Chapter 26

05:50 EDT Monday, August 19th, 1991
Ft Benning, GA

CNN began reporting in the mid-morning that Mikhail Gorbachev was under house arrest in the Crimea while a 'hardline' committee was declaring the treaty to decentralize the Soviet Union (scheduled for vote on Wednesday) was invalid.

The news spread through the PLDC class during the FTX until lunchtime, when the SGLs assembled them and told them the US military was going on worldwide high alert.

13:10 Wednesday, August 21st, 1991
Ft Benning, GA

"Mind if I sit here, Son?"

Ben looked up to see a Lieutenant Colonel standing next to him, wearing Class As, the rest of the bleachers conspicuously empty. Ben stood, the polite thing to do. "Of course not, sir." Ben sat again, after the other did.

While Ben waited for the ceremony to begin, a few other people, parents of local soldiers, climbed the bleachers and chose seats. Ben was aware the light Colonel next to him studied him, but volunteered nothing while watching the thin crowd.

"Jump wings, but no Airborne tab, and your shoulder patch is Eighty-Sixth Signal, from Huachuca. There's probably a story there, am I right?"

Ben shrugged noncommittally. "You're probably right, sir, but it's probably not an interesting one. If you don't mind my asking, how do you recognize the unit? I think I've seen yours around, too, but I can't place it."

"Could be. I went to war with this unit, the Three-oh-ninth, back when they were a battalion of the Army Security Agency. It was pretty recent that they became a Military Intelligence battalion, based at – you guessed it – Fort Huachuca."

Ben turned and smiled at the light Colonel. "Sir, I'd almost guess we were here for a similar reason."

The other nodded. "Your theory breaks when I say I'm from the MDW, not Huachuca." At Ben's polite frown, the other elaborated, "The Military District of Washington, sort of a generic term to mean the area around DC. It's not really accurate, though, I'm at Bolling AFB."

Ben nodded absently, wondering if the ceremony were ever going to begin. He'd done more travel by jet airplane in the last week than he'd ever done before, and it was beginning to catch up to him. He'd rented a car for the few days' leave he planned to use, and this time, decided to stay in Columbus – both because it would reduce the number of salutes he'd have to render, and if his prediction about what was likely to happen when he and Sandy were alone came to pass, there'd be no official repercussions from the noise they were likely to generate.

Finally, the class marched in. Ben saw Sandy, and everything else in the world faded. Ben grinned as she was called front and center and named the class' Distinguished Honor Graduate (DHG). Then, when "Attention to Orders" was called, he was singularly unsurprised to hear Sandy presented an ARCOM with a citation nearly identical – except for the name and the state she came from it was identical – to his.

As soon as the formation was dismissed, a small crowd seemed to converge on Sandy. Ben's spirits fell as a large black SFC approached her, and one of her classmates, a coffee-colored girl, seemed to hang onto Sandy's arm. Even the light Colonel Ben had sat next to wanted to get close to Sandy. Ben nearly staggered as a sudden black wave of something – loneliness, jealousy – threatened to overwhelm him.

He must have made some noise, since Sandy turned to him sharply, through the crowd surrounding her. As her face lit up Ben's black mood shattered. Frowning at the crowd, she actually pushed through the people around her, and Ben, without any sensation of moving, suddenly found her in his arms.

Hot emotion swirled around him, and Sandy trembled in his arms. "Oh, God, I never knew how much I missed you," he told her. He wanted to hold her forever, but the SFC cleared his throat suggestively after only a few moments, and they disentangled with an awareness of the Army's stricture against public displays of affection.

"Just you wait until we're alone," she promised. Ben heard the sincerity and longing in her voice. Then she turned to introduce Ben to the others surrounding her.

Lieutenant Colonel Mark Charles ("Charlie") Paulson had sat in the stands next to the redhead PFC that interested him. The PFC seemed unusually self-assured for being seated next to an O5 (the paygrade for Lt Colonels and Navy Commanders), and piqued Charlie's interest. The kid played off Charlie's request for information smoothly and with what Charlie's experience identified as 'practice': practice as in the kid was routinely used to not answering questions about himself. That skill was interesting to Charlie, professionally.

