a nasty flesh wound in his leg. Neither would be able to go back out with the team, which meant two replacements were required.
When Team Bravo departed later that afternoon, after having re-supplied, Andy and Sergeant First Class Donner joined sergeants Barnwell and Harding to complete the team. The schedule had them in the field for eight days, working from three different locations.
Mobile Team Bravo traveled several miles by vehicle in route to their first location. In the middle of the small convoy, Andy and Donner rode with the equipment in the third HUM-V. All too soon, they reached the end of the muddy twisting track which passed for a road. There they all piled out, grabbed and loaded packs, and began the climb up a long ridge of the Domingo range to the knoll where they would operate the next two days. Their guard consisted of a squad of Marines, led by a grizzled old Master Sergeant named Johansson.
For some reason, there was no trail. Andy guessed the locals had wisely decided there was no reason to go up that particular ridge and left well enough alone. The side from which they were climbing, facing south and east, was thick with spiny shrubs beneath taller trees growing as close together as toothpicks in a box Although it wasn't far from the road's end to the knoll, the trek required a strenuous climb of about fifteen hundred feet, fighting their way through the foliage much of the distance.
Although she was not complacent in relying on the Marines to protect her, Andy found her thoughts inclined to wander as she trudged up the slope in the middle of the marchers. Burdened with about forty pounds of the special gear in addition to her personal pack, she put herself into a sort of automatic mode which minimized the distracting nag of minor aches and pains, weariness, stinging insects, sweat in her eyes and assorted other irritations. Then, it was all too easy to let her thoughts drift into areas she had been trying hard to avoid.
She felt both guilt and relief to have left Del Campo without having to justify her action to Cory. He'd been called back to the Bahia main camp for a special meeting early in the day and had not returned when it was time for Team Bravo to leave. Thus, she had simply told Fred she was going. After all, Jan was there to manage Wireless, and the only other trained person, Captain Hackett, didn't have anyone to take his place.
It was a reasonable decision, her only possible choice under the circumstances -- so why did she feel somehow uncomfortable with it? Fred had looked a little surprised when she informed him she was going to fill in for one of Team Bravo's casualties, but he agreed there wasn't anyone else to go. He even said he'd explain it all to Colonel Costain.
That was when she started to feel the little niggle of guilt. She'd managed to stay out of Cory's path for the last two weeks, and now with any luck, she'd be out in the field for at least a week more, not having to worry about seeing him. She ought to be happy as a hog in a cabbage patch, shouldn't she?
Yet at odd times, his words kept coming back to her in fragments and phrases. Had he really implied an intention to explore a deeper relationship someday, after the war was over? Did he really mean to act eventually on the attraction he insisted was mutual? She was tempted to believe, to forget and ignore all of her life's hard lessons. These new needs and urges that had awakened so urgently that night in Jolla Azul, kept taunting her, wheedling to seduce her away from her judgement.
Thirty-two was not too old to settle down and start a family, but the clock was ticking. The years from twenty-two to thirty-two had flown. The next ten were going to go even faster. Forty-two was too old.
Whoa! Where was all this malarkey coming from? Hadn't she decided long ago no man was going to sentence her to the life imprisonment of military wifehood? She'd seen enough of the endless moves, the teas, the necessity to always be/say/do the right things. Stay cheerful when he was gone, press the children into the mold of propriety, smile and carry on calmly when you knew he was having an affair with his secretary or aide-de-camp or some fawning little female so-called soldier.
Having watched her mother suffer through it all, Andy understood why there were a lot of closet alcoholics among military wives. Oh, she understood very well.
Damn him anyway, making her want things she knew she would never have, things she had deliberately set aside years ago. She wasn't wife material. And she damned sure wasn't going to ever let it be said she bought one step of her military career with her body as too many women did. Not that she had anything to offer there, anyway. Jody had made that clear enough when she confronted him about his affairs.
There had been more than one, including one begun before their marriage and hardly interrupted. He'd told her then he had married her only because Sue was already taken and General Hollis, unfortunately, didn't have any other daughters. She'd gone to her mother, expecting sympathy, but she'd only gotten a lecture. Wasn't it her fault, after all, for insisting on continuing to take college courses and not getting pregnant right away? As if that would have helped anything! Even after twelve years, it still hurt.
"Well, we're here." The words, spoken by one of the Marines, cut through her tangled thoughts, jolting her sharply back to reality and the present. It was risky and foolish to be so inattentive. Why had she let her mind drift so far? Chagrin washed over her.
Johansson deployed half his people around the area to stand guard and the rest began to set up their camp. The four Team Bravo members had their tasks as well -- setting up the equipment for their scheduled 1800 transmission. They barely had time to bring the system up once they got the components cabled together and erected the small antenna. Apparently it worked. At least they got a short printout that said so, along with a bunch of gibberish none of them understood.
Frustrated to have no more tangible proof that the system in her charge was doing what it should, Andy resisted an impulse to crumple the paper and toss it away. She didn't have time to worry about it for long, though. As soon as the short mission was accomplished, they broke the system down and stashed it in the sandbagged shelter the Marines were setting up. Then they pitched in to help.
The nearly-bare hilltop felt very exposed, but Johansson said that was better than being closed in by the jungle, where the enemy could sneak up on you unseen. After they finished the improvised fortifications, it was MREs for dinner and a hot night in sleeping bags and bug nets for them, with another similar day to look forward to tomorrow.
* * *
The heavy jungle darkness had fallen before Cory finally made it back from the meeting at Main Base. He'd been the last one out of the four-wheel drive carryall which had provided transportation for several of the key officers from Del Campo to the Main Base and back.
"What a wasted day," he muttered as he ducked through the tent flaps into the Brigade Office.
"Sir?" Fred Glass looked up, an unasked question in his tone.
"Just a political dog and pony show," Cory explained. "We had to brief a bunch of visiting dignitaries on the 'progress' of the war. I got to say about a hundred fifty words that don't mean Diddly-s...er, crap. So what's happening here?"
"Team Bravo got here about noon. They were coming in for supplies when rebels hit them. A couple of the comm guys were wounded, not too seriously but they couldn't go back out. Captain Hollis and Sergeant Donner took their places. Bravo called in that they'd made site safely and they managed the 1800 transmission."
"So Andy went out." Cory didn't realize he'd spoken aloud until Fred answered him.
"Yes, sir. She had to -- I mean it was her or Captain Hackett. Jan can take over Wireless but there isn't anybody for COMSEC, so Andy said she'd better go. She said they really need four to run the system."
Cory nodded, trying to ignore the sudden sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. "Yeah, she's right. Well, tell Jan to holler if she needs anything. When is Bravo due back?"
"They're supposed to move after two days, sir, but I don't think they have to resupply for about a week. By then, the new people ought to be here to take over."
Cory rolled his shoulders, trying to work some of the tension out of his muscles. "Right. Well, keep me posted. Is there anything I need to handle right now? If not, I'll go to chow. We worked right through lunch getting that briefing choreographed. Colonel Roland was running it, and you know how he gets."
"No sir, there isn't anything urgent. In fact I was thinking I'd go ahead and close shop here pretty quick. People know where to find us if there's an emergency."
Cory nodded his approval and headed for the mess hall, feeling much too tired for the little he had accomplished that day. Of course it was necessary to keep Congress and the bigwigs informed, but why did it have to take so damn much time and effort? Time and effort better spent on the war itself instead of talking about it.
* * *
Team Bravo's first whole day on the knoll passed quickly enough, blessedly uneventful. The team set up the system twice and dismantled it again when each transmission was complete. In between, they helped the Marines fill more sandbags -- which would all have to be dumped or left when they moved the next day -- but it kept them busy and did make their position feel more secure. They saw no sign of the rebels all day, but Johansson warned against relaxing their vigilance.
"The minute you quit watching, you betcha you're dead. That's when them guys come sneaking out from every bush and rock and blow you to bits, just like they did in 'Nam. Just 'cause you can't see or hear 'em doesn't mean they aren't out there, watching and waiting. They know when to hit you; they always do."
Andy had heard enough stories from Vietnam vets to take the old NCOs warning seriously, but it was early the next morning before his pessimistic assessment came true. Andy and the three enlisted team members had just started to set up the system again for the day's first transmission. The time for the next one was always the last item on the previous printout, she'd learned. This one was to be at 0612. They tried to keep their watches in sync with the 'official' time, another code on the printout.
Several Marines were standing guard in front of the crude bunker they had built against a jumble of boulders. The massive stones had long ago rolled down from higher on the mountain, or perhaps the softer earth had eroded away, leaving them there. Whatever the source, the boulders made a secure-feeling wall at their backs. Even the open area in front of the bunker was screened with the sandbags they had filled and stacked yesterday, giving an illusion of protection.
Andy knelt to connect the cables linking the power pack to the computer and the receiver. One of the Marines, his rifle loosely held in the crook of his arm, turned and bent closer to see what they were doing. Suddenly, he spun around and went reeling backwards. An instant later, the crack of rifle fire registered in Andy's awareness.
