The Line bo-2

by Bob Mayer

  “Do you think Mrs. Howard’s story was true?”

  “I don’t know,” Trace said.

  “Her mind wasn’t in the best shape. A lonely old lady reliving the past is not exactly an accurate source. But you know, ever since I started writing this, what she told me has really made me think twice.

  I think I’ve been getting slightly paranoid.”

  Boomer laughed. “We. have a saying in Special Forces:

  “Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they aren’t out to get you.”

  “Trace didn’t smile.

  “There’s been so much strange stuff going on in this country in the last fifty years that it makes you wonder sometimes.”

  “Stuff like what?” Boomer asked picking up his mug.

  Trace pulled a newspaper out of her shoulder bag. “Lots of things look different if you simply assume a different perspective. Take today’s paper for example.” She ran her hand over some of the headlines of the late edition of the Honolulu paper.

  “The MRA and the conflict between the Joint Chiefs and the President.

  Hell, the Army Chief of Staff came within a hair of uttering statements about the President at that AUSA convention on Tuesday that he could have been courtmartialed for. Like that Air Force general last year who was forced to retire.

  “Then there’s everyone in the defense industry and the Pentagon screaming about the President cutting out funding for development of the Hard Glass anti-ballistic missile defense system. The nuclear blast over Turkey last week certainly made that move seem unwise.

  “Or these NATO inspectors that were ambushed the other day and killed in the Ukraine. It’s causing the President’s foreign policy regarding the START II treaty with the former Warsaw Block to be questioned even further. Congress is passing a special resolution to freeze the disarmament funding for the Ukraine after this latest incident.”

  Boomer’s hand halted in midair, a small bead of condensation dropping off the bottom of the mug and splashing unnoticed.

  “Let me see that.”

  He grabbed the paper and scanned the story.

  AT LEAST THREE U.S. SOLDIERS KILLED IN UKRAINE

  President offers condolences.

  Reaffirms disarmament funding.

  MOSCOW (AP)

  3 U.S. servicemen were among the 10 NATO weapons inspectors killed in an ambush on a road outside the town of Senzhary in the Ukraine. A representative of the Ukrainian government blames the attack on dissident forces trying to derail the START (Strategic Armns Treaty) II agreement worked out between the President’s administration and the Ukraine.

  These same forces were also believed responsible for the attempted shipment of a nuclear weapon to Iraq two days ago that cost the lives of two U.S. pilots and the first non-test detonation of a nuclear weapon in over fifty years.

  “The situation is somewhat confusing because we are working from reports relayed to us by Ukrainian authorities,” an anonymous Pentagon spokesperson said.

  “We should have some of our own people at the site shortly. All we know is that a ten-man NATO team, which was comprised of three Americans, three Germans, two Dutch, and two Norwegians, was involved.

  The report we have received is that there were no survivors.

  Some Ukrainian military personnel were also killed in the attack.”

  The Administration’s commitment to this mission comes amid increasing resistance from the Pentagon and calls from Congress for a pullout of American forces from the mission until the political situation in the Ukraine has been resolved.

  “I offer my deepest sympathy to the families and friends of the American soldiers who were killed in the Ukraine last night,” the President said in a statement.

  “These brave Americans were engaged in a mission vital to continued world peace and security.”

  An anonymous source at the Pentagon reemphasized the position General Martin, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, made public during testimony last week in front of Congress: “There’s no way a handful of inspectors can ensure that these weapons are being accounted for and destroyed. We’re talking about over 1,700 warheads.

  Piecemealing it like we are doing presently allows them to play a ‘shell game,” switching warheads around. The only adequate response to this situation is a pullout of NATO forces until the political situation stabilizes in the Ukraine and increased emphasis on the Hard Glass ballistic missile defense system that the President has withheld funding for. The explosion over Turkey two days ago shows that other nuclear weapons might already have been sold and be in the hands of unstable forces. without immediate, absolute positive control over those warheads, we cannot be sure where they will end up, or how they will be used.. There are 32 other Americans among the peacekeepers.

