part 3
"About three blocks from headquarters, sir."
"Sergeant, do you really think a man trying to escape would be headed in that direction?"
"We had our orders, sir."
"I'll just bet you did. You and your men are dismissed, Sergeant." Jackman raised his hand to his shoulder and tapped the stars that sat there as the sergeant started to object. "I find it hard to believe that the man who gave you your last set of orders regarding your 'prisoner' is carrying a brace of these around, Sergeant. Dismissed!"
g
It was another long hour before the doctors finished and Garrison was moved to a room. Jackman was allowed in but cautioned not to try and wake the patient. The sister giving him his orders was very firm about them, telling him in no uncertain terms that she would have him removed if he felt the need to test her. Using his very best southern 'Yes, ma'am, No, ma'am', he assured her he had no intention of crossing her... As the door closed behind her he thought there'd be no need for guards in the hospital area at all, if all of the staff was as tuff as that one, and was glad she hadn't been issued a weapon. His attention shifted back to the bed as the youngster in it groaned when he tried to shift his position.
There were new bruises on the face the general studied, faded by a few days. He knew the old welts under the bandages had broken open again and a few cracked ribs had been added, and he sported a thick padded bandage over his ear where it looked like a bullet had come just a little too close, and dressings covered bruised abraded wrists. But the worst damage had been inflicted here when the young man had been recaptured by his own side. According to the report Jackman had been given Lieutenant Garrison had turned to resist when ordered to halt by the MP who spotted him on the street in civilian clothes. A little one on one discussion with the MP revealed that he'd fallen prey to the rumors circulating about the rouge Lieutenant being a sleeper, a German plant sent in to achieve a position of trust and then wreak havoc by assassinating senior officers in the secret commando organization. Jackman had no doubt the man was only fulfilling what he believed to be his duty to protect his command officers when he drove the bayonet into Garrison's chest.
The doctors had given him a full report. The wound was clean and the lung hadn't been damaged as the blade slid between his ribs, though enough of a hole had been left to cause it to collapse. The kid had lost enough blood to be of some concern, as it was still in such short supply. But he'd been assured that, and they were fairly firm about this, 'if the Lieutenant might be allowed to stay out of the fray long enough to recover from one injury before he were permitted to collect another one,' he'd make a full recovery. Jackman leaned back and laughed to himself over that as he watched Garrison try to convince his eyes to open. The Brits were always such gentlemen when they were telling you how much of an ass you were. He reached out and caught the youngster's hand as he groped the bandages in an effort to figure out just what had happened to him. "At ease there, son. You pull something open you're going to get me in big trouble with a very dangerous sister."
That's all he needed. Garrison latched onto the voice and followed it back through layers of drugs. When he opened his eyes the light from the lamp caused him to wince and turn away. The figure on the chair leaned forward immediately and relief followed the sharp snap as the instrument of torture was turned off. The next time he tried to open his eyes it was easier, but Craig still couldn't make out who was in the room with him. Since he didn't have the energy to ask, he put off his questions for another time.
"Mission accomplished, Lieutenant?" Jackman asked quietly.
'Ah,' he thought, 'that's who it is.' Craig struggled to collect his strength. This would come out better if he could manage not to slur his words. "Yezur, missuhncuplesh." It seemed rude of General Jackman to snort a laugh, but at least he'd gotten that over with easy enough. He waited for the man to quiet down so he wouldn't have to use the extra breath it would require to make himself heard, and concentrated on making one general out of the two that were rising up next to his bed. "Zur?" He still couldn't seem to control his tongue.
"Yes, Lieutenant?"
"There wuz n' easer way."
Jackman cleared his throat before he answered, and as he was currently in the crosshairs of an extremely irritated hospital sister, he chose his words very carefully as he moved away from the bed. "I'm sure there was, Lieutenant. And as soon as the doctors give me permission, I'll be right back here to get your views on the subject." As he sidled out past her Jackman thought he probably hadn't been stared down like that since his grandmother had found out it had been him who let that jar full of lightning bugs loose in her house the summer he spent with her, not his five year old cousin Adele.... And he'd been all of seven then!
ggg
Jackman hadn't been allowed back for two days. He had to content himself with a full investigation of the mission leading to the assault that brought Lieutenant Garrison to his attention. It hadn't taken much to convince the 'injured' party to drop the charges. Feelings were still running high against the young man though, and those damn rumors seemed to have sprouted wings. Half the unit was still convinced he was a plant and couldn't be trusted and the general was having to investigate steps to counter that as well.