For a breath, everyone stood as if petrified. Out of the corner of her eye, Andy saw a blur of motion atop the boulders. Another of the Marines did too, for he swung up his rifle, homing in on the small man who crouched there, an arm back as if to throw. He completed the toss, just before the bullet slammed into his body, sending him backward and out of sight.
For an instant, Andy thought it was ludicrous -- were the rebels reduced to throwing rocks at them? But then, she got a better look at the small object which had landed between her and the nearest sandbag wall. Not a rock but a grenade!
"Grab the gear and get it in the bunker," she yelled, galvanizing the team members into action. She leaped to her feet. Took two fast running steps to the wall. Grabbing a sandbag, she heaved it as hard as she could.
The plump bag settled atop the sizzling grenade short seconds before detonation. The bag lifted. Erupted, throwing sand in every direction. But the force of the explosion was sufficiently dampened by the sandbag so no damage was done. The Marines were firing back, now, crouching in every available nook and cranny, facing outward in a rough circle.
Donner and Barnwell snatched up the computer and receiver, still linked, and hustled them into the bunker. Donner came back, scuttling along at a crouch. Andy shoved the power pack into his hands before she turned to the fallen Marine.
He had ended up several steps from the bunker. She crawled to him, noting the bullet hole high in his left shoulder. Although she wasn't sure, it looked like it should have missed all the vital stuff. At any rate, he wasn't dead, because he started to shake his head and try to sit up as she reached him.
"Keep low," she cautioned, as soon as she saw he was aware. "They're still shooting. Can you crawl?"
He nodded and rolled over carefully, slowly struggling up on all fours. He wasn't able to support any weight on his left arm, but he was at least semi-mobile.
"Yes'm I can move," he mumbled.
She took his rifle and urged him on.
"Get inside. I've got you covered. You can't shoot with one arm, so you better get inside." For a moment, he seemed inclined to argue with her, but then the two bars on her BDU jacket soaked in and he obediently moved. As soon as he was close, other hands reached out to help. She turned to look around again.
That was when she realized the antenna was still standing -- and drawing enemy fire. There was a new notch in one side of the small dish and a hole in its top panel. She crawled over and grabbed the mast. The dish was about ten feet off the ground, supported by a four-section collapsible mast which stood on a 'star' of five short pipe feet. The dish, about a yard across, was surprisingly stable and the mast reluctant to tip.
In her crouching position, she could only reach about three feet up the mast. She couldn't make it tip. Another bullet whistled by, only a foot or so above her hands, clenched on the aluminum pipe. She jerked with all her strength.
"Come on, you sucker! Fall down!" Finally it did, tipping and settling in slow motion.
"Hang on, ma'am. I'm coming." It was Barnwell, starting out from the bunker. "I'll help you with it. We got the rest packed."
"No, stay there. I've got it now." She fumbled for the button which collapsed the dish and it folded neatly into a narrow wedge. A second button folded the base. That accomplished, Andy began to crawl toward the bunker, dragging both the antenna and the Marine's rifle. For the moment, the shots seemed less frequent.
Maybe the attack was being repelled. Gee, some wake up call.
She heard the crack an instant later. After a moment, fiery pain stung in her upper arm and another across the back of her neck. For an instant, she was unable to move. It felt as if she had come up against an invisible brick wall. The firing hadn't stopped after all.
"Hey, Captain Hollis, ma'am, are you all right?"
Sergeant Barnwell's voice came from far away, but she managed to nod as the NCO started to move toward her.
"Here, take the antenna," she managed. "I can get there under my own power."
Her right arm had gone unaccountably weak and numb, and she couldn't grasp the rifle any longer. She hunched a bit and twisted until she got her left hand on it. Crawling was slower now, harder. Lean on her left arm and edge her knees forward, then rock back and bounce the left hand ahead and advance to it.
The bunker door seemed to be getting farther and farther away. There was another Marine on her right. He collapsed suddenly, almost in her path. Then, a small dark man leaped over the sandbags, a rifle in one hand and a machete in the other.
Somehow she got the rifle up and fired left handed. It was a clumsy shot, but so close, she couldn't miss. The rebel fell in a heap, the machete and something else skidding out of his suddenly nerveless hand.
The roar of the shot echoed in her head, but she could still hear voices, coming from a great distance.
"Hey, help me. Captain Hollis is hit. Corporal Davis is down. Quick. We've got to get them inside." She thought she shook her head and told them she was coming, but she couldn't hear her own voice.
Then a closer voice yelled, "Oh shit. Another grenade!"
A roaring wave of noise/force/pain caught and lifted her. She felt herself flung skyward as the ground beneath her heaved and bucked, was suddenly no longer there. Time stopped as she floated, detached. Felt parts of herself drifting off, a foot here, an arm there. Dead silence and weightlessness. Encompassed in a bright hollow nothing. Sound and pain rolled away, like the tide.
All at once she slammed down into the hardest floor she'd ever felt. Iron, cement, hot and cold at once. But incredibly, she sank through. A black hole engulfed her completely, drew her in and down. Crushing force smashed in around her, a weight without direction, unbearable pressure squeezing, compressing. Smaller and smaller and yet even more small until only the tiniest spark of "Andyness" remained. So much pain in such a tiny mote of self. A blink. And then nothing at all.
The night and the next day after the big briefing were lullingly routine, but Cory was unable to shake a nameless dread. He had a distinct premonition that something really bad was about to happen. When the news materialized, he felt a strange sense of relief.
Minutes after the first radio transmission came through, Cory learned Team Bravo was under attack. The facts came trickling in, fragments at a time. Finally, he gave up all pretense of working and walked next door to the radio hut where he could monitor the traffic himself. The news still came in fragments, but he now got it first hand.
The Marines had four wounded. There were two Comms casualties, but they didn't say who. Yablonski was taking a platoon up the hill to relieve them. The classified equipment was safe. They had repulsed the attack. The Marines were sending a helicopter.
That meant somebody was hurt bad enough to need evacuation. Cory's stomach clenched. No, he didn't want to think about that.
The chopper was to try to bring out the equipment, too. The helicopter was in and safely landed. The medics had the two worst casualties stabilized and the equipment had been loaded on board. Three other wounded declined evacuation. Yablonski and his men were there. The chopper was clear and coming back.
Before he knew it, two hours had elapsed. It had seemed like years and yet like minutes.
When the helicopter landed in the open area in the center of the Del Campo base, Cory was there waiting. They still hadn't said who'd been evacuated, but he knew. He would have bet his next year's pay one of them was Andy. Ostensibly, he was there to be sure the equipment was unloaded and safely delivered into a covered truck for transport back to COMSEC to be checked out, but even after Captain Hackett arrived and took charge of that, he still waited.
There was only a moment, then, but he took advantage of it to look in on the two still forms on stretchers, each with an IV bottle overhead and oxygen masks over their faces.
"One of 'em is yours, sir," the corpsman said. "It's a Captain Hollis. Wasn't she heading that special team? The other is a Marine. From what the rest said, they took the brunt of a concussion grenade -- funny piece of ordinance for the rebels to be using, but maybe they got it by mistake."
A concussion grenade? Cory barely repressed a shudder. Not only a strange weapon for the rebels to deploy but a particularly nasty one. He snapped his attention back to the corpsman who continued to speak.
"Anyway, the explosion really jolted them, so it's mostly internal injuries, although they'd both been shot before that. Captain Hollis just had a flesh wound in the arm, but she ended up under about a dozen sandbags, which didn't help her any. We can't tell the extent of the damage."
A twisting nausea built in his gut. Not Andy, shot, jolted and pinned under several hundred pounds of sandbags. God, it was a wonder she was still alive. He edged nearer, looking down at her as if somehow he could see through the blanket and her battered flesh to ascertain her injuries.
"I'm sorry, sir, but we've gotta go. They're expecting us at the Main Base hospital."
"I understand. Thanks for the briefing." He took a last long look at Andy, a small pale shape under the green blanket, as fragile as the thin tube to the needle in her arm, as white as the oxygen mask covering half her face. He swore under his breath as he stepped back and ducked so the aircraft could lift off.
"Damn fool girl," he muttered as he headed back to the Brigade office. "Probably trying to be a hero."
General Howard Hollis was lucky he was nowhere near because he would have been in mortal danger. Cory felt sure the general was to blame for Andy's desperate need to prove herself, over and over again. No father should be that exacting, that abusive. He'd like to pound the son-of-a-bitch into the ground.
When he entered the office, Fred glanced up. The lieutenant took one look at Cory's bleak face, and visibly swallowed his questions. Moments later, he scooted out, as if he recognized he could get the answers easier somewhere else.
Cory slumped into his chair, resting his head in his hands. Whoever said "War is hell" sure had it right. The vision of Andy's still white face kept surfacing to haunt him. That she had gone without telling him or saying goodbye hurt more than he wanted to admit.
Oh, she'd made a reasonable decision, and as the senior of his captains, she was properly in charge in his absence. She didn't have to clear it with anybody. She'd even discussed it, albeit briefly, with Fred. No, she hadn't done anything wrong, but then she rarely did. That was not the problem.