  Boomer was confused.

  “What connection do you see between this and your story?” he asked.

  Trace shrugged. The Backfire incident, these inspector deaths, both were the worst possible thing that could have happened. The Pentagon didn’t want to send those people in, but the President overrode that at the urging of the State Department. Now there’s a big whiplash effect, just like the Somalia peacekeeping operation a few years ago, and we all saw what happened there. And this is happening just prior to the President coming here and making his MRA speech. You could certainly make a case that these incidents are not good for the MRA.”

  “But what does that have to do with your novel?”

  Boomer asked, his mind still on the article. | Trace smiled.

  “Not much, really. I guess I’m just getting so used to writing fiction that I start playing’what-if with everything that goes on.”

  Boomer put the beer down on the table.

  “Do you think this Line is real?”

  “I don’t know. I’m making the story up,” Trace said.

  “But you didn’t make up the original idea,” Boomer noted.

  “No, but like I said, this lady’s mind wandered quite a bit when I talked to her two months ago. She was pretty bitter. Her husband had been killed in the war when he was in Patton’s 3rd Army.”

  “But you must have checked her facts. Was she a nurse on the staff that worked on Patton after he had his accident?”

  Trace nodded.

  “Yeah, that checked out.”

  “So, I’m asking you again, do you think it’s possible that an outfit like this Line exists?”

  Trace spoke slowly, as if considering her words carefully, picking up Boomer’s serious mood.

  “I suppose it is possible. But I find it hard to believe that such an organization could be kept secret for so long.”

  “How much have you written?”

  “I’ve done some research and outlining, but I’ve only worked on two chapters.”

  “And you’ve made it all up, based upon one interview with this woman?”

  Trace nodded.

  “I’m writing it with the fictional premise:

  “What if it were true?” I’m going back over the past fifty years and looking at various events that West Point graduates were involved in and making some speculations using what she gave me. There are a lot of areas I’d really like to research in depth. Lots of intriguing premises, if you accept my initial one and believe even half of what she told me, but I don’t exactly have the time to do that. The stuff I did find scared me plenty.”

  Boomer pulled out his wallet, laying a twenty on the bar to cover the beers.

  “I’d like to go someplace quieter if that’s all right with you.”

  Trace nodded.

  “We can go to my house.”

  “Would it be possible for me to see a copy of what you’ve written so far?” Boomer asked.

  “I’ve got a printout at home on my desk. Why are you so interested in this?”

  Boomer shrugged.

  “No particular reason. It’s just kind of strange.” He took her hand in his.

  “Enough pondering the world’s pro
blems. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

  Trace leaned close, her shoulder touching his.

  “We certainly do. Why don’t you follow me to my place?”

  11:23 P.M.LOCAL

  As if to release the pent-up stress of the past week, Boomer found himself wrapping his arms around Trace, pulling himself tight into her with a passion that surprised even himself. He could feel her moving with him. Then he felt her, a silky moist heat that felt so wonderful that he tried to stop her movements to savor the feeling a little longer. But the long slow spasms of pleasure shook him even as he held her in perfect stillness.

  Later, they took their time. Boomer grinned at Trace’s soft sigh as he barely kissed each of her closed eyelids, then did the same to her breasts. She nuzzled up next to him, gently urging him, her slender fingers fondling his chest. He took her hand, kissed her fingers and lost himself in her body. He enjoyed pleasing her and spent a long time bringing her to climax.

  It was a perfect ending to a terrible week. Boomer thought, as Trace finally collapsed in his arms. He held her close, feeling her relax into sleep before allowing himself to drift into an uneasy slumber filled with visions of the hillside in southern Ukraine and the sounds of the screams of wounded men.

  “They done yet?”

  The man tapped the side of the night scope.

