“Guilty, sir. We take in a tuck here and there.”
“Very nicely done, Ms. Bellever. Keep up the good work…” He looked up as Cecil entered the tent.
“Bad news, Ben.”
“Oh?”
“It appears Hartline has changed tactics in the field. We’ve lost the entire northern half of Indiana. Some mercenary by the name of Jake Devine is in command, and he must be one smooth talker.”
“Captain Jake Albert Devine,” Ben said, leaning back in his chair. “I’ve never met him, but I’ve read intelligence reports on him—back when the Tri-States existed. The young folks love him; and you can just bet ol’ Jake is popping the cock to a number of young girls. He likes that teenage pussy.”
Cecil glanced at Dawn and was embarrassed at Ben’s vulgarity. “Uh… Ben,” he said.
“Oh. Excuse me, Ms. Bellever,” Ben said. “I’ll try to watch my language.”
She laughed at the expression on Cecil’s face. “Colonel Jefferys—have you ever been around a bunch of reporters when they’re drinking?”
“I’m afraid not, Ms. Bellever.”
“They aren’t exactly priests and nuns, I can assure you both of that. Do you want me to leave, General, so you and Colonel Jefferys can speak in private?”
“No. You’ll be handling supersensitive papers and decoding messages while you’re working here. There is no reason at all for you to leave.” He looked at Cecil. “It doesn’t surprise me, Cecil. The people just didn’t have it in them to fight. Doctor Chase warned me this might well be the case. I was wrong in placing too much hope with civilians. They just want to work and be left alone. Can’t blame them for that. Have you talked with Ike about this?”
“Mentioned it to him. Told him I was coming here, and that you’d probably want to hash this over with the other field commanders.”
“Get hold of them. We’ll meet at 0800 in the morning. Put everybody on low alert. There is a chance we’ll be pulling out very soon.”
Dawn felt her heart quicken its pace. Game time, or so it looked, was just about over. Now it was down to, as Jimmy Brady put it, “fish or cut bait.”
Cecil left the tent and Ben glanced at Dawn. “Getting scared, Ms. Bellever?”
“I’d be lying if I said no.”
“Only a fool isn’t afraid of combat, Ms. Bellever. It is the most mind-boggling, terrifying, gut-wrenching sensation a human being will experience.”
“I can’t imagine you being afraid of anything, General.”
“Unfortunately, Ms. Bellever, sometimes a man becomes inured to the worst of the combat. The fear comes after the battle.”
“I… see.”
“No, you don’t, Ms. Bellever. But you will, I’m afraid.”
Ben rose to leave and she touched his arm. “General… last night. I mean, I rather enjoyed it.”
His smile touched her in very intimate places. “I rather enjoyed it, too, Ms. Bellever.”
“Would I be forward if I asked that we do it again sometime?”
He laughed. “Ah, the liberated ladies of the latter part of this century. Would you have dinner with me this evening, Ms. Bellever?”
“I would love to, General—on one condition.”
“And that is?”
“Would you please stop calling me Ms.?”
Ben laughed and left the tent without replying.
“So you see,” Jake said, “this is, as Shakespeare put it, much ado about nothing. All the government wants is for people to get back to work and get this nation rolling again. Then maybe I can go back to Illinois and get back to farming.”
Lisa and the others laughed at that. “Man,” the brunette said, “I just can’t imagine you plowing a field.”
I’ll plow your field before too many more days, honey, Jake thought. “Oh, it’s true, dear. Believe it. I was raised on a farm.”
“Why did you become a mercenary for Lowry?” he was asked.
“Because I believe in a United States,” he was quick to reply. “I was a professional soldier before the big war of ‘88, and for a few years after that. I got hurt and had to get out of the regular army. This way, I can still serve my country.”
“May we speak frankly, Captain Devine?” the brunette asked.
“As frankly as you wish,” she was answered with a smile and a gentle wink. “I am very interested in your views and comments. Anything to get this fighting a thing of the past.”
“What do you want from us?”
“I want you all to come with me to the holding camp down in Decatur and over in Logansport. I want you to bring a camera—or I’ll supply you with one—and take all the pictures you want. Talk to every person there. I want you all to see that everyone there is being well-fed and cared for; they have, if not nice, at least comfortable living quarters; and that no one—repeat
“But all the rumors…?” a young lady said.
Jake brushed them off. “Lies. Dirty lies from the Rebels’ camp. Come with me—I’ll prove it to you all.”
The young people looked at Lisa; she nodded her head minutely. She received an answering nod in the affirmative.
“Great!” Jake beamed. “Lisa, you ride with me. You other young people can take those two station wagons over there,” he pointed, “and follow us. You’re all going to be very pleasantly surprised.”
He could not conceal his smile as he held the door for Lisa.
Nice tits, he thought.
Dawn could not hide her smile as they carried their meal trays from the mess tent back to Ben’s quarters. She said, “I thought the brass always had better food than the enlisted people?”
“Not in this army,” Ben told her. “And it shouldn’t be that way in any army. However,” he smiled, “I do have this bottle of wine that should make the meal a bit more palatable.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. Picked it up on the way here from Wyoming. You’re not going to believe me when I show it to you.”
“My God, Ben!” she blurted, after they had placed their trays on the table and Ben opened his trunk and removed the bottle of wine. “That’s a Rothchild.”
“1955. Wonder if that was a good year?”
They tasted the wine after clinking glasses.
“Excellent,” Ben said. “Should go right with this SOS we’re having.”
Dawn looked at her plate of dried beef in gravy over biscuits. “Why is it called SOS?”
“The initials for which it stands,” Ben said with a smile, knowing very well what was next.
“What does SOS mean?” She took a small tentative bite. “Oh, this is good!”
“Shit on shingle.”
She dropped her fork. “You’re kidding!”
“I think it’s been called that since World War Two. Maybe further back than that. But it’s tasty and hot and really, I suppose, rather good for one.”
“We’ll let that one be you,” Dawn pushed her plate from her. “I’ll just have a little salad and some wine.”
“Plenty of wine,” Ben spoke around a mouthful of SOS. “I pinched a case.”
Her eyes widened. “A whole case of Rothchild ‘55?”
“A whole case, dear.”
“This is going to be a memorable evening.” Her eyes lifted to touch his across the table.