The problem was she'd been at the wrong place at the wrong time. As a result, she'd been critically hurt. No, she wasn't the first nor the last communications soldier to become a casualty -- but she was Andy, one who had somehow worked her way under his skin and into his heart, too deep and too close and much too dear.
Any commander worth his rank cared deeply for all his people, but never one above and beyond the rest. In that, he was dead wrong, and he knew it. He knew too that was one of the real problems with women in the military, especially women in combat.
He grimaced. We're just not socially conditioned to handle it. You might hurt and bleed and die a little bit with a buddy or comrade, leave part of yourself with a dead or wounded friend, but the inborn need to protect was not there -- nor was the guilt when you somehow failed to do it, unless you acted with blatant cowardice or bad judgment.
His reaction was not Andy's fault. She did everything in her power to be a true professional military officer. The one thing she could not do was change her gender. If it was Steve Perry or Bill Hackett or Fred Glass lying there so still and pale, he'd worry and regret, but he could accept it. The risk of that happening was part and parcel of being a soldier.
Andy had chosen to take that risk, but he had not chosen to take it for and with her. He had not chosen to take it for any woman in his command, really, but especially not for Andy. There was simple reason for that. He was in love with her. The realization hit him like a blow in the gut.
He might have subconsciously known it for some time, but he'd never been able to admit it quite so directly before. Damn it, Andy, why couldn't you have been more careful? His anguished question had no answer. In a corner of his mind, he recognized the fact he might even be part of the reason, but he couldn't dwell on that.
It was well past dark before Yablonski got back with the remaining members of Team Bravo. He personally escorted them directly to the Brigade Office. To Cory's surprise, the Marine had no snide comments or subtle digs. After he reported, with crisp Marine courtesy, he quickly narrated the story he had pieced together.
"Your folks held their own and more up there, sir," he said. "Three of our men were hit, and two more got a nasty jolt out of that concussion grenade. Captain Hollis got the worst of it, no doubt, and then Lance Corporal Hanlon, who was next closest. She was between him and the grenade, and that probably saved his life. She shot a rebel, too, and that undoubtedly did."
I knew it -- she had to be the hero. Damn it, we don't need dead heroes! Rather than voice that wrathful thought, Cory merely nodded, and Yablonski went on.
"Master Sergeant Johansson said Sergeant First Class Barnwell really came through then. She was right beside him, keeping it together until we got there. You've got every reason to be proud of your folks, Colonel. And if there's blame to be assessed, it's probably to whoever decided a squad was sufficient to protect the teams. A bad call, considering the nature of that equipment. I'm sure the rebels recognize it's making a difference, although they can't know how or why. We'll be hearing from General Corcoran about that, I expect, but I can assure you my report will place no blame at all on Army Comms people. In fact, I'll strongly recommend they all be written up for awards for extraordinary heroism, especially Captain Hollis for her outstanding leadership and personal courage."
Cory cleared his throat and blinked a couple of times before he could speak. "My COMSEC people checked out the system and apparently nothing is damaged, so Bravo can go back out as soon as we assemble a new team. The loss of a couple of good people troubles me most, but won't slow down the war. We both know that."
"No, sir, it won't, but that doesn't mean they won't be missed. I still can't get used to women being in the line of fire like this -- but some of them can be damn fine troops. I'll be praying for Captain Hollis, right along with Corporal Hanlon and all the rest who've been wounded. I hate to see that list keep getting longer." Yablonski stared at the floor with a solemn face for a moment before he saluted smartly and marched out.
Cory dismissed his three NCOs with a few kind words before he began to review the brief encounter with Yablonski. The young Marine officer was growing up. Cory had been more than a little surprised to see the pain in the younger man's eyes when he spoke of the wounded. Too bad Andy wasn't here to hear his words of praise. Maybe it would mean something to her, bolster her fragile self-esteem.
More than anything, he wished he could be with her. She'd wake up in a cold and sterile hospital where everybody was too busy trying to save lives to cater to the living - - if she were among them. Illogically, he thought he'd know if she wasn't, which didn't make any sense at all, really. He heaved himself out of his chair and headed for the door.
He'd was unlikely to hear anything for quite awhile, so there was no point in waiting up. He might as well go eat and then to bed. It had been a long, hard day. Somehow, he would have to live with the worry, the aching hollow left by Andy's absence and continue to do his job. He could and he would, but it wasn't going to be easy.
* * *
Andy drifted in and out of a cottony consciousness in which she was neither fully aware nor totally blank. She hurt all over and she did not know where she was, but it didn't really matter. When the pain became worse, she fled back to the empty darkness again. Time passed, but she had no way of knowing how much. The past was a mushy gray jumble of scenes, vignettes which made little sense, either individually or collectively. But again, it really didn't matter.
She was marginally aware of people rushing around her, coming and going, full of impatience, always in a hurry. From them she sensed anxiety and concern, sometimes focused on her. She was very ill, and she knew it. Her body -- perhaps -- would slowly heal, but neither her heart nor her mind were the least involved. Something called life was in danger of slipping from her grasp, but it really didn't matter.
Somehow, as if to spite her, her body began to mend. Maybe it was the drugs they pumped into her through the tubes in her arms, or the cuts and stitches they made to put things back together inside. Whatever the cause, it happened.
The blood pooled in bruised flesh and organs was gradually absorbed, torn flesh grew back together and the new junctures and bonds built by surgery fused and solidified until all the systems required to sustain life had resumed their functions.
The pain became less, finally, fading to a dull monotonous ache instead of the wrenching agony which had driven her back into the darkness, over and over. She opened her eyes and looked around with new awareness.
The room she lay in was simple to the point of stark sterility. Two off-white walls, one broken by a door, another wall painted a vague peachy shade, and the last mostly window, revealing a small wedge of pale sky above a tan stuccoed wall. Unless she moved very slowly, her vision blurred and doubled, but after a moment's stillness, it went back to normal.
Her head was about all she could move, though. Her nose itched, but she could not lift an arm to scratch it. She wrinkled up her face and then, a moment later, sneezed. That hurt, all over. She turned her head again, seeking the source of the oddly sweet scent that wafted by.
There, on a table near the head of her bed: a green vase brimming with flowers. Something there she was allergic to, but she could not recall enough to name them. It was just a red, white, pink and gold exuberance of flowers, terribly out of place in the sterile room, clashing with her mood. She turned away from them and went back to sleep.
From then on, though, she began to awaken more and sleep less. Time dragged. She still slept too much to make orderly days and nights of the time that passed. In a dim and detached way, she wondered what day it was, what month or year, even, but didn't feel it wasn't important enough to ask anyone. She would have liked to move, too, but any effort to try still hurt, and she soon gave up.
Everything was aggravating and uncomfortable. There was a TV on the wall. Its buzz and flicker rasped on her nerves. Finally she roused enough to ask them to take it away. Then there was nothing but blank walls and silence, in between the visits of those who came and went, ministering to her needs with impersonal efficiency before they moved on to someone else.
For awhile, she played opossum and pretended to be asleep when they came. Finally sheer boredom won and she acknowledged them. After that, they were always cheerful, speaking to her brightly as if she were a sulky five year old who had to be cozened into eating her spinach and going to bed.
She was bathed and rubbed, finally even fed a bit of something soft and tasteless. After that, she got injections and what passed as meals instead of nourishment and drugs through the IV tubes, but that was hardly an improvement to note.
Finally she knew or remembered who she was and that she was in a hospital as a result of having been wounded in a war somewhere far away. She had nearly died, but they all now said she was much better and would soon be as good as new. They told her to be patient just a little longer. She wanted to scream and curse then, but it took too much energy.
The empty, dull, boring little room and the bed stirred in her a dogged hatred. She hated having no one to talk to and nothing to do, but when she complained or asked questions, nobody seemed to listen. No one would give her a real answers. They came to seem more like robots or cardboard cutouts than real people.
Maybe I did die and this is what hell is like. Well, in that case, it isn't all that terrible, really. Since she could not turn over or sit up, the 'view' out the window never changed except the sky went from light to dark and back again. Sometimes at night she could see a star or two for awhile. She counted the dots in the ceiling tiles again and again, but never got the same number twice. She usually lost count or fell asleep in the middle of it, anyway.
The flowers came every day. Often they made her sneeze and their colors mocked her. Finally she told them not to bother, but just scatter the blooms out to other rooms so somebody could enjoy them. They started to tell her who was sending them but she wasn't interested. The name probably wouldn't mean anything to her, anyway.
She couldn't think of anyone in the world to whom she mattered. Nobody ever came to visit. She thought people did that when you were sick. Maybe everyone else was already dead. She worried about that a little but soon concluded it really didn't matter.
* * *
A million miles away, the 3-D war dragged on. The UN finally sent in still more troops and more equipment. They relentlessly tracked down the rebels, isolated them into steadily smaller groups and more remote areas and finally captured all the ringleaders. With the back of the resistance broken, the war effort began to phase out. The first of the troops started to head home in March.
Early in April, the Twenty-fourth Signal Brigade packed to return to Fort Cochise. On a balmy spring day, Cory stepped out of the plane into the strong Arizona sunshine. He had to spend another week before he was sure everything was settling back into the routine to an extent he could afford to take leave for a week or two.
