Page 30 of Cry Havoc

“Dismissed.”

Quinn and Tom both rendered salutes, as it seemed appropriate, and turned for the door, the low growl of the German Shepherd speeding their exit.

As Tom turned to close the door behind him, he glanced back at the colonel and could have sworn he caught the hint of a smile on the old soldier’s face.

The two MACV-SOG operators breathed a sigh of relief as they waited for a loud deuce and a half truck to rumble past.

“You never told me you spoke German,” Quinn said. “But I’m glad you do.”

Tom laughed.

“First time it’s come in handy.”

They waited for the dust to settle from a passing truck.

“Did Backhaus really do all those things I’ve heard?” Tom asked.

“Probably more. We have some interesting characters in SF. An instructor who put me through qualification had an almost undecipherable German accent. Being students and not yet having our tabs, we didn’t dare ask about it. He wore his class A uniform to our graduation and guess what was right there along with two Silver Stars and more Bronze Stars than I could count?”

“What?”

“A Knight’s Cross of the Iron Cross and a Croix de Guerre.”

“No.”

“You better believe it. He was a German paratrooper in the war and then fought with the French Foreign Legion at Dien Bien Phu before his time with us. Rumor has it that the Knight’s Cross was awarded in North Africa by Rommel himself. He’s at 10th Group in Germany now, doing something classified with Det A in Berlin.”

“Sounds like a character out of a Fleming novel.”

“Sure does, but he’s not.”

They jogged across the road toward Amiuh, who had risen to his feet.

“Pack a bag for Da Nang,” Quinn told the Navy man. “Ever been?”

“Just a quick stop for briefings at CCN before the assignment here. Signed my NDA and got the plausible deniability speech.”

“Who read you in?”

“Jack Warner.”

“Was the good colonel in uniform?”

“If shower shoes, a bathrobe, and green beret are his uniform, then yes.”

Quinn laughed. “We have some unique personalities in SF.”

“Just like the SEAL Teams. By the way, could you guys have picked a more un-American piece of headgear than a beret?”

“Well, your Navy Dixie Cups were already taken.”

“Touché.”

“They will probably put us up at a safe house in the city, House Twenty-Two. FOB 4 has the Project Delta bar. Best team room in ’Nam. They call it the Delta Club. Those boys will want to take some of your Navy pay in five-card draw.”

“That’s okay. Only thing other than French that my dad ever taught me was how to play cards.”

Quinn raised an eyebrow.