What did disturb Lewis the most was that while he watched satellite films of the Franklin burning, while men were dying thousands of miles away, the news program was interrupted by commercials for a product to shrink swollen hemorrhoids and for a new improved panty shield to protect ladies' underwear. The new war, obviously, wasn't interfering with the pressing demands of life in the United States.
Chapter 8
Logistics is the ball and chain of armored warfare.
When the farewell ball for the brigade had been proposed by the wife of the brigade commander, it had seemed like a good idea-at least to her and to some of the other older wives. True, no one was sure of what proper etiquette demanded when it came to sending one's spouse to war.
The last war that anyone had any experience with had been Vietnam. But that war had been far different for the wives, who had seen their husbands go to war one at time except in a few rare cases. They remembered it as a very lonely and personal affair. It was because of this that the older wives pushed for the ball. It would give them a last night together before the two groups, the husbands and the wives, parted and dealt with their own little wars.
The commencement of hostilities between the U.S. and the Soviet Union had acted like a wet blanket on the entire affair. While it had been disquieting to imagine one's spouse going to war against the Iranians, it was even more so now that the Russians were actually shooting at Americans. The more realistic wives said that it had been inevitable, some even claiming it had been planned. But even the most cynical had hoped that somehow that conflict could be avoided. There had always been the hope that this crisis would blow over and go away.
The latest news reports coming from Southwest Asia crushed those hopes, however, on a daily basis. First there was the commitment of the 17th Airborne Division, followed by strong resistance from the Iranians and by mounting casualties. The sinking of the U.S.S. Franklin and the Gorki began a cycle of retaliation and escalation.
Air battles between American and Soviet planes over the Iranian desert and combat at sea had become daily features of the news. There was no doubt that once U.S. and Soviet forces met on the ground, they would do so with drawn knives and with blood in their eyes.
The ball was already degenerating by ten in the evening. Husbands and wives who desired to spend as much time as possible alone with each other or their families were already bidding good night to their commanders and their commanders' wives. The bachelors had rallied around the bars and were preparing to move down to the pub to continue the party. A few couples danced, while others sat at tables cluttered with glasses and coffee cups and talked about everything but the war.
Scott and Fay Dixon sat with some of the other officers of the 3rd Battalion of the 4th Armor and their wives. The wives talked about the children and other subjects while the men listened to them or conducted encrypted conversations among themselves. Dixon sat to one side watching the whole affair with a cynical eye as he slowly got himself drunk. Fay had been so busy that she had not noticed how much he was putting away. No doubt there would be hell to pay once she found out.
She never did approve of drinking to excess, especially since it usually made Dixon sick.
Dixon watched a group of young officers from the battalion at one of the bars. In the middle of them was First Lieutenant Randy Capell, the battalion's scout-platoon leader. Capell was, for the most part, a good officer. Technically proficient, he handled his platoon well. On the debit side, Capell had a tendency to be impetuous to the point of recklessness and self-assured to the point of arrogance. While in moderation those were good qualities for scout-platoon leader, Dixon would have preferred a slightly more timid man leading the battalion's scouts. He had spent a great deal of time with Capell trying hard to train him in his duties and what was expected of the scouts. Given a little more time, Capell would do well. But time, as Dixon knew, was a commodity he didn't have.
At that moment, Capell appeared to be doing quite well with Lieutenant Amanda Matthews, the assistant brigade S-2. The two were obviously quite tipsy and becoming far more intimate than protocol normally permitted.
Dixon thought about that for a moment as he watched Capell run his free hand down Matthews' side, letting it come to rest on her hip. She simply smiled and drew closer. At the rate they were going, it wouldn't surprise Dixon one bit if Capell screwed her right there.
With that thought in mind, Dixon turned and looked at his wife. She was talking to the battalion XO's wife and ignoring him. He turned, placed his hand on her knee and ran it up her thigh. This sudden and unexpected contact startled her, causing her to jump and turn. Then she slapped his hand and scolded him as if he were a little boy, 'Scott Dixon, you behave.'
Dixon leaned forward, running his hand up higher on her thigh and said, so that all at the table could hear, 'I don't want to behave, that's no fun.'
Fay blushed and turned to the others at the table to apologize for his behavior. She was cut off, however, by Dixon announcing to them, in slightly slurred voice, 'Now, if you ladies and gentlemen will excuse us, my wife and I are going home to reenact the consummation of our marriage.'
Without waiting for a response or saying another word, he stood up and dragged his red-faced wife away by the hand as she finished apologizing, halfheartedly now, for her husband's behavior. In truth, she hoped that Scott wasn't so drunk that he couldn't deliver on his promise.
Amanda Matthews was enjoying herself. She had met Randy Capell at the club one night during an evening 'stress reduction' session. The two had talked for a while but nothing more. A few nights later they had met again by accident and had dinner together. Matthews found herself drawn to Capell.
He was tall and solidly built, with a physique that suggested great power, yet he carried himself with an easy grace. His sandy blond hair and blue eyes were soft and inviting. He was the image of what a soldier should be-a warrior. He was also brash, self-confident, boastful and, on occasion, crude. In short, Capell was all those things that a modern woman was supposed to disdain in a man. Yet Amanda found that those traits were enjoyable and exciting.
When she saw Capell at the ball she decided to find out how interested in her he was. But rather than charge forth, she decided to charm him.
Not sure how an officer went about seducing another officer, Matthews started by making sure she was sufficiently conspicuous at her unit's table that she and Capell could make eye contact. At first, Capell was so engrossed in his conversation with other people at his table that he didn't notice her.
In desperation, she excused herself and went to the ladies' room. On her way back to her table she took a roundabout way that let her pass right behind Capell and brush against him. It worked. He turned, his face showing anger at first until he saw who it was. Matthews stopped, put her hand on Capell's shoulder, leaned over and apologized. Capell turned to face her, putting his hand on hers while they talked. His touch sent a warm, tingling surge through her. She felt herself blush as she stood there staring into Capell's soft blue eyes. When she finally told him she needed to get back to her table, her speech was faltering and barely audible.
As she walked back she felt embarrassed and happy. Embarrassed that she was acting like a schoolgirl who had a crush on a boy for the first time, and happy that she had gotten his attention. She wasn't sure, however, whether he was interested or not. Throughout the rest of the meal the two exchanged glances. When the formal part of the evening was over, Matthews forced Capell to make the first move by restraining herself from bounding up and rushing over to him. When he stood and began to approach, she beamed with a childish glee, proud that she had succeeded and excited about the prospects that the night held. She hadn't felt the way she did since her high- school prom. That thought caused her to wish she were wearing something more feminine. The occasion called for a sleek, low-cut black gown, with bare shoulders and slit skirt, not her dress-blue uniform.
That bothered her until they danced for the first time. Capell crossed the room and asked if she would like to dance. Matthews, trying hard to conceal her excitement, simply answered, 'Yes, I'd love to.' The two started at a