When he walked in he found Garrison on his feet by the window. He looked a little shopworn and unsteady on those feet, but did his best to greet the general more or less upright. The second bed that had been in the room had been removed at Jackman's request, and a table had been brought in for this little conference of theirs. The doctors had cleared them for two hours and he had no doubt there was a female standing right outside the door with a stop watch. Pulling the wooden chair out for himself and taking a seat he left the fancy leather job for a surprised Lieutenant... Jackman figured the wheels would make it easier to roll the kid over so he could dump him in bed if they cut it too close.
"Well, Garrison. Let's hear those ideas of yours."
g
"Sir, I'm telling you, it'll work!"
"Let me get this straight. You figure you could've just waltzed in and substituted the information?"
"No, sir. I couldn't have done it. But the people with the right training and experience could." He was pacing himself, if he tried too talk to fast, or too loud he ended up coughing and that brought a visit from the floor sister.
"And those people would be....."
"People who break into safes, sir" Garrison said carefully, "and people who reproduce other peoples writing,,, sir."
"And we would find these 'experts' where?" Jackman was beginning to get the idea, he just didn't think he could believe it.
"Uh, where they keep people like that, sir...."
"Prison." Jackman stated flatly.
"Yes, sir."
"Good Gawd, Garrison," Jackman snorted a laugh and pushed up out of the chair. "They tried to tell me you were crazy, and I knew you must have had more than one screw loose to volunteer for this outfit, but this is the most wild ass scheme I've ever heard."
Damn! Craig mentally kicked himself as he levered out of the chair and headed back for the bed. He'd lost him....he thought he'd played Jackman along until he'd see the possibilities in the idea, but he'd turned his hand too soon, and he'd lost him. All that time down the drain. Well, if that was the case, then he was too damn tired to continue this little debate, and General Jackas... ..Jackman could just go find someone else to laugh at. Groaning as he finally managed to get horizontal he thought that time must have stopped. This was the longest damn two hours he'd ever spent in his life, and that included certain, recent encounters with German Intelligence. Where in the hell was that sister when he needed her?
Jackman rested back against the window sill and watched the young officer stretch out and close his eyes. There wasn't an air of defeat about him, disgust, maybe, he thought, but not defeat. The general was sure as soon as he'd gathered his strength again, the mad lieutenant there, would be off pitching his idea to some other unwary soul.... And as he thought about it Jackman found his fingers itching to get hold of all the information in those safes over there.... He chewed his lower lip and let his imagination wander. It had some merit when you thought about it... By the time he'd jerked himself back to reality the Lieutenant was peacefully asleep and the sister was staring daggers at him from the door and tapping her watch. "Yes, ma'am! I was just leaving." and as he made his way past her he put on his best cotillion smile. His grandmother insisted he'd come up needing those genteel airs one day, it was time to prove her right or wrong. "Would you please tell Lieutenant Garrison I'll be back to see him in the morning.... With your permission, ma'am?"
ggg
"I don't believe this! This is not what I signed up for" Garrison caught the raised eyebrow, "sir."
"Oh really, Lieutenant? I thought you signed up to become an officer in the Army of the United States of America. Since you took the trouble to apply for, and survive, West Point, I also thought you had some idea of making that a career." Jackman let the young man pace the hospital room a few moments. "In case you missed them, let me explain the rules to you, Lieutenant. You're just a little officer, I'm a big one. When I give you an order, you don't object to it, you say, very nicely... 'Yes, sir, and just how high would you like me to go, sir?'"
Jackman saw the light of evil come into Garrison's eye. His daily meetings with the Lieutenant along with a review of his file had revealed a formidable young man. His mind was working the angles all the time, sifting through facts, making plans which, once made could be carried out with ruthless efficiency, or changed with a pirouette that would do an angel dancing on the point of a pin proud. Confident enough in his own abilities he wasn't afraid to seek expertise and information from others, once he had it he certainly wasn't afraid to reject it and follow his own path. He was flexible enough to accept his superior's orders, and then carry them out using his own methods, even if that required a certain amount of creativity when it came time to explain just how he had managed his success. General Jackman enjoyed matching wits with him, and he appreciated the youngster's highly honed sense of the ridiculous, but sometimes he despaired of his ability to make his way in this man's Army.... He just didn't get it.
"Yes, Lieutenant?" He might as well just get it over with. "You have a question?"