Finally, he set off for El Paso, Texas and William Beaumont Hospital at Fort Bliss, where he had learned Andy was being cared for. He knew she'd spent but a few hours at the Bahia Main Camp Hospital before being flown back to the States, that she had been on the critical list for a good month, but now had finally been pronounced out of danger.
Since there was nothing else he could do, he had flowers sent, every single day. He hoped that tangible proof of someone's caring might in some way help her, might atone for the fact he could not be with her, as much as he wanted to. He even wrote twice, but got no answer. Now, at last, he could go and see for himself why she was still hospitalized. She'd been there over two months, nearer three, which seemed an awfully long time.
The hospital was huge. It took him an hour just to track down which wing she was in and then still longer to get there. This wing, he found, was an area with restricted access. In separate wards and sections, it housed mental patients, prisoners, and those with grave communicable illnesses. Andy should not have come under any of those categories, so why was she here?
The charge nurse of the particular area to which he was directed intercepted him, having evidently been warned he was coming. She led him into a pleasant little waiting room, offered coffee and stalled with obvious small talk.
"Okay, what's going on?" he asked, bluntly. "I came all the way from Fort Cochise today to see Captain Hollis. I know she's here, and officially off the critical list, so what's the problem?"
The nurse, who had major's gold leaves on her collar, hesitated, as if carefully choosing her words.
"Considering her injuries, which were really appalling, Captain Hollis has made an excellent recovery. There's really no reason why she cannot be back on light duty in another -- oh, perhaps sixty to ninety days, provided we can iron out a few little problems. Physically, she's mending well. There's been a low grade infection we've had a problem with. It's been highly resistant to antibiotics, but we seem to have a mixture now that's working."
She paused and smiled brightly, then sobered as he stared at her steadily, with his doubts and worries certainly clear in his expression.
"Her mental condition is the main concern now. She's become very unresponsive, almost autistic, not taking an interest in anything, really. She could be ready to start therapy soon to help regain her strength and mobility, if she'd try. The doctors don't believe there's any physiological reason why she can't be up and moving soon, but she won't make the effort. We didn't want you to go in without any warning. You'd be understandably upset, and we've tried very hard to keep everything calm and quiet for Captain Hollis. After all the trauma she has gone through..."
The nurse had spoken this last part quickly, as if fearful Cory would interrupt her, but he didn't. He listened very intently, with growing concern. "Hasn't anyone been here to see her, to check on her? Besides the staff, I mean?"
"When she first arrived, in such terrible condition, we tried to contact her listed next-of-kin, but that turned out to be some distant elderly relative who had died several years before. Do you know if there's any other family? If they knew, perhaps they'd want to come see her. Maybe that would help bring her out of this depression."
Cory shook his head, anger and despair building in his heart. "I don't know, Major. From what I understand, she'd been disowned by her family, with a lot of hard feelings on both sides. I'm not sure any of them would come if they knew, or if it would do her any good if they did."
"Oh, I see. How very sad. She seemed like a nice young woman, really. Well, of course you may go see her, if you like. I don't promise she'll recognize you or even respond at all though."
"I like. I don't promise anything, either, but I'm someone she's known. I'll try to talk to her."
"This way, Colonel Costain."
He followed the nurse down an anonymous corridor to a closed door. She opened it and motioned for him to enter. He stepped inside and halted abruptly.
"Captain Hollis, you have a visitor," the nurse said.
The figure in the bed looked very slight, very white, hardly more than a shade of the Andy he had known. The short cropped dark hair was nearly the same, but otherwise, nothing seemed right. She lay flat on her back staring at the ceiling, and she did not acknowledge the nurse's announcement by so much as a blink.
The nurse glanced at Cory with a small helpless shrug. "If anything, she is getting worse," she whispered. "It's terribly frustrating. She won't even communicate with our resident counselors, although three of them have tried."
It was one of the hardest things he had ever done, but Cory paced forward to the side of the bed. "Andy?" He hardly recognized the croak of his own voice. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Andy, it's Cory. The war is about over. Twenty-fourth Signal is back at Fort Cochise. Lieutenant Seaforth will be leaving any day and we don't have anybody to take over Wireless. We need you back."
Did her eyes flicker slightly? He couldn't be sure, but she certainly did not look at him or make any other response. He heard the door click softly. The nurse had gone back to her station, leaving them alone.
He reached out and took Andy's right hand in both of his. It lay totally still in his grasp, cool and almost without weight. The once-lively hazel eyes were blank and limpid as clear water, utterly devoid of feeling. Her lips seemed to be moving slightly as if she were counting or murmuring some prayer or mantra known only to her.
"Andy, I know it's been rough, lying here all alone, nobody to come see you or anything. But it wasn't because nobody cared. I would have been here every day if I could have, and most of the Brigade feels the same way. I sent the flowers, because that was all I could do." When his voice cracked, he faltered to a stop. It was like talking to a corpse, as if she wasn't there at all.
Anger and desperation energized him. "Damn it, Andy, you've got to try! Come back from wherever you've gone and -- and live." He released her hand, clenching his into fists, fighting a strong urge to shake or slap her, to yell and rage and pace around the confining little room, break the silence and stir the dead air.
Rage blinded him, pounding in his ears and shaking his whole body, but he couldn't let it out. That might only drive her yet farther and deeper into withdrawal. He shut his eyes, took a deep breath and then tried again.
"Come on, kid. I thought you were a fighter. This is no way to prove what a tough soldier you are. When are you going to quit hiding and come out to fight the biggest battle of your life?"
He caught her hand again, this time in a tighter grip. For just an instant, her gaze seemed to sweep across his face, but it was too quick to be sure. Her eyes drifted shut. She hardly seemed to breathe.
He exhaled a ragged, weary sigh. "All right, I've got to go now, but I'll be back. I'll be back later and tomorrow, again and again until you come back with us. You can count on that, babe." He squeezed her hand. Maybe her fingers stirred slightly before he released her. At least he thought they did. That vague response wasn't much to go on, but perhaps it was a start.
Cory walked back past the nurse's station. "I've got to go find a place to stay and get something to eat, but I'll be back later. I don't know if I can reach her or not, but I'm damn sure going to give it my best shot."
The nurse gave him a slight smile. "I hope you can, Colonel Costain. It's been so sad, watching her slipping away as she has and not knowing what to do. We'll all be praying you succeed."
By the second day, Cory came to hate the small, bleak, quiet room. He was even beginning to think it might have been part of the cause of Andy's withdrawal. There was nothing there to challenge anyone's intellect or stir their senses.
She had, they told him, requested they remove the TV, before she was even moving her hands, while she was still talking occasionally. That had left her in very nearly a complete vacuum. He couldn't altogether blame her. Being stuck with a TV where you couldn't switch it off or even change channels must be something like Chinese water torture.
The hospital officials also explained they had to isolate her because of the mysterious infection which had proved so resistant to the standard antibiotics. That made it something they couldn't risk spreading around. While the explanation made medical sense, it sure didn't make people sense.
Andy needed someone, probably a whole flock of someones. But there was only him, and he only had two weeks. He prayed that would be enough.
First, he had to plan a campaign which would bring as much stimulation to Andy as he could manage. He took over half a day, talking to various doctors and hospital officials, but eventually they gave him a virtual carte blanche, and he used it. First, he bought a small stereo system and an assortment of tapes. That was followed by a TV and VCR, and a dozen bright colored posters which he stuck on the walls with removable tape.
For a start, he rented a dozen old movies and began to run them. Thank goodness they didn't confine him to the regular visiting hours. By the second day of his treatment, he was sure Andy was watching and listening, at least. And through it all, he talked to her, talked until he was hoarse. He didn't speak to her like a pet or an idiot child, as the medical professionals tended to do, but as if she was contributing, at least about to contribute to the conversation.
The fourth day, he caught her watching him, and she didn't look away or pretend not to be when he did. The next day she spoke. It was late in the morning. He had just finished playing Red River and got up to rewind it.
"Did you ever notice how that one ole cow keeps appearing in the scene where they're driving the herd across the river?" he asked casually.
"Three or four ole cows," she corrected. "I noticed that a long time ago."
He had a hard time to control his elation, to pretend he was not surprised and overjoyed, but he tried. When he replied, he kept his tone matter-of-fact and calm, at least.
"I knew a guy once who was an extra in that movie, used to laugh about how they worked on that scene. Joe worked for my dad when I was a kid."
He went along as calmly as he could, rewound the film and turned back to her. "What else would you like to watch?"
Her voice was hoarse too, as if rusty with disuse. "Oh, maybe High Noon and The Treasure of Sierra Madre. And then that one with Marlene Dietrich, you know, where she's a spy."
"Okay. I'll see if I can find them when I go to lunch. There's a good video place in a mall down the road a couple of miles."
She looked at him with sudden keenness, assessing. "What are you doing here, anyway? Don't you have a war to fight or something?"
"I am," he responded. "I've been negotiating to get a POW back."
