The Generals Read Online Free Page B

pushed his face visor inside the helmet, and leaned to his right toward the communications panel between the seats, next to the trim-tab mechanism. His face could now be seen. It was finely featured and very black. He was, he had often thought, the genetic result of sexual congress sometime in the late eighteenth century between some comely central African tribal maiden and an Arabian slave dealer who had dallied with the merchandise as it was being shipped to the New World.
    His name was Philip Sheridan Parker IV. His father was Colonel Philip Sheridan Parker III, USA Retired, who had commanded a tank destroyer regiment across Africa and Europe in World War II. His late grandfather, Colonel Philip S. Parker, Jr., USA Retired, had commanded a regiment of Infantry assigned to the French Army (as opposed to the AEF) in World War I. His late great-grandfather, Master Sergeant Philip Sheridan Parker, had charged up San Juan and Kettle hills in Cuba with Colonel Teddy Roosevelt. Master Sergeant Parker’s father, First Sergeant Moses Parker, had served with the 10th United States Cavalry (Colored) under Colonel (later Major General) Philip Sheridan, for whom he had named his firstborn. Parkers wearing the crossed sabers of Cavalry (in Major Parker’s case, superimposed on a tank, for he had been commissioned into the Regular Army as a second lieutenant of Armor) had participated in fifty-three campaigns and/or officially recognized battles of the U.S. Army. Major Parker had participated in three campaigns of the Korean War, and was currently engaged in the fifty-fourth Parker campaign.
    He dialed 115.56 on the AN/ARC-44 radio, and then put his hand on the Mohawk stick and triggered the radio transmit function.
    “Kilimanjaro, Kilimanjaro, Army Five Two Four.”
    The copilot, his face still shielded by his face visor, turned to look at him curiously. “Who’s Kilimanjaro?” he asked.
    When there was no reply from Kilimanjaro, Major Parker repeated the call twice again. And when that didn’t work, he put his hand on the second AN/ARC-44’s controls, to the rear of the first set.
    “A friend of mine has a nephew down there eating snakes,” he said. “He asked me to say hello.”
    He repeated his call to Kilimanjaro three times. There was no response.
    He folded his arms on his chest for a minute, thoughtfully, and then said, “You don’t suppose we’re up here without a radio, do you?”
    The copilot pushed his face mask up inside his helmet and consulted the chart he had on a clipboard on his lap. Then he adjusted the first ARC-44 and pushed the radio transmit button on his stick.
    “Grizzly, Grizzly, Army Five Two Four, how do you read? Over.”
    “Army Five Two Four, Grizzly reads you five by five.”
    “Thank you, Grizzly, Five Two Four reads you loud and clear. Out.”
    “Give me the chart,” Major Parker said. The copilot handed it to him.
    Major Parker studied the chart. It was an Aerial Navigation Chart, not a map, but Kilimanjaro on Nui Ba Den was listed on it as an auxiliary source of data for radio navigation.
    “I’ve got it, Charley,” Major Parker said, and reached up and turned off the autopilot.
    “You want me to report what you’re doing?” the copilot asked.
    “Let’s take a look first,” Major Parker said. “It’s only a couple of minutes.”
    He went back on the air three minutes later.
    “Grizzly, Grizzly, Army Five Two Four.”
    “Go ahead, Five Two Four.”
    “Five Two Four is at coordinates Mike Seven Charley, Baker Three Baker. Kilimanjaro is under heavy ground attack and does not respond to radio calls. I say again, Kilimanjaro is under heavy ground attack and does not, repeat not, respond to my call.”
    “Five Two Four, hold your position and stand by.”
    Major Parker circled Foo Two for about five minutes at four thousand feet, which was presumed to be outside the range of Charley small arms and machine gun fire.
    “Army aircraft in vicinity Mike Seven Charley, Baker