"Yes, sir. You said 'rules,' as in plural..." Craig's mouth quirked up in a smile. "I only heard one, sir."
"Oh yes! Did I forget?" The General pulled at his ear in exasperation. "You show some of your God given common sense, and you do not ask 'Would you care to kiss my ass while I'm up here, sir?'" Jackman leaned back and took a deep breath, if he laughed now he'd lose all control over this meeting. "Good Gawd, Garrison, give an old man a break. You still have half the section here convinced you're going to crawl up a drainpipe and murder them in their beds, and the rest out for whatever bounty the pools have laid on your head. Boy, you have to get out of here."
"Then send me back over to the continent, sir. There's still a lot that needs to be done over there."
"And there's just as much that needs to be done in North Africa." Jackman threw up his hand to stave off the argument. "All joking aside, Craig, you are not being given an option. You will go over there as ordered, and you'll stay over there until, and unless, someone sees fit to recall you."
Garrison just fixed him with one of those looks before he relented and nodded his understanding as he settled himself on the bed.
'Damn!' He thought, 'finally!' Jackman was sure his own sons had never given him this much trouble. Then he thought a little harder and cleared his throat... No they hadn't ever give him this much trouble. They'd saved that for others, he had the reports from the poor commander Howard had nearly driven to distraction in the bottom of his desk drawer back home. That kid had grown so comfortable living in hot water he told him once, he carried his old set of Lieutenants' bars around in his pocket, just in case someone took exception to one of his wild ideas and broke him back. He'd finally made it through to Major, but Jackman was certain the Captains' bars were in his son's jacket pocket, just in case. Jackman laughed to himself, he should find a way to have his mad young friend here assigned to his son instead, it would serve them both right.
"They have German's over there Lieutenant, and they have 'lines'. I promise, you'll get your chance to get behind them while you wait for our boys to get there. Til then you're assigned to one of the British units."
gggggggggggg
'This is a pilot program Garrison. Make it work and there will be more groups trained and sent in. As soon as we have enough men on the project we'll cut you loose.'
But, sir! I never meant me! I just pitched the idea....." The argument was expected, but the force behind the words was still weak.
"Proves the old saying, doesn't it Lieutenant?" Jackman dropped the stack of folders on table in front of Garrison.
"Sir?"
"Be careful what you wish for..." As he moved behind him towards the door, Jackman patted Garrison's shoulder. "Get to it, son, the doctors have only given you two hours this first time out of bed. Try and find a couple of men you think might watch your back for you. I'll be back later to collect your 'possibles', " And I'll be somewhere safe, he thought as he closed the door behind him, if I read you right and that ward sister comes back in two and a half hours and you're hooked on this project and totally absorbed in your work.
Craig stared at the door as it swung closed. "What in the hell have I gotten myself into?" Well, the faster he got to it, the faster he'd get through it. 'Thank you, Sergeant Holke,' he thought and brought his hand up in a quick salute. He opened the first folder and scanned the first page, 'Reject,' he thought, 'amateur caught his second time out.' He sailed the folder off into the corner of the room. The second one followed, and the third. Snorting in disgust he picked up the fourth folder and scanned it....... 'Hmm. Con artist?' He hadn't thought of that. It took him into the second page to reject this one, no languages. Picking up the next folder with a little more anticipation he consoled himself with the thought that it was a pretty big stack and he'd only just gotten started.
By the time he finished it was dark outside and he was stiff and sore from sitting at the table so long. General Jackman would be pleased, he had eighteen strong possibilities and six back ups. He'd even limped over and retrieved the folders he'd tossed on the floor when he'd come across other skills he hadn't thought of himself. If the old man had come up with this bunch, he had more to him than he was giving up. Craig straightened his stacks and made his way over to the bed to stretch out. Funny, they'd been pretty strict with him since they'd hauled his battered backsides over from North Africa. Maybe someone finally figured out what he'd been trying to convince them of all along, that he wasn't as badly damaged as they tried to tell him he was. His breath caught in his throat as he tried to lay out flat. 'Wasn't your brightest idea to stay hunched over like that so long.' He chided himself and spread his hand over the place in his side where the shrapnel had so recently been removed.