Charlie watched the Specialist he'd come down from Bolling to see, urged at the request of a SMAJ at Huachuca who'd gotten a tip on the girl from a contact in the CIA. The story on how the girl had met the CIA guy was interesting, but then so were most of the contacts that didn't come from college recruiting. This girl had, apparently, stared down a homicidally-enraged Columbian killer, the son of one of the Narconistas, a member of the neuveau riche drug traffickers trying to become legitimate members of Colombian society. The CIA knew damned well that the man was little more than a thug who'd cut his teeth as a sicario, a paid gun-for-hire, who had killed in the streets of Bogotá. She goaded him into attacking her, to help the CIA operator who'd been trying to kick the bad apple out of the School of the Americas, and then stared him down over the barrel of a Walther .380 pistol. This, Charlie knew, qualified as professionally interesting.

Not surprisingly, the girl earned the Distinguished Honor Graduate position from her PLDC class. Someone who cared about her career had sent her here to Benning, he knew, rather than Fort Ord or Fort Bliss, for PLDC. Fort Huachuca would get an NCO Academy in a year or so as Fort Ord shut down, the Base Realignment and Closure Committee had it on the list. The overflow in the region would mean Huachuca was the logical recipient – the 311th Military Intelligence Brigade would expand their training accordingly. In the meantime, she'd been sent to Benning for PLDC, where the course was widely acknowledged to be harder, to mean more.

Furthering the surprise, someone had just awarded her the Army Commendation Medal, typically an unimportant medal given out like candy for overseas tours. She got hers for an action with the Border Patrol, and she got hurt doing it. This was also professionally interesting to Charlie.

After the formation had been dismissed, a small crowd of people descended upon the girl. She threw them all off to embrace the PFC. The emotion the two shared brought a lump to Charlie's throat, which had nothing at all to do with professional interest.

Charlie waited out the reunion of the two lovers. He watched with amusement the petulance of the coffee-colored female Specialist who obviously worshipped the ground the Sparks girl walked on. Charlie noted with interest – professionally detached – the look the other Specialist, Overhold, gave the PFC. There was trouble brewing there, or Charlie was no judge of the human animal.

When the SFC, Taylor by the nametape on his BDUs, invited Sparks and the PFC to the NCO club for a congratulatory drink, Overhold began showing some signs of jealousy. Charlie stepped into the scene, and introduced himself.

"Pardon me, Sergeant," he said to Taylor. "I need a few words with the Specialist."

He got Sparks away from the small crowd. "Specialist, I'm Lieutenant Colonel Paulson, and I've got a career opportunity to discuss with you. I don't want to take you away from your celebration with your friends. Can I meet you in, say, two hours?"

Sparks gave him a cool evaluation, and then his estimation of her, if possible, mounted higher. "PFC Collins will be there also, sir. Do you know a restaurant in the area? I'm fairly certain Collins has transportation."

Charlie smiled at her. "I've got a room downtown, in Columbus. The motel's got a business center, we can use one of their rooms for this. I'll spring for supper for you both for your trouble." He quickly wrote out the motel name and street for her on a business card, and handed it to her. "Sixteen hundred." Charlie thought about it for a second, and then figured, What the heck, I like her. "You should probably get your boyfriend away from Overhold, I'm fairly sure she won't take the rejection well."

"You and me both, sir," the blonde murmured fervently.

"Merry," Sandy began, "You're a good friend." The two had returned to their barracks to retrieve their belongings. "I'd like to keep in touch."

Merry stood, arms akimbo, eyes flashing. "You said we were going out on the town, Sandy."

Sandy sighed. "Merry, you know how you had 'alone time'? I need together time with Ben. You're a friend, Merry. I've got three days' delay-en-route, but I need to go to Virginia and see my Mom." Sandy hadn't made any such plan, but she suddenly realized it was true. Oh, Ben, you're going to learn about... she forced the thought away. But the tendril of doubt remained – will he still love me?

"Next time I have some leave and I'm down here in the South, Merry, I'll come look you up. But I'll need your phone number and address, and your home unit."

Merry's face crumpled, and she sobbed. "I owe you so much, Sandy. I could never have done this without you."

Sandy hugged the other girl. "Hush. You could have, you know. You're stronger than you think." She looked at the other girl, and impulsively promised, "I'll write."