  “Yeah.”

  He pulled back and turned off the power to the scope.

  “One of the perks of the job,” the first man said with a grin’ Gonna be a shame to waste her,” the second man said.

  “Who do you think the guy is?”

  The first man lay down and pulled his poncho liner up around his neck.

  “Somebody she works with probably.

  He’s not important.”

  “I hope they give us the word soon,” the first man mused as he settled down for his shift whittling at a piece of wood with his knife.

  30 NOVEMBER

  5:30 A.M.LOCAL 1530 ZULU

  In the soft glow of the desk light, the words on the laser printed pages stood out clearly. Boomer sat cross-legged on the carpet and. read them with interest.

  11 JUNE 1930

  U.S. MILITARY ACADEMY, WEST POINT. NEW YORK

  The smooth marble felt cool to Cadet Benjamin Hooker’s hand. He gazed up the shaft of Battle Monument to the stars overhead, then up the Hudson River where the hulking presence of Storm King Mountain loomed to the left, a darker black presence against the night sky. It was a view that never failed to raise a strong feeling of attachment and sentiment in Hooker’s heart.

  Boomer shook his head. He’d seen that same view many times over his four years at the Academy and he couldn’t quite say he’d had the same emotions. He continued reading, turning the-pages as Trace’s story unfolded. After finishing the last page of the second chapter, he put the draft of Trace’s book down and glanced out the window at the dark ocean, then over at the bed where Trace was stirring.

  “What are you doing?” she asked sleepily, squinting against the small desk light he had on.

  “Looking at your manuscript,” Boomer replied. “I had trouble sleeping.”

  “Oh,” she said, sitting up and leaning back against the headboard, her small breasts perfect in the morning light.

  She smiled.

  “I had a good time last night. You’re an amazingly good lover for a guy like you.”

  “It takes one to know one,” Boomer murmured in her ear.

  She glanced at the glowing digits on the clock next to the bed.

  “You know what I mean by a guy like you, right?”

  Boomer wrapped his arms around her and sighed.

  “Yes, I do. I’m starting to wonder if I’m a guy like me.” He’d caught her glance.

  “I know you have to go soon, but can I see you later? I need to be with you.”

  Trace nodded.

  “You can stay exactly where you are right now. It’s been a while since a man needed me. Just stay in bed and rest.” She smiled and added! “You’ll need it later.”

  He cupped her breast and gently blew air across her nipple.

  “I’d love to, but I’ve got to make PT too and take a look at the message traffic. What time will you be in this evening?”

  “I’m usually back by 1800,” Trace said. She made her way to the shower.

  “Care to join me?”

  Boomer stepped into the hot spray, his thoughts going back to a shower they’d shared so many years ago. He still hadn’t told Trace what had sent him to Hawaii. He knew he wasn’t authorized to do so.

  “I read the first two chapters of your manuscript,” Boomer said.

  “What do you think?”

  “Good writing,” he said.

  “I mean what do you think of the story?” Trace amplified.

  “Interesting. I assume the first chapter about Patton was what that old woman told you.”

  “I made up the conversations, but basically, yes, that’s what she recollected. It was strange to talk to someone who’d really been there taking care of Patton when he died.”

  “I don’t understand the second chapter, though,” Boomer said.

  “What does some cadet in 1930 have to do with Patton in 1945? I know you have Patton mentioning Hooker in your first chapter.”

  “Did you know that George Marshall was the deputy commander of the Infantry School at Benning from 1927 to 1932?” Trace asked in turn.

  “Of course,” Boomer replied.

  “How the hell would I know that?” he asked.

  “It was there in your manuscript.

  And you still didn’t answer my question.”

  “I’m getting there. Did you also know that 160 members of the Infantry School during Marshall’s tenure became general officers during World War II and that Marshall, as Chief of Staff, was the one man who made most of the personnel decisions in the war?”