The piece that had burrowed itself in the muscle below his ribs hadn't been much trouble, but the one that buried itself just below that in the bone of his pelvis had caused the doctors all kinds of grief and they'd elected to leave everything alone until wiser heads could attend to it here in England. After the fact, and after having it all explained to him Garrison could certainly understand the decision. But even though they'd trussed him up in a pretty creative brace to keep him from moving, the trip back had hurt like hell. These first few days after the surgery hadn't been a whole lot of fun either, since no one was around and he was being honest with himself. And, even though they promised him that it was still early, and it would fade away with time, he could still feel just where they'd dug that damn hunk of metal out of him, every time his heart beat.
Craig shifted again and tried to get comfortable. That's what Jackman had used to spring his trap on him... told him reviewing 'candidates' would keep his mind off the pain. Well, he'd been right, it had certainly worked for the last few hours but he was paying the price for it now. Just like he and his men paid the price for him being sent over there in the first place, he thought as his memory took over again. He'd gotten his command experience alright, just like everyone told him he had to, to be ready for what was coming in Europe. He'd plotted and planned and sent his men into danger, and written the letters home for the ones who'd gotten themselves blown to hell. Giving him a chance to perfect his troop killing technique they assigned him a batch of replacements and sent him out on the line during a German push. He must have done a better job that time, only two of them made it back. Grayson was walking wounded and he'd been scraped up off the sand and shipped back over here. Someone told him he took out a German machine gun nest, he couldn't remember any of it. And he'd found in his still limited but growing experience with the military medical community that the only thing that admitting that sort of thing got you was an extra week or two in the hospital. 'Well,' he thought 'what they didn't know wouldn't hurt him....
'Thank you, Sergeant Holke' Craig smiled to himself, he didn't realize how useful he'd find all of those irritating little homilies. At least it had lifted him out of his melancholy mood for a moment. He tipped the Hulk an imaginary nod.
The doctors told him that would go away too, leftovers from a concussion. Garrison thought it probably had more to do with sending men out to get themselves killed for no apparent reason other than to buy a piece of real estate. Yeah, he knew the theory behind it, he'd taken the classes and he could actually understand that sometimes you had to pay a high price to gain a foothold. Well, they'd paid it, and they held onto that little patch of sand for exactly one week before its strategic value was 're-explored' and the Army withdrew without looking back. The Germans hadn't shared the new opinion and came right back and took that ground again and harried the supply lines as the division tried to move up. The whole bloody ordeal had to be played out again, without him at least, he snorted in disgust. By that time he was blissfully unaware in a drug induced haze on a hospital transport headed for England.
Garrison drew in a sharp breath and twisted to get away from the pain... 'Damn!' He thought, 'speaking of drugs...' Generally he didn't like the stuff but he supposed it had its merits. Just as he reached to push the call button the door opened and the sister breezed in.
"Oh my, Lieutenant, we haven't done our best by you today, have we?" She eyed the stacks of folders on the table suspiciously and bustled over to fluff the pillow. "You've missed your supper I'm afraid, and the kitchens are closed, but I've got a little emergency stash put by if you're feeling a bit peckish."
"No, ma'am I don't think I could eat anything, but...." Craig looked at her in confusion. Something wasn't right here, but he couldn't figure out just what it was.
"I'll wager you're getting more than a wee bit uncomfortable." she pulled the watch pinned to her shoulder up and gave a little squeak of distress. "Land of Mercy! It's three hours past time for your pain shot." Fixing him with a exasperated stare she asked. "What possessed you? Why didn't you ring?"
'There we go!' He thought, 'that's more like it.' He was still having a hard time keeping the nurses straight but this one he remembered. She'd just come on last night and, eager to talk with someone from home, had told him all about how she'd come over from the states in '39 and been working there ever since. He reached out and caught her by the wrist as she turned away to go retrieve the drug tray. "Hey, what's with the phony British accent? Didn't you tell me you were from Oregon?"
Giving a little laugh she twisted free, "Oh that! It helps keep General Jackman in line. Sister says he's afraid of the British nurses."
Garrison gave her a skeptical look but assured her. "Well, I'll keep your secret for you when I see him tomorrow, but don't say anything where he can hear you." He thought she'd find it funny, but she just stood there and looked at him. "I'm sorry, but you really need to work on your accent."
"You don't know, do you?" Her comment must have echoed back to her because half a second later she shook herself. "Of course you don't know.... That's why everything got so fouled up."
Craig had a sinking feeling. "What's happened?"
"Well, General Jackman,,, he had another heart attack." She watched what little color the Lieutenant had evaporate into thin air. "Oh M'God! You're not some kind of relative are you? I mean. I know he's been spending a lot of time in here but, but..."