"You think you're going to succeed?" Her gaze touched his, skittered away.
"I sure hope so. It hasn't been easy, but I think there's hope."
"Sometimes, when you get them back, there isn't much left, not enough to salvage, you know?"
"Guess I'll have to take that risk. At this point, I'll take whatever I can get. I never made a practice to abandon my soldiers, wherever they wound up, whatever shape they were in."
She didn't answer right away this time, and he could almost hear her thinking. He was pretty sure she was aware they'd been talking on two levels. Mostly he'd tried to keep the personal element out of it, as much as possible, but it was there, anyway.
"I guess you have to do what you have to do," she said, finally. "That's just the way you are, isn't it?"
"Yeah, I guess. More or less."
"Well, you can go on then, now. I mean, you've got more important things to do, don't you? Don't get me wrong, I appreciate your efforts, but you've done enough here."
"Are you going to stay here, then?"
She deliberately misunderstood his question. "I hope not forever. I'm sick to death of this stupid room, this hospital, but do I have a choice? I mean, I can't even roll over, much less get up and walk out."
"Can't or won't or haven't tried?"
She looked away then, and for a minute he was afraid he had pushed her too hard.
"I couldn't for awhile anyway -- and then I guess I was afraid to try again and be sure," she said finally, so low-voiced he could hardly hear her. "And then it didn't seem to matter, to be worth the trouble anyway, not really."
He sat down in the one uncomfortable chair, stretched his legs out and tired to appear relaxed. "Well, you might not be able to do it all at once, but if you'd start therapy, your strength and mobility should begin to come back."
"Oh yeah? How do you know?" Her tone held scorn and defiance along with a desperate thread of hope.
"The doctors all agreed on that."
"Oh, them -- they'd never listen to me. I'd ask them things or tell them and it was like they didn't even hear me. I wasn't a person to them, just a case. Nobody really cared." Acid tinged each word, each angry, cutting word.
Cory swore to himself, damning the profession that made such a science of healing bodies while they left minds and hearts out of the equation.
"Somebody did, too. I did."
"You!?" Her voice was the strongest it had been, colored with a welter of emotions too complex for him to sort out.
"Where do you think the flowers came from? Didn't they tell you?"
She shrugged and looked away again. "I don't remember. They made me sneeze when I couldn't even scratch my nose. I stopped paying attention to what anybody said. It wasn't important."
"Well, I'm here now and I want you to try, at least. I came as soon as I could, Andy."
She still didn't look at him. "Is the war over?"
"Pretty much. They're still mopping up, but Twenty-fourth is back home at Fort Cochise."
She digested that in silence for a moment. Then she half-turned her face toward him.
"Was Sergeant Barnwell all right? And that young Marine?"
She'd asked the question with genuine interest and concern. That built his hopes.
"Jackie's fine. She was in the hospital about a week and then they sent her home to the states for recuperation leave. She's back at the Fort now. There were three Marines hurt, as I recall. Which one did you mean? They all survived; I do know that."
"No thanks to me," Andy muttered.
"A lot of thanks to you, from what I heard."
She shrugged slightly. "No, not really." She looked away from him, out the window at the wedge of sky, a sort of grayed blue today.
"You've got a purple heart coming, you know. Do you want to receive it here or wait until you're back at Fort Cochise?"
She looked squarely at him then, disbelief and disdain coloring her features. "Come on, do you think I care? They give awards for all the wrong reasons, you know. I guess if they called it the dumb-ass award, like it really is, nobody would want it. It doesn't matter to me. I'm going to resign anyway, if I eventually get out of here."
"Why don't you defer that for awhile and concentrate on getting back on your feet? If you really apply yourself, it shouldn't take all that long."
The dietician aide came in with her lunch tray, which saved Andy from having to reply. The aide clearly expected to have to feed her, and succeed poorly at the task, as had been the rule.
Andy shook her head. "Let me try."
The girl's eyes widened and her gaze darted back and forth between Andy and Cory. Andy jabbed the button to raise the head of her bed as far as it would go. Then, she pushed with her hands, struggling to lift herself closer to upright.
"Help me," she grated, finally. The aide started forward but Andy shook her head. "No, let him do it. He's the one who needs to exercise his Jesus complex."
Ignoring the sting of her words, Cory stooped to lift her. She was so light, bird- fragile, bones almost poking through the skin. He caught her under the arms and slid her up as gently as he could, propping her upright with pillows.
It hurt to watch her, but he made himself. Her hand shook badly, but she fed herself, almost defiantly. When she finished, he helped her ease back down, saw how weary she was. He left her sleeping, going to get his own lunch, and visit the video store again.
For two more days, they talked in fits and starts. Cory could not be happy with the new overt bitterness Andy displayed. Still, it was better than catatonic silence, so he did not try to chide her or argue her out of it.
For now, he was content that she was talking and had begun therapy, that she ate, and looked, listened and responded to things going on around her. She'd passed the point of wholly rejecting life and living. Anything else could wait.
Ten days after his arrival, Cory obtained the doctors' agreement to move Andy to the Whitside Hospital at Fort Cochise. The infection was gone and she was otherwise considered well. All that remained was to continue therapy until she was again on her feet. When he told her the news, she was not as enthusiastic as he had hoped, but she did cautiously agree she'd be glad to look at a new set of walls for awhile.
The next day, they made the transfer. Andy flew to Fort Cochise by helicopter and got settled in a new room while Cory made the long drive from El Paso. The drive did accomplish one thing -- it gave him time to ponder and analyze, something he had not been able to do while he fought with her demons and the medical authorities to do what he though best for her.
There was no question Andy was better. She had made a great deal of progress in a week, but he still had a sense her heart was not in it. Why? The question nagged at him, a puzzle he could not quite solve.
They had talked a lot about her role in the war and the events leading to her injury. He had taken pains to praise her actions, to reassure her she had not done anything wrong or acted with poor judgment. He'd reminded her she'd been hurt while doing her level best to protect valuable equipment and keep those under her safe, including the Marines, for whom she technically had no responsibility.
When he told her about Lieutenant Yablonski's glowing praise, she had briefly brightened but something was still missing. Somehow she had to be made to believe she was worthy, valuable, that her life had meaning and purpose.
Yes, that had to be it. It all came back to her old insecurity and inferiority problem, and the key to that lay with Howard M. Hollis, or he didn't know anything about people. Damn the man! If the almighty General Hollis told her she had done well, she'd have to believe it, wouldn't she?
Cory had no idea where Hollis was, but he'd find him. If he had to march the general to Andy's bedside with a gun at his back and force him to tell her she was a fine officer and had done honorably, he'd do just that. As soon as he got home, he'd ring up a friend in Personnel back in Washington and call in a favor. Surely they'd have a way to locate retired generals, wouldn't they?
With a plan of action devised, he felt better than he had since he learned Andy was wounded. There was just one more thing he knew he'd have to do. That was going to be the most difficult of all, but he'd never been one to run from hard tasks.
* * *
Andy's new room in Whitside Hospital was on the third floor and looked out across the San Marcos Valley. Since her bed was just an arm's length from the window, giving her a bird's eye view, she would have to make a real effort not to look.
It was late afternoon before they got her settled, just in time to catch the sunset, a real Arizona beauty. Gorgeous. The incredible colors flowed across the sky like watercolors on wet paper, blending and changing. At last they faded, with exquisite slowness, to a soft gray.
It was so beautiful, Andy nearly cried. At that moment, she decided she really did not want to die. Life might be harsh at times, but there were still things she would miss. Maybe even including a mule-headed colonel who wouldn't leave her alone.
That night, for the first time since fully regaining consciousness after her ordeal, she slept all night without any nightmares and woke with none of the foggy confusion which had plagued her. Looking around the room, awash with the golden light of early morning, her eyes fell on the small stereo and the TV and VCR.
She smiled slightly, recalling how they had been packed and brought with her, at her doctors' orders. What Cory had said or done to bring that about, she could only imagine, but he was definitely responsible. As soon as she'd been settled in bed, two corporals in orderly's whites had bustled in and arranged her impromptu entertainment center with the same serious care they would have devoted to the life support equipment another patient required.
In a way, it was her life support system, the sights and sounds and Cory. Especially Cory. Bless him and damn him, he'd brought her back. She knew now she couldn't crawl down that long dark way again.
With the remote control unit at her elbow, she hardly had to move to hear the music of her choice or watch any available television channel. If that palled, there were crossword puzzle and word-finder books and a handful of little brain teaser games and puzzles, several of which she had not yet solved.
Every time Cory came through the door, he brought something else. She now had absolutely no excuse not to be occupied, not to exercise all the small but growing capabilities she had and continue to do a little bit more each day.
Whenever her ambition and enthusiasm faded, he was there to push, prod and cajole her once again. Why, though, had he taken it upon himself to rescue and repair her? Goodness knows, she hadn't asked for it. She hadn't asked for anything at all except perhaps oblivion.
Of course, she should be grateful. She was, really, but his actions still disturbed her because she could not discern his motive. If it was pity or guilt, she wanted no part of it. She did not relish being anyone's 'project' -- not even Cory's, in fact, especially not Cory's. Why, he was behaving as if she were family. Sure, there was a saying about the Army taking care of its own, but she always thought that was about ninety-five percent propaganda.
