“In fact those two chapters are the only ones written. I’ve got a lot of notes on what I’m thinking of writing. I sent off a synopsis and the first two chapters to a couple of publishers to see if they’re interested. I’m not sure I’m ready to write four hundred or so pages without an idea first if the story is marketable. I do have to get to work,” Trace added as Boomer’s hands wandered.
“OK, OK,” Boomer said, pulling his hands away.
“It’s just that I can’t resist.”
“Save it for this evening,” Trace said, getting out and grabbing a towel.
“Is that a promise?” he asked as he followed.
“Written in stone.” She dried off and then went out into the main room. Boomer watched her as she went over to a bookcase behind her desk. She pulled a thick, soft-covered book off the shelf. He recognized it immediately: the Register Of Graduates, published by the Military Academy Alumni Association. Trace tossed it at him.
“Take a look at the class of ‘thirty.”
Boomer opened the book up. He easily found the class of 1930. Trace had tucked in the appropriate page a Xeroxed copy of what must have been Hooker’s graduation picture from his year’s Howitzer, the cadet yearbook. Even with the grainy Xerox quality. Boomer was caught by the dark eyes. He put the photo aside.
In the register each class up until 1978 was listed in class rank order; only with ‘78 did they get ordered alphabetically.
Hooker’s name was the second one listed in his class.
Benjamin Ross Hooker B-ME 12 DECA-lge: FA: Rhodes Scholar 3032:
MA Oxford: OPD WDGS 41–45 (LM): BG 44: JA-MAG London 46–48: S & F USMA His 49–50: JA Secy Def5052 (DSM): Prof History USMA (Head of Dept 53–68) (DSM): Ret 69 BG: Secy Offcjcs 70–74: UP USSECCON 75-present: 1221 Whispering Brook Dr. Springfield VA-45112.
Since Boomer was also listed later in the book, he could make some sense out of all the acronyms and abbreviations that listed a man’s life’s work in one paragraph:
Hooker was born in Maine on December 12, 1907. AIGE meant his appointment to West Point had come from the President as the son of a career military man. FA stood for field artillery. Hooker’s branch of service. After Oxford, Hooker’s next major assignment was in the office of the Operations Plans Division in the War Department — the people who had worked directly for Marshall and been the brains behind planning the entire U.S. war effort. Boomer was surprised to see that Hooker had spent the entire length of World War II in Washington. Most officers would have been fighting to get out and lead troops. That fact of Hooker’s career at least fit with what Trace had written about him.
Hooker had been promoted to brigadier general in 1944 and then went to London to work in the Military Assistance Group there after the war.
Boomer wouldn’t be surprised if that organization didn’t have a lot to do with implementing the Marshall Plan in Europe.
Then back to West Point as an instructor in the history department from 1949 to 1950. Then to a Joint Assignment with the relatively newly established Secretary of Defense’s office. Then back to West Point for a second time, this go around as head of the History Department for fifteen years.
Hooker had retired in 1969, still at the rank of brigadier general, and had gone to work for the Joint Chiefs of Staff.
Boomer assumed that was before legislation had been enacted requiring a certain amount of time before retired military could work in a civilian capacity for the Department of Defense.
“What’s USSECCON?” Boomer asked Trace, who was lacing up her running shoes.
“I had to check. It’s a private company called United States Security Consortium headquartered in Alexandria, Virginia,” she said.
“What does the United States Security Consortium do?”
“I don’t know. I got the name of the firm by calling around in the D.C. area, but that was it.” Trace came over and pointed over his shoulder.
“The interesting parts are the fifteen years he was head of the history department and the work he did for the Joint Chiefs. Hell, even what he did in the Ops division during the Second World War. This guy was in all the key places, but he always appeared to be a low-level player.
“During his time as head of history at West Point, he was gone over eighty percent of the time, doing special missions at the bequest of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. He was in Vietnam in’ sixty-one for almost eight months, going around the country, checking things out, and then going back to the Chiefs and reporting to them.”
“Guess he didn’t check them out too well,” Boomer said, “or else we might not have gotten involved.”
“Maybe he did check the situation out very accurately,” Trace replied.
That startled Boomer. He considered the bio again. Head of one of the academic departments at West Point was a prestigious position. It held the rank of full colonel with automatic promotion to brigadier general upon retirement.
“Hooker was promoted to brigadier general in’ forty-four,” Boomer noted.
“Did he take a drop in grade to go back to the Academy?”
“Yes,” Trace said.
“For all the high-speed jobs he did, this guy was never promoted beyond one star. Very strange for a Rhodes Scholar who was second in his class and did the job he did during World War II. From looking at his career track I got the impression he deliberately kept a low profile image in his career.”
Boomer put the register down and started putting on his PT uniform.
“So, you still haven’t answered my question.
I would assume from what you wrote in your manuscript that this guy was a player in The Line.”
“I don’t think he would be just a player,” Trace said, grabbing the keys to her jeep. “I think after a certain time period he was the number one guy in The Line — if it existed.”
Boomer pulled on his grey PT shorts.
“Can you use a real person like that in a work of fiction? Won’t you get sued or something?”
“I’m just using his name in the draft. I’ll change the name later on — make Hooker’s character fictional. It just helps me in writing to use real names. Besides, when did you start worrying about the legalities of the publishing world?”
Boomer followed her to the door. The anxiety he felt the previous evening during the drive to her house was returning.
Boomer was a man who survived by his instincts, but he was used to real situations that deserved fear. This was something different. He pulled her close and buried his face in the hollow of her throat.
“It’s not legalities that concern me, it’s you. I just don’t want you to get hurt or rejected.”
Trace flashed a dazzling smile and kissed him on the tip of his nose.
“The people who can hurt me already have.
That’s the only good thing about losing what’s most important to you — you can stop worrying about losing it.”
Boomer walked her to the Jeep. His words were lost in the engine noise.
“I haven’t lost it. Trace.”
CHAPTER 5
“Sergeant Major Skibicki,” Falk said, raising his voice so the man heard him, “take charge of the formation!”
Boomer looked at the senior NCO who walked to the front of the gray-clad phalanx of soldiers. Skibicki was a short man with a barrel chest and gray hair. His face had the leathery look of a man who spent most of his waking hours in the elements. Boomer noticed that one side of Skibicki’s skull was slightly concave, and a nasty scar lay there under his thinning hair. The name sounded vaguely familiar to Boomer, and he tried to recall if he’d served with the sergeant major sometime in the past.