Merry wrote her number and address down on a scrap of notepaper. "Okay," Merry breathed. "Go, Sandy, there's an Army that needs you."

Sandy gave her a quirked smile, and touched her shoulder. She shouldered her duffle and left the room.

Ben had filled out some, Sandy saw, more muscle on his body in a lot of places that it looked good on. He removed the Class-A jacket when they'd left the air-conditioned cool of the NCO Academy. She felt a warm rush in her middle as she looked him over.

Here in the NCO Club, SFC Taylor was treating Ben with some respect. "You got the ARCOM too, for the same reason?" he asked, with a forthcoming expression.

"Yeah," Ben nodded, but didn't elaborate.

Sandy's smile lit the table up. "Sergeant Taylor's one of the good ones, Ben," she judged, causing Taylor to give her a surprised look. "He's seen Her Highness at her best." Ben blinked in his turn, at Sandy's reference to her sometime "Ice Queen" demeanor.

A waiter placed drinks on the table, three glasses of amber liquid over ice together with three glasses of water. Ben and Sandy looked at them with surprise – no one had asked them for ID or their age. Taylor grinned at their expressions.

"Bartender's a friend of mine. This is bourbon, sipping whiskey. Now, the way you drink this is, you sip small amounts, alternating with water, until your lips and throat are numb. Then you can take a mouthful, and appreciate the flavor."

Ben and Sandy traded looks. "It's okay," Taylor told them. "You'll be fine to drive in an hour." Sandy shrugged, and each took sips.

Sandy quickly filled Ben in on the events at the SOA range. Ben grinned at her. "Did you think you'd have to actually shoot him?"

Sandy shook her head, 'no'. "At first, it was kind of unreal, like play-acting, you know? And I insulted him a little bit more than I meant to." Sandy blushed, for the things others read into what she had actually said. What she'd thought she said. This whiskey is okay stuff, and Ben, tonight, you are in for the ride of your life. She returned to her explanation. "But, I could just tell he wasn't willing to die. I would have shot him, but I knew it wasn't going to be necessary, and I guess it was a good thing, too." Sandy shuddered a little, thinking of the ramifications that would have followed if she had shot him.

Ben recounted a short version of the scene at Compartidero Flats, where they had a gunfight with Mexican smugglers, and Taylor whistled. Sandy felt the warm glow of the whiskey in her, and sat back, smiling, completely at ease for the first time in four weeks.

Taylor was even more surprised when Ben told him he went to Basic Airborne only thirty-two days after getting shot. Sandy and Taylor both laughed at Ben's description of his arrival without money, orders, or any of his required records and gear.

Too soon, glasses empty, the hour was up. Sandy and Ben made their goodbyes to Taylor. He surprised them both, though, as they made ready to leave. "You two. It was a pleasure to have been your instructor, Sparks, and you're each everything a soldier should be. Look me up, anytime."

Ben laughed when Sandy showed him the address the Colonel gave her. "We're in that motel."

Sandy was frustrated with the bucket seat and console in the rental Lumina, wanting to slide next to him as she did when he drove his truck. "How many days' leave do you have?"

"Up to six. I have to report back here, to the Ranger Training Brigade over on Hourglass Road next Wednesday."

"I have three days' delay-en-route and travel by public transportation authorized, but no ticket. I figure it'll take me two days to get to Huachuca, so that leaves me tomorrow." She took a deep breath, and Ben looked over at her, his concern evident on his face. "Tomorrow, we should drive up to Virginia and you can meet my mother."

"Sandy, I love you. Whatever is there can't be that bad, whatever she's like isn't going to drive me away."

"So, you need to know what my past was like, Ben." Sandy sighed. "I was a good kid, never in trouble, but ... you'll see." Sandy changed the subject. "What do you think the Colonel wants with me?"

"It's not going to drive me away, Sandy, whatever we'll find. I think he's Intelligence to the core, and after hearing about you and the CIA dude at the range, I think he's come recruiting."

"Yeah, me too. What do you think about it?"

Ben seemed to wrestle with himself a little, then his features smoothed as he pulled into the motel lot. "I think the Admiral's secretary Deb could give us some advice." He parked the car, and looked at her evenly. "She's your mentor, right?"

Nodding slowly, Sandy asked him straight out. "Are you jealous?"