It didn't explain Cory's efforts, at any rate. What did it matter to him, really, whether she lived or died or simply existed, halfway in between?
She was sure he hadn't been home for any length of time since before he began his Korean tour, probably two years or more. Given the time span involved, he had to have come almost directly to Fort Cochise from his flight back to the states.. So why had he gone to El Paso, wasting precious leave time on her? Unless perhaps he didn't want to go home, maybe because his one-time fiancée was still there?
The stupid, ungrateful witch! No proper military wife would do something like that, betraying her man while he was off at war. Somebody ought to snatch the slut bald-headed.
She felt a little guilty about her anger, then. Cory's relationships -- or lack of them -- weren't any of her business. But she couldn't help feeling oddly protective about someone who'd done so much for her, no matter why.
When midmorning came without a sign of Cory, disappointment washed over her. Surely he didn't have to return to duty yet. Not until Monday, at least. He'd said he had two weeks, and by her count, this was only the eleventh day. In the back of her mind, she recognized her distress was disproportionate, but of course it was just because of he relieved the tedium, not because she missed him or his company.
She flipped through all the channels on TV without real interest, tried to work a crossword puzzle but could not concentrate, and was actually relieved when the aide came to wheel her down for therapy, in another wing of the hospital.
She was able to stand now, but she still couldn't walk. That lack was so frustrating, as if the lines of communication from her brain to her legs had somehow been broken. After an hour and a half of exercise and struggle, she was wheeled back to her room, cross and discouraged. Lunch tasted flat, and she left half of it, sliding down to fall asleep before the aide came to retrieve the tray.
* * *
Tension tightened Cory's back as he drove on Post and headed toward the hospital. The morning had not gone well, and after twenty phone calls, he was no closer to locating General Hollis than he had been when he started.
Now he had another sticky matter to deal with. Andy kept asking, in round about ways, why he was making such an effort for her. From her perspective, the question was probably very valid. There was a simple answer, of course, but one he had held off telling her.
He was not at all sure she would believe or accept it, and probably if he was honest, he was more than a little afraid she would laugh in his face and reject it out of hand.
She had trashed his ego once, and she had shrugged off his cautious advances each and every time since. Thus, there was no reason to expect her to do any differently now, just because he said three little words which were supposed to be magical. People always said they were what every woman wanted to hear, but Andy was not every woman, not by a long shot. She was just herself, and she might want something entirely different. But there was just one way to find out.
Once or twice, for a moment, he had been almost sure she was at least interested, but then, before he could follow up on the hint, she slammed down those iron gates between them, and might as well have been a million miles away. Oh well, just his ego and maybe a little bit more was on the line. Not too much to risk when there were a couple of lives at stake, was it?
Next time she asked, he'd just look her in the eye and say it. A timid soldier never won a battle. Hurt and rejection weren't anything to be scared of, really. It happened. He could survive it. Yes, next time she asked why, he'd tell her.
* * *
Andy had napped and awakened to find Cory still missing. It was about 1430 before he finally arrived. When he paused in the door, Andy thought she detected more than a trace of weariness and disgust on his face, but he quickly put on a pleasant expression as he stepped across the threshold and crossed the room to sit beside her bed.
"I still can't walk," she said, without preamble. "I can't leave until I can walk, at least a little, and I still can't take a step. I did stand for a couple of minutes, but that was it."
"Give it time, Andy. Just twelve days ago you were flat on your back and could hardly lift a hand." He carefully avoided any mention of her mental and emotional problems, but they were there, unspoken, in both their thoughts. "You've done the difficult right now, and you know the impossible takes just a little longer." He gave 'right now' the west Texas twang, but his awkward little joke fell flat.
She sighed, shifting restlessly on the bed. It had begun to feel very hard and unwelcoming the last couple of days. "Yeah, I 'spose. I'm just so tired, though, tired of everything. Dr. Chadwick wants to do some other sort of scan -- seems he's not convinced there's no nerve damage or spinal problems."
Cory shrugged. "Doctors like to second-guess each other, sometimes. Chadwick is young, trying to make a name for himself. If he proves another, an older specialist missed something, it's a feather in his cap. But there's no harm in a test, is there?"
She shrugged in turn. "How would I know? But from what I heard someone say down in therapy, there is a small risk with this -- paralysis or something. They inject some chemical into the spine, but since I can't walk anyway, it doesn't matter."
"Hey, don't be talking that way. You're going to walk, maybe not tomorrow or even the next day, but soon. Let's talk to Chadwick, discuss the risk factor before you agree to this test. If you want me to, I'll do it."
"Oh, let him have his fun. He just got a fascinating new case to work with."
"You're not a case, you're a person, a very special person. He ought to be reminded of that."
Cory's vehemence caught Andy by surprise. He almost sounded angry. She evaded his probing glance and changed the subject quickly.
"Did you have to check in with the Brigade this morning? I -- I kind of wondered where you were."
"No, I'm on leave until Monday. I had some other business I had to take care of. Did you miss me? I guess I should have called."
He sounded sincerely apologetic. That made her uncomfortable, sorry she'd raised the subject. "No, you don't have to account to me for your time. In fact, I can't figure out why you're still wasting time here, hanging around every day with me, like I was your wife or kid or something. I mean, that's what people are supposed to do for family."
Cory reached out and caught her hand. He tired to draw her with his will, make her look at him. It was so damn hard, talking to the side of her face, even the back of her head, half the time.
"Maybe because that's how I feel about you, Andy -- . Like you're...er...well, family. I just found out I'm going to be moving over to become Deputy Post Commander next month, so I won't be your CO much longer."
She looked at him for just an instant, as shock flooded her face which went first rosy and then pale.
"Oh no! Don't, Cory. Don't waste your time on a loser like me. It -- it can't possibly work out. Two career families are a real bummer, and right now, you're just feeling some sort of dumb guilt or pity or something, but I'm not your responsibility. It wasn't your fault I went out with Bravo and got hurt. Even if it had been, you've already done more than any commander is obligated to do for one of his people."
For a moment, her gaze met his, imploring, fearful, desperate as a wild creature irrevocably trapped. She plunged on.
"It's enough, more than enough! You don't have to take me to raise. I mean, I wasn't all that great as a woman to start with, and now I may not ever walk again, or...or anything." Her words were spilling out in frantic haste, almost falling over each other. She was scarcely coherent, but eloquent all the same.
"Will you shut up a minute?" Cory fairly roared, cutting off her denials and efforts to escape. "Just hush and let me finish what I have to say. Don't you dare try to tell me what I feel or why, or what I should and shouldn't do. I can make my own decisions based on my own reasons and figure out for myself the wherefores and whys."
Andy closed her mouth with a audible snap. The shut look which slammed down over her face spoke louder still. "Yes sir," she hissed.
"I'm here, I've been here and I will be here because I'm in love with you. The only guilt I feel -- and I admit it isn't logical -- is that I wasn't able to save you from being hurt. The only pity is because you're so damned hard on yourself, so intolerant of any personal weakness or imaginary flaw that you about willed yourself to death! I'm here because I want to be, from love, not guilt or pity. I love you, not a dress or a name or even whether or not you ever take another step, but you. I'm going to be here until you finally quit fighting it and decide you're worth loving, deserve love, even need it. Then, if you decide I'm not the right one, I'll shut up and go away, but not a second before then."
Her eyes shot green fire, a strong hint of her old spirit. "Damn you and your superior assurance! Who gave you the duty to weigh and measure and determine people's worth? My God, you're conceited! My father didn't make my decisions for me and you aren't going to either. I'm never going to be a military wife. I decided that years ago, so don't try and change my mind. I was getting along just fine until you turned up and threw a monkey wrench in the circuits. Damn it, why don't you just buzz off? And take your TV and all the rest with you! Get your do-good nobility out of my face."
Suddenly he was fighting mad. He almost forgot she was helpless in that bed, unable to walk away from his tirade.
"So you can crawl back into your own tail end and hide from the world again? If you think your father doesn't make your decisions, look again, babe. Maybe he made 'em in reverse, but he made them, big as life. Don't kid yourself. You can let your rebellion and your insecurity rule your life and ruin it, or you can start thinking, really make your own choices. All you've been doing is existing by blind reaction. You judge every man by your father and your ex-husband, and everything you do is designed to prove them either right or wrong."
"Get out of here!" Her voice rose to a near shriek. "I don't have to listen to your trash! Unless God went TDY and left you acting, I don't know where you get the right to tell me or anybody else how to live their life. Just get the hell out and leave me alone."
Cory stood, turned away from the bed before he gave in to the urge to grab her and shake some sense into her. Then the anger drained out of him so abruptly it left him feeling hollow and empty. Only then did the raw pain in Andy's voice register, making him realize how deeply he had already shaken her, just with his words.
Maybe after she cooled off and thought on it awhile, she'd see things more clearly. For the moment, he had said all he could, perhaps too much.
