with the Collins 7.2 transceiver up here to assist my communications officer. The 7.2 in my Connie needs service.”
Major Cronin looked confused. “Excuse me, sir . . . what do I call you?”
“‘Sir’ will do just fine,” Frade said.
“Sir, I’m a little confused. The Collins 7.2 is a fixed-station communications device. Are you sure that’s what you have in your aircraft?”
“Trust the colonel, Major, when he says we have one in our airplane,” Stein said.
“Yes, sir,” the major said, and then turned to the lieutenant. “Charley, why don’t you run over to the radio shack and get someone familiar with the 7.2 over here.”
“Better yet, Lieutenant,” Stein said, “why don’t I go with you to the radio shack?”
“Yes, sir,” the major and the lieutenant said in chorus.
“All right, sir?” Stein asked.
“Carry on, Stein,” Frade ordered.
Von Wachtstein and Boltitz returned from the weather map.
“Looks pretty good, Clete,” von Wachtstein announced in German. “A couple of minor storms to the south. The winds aloft will be on our tail.”
Von Wachtstein and Boltitz then moved behind Frade and took up positions roughly like that of Parade Rest.
The major and the lieutenant looked intently at them.
“I presume you have been officially informed,” Frade said, “that the SAA Constellation is bound for Germany to relieve the Argentine diplomatic staff in Berlin.”
“We’ve been expecting you, Colonel,” the major said.
“Please do not use my rank,” Frade said.
“Sorry, sir.”
“That mission of compassion and mercy, however, is not the only reason I and these members of my staff are going to Germany. The second mission is unknown, as is my association with the OSS, to the Argentine diplomats, and I wish it kept that way. Understood?”
“Yes, sir,” the major and the lieutenant again said together.
“I wish to discuss the second mission with the officer, or officers, commanding the B-24 submarine hunting group. Is that one officer or two?”
“Actually, sir, it’s four. In the wing, there are two antisubmarine groups here, and a third, the 480th, at Port Lyautey, in Morocco. Three group commanders, colonels, and the brigadier general who commands the wing, sir.”
“The general is where?” Clete asked.
“Here, sir. In his quarters.”
“Let’s start with him. Would you get him on the phone, Major, offer my apologies for waking him up, and ask him to come down here?”
“Yes, sir. And who do I say, sir, wishes to see him?”
“Tell him anything you wish, so long as you don’t mention the OSS.”
“Can I mention South American Airways?”
“Why not?”
VI
[ONE]
Val de Cans Airfield Belem do Para, Brazil 0218 17 May 1945
Brigadier General Robert G. Bendick, U.S. Army Air Forces, walked into the flight-planning room five minutes later, trailed by his aide-de-camp. He was a trim, intelligent-looking man in his midthirties; the aide looked like he had just finished high school.
“Good morning,” General Bendick said. “I’m afraid my Spanish is awful.”
“Not a problem, General,” Frade said. “I speak English. Thank you for coming so quickly. We’re a little pressed for time.”
Frade handed him the spurious credentials.
“Oh,” the general said.
“I never showed you those, sir. This is an out-of-school meeting.”
“To what end?”
“We’re headed for Berlin to relieve the Argentine diplomatic staff there. The aircraft has been chartered by the Argentine Foreign Ministry.”
“I saw the notification of that,” General Bendick said. “And?”
“Before we get into ‘and,’ why don’t you tell me about the other Constellation on the tarmac?”
“Before we get into ‘the other Constellation,’ why don’t you tell me about those Naval Aviator Wings you’re sporting?”
Their eyes locked. Frade had a sudden epiphany.
“In another, happier life, I was a Marine fighter pilot,” Clete said.
Bendick’s eyes remained on his.
“Oh, really? And where exactly were you a Marine fighter pilot?”
“They called it the Cactus Air Force, General.”
“In another, happier life, I was a B-17 pilot,” General Bendick said. “On one memorable day, I was saved from winding up in the drink off Guadalcanal by three Marine Grumman F4F Wildcats of VMF-221. Half a dozen very skilled Zero pilots had already taken out two of my engines and most of my vertical stabilizer when the Marines showed up. After dealing with the Zeros—the Marine F4Fs shot two down and scattered the others—the Marines then led me to Guadalcanal.”
“The name Dawkins mean anything to you?” General Bendick then asked.
Clete nodded. “If the general is referring to Lieutenant Colonel Clyde W. Dawkins, I had the privilege of being under his command.”
“At Fighter One? VMF-221?”
“Yes, sir,” Clete said.
“You were then a what?”
“A first lieutenant, sir.”
“And now?”
“I’m a lieutenant colonel, sir.”
“So, what’s this, Colonel?” Bendick asked, holding up the spurious OSS credentials. “I never saw anything like this before. What’s an OSS area commander? And this makes you area commander of exactly what area?”
“Argentina and Uruguay, primarily.”
