Eagle Squad. James C. Glass
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He was just opinionated; everyone understood that.” Their hands clasped together, Lundeman wondered if Ebensack felt the tremor that passed through his body.
“Yes, well, good night, doctor Lundeman, and thank you. I’ll be in touch again.” He let go of Lundeman’s hand, walked slowly to the sheriff’s car, deep in thought, and got in while Lundeman shivered in the evening air.
As the car pulled slowly out of the winding driveway, the university president stepped back into his house and closed the door. When he turned around, Irene was standing in the kitchen doorway, a strong looking drink in one hand and a facial expression usually reserved for those times when she had a particularly damaging piece of gossip to report.
“Well, dear,” she said nastily, “you didn’t bother to tell me it was murder.”
CHAPTER THREE
The appointment was at three o’clock, but butterflies had been in Jack Nelson’s stomach since noon. It was game time again, and adrenaline was pumping. At times like this he tried to go inside himself, but Karen was with him, feeding him cokes in a dark corner of the student union beer bar and making him talk it out.
“I don’t know what you’re so uptight about. You have everything they want: high grade-point average, athletic ability and leadership experience on the team. It’s just a formality, Jack.”
“A lot of it is politics, Karen: how you play the game, how many people like you. There are maybe a dozen slots open in Eagle Squad this year, and fifty guys who want in. Everybody’s competing with everybody, and there are no close friends over there. Sometimes I wonder why I even want to go into the military.”
“So why do you?” she asked.
“You know it’s important to me.”
“I know, but don’t let your whole life hang on it. If you don’t get in, it’s their loss. You can still be an engineer, and the pay’s better.”
“I don’t want to spend the rest of my life just making money, and you don’t want it either.”
“I want you be be happy with what you do,” she said. “What you do and how much you earn makes no difference to me.”
“But you’re not a big fan of the military.”
“No, I’m not, but I know it’s necessary to have it, and if you want me to be a military wife I’ll be that.” Her face was suddenly flushed, and Jack took her hands in his at the center of their little table in the dark corner.
“You never let me get away with bullshit, do you?” he said softly.
“Never,” she snapped back.
Jack looked at her steadily for a moment, then sighed. “I’d better get over there. Meet me in the library at six?”
“Yes. Good luck, Jack. Just be yourself.”
“Right,” he said, made a funny face at her, and she rolled her eyes in mock disgust.
He left her alone to read, and walked in sunshine to the windowless, one story concrete building that housed the Department of Military Science. A maze of hallways led to classrooms, projection rooms and a small library. At each end of the building, narrow staircases led downwards to a full basement containing a rifle and pistol range with ten positions, storage and equipment issue rooms and a large open area which doubled as gymnasium and drill field. It was a modern facility, a campus pride, and it was widely known that the United States Army took a special interest in it, sending only their best people as teachers. Jack walked past a reception area where two secretaries sat pecking away at word processors without looking up. He walked to a closed door marked COMMANDANT, took a deep breath and knocked three times on the door jam.
“Come!” someone shouted from inside. Jack opened the door, pulled himself up to full height and centered himself in the doorway.
“Jack Nelson, sir. We have an appointment at fifteen hundred, sir.”
As Jack stood rigidly in the doorway, Colonel William Holleque rose from behind his desk and walked towards him, hand extended.
“Jack, come in. Good to see you.” He took Jack’s hand in a quick, iron grip, then released it. There was an aura of strength surrounding the man: hard, angular body with a face chiseled from brown marble, skin like leather, short-cropped blond hair turning white at the temples, and light blue eyes that could look into a soul. His movements were quick and deliberately orchestrated. He projected a constant image of complete control, and one could not lie to the man or try to deceive him. His eyes wouldn’t allow it. Even so there was something fatherly about him, something caring, and everything one said seemed to be important. He was probably in his late forties or early fifties. Nobody knew. He looked like a thirty-year-old, and among the four hundred cadets, he was simply known as The Man.
They went back to the desk, Jack seating himself in a straight-back chair in front of it. The colonel sat down, and punched an intercom button. “No calls, Margaret,” he said sharply, and the intercom clicked twice. An open file was on the desk, and Holleque studied it for a brief moment, then smiled at Jack.
“What can I say, Nelson? Your record is excellent. Everything we like to see in a candidate for Eagle Squad, provided you have the proper motivation.” He turned a page in the file.
“Motivation, sir?”
“Why do you want to be in Eagle Squad?”
“Because it’s the best, sir. I want to be part of the best, and I feel I’m qualified for it.”
“Every man in that unit intends to be career military.”
“I know, sir. That’s also my intention.”
“Four years active duty minimum, and the scholarship won’t even pay your tuition.”
“I have a football scholarship, sir, but the extra money will help, and I want to get the best possible training. That means Eagle Squad.”
“The field exercises are demanding and dangerous. Two cadets have been killed in the last three years. Your whole life can end before you even graduate. What would your parents think of that?”
“My folks have encouraged me to go for it, sir. Dad goes back a long way with a presidential task force and the national committee. I was raised ultra-conservative, sir. My folks are very pleased about my wanting to go into the military. That’s why I’m here, in the best military science program in the country. My folks know the risks, and so do I.”
“You’re willing to die for your country?”
“I don’t intend to die in combat, sir. The guy I’m fighting will have to do the dying.”
The cold blue eyes searched his soul. Was there a trace of a smile on that chiseled face? Holleque turned a page in the file and then another while Jack waited quietly, ramrod straight in the chair. Time moved like molasses through cheesecloth. Finally the colonel closed the file and leaned back in his chair. His voice was crisp.
“Very well, Nelson, you have my positive recommendation at the board meeting on Friday. I promise nothing, but the board has never gone against a recommendation of mine. With their approval, you should receive a notice within a week, giving you the drill schedules and forms for your professors to fill out when you have to be excused from classes to attend field exercises. This is in addition to your regular military science classes, of course. You’ll receive no extra credit for the field work, but it’s a central part of your training.”
“I understand, sir.” Jack fought for control, wanting to grin, shout, jump up and down, anything to vent his feeling of victory in achieving a goal he had dreamed about for over two years. To the colonel he only showed a muscular, blond athlete, sitting at attention without expression and exuding an aura of total confidence and dedication.
They stood up together and shook hands again. Holleque seemed at ease as they walked to the door. His voice softened. “I handle Eagle Squad myself,