"I can't take the stuff right now," he said, "but I'll come get it tomorrow." She had closed her eyes and turned away from him. He neither expected nor got a response.
As Cory left the hospital, he reviewed the conversation, trying to find where it had taken a wrong turn. But, even though it had not gone as he had hoped or planned, Andy had not laughed or rejected him outright. In fact, her excessive denials just might be covering up a depth of feeling she was not yet able or willing to admit, either to herself or to him.
When he entered his apartment, he found a message on his answering machine. After he listened to it, his taut mouth curved into a slight smile. Turned out General Hollis resided in Tucson, just a long hour's drive away. It was a little late to make the trip today, but there was always tomorrow.
* * *
After Cory left, Andy slept for a short while, worn down with the day's stress and frustration. When she awoke, she found herself going over everything he had said. The analysis was neither easy nor painless, but she had to admit there was more than a shred of truth in his words. She had been running and hiding, living her life based on old assumptions and patterns forced on her by others.
Cory might be a take-charge person, as any good officer was, but he was vastly different from her father, who saw only his career and personal ambition. He was different from Jody, who had been totally selfish and immature, wanting everything at once, and with minimal cost to himself or effort on his part.
Neither of them would have taken the time to encourage and help anyone, even a wife or child, nor could they have seen clearly to the heart of her problem and recognized what was needed to bring her out of self-imposed exile.
But Cory did and had. If their situations been reversed, she would have given and done her best for him, too. Could that be what love, real love, was like? If it was, she had really blown it, hadn't she? Well, he'd said he would come back tomorrow and get the stuff. Maybe then she'd have one last chance.
* * *
The high rise was the newest in Tucson, a gleaming tower of glass and steel, sleekly elegant as a rocket. Cory strode into the austere modern lobby and looked for the directory. Hollis, Smith and Coronado, Financial Consultants occupied offices on the ninth floor.
He jabbed the up-arrow button with more force than was strictly necessary and fidgeted until the elevator door opened. Moments later, he entered the reception area where a stylishly coiffed blonde held court behind a curved counter. She looked marginally more real than the trendy Santa Fe decor.
"May I help you?" she asked, long lashed eyes appraising the cut of Cory's gray western suit and the rest of his attire, serviceable black boots and a pale gray Stetson. He could almost see the dollar signs behind her eyes as she evaluated him. Maybe he wasn't found too badly wanting, for she smiled.
"I need to see General Hollis."
"Do you have an appointment?" She asked the question with an ingenuous little coy smile.
"No, but I think he'll see me." He pulled a card out of the inside pocket of his jacket and handed it to her. He was running a bluff, but if General Hollis happened to recall the Captain Costain he'd served with in Vietnam, it might work. That Costain was Cory's cousin, and he had left the Air Force to return to ranching in northern Utah, but from what Cory had heard, the general owed that Costain one hell of a big favor.
"He's got a client with him now, sir," the receptionist said. "It may be awhile."
"I'll wait."
Cory didn't see anyone leave, but he assumed there were other doors. After fifteen or twenty minutes, the shellacked blonde rose and entered an office at the far end of the room. In a moment, she returned and beckoned to Cory.
"The General will see you now."
Cory strode across the room to enter the large office, clearly designed to awe and impress. Hollis stood, striding around the massive desk which sat diagonally across one corner, opposite the door. He looked at Cory keenly, puzzlement clear on his beefy face.
"You can't be Joel Costain," he said, after a moment. "A son, maybe?"
"A cousin," Cory admitted. "Joel sends his regards, by the way."
"How's he doing?"
"As of last week, pretty good. He's back on the family property, ranching in north western Utah. He's got three daughters, two sons and an even dozen grandkids."
"Great. He was a good man. But I'm not sure where you come in?"
"I'm in the Army, active duty still. Just got home from the latest banana war. I had a Captain Hollis in my command, one of the finest young officers I've ever been privileged to serve with, I might add. Any man should be proud to have a son like that -- or a daughter."
Watching the general closely, Cory saw a parade of expressions flicker across his face.
"Right now," he continued, "Captain Hollis is recuperating in the Fort Cochise hospital from wounds received in action in San Juan Delgado. She personally saved the lives of at least two enlisted people during an intense surprise attack and was injured trying to get some critical classified equipment into shelter. She's going to be all right, at least physically, but her mental condition is lousy. She thinks she's a failure and I'm pretty sure you're the only one who can make her believe otherwise. I may have to hog tie you and carry you down there, but however it has to be done, you're going to go see her."
The general stepped back a pace and sat on the edge of the desk, his ruddy face going pale. "Andy's an officer? In the Army? You aren't kidding me, are you? The last I heard, she was getting a divorce and talking about enlisting. Damn it, she was the only one of my kids with any spunk, but I never could tell her anything. She'd make me so damn mad. Never would be a proper young lady, nothing like her mother."
"Are you going to go or not?"
"Just what concern is it of yours?" The General was trying to bluff his way through this with sheer arrogance. Cory wouldn't let him.
"She's one of my people, and I try my level best to take care of them. They're the only family I've got."
"And that's it?"
"Well, not totally. I happen to be in love with her, too, and it's killing me to see her lying there utterly defeated. She's afraid to believe in me -- in us -- because she can't believe in herself. Everything she's done has been to try to prove something to you, to win your approval. Without that, she could get the Medal of Honor and it wouldn't mean a thing. She's got more guts, more courage and common sense than any ten of your average young officers and she's one hell of a woman besides. But her dad, the Great General Hollis, doesn't approve or recognize her, so in her mind, she's a failure."
"You've got a lot of nerve," General Hollis growled testily. "Coming in here under false pretenses and trying to tell me what to do about my own family."
"I didn't have time to mess around and make an appointment. I've used up most of the leave I can afford to take right now just trying help Andy and then to find you. You can punch me out if you want to. I don't care. But go see Andy first -- today -- right now. I'll even drive you down."
Slowly, subtly, the general's granite expression gentled. "If what you're saying is true, I guess I should. Lord knows, her sister and brother aren't worth a plugged nickel. Howie isn't worthy of the commission or the name. All he can do is play with computers and chase women.
"Susan, my eldest, is a spineless whiner married to a wuss lawyer. All right, Costain, let's go. I haven't decided whether you'd be an acceptable son-in-law or not, but I do see a resemblance to Joel, and he was one fine man."
"Our fathers are brothers. He's fifteen years older than me, but we've always been close."
"What did you say your rank was?"
"I'm an O-6 with two years, well, closer to three now, in grade."
"And on the brigadier general list after this latest war, I'd wager."
Cory didn't deign to answer. At this point, he couldn't place any significance in rank or lack of it at all.
As they started out, Hollis paused at the reception desk. "Cancel the rest of my appointments this afternoon, Marvie, I've got some important business to take care of."
They walked out together and headed for Fort Cochise in Cory's rented car.
When they entered the hospital and proceeded to the rehab wing, approaching Andy's room, Cory fell back, suddenly filled with misgivings. What if seeing her father deepened her depression instead of relieving it? She'd been hurt deeply, repeatedly from all he knew. One wrong word could do even more damage. She was so vulnerable, so fragile at this point, her hold on life as weak as the grasp of a newborn. With his heart pounding, he stood back and watched as General Hollis stopped in the doorway.
"Andy?" The deep voice was low and hesitant.
Andy had been staring out at the strip of blue visible through her window, trying to think of nothing at all. She was so tired. The argument with Cory yesterday seemed to have drained away all the slight reserve of strength she had built back. Just lifting her hand to silence the irritating drone of the television was almost too hard.
Dimly, as if from far away, she heard her name called. Did she want to turn her head and see who was there? Was it really worth the effort?
"Andy, baby, it's me, Dad."
The voice was out of a dream, part wish and part nightmare, but it woke curiosity. She turned her head, slowly, as if fearing it would still hurt.
For a moment, the big graying man was a stranger. Then she saw something familiar in his eyes, registered a knowledge of the timbre of his voice. "Daddy?" It came out a squeak, the inflection of a startled child.
He lumbered into the room and slowly approached her bedside. "If I'd only known, I'd have been here, the first day. I'd have been here with a yellow ribbon on when they brought you back."
She saw him through a mist of tears, abashed and appalled at the misery on his face.
"It's my fault. I -- I put someone else on my next-of-kin card. But you told me I was no longer any child of yours when I said I was going to enlist."
He dropped stiffly to his knees, bringing his face closer to the level of hers. "Sometimes your old man is a hot head and a wind bag, Andy. Right then, I was pretty upset. A few weeks or months later -- but then it was too late. I had my pride. I wasn't going to beg you. Time passed, and after awhile, it was almost true, I didn't have two daughters any more. But pride is bad company, baby. It's taken me a long time to learn that, but I have now."
She exhaled a soft sigh. "I guess you're right, but it goes both ways. I could have reached out too."
He took her hand, cradling it in his two big paws. "Your young man said you're going to be all right, but you don't look all right, kid. Are they doing everything for you that needs to be done? Do I need to jump in here and kick butt?"