  “Besides plumbing the depth of my ignorance,” Boomer said, “do you have a point to make?”

  “My point is that a hell of a lot of power was concentrated in the hands of a few men during World War II, and most of those men were at Fort Benning during the years that Marshall was there before the war. At the start of World War II West Pointers made up only seven percent of the officer corps. By the end of the war they were less than one percent. Yet three of three Supreme Commanders, seven of nine Army Group Commanders, eleven of twenty Army Commanders and twenty of thirty-one Corps commanders at the end of the war were West Pointers.”

  “The old boy network,” Boomer said.

  “Happens all the time. Why do you think the Masons have a handshake?”

  “Yeah, but if that old lady was correct, it’s a little bit more than that,” Trace replied.

  “Your own manuscript notes that Marshall was a VMI grad, not West Point. Doesn’t that blow your theory?”

  “Not really. What better cover than to have someone like Marshall be the front man for The Line?”

  “Now you’re thinking like a Special Forces operator, not an aviator,” Boomer said with a smile.

  “What about this Hooker character?” Boomer asked again.

  “Is he made up?

  Where do you get him from?”

  “It’s the name the nurse said Patton gave her,” Trace said evasively.

  “If The Line existed, I think Hooker played a very special role in it.

  I’ll show you what I mean later.”

  “Have you shown the manuscript to anyone?” Boomer asked.

  “It’s a long way from being done,” Trace answered.

  “In fact those two chapters are the only ones written. I’ve got a lot of notes on what I’m thinking of writing. I sent off a synopsis and the first two chapters to a couple of publishers to see if they’re interested. I’m not sure I’m ready to write four hundred or so pages without an idea first if the story is marketable. I do have to get to work,” Trace added as Boomer’s hands wandered.

  “OK, OK,” Boomer
said, pulling his hands away.

  “It’s just that I can’t resist.”

  “Save it for this evening,” Trace said, getting out and grabbing a towel.

  “Is that a promise?” he asked as he followed.

  “Written in stone.” She dried off and then went out into the main room. Boomer watched her as she went over to a bookcase behind her desk. She pulled a thick, soft-covered book off the shelf. He recognized it immediately: the Register Of Graduates, published by the Military Academy Alumni Association. Trace tossed it at him.

  “Take a look at the class of ‘thirty.”

  Boomer opened the book up. He easily found the class of 1930. Trace had tucked in the appropriate page a Xeroxed copy of what must have been Hooker’s graduation picture from his year’s Howitzer, the cadet yearbook. Even with the grainy Xerox quality. Boomer was caught by the dark eyes. He put the photo aside.

  In the register each class up until 1978 was listed in class rank order; only with ‘78 did they get ordered alphabetically.

  Hooker’s name was the second one listed in his class.

  Benjamin Ross Hooker B-ME 12 DECA-lge: FA: Rhodes Scholar 3032:

  MA Oxford: OPD WDGS 41–45 (LM): BG 44: JA-MAG London 46–48: S & F USMA His 49–50: JA Secy Def5052 (DSM): Prof History USMA (Head of Dept 53–68) (DSM): Ret 69 BG: Secy Offcjcs 70–74: UP USSECCON 75-present: 1221 Whispering Brook Dr. Springfield VA-45112.

  Since Boomer was also listed later in the book, he could make some sense out of all the acronyms and abbreviations that listed a man’s life’s work in one paragraph:

  Hooker was born in Maine on December 12, 1907. AIGE meant his appointment to West Point had come from the President as the son of a career military man. FA stood for field artillery. Hooker’s branch of service. After Oxford, Hooker’s next major assignment was in the office of the Operations Plans Division in the War Department — the people who had worked directly for Marshall and been the brains behind planning the entire U.S. war effort. Boomer was surprised to see that Hooker had spent the entire length of World War II in Washington. Most officers would have been fighting to get out and lead troops. That fact of Hooker’s career at least fit with what Trace had written about him.