Cassada Read Free Page B

see them in an entirely different way, for what they were, full of simple courage and youth. Godchaux had a smile that even death would not erase. Dumfries, that idiot, smooth-cheeked and smiling, he had something, too, decent and admirable. There were times when Isbell trusted them all. They were bound together, all of them, he and Dunning too in a great orbit, coming deceptively close to the rest of life and then swinging away. At the extremities were North Africa where they went forgunnery once or twice a year and at the other end the skies of England where great mock battles were sometimes fought. The rest was at home in the Rhineland, rumor, routine, occasional deployments, Munich now and then. They toured the Western world together, stopping at Rome to refuel. Socked in? Divert to Naples—watch the olive trees if you land to the west. Something was usually beginning before the last thing ended. Isbell’s true task was biblical. It was the task of Moses—he would take them to within sight of what was promised, but no further. To the friezes of heaven, which nobody knew were there.

Dunning was drinking coffee and talking to a couple of the crew chiefs. Godchaux and Phipps sat down nearby. It was a cloudy morning. The last flights were landing.
    When the crew chiefs had gone, Dunning turned. He examined Godchaux for a moment.
    â€œMighty sporty today, aren’t we?”
    â€œSir?”
    â€œJust what are they,” Dunning asked looking towards Godchaux’s feet, “the new Air Force regulation?”
    â€œWhat’s that, sir?”
    â€œI was under the impression we’d all pretty well agreed on a color.”
    â€œOh, you mean these.” It was a pair of red socks. “I guess I wasn’t paying much attention. I figured the flying suit covered them anyway. I guess I should change them.”
    â€œI would suggest that you do, Lieutenant.”
    Phipps, looking towards Godchaux, was making a darting motion with his eyes.
    â€œRight now, do you mean?” Godchaux asked Dunning.
    â€œJust as soon as possible.”
    Godchaux saw it then, the thin band of green and black argyle.
    â€œYes, sir,” he said.
    â€œWell?” Dunning said. Godchaux hadn’t moved.
    â€œSir, can I borrow your jeep?”
    â€œNo.”
    Godchaux stood up.
    â€œSit down,” Dunning said, not looking at him.
    â€œI’ll change them when I go back at noon,” Godchaux said. “There’s just one thing . . .”
    â€œWhat’s that?”
    â€œDo you want me to bring you back a pair, too?”
    Phipps smothered a laugh. Dunning stared disapprovingly at him, as at someone who had asked a stupid question. “What’s bothering you?”
    â€œNothing, sir,” Phipps said, still believing he was part of the fun. Then he lost confidence and changed his expression. He looked embarrassed. He rubbed the tip of his nose nervously. The commander’s moods were unpredictable, the burly figure who had led fighter-bomber missions in Korea, rail cuts far to the north, coming back afterwards, spent and dark with sweat. Dunning didn’t talk about it, he didn’t have to. It was part of his aura.
    Cassada came along then, alone, wearing a flight jacket that was too large for him. The sleeves nearly touched his knuckles. He saw Dunning gesture and sat down. How was he making out? Dunning wanted to know. Fine, Cassada said.
    â€œHas Captain Isbell assigned you to anybody for your checkout yet?”
    â€œYes, sir. Lieutenant Grace.”
    â€œGood. You’ll be in good hands. How about a cup of coffee?”
    â€œNo, thank you.”
    â€œWhat’s wrong? Don’t you drink coffee?”
    â€œNo, sir.”
    â€œI never heard of a fighter pilot who wouldn’t drink coffee. What is it, part of your religion or something?”
    â€œIt’s the caffeine, Major. I seem to be sensitive to the caffeine.”
    â€œWhat do you