She giggled at that, for the picture was somehow ludicrous. "No, I'm mending. I'll make it. I guess I almost made a dead hero, or a dead heroine. It was dumb, really, but I'd lost a man on Sangre De Cristo Peak, and I didn't want to see that happen again. Right then, I didn't matter; it was more important for Sergeant Barnwell to get home to her baby and that young Marine to his fiancée. That was all I thought about. Like I say, it was dumb."
He cleared his throat before he spoke. "Doesn't sound dumb to me, kid. It sounds pretty damn brave. If I hadn't put all my medals in storage, I'd give you one right now. You deserve it more than I ever did. I..."
His voice faltered a moment. "I just thank the Lord you're a live hero, Andy. That you're here and I can tell you how proud I am. Your CO had good things to say about you. I served with a relative of his in 'Nam, and neither of them struck me as the kind who'd give empty praise. He says you're a damn fine officer, and I believe he's right. At least one of my kids is, and by God, that makes me feel better."
"But I thought Howie..."
"Howie isn't -- hell, ten Howie's aren't worth one of you, girl. It's my fault. I spoiled him rotten when he finally came along, so he's more of a brat than a man. I want to read that citation when you get your medal, baby, and I want pictures, if I can't be there. But I plan to be there. Don't disappear on me again, all right? That's an order."
"Yes sir."
Listening, just inside the door, Cory heard a trace of grin in her voice. It was the same tone she'd sometimes used to him, just enough sass to let you know she wasn't taking it all too seriously, even if she was a good, obedient officer.
"Where's Mom?" she asked suddenly, a guarded tone apparent once more.
"She -- I had to put her in a home, baby. The doctors say its Alzheimer's. She hardly even recognizes me any more, and she didn't know Howie the last time he came out. He's stationed in Florida. Susan refuses to go see her, says it upsets her too much. She's married to a lawyer, up in Phoenix and she lost a baby last year."
"As soon as I get out, Dad, I'll come see Mom. Even if she doesn't recognize me. And tell her -- well, tell her I love her, until then."
"I'll do that, Baby. She may not understand, but I think a part of her will." He heaved himself back to his feet. "I'd better go. I know it isn't regular visiting hours and I'm not trying to take advantage. Is there anything you need, anything I can get you?"
Andy shook her head. "No, you came. That's enough. You came and you cared. That's more than enough."
"Well, hell yes! You're my kid, you always were. I didn't always understand but I did love you, all the time. When you get out, come up and spend a few days in Tucson with me, all right? I'd like to show you off. Not many of my friends have a kid that's a real live hero."
"Okay,-Dad. I'll do that. I'd like that. And, well thanks, huh?"
He stooped to drop a kiss on her forehead before he straightened completely and turned away. "Thank you, kid. You turned out pretty special in spite of everything I did. I think somebody else wants to see you for a few minutes now. I'm going to get out of the way, but you can bet I'll be back."
He passed Cory at the door. "Now I owe two Costains a favor, damn it. You be good to that girl, son. She deserves it."
Cory fought back the grin this wasn't the moment to show. "I'll sure try, sir. And if you'll give us your blessing, I'll call it even."
"I'll think about it."
Cory walked in then, still not quite sure. Would Andy resent his intervention, even though it had turned out well? At least it seemed to have. He searched her face, anxious for a clue as to what she was thinking.
"You couldn't leave well enough alone, could you?" Her tone was almost neutral and her face gave nothing away, but the words were only partly unexpected.
"No, I couldn't, Andy. I care too much about you to leave you suffering. When I found where he was, I had to tell him. If you're mad, I'm sorry, but I had to do it. There was nobody else who could hold the mirror so you could see yourself."
She was silent for so long he began to worry, studying her face and reading so little in its lack of expression that fear grasped him. Suddenly she smiled.
"You're one hell of a CO," she said suddenly, laughing. "Just trying to take care of us all, 'specially me, huh?"
"Somebody has to," he growled, "'cause you won't take care of yourself."
"Okay, you win. I guess I may as well let you, since you're so good at it. What was that business about Dad giving his blessing?"
"He'd said he wasn't sure he could accept me as a son-in-law."
"As a...wait a minute, you never asked me! I didn't think you were trying to marry him! You know after this war you're going to make the list. You don't need his name to get your star."
"No, I sure don't, but it would make things a lot more comfortable for you and me both if he didn't resent me, because we are going to get married, just as soon as you get out of this damn hospital. There's no way I'm going to go through the rest of my life without you, so don't argue about it."
"Yes sir."
He bent quickly to kiss the grin off her face, but it was hard, because he was grinning pretty widely himself.
"Darn it, anyway, I'm going to feel like a fool," Andy grumbled. "I've always said 'pregnant soldier' was an oxymoron, and just look at me now. I wish you hadn't insisted I attend the ceremony in an official capacity."
Rising from tying his glass-shiny shoes, Cory gave her a fond grin. "But I do. You look just fine, and I'll be hanged if I'll have my retirement ceremony without my wife. Especially when she's commanding my old unit. After all, I'm giving up my career first. Don't you think it's the least you can do?"
She turned quickly from her dresser, her face taut with sudden anxiety. "Are you having second thoughts, Cory? Are you going to regret it? I didn't -- I wasn't going to insist, you know."
"Not a bit, Hon. I know I'm not cut out to be a general, and that's just fine with me. Sure, I could have taken the promotion but I didn't want the politics that go with it. I really don't mind playing house husband for a few years while I finish working on my degree. After you're ready to get out, we can settle down to being gentlefolk farmers, maybe about the time this kid is ready to complete school in one community. All I'm saying is I want you there today, in uniform, with your ribbons and all. I'm proud of you too, you know. Come on, we don't want to be late."
The parade field of Fort Cochise, for this special event, was as smooth and perfect as a golf green. The grass sparkled with a hint of dew while the morning sun hung autumn-gold above the cottonwood trees, which were just starting to turn their autumn hues. As Cory and Andy took their places, the ceremony got underway with a shouted command.
For an instant, Andy flashed back to another parade, now more than two years ago. At least she wasn't responsible for this one.
Although not the sole honoree, Cory was the senior, and stood at the Installation
Commander's side to review the troops. Upon his return from the 3-D War, Cory had become deputy base commander, and served in that position for over a year. When she returned to duty, Andy, with shiny new golden oak leaves on her epaulets, had assumed command of the newly 'lean and mean' Signal Brigade the past January.
Today, with the rest of the Directors and Brigade commanders, she stood to the rear and left of General Bateman and Cory. She took a slight consolation in knowing she didn't have to be out in front of everyone, marching or commanding a unit, at least. But she still felt foolish and conspicuous in her new maternity greens.
A bit later, as Cory stood at attention while his citation and retirement orders were read, she was too overcome with pride and admiration to give any more thought to her self-consciousness. He had never looked more handsome, tanned and lean, standing proudly erect, haloed by the sun when it broke above the trees. She blinked back sudden tears as he saluted smartly, faced around, and strode to the sidelines.
Caught up in emotion, she almost missed the next, and previously unannounced, event of the ceremonies. Where had that blue uniform come from in the midst of all the Army green? There was something oddly familiar about the tall man in blue who emerged from the crowded reviewing stand and crossed to General Bateman's side, exchanging crisp salutes before he turned to stand at the General's left.
Then she saw he also wore a pair of silver stars. Was is...It had to be, but why? As if from far away, she heard the announcer say "Would Major Hollis-Costain please come forward?" For a few startled seconds, she didn't recognize it was she who was so summoned. Then, she hurried to respond, crossing the stretch of grass in a bemusement too deep to be self conscious.
She halted before the two generals, one in Army green and one in Air Force blue, and saluted them, looking up just in time to catch the smile which softened General Hollis's stern features. Amazingly, he winked.
"Attention to orders."
At the command, habit took over, and she stood properly, face impassive, as the citation was read. It described in glowing words her quick actions which saved three of her enlisted personnel and some valuable equipment during the attack at the Rio Perdito camp. The purple heart, she already had, but this was unexpected.
Bateman's aide handed something to General Hollis. With care, he spread the loop of ribbon and settled it over her head, lowering the heavy bronze medallion gently to the breast of her green tunic.
"Congratulations, Major, on a well-deserved award," he said. She held out her hand, still automatically, but he bypassed it an enveloped her in a fierce hug. "I'm so damn proud of you I could just about bust, Andy."
She looked up, blinking back her tears and saw the matching sheen of moisture in his eyes. "Thank you, sir," she managed, hoarsely. "Your pride is the best award I could receive."
"Don't thank me, kid. I should be thanking you for the honor you bring to this family, and maybe that reprobate you married, for getting in touch with me so I could be here for this."
He released her, turning her to stand between himself and General Bateman as the troops were dismissed and began to march off the field. "If I'm lucky, maybe I'll live to see the next generation of Hollises and Costains in uniform one of these days."
With an arm around her shoulders, he turned to walk her across the grass to where Cory stood. At that moment, between the two men she loved, Andy would gladly let the world see her in maternity greens. Her joy at the pride in the eyes and smiles of both men was too great to allow for any embarrassment. She'd come through the hell of war to find love and it was the greatest award she could desire.
THE END
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