"No, nothing like that. Is he alright?" At her hurried nod Garrison rolled up to sit on the side of the bed. "I've got to see him, where is he?"
"He's fine, he's fine! ...Oh no you don't!"
It was almost laughable, he thought, she'd spread her arms wide and fallen into a crouch between him and the door. "Just what do you suppose you're going to do?"
Reaching forward to pluck the call button off the bed she stared defiantly back at him. "I'm going to call the orderly and then I'm going to get your medication, Lieutenant."
"Listen, sister, don't try that on me. I can read that clock you have pinned on the front of you even if it is upside down. I know what staffing is like in these places at this time of night. You could push that button from now 'til doomsday and nobody would come. In fact I'd wager you're the only one out there tonight." She'd let a little flicker of concern cross her face at that. Craig had a little insider information from one of the dayshift nurses, the census was down, she'd nearly ruined his lunch complaining about how the second shift would be able to let a couple of the regulars stay home tonight.
"Now lets you and me just make a little deal here. I'm going to go see for myself that General Jackman is OK. It'll go a whole lot faster if you play along and come up with a cane, or a pair of crutches or something, and give me a clue of where to look. Otherwise, I promise you, I'll drag myself to every door in the hallway for a quick look around, and when I finish on this floor I'll start on the next one." It didn't take long to stare her down. He was better at it than she was, he'd had more practice.
"Oh! For goodness sake!" Turning away with an irritated shake of her head she disappeared out the door.
'hmmm.' he thought. 'That might have been a mistake... She could be out there phoning for reinforcements.' He pushed himself off the bed and limped slowly towards the door. For once he didn't mind his less than agile gait. If he'd been any faster she'd have knocked him flat when she backed through the door with the wheelchair.
"All right! Get in!" she ordered. As soon as he'd carefully folded himself into the contraption she pulled the blanket off the bed and tossed it across his lap. "Now let's just get one thing straight. I've read your chart, Lieutenant. And I've seen just how well you can get around. I don't figure you'll be any faster getting out of this thing that you were getting in. So now that you are in it, I figure I'm pretty much in control here." She watched his eyes narrow. "Didn't think of that, did you?!"
He looked up at her, cocked an eyebrow and smiled. "Ma'am. No, ma'am?" Nope, that wasn't gonna work.... Garrison shifted in the chair, took a hissing breath in, leaned forward and pressed his hands down on the dressing over his hip.
"Oh, come on! I've been waiting for that one!....." after a moment of silence she dropped down next to the chair. "Hey, you're not pulling a fast one on me, are you?" Their argument had brought the color back to his cheeks but it was certainly gone now.
She had to wait for her answer. He lowered his chin further onto his chest, opened his eyes and cut her a look along his shoulder before shrugging. "Well, not much of one, anyway." Then he winced and grabbed his side as he straightened in the chair too quickly and set the pain off again.
"OOooo! God save us all from idiots!" Craig had to hang on to the arms of the chair as she swung him around so she could back out the door into the hall. "Let's get this over with! I checked with his private duty nurse and she's probably wondering where we are."
He'd nearly gotten friction burns when he grabbed the wheels and brought them to a halt again. "What?!" They struggled there a moment, but this time he had the upper hand... it was a bit blistered, but he had it.
A moment later she'd stalked around in front of the chair and stood glaring down at him, both fists firmly planted on her hips. "What's the problem now, buster? And keep your voice down. You aren't the only one in this hospital, remember?"
"Could you explain to me, please," he asked in the most reasonable voice he could muster, "why you felt the need to check with General Jackman's private duty nurse?"
She looked at him like he was, indeed, an idiot. "Well, to make sure he was awake, of course. He's been drifting in and out all shift. I wanted to make sure he was awake and still wanted to see you before I ..... I came and got..." She put her hand up and giggled. "Uh oh."
"I think I have just been had."
She laid a consoling hand on his shoulder before she started them moving down the hall again. "Honest, Lieutenant, I had my orders."
"I'll just bet you did."
They came to a halt at the end of the hall and she stuck her head in the door before swinging him around to back him through. Rolling him up to the side of the bed she retreated to the corner where the other nurse sat keeping watch.
"How are you feeling, sir?"
General Jackman studied the young man sitting in the wheelchair and was pleased. He was still pale and weak, he still had a long way to go before he'd fully recover from the wounds he'd received in that mortar attack in Africa,,, but he'd definitely been roused out of his slump.
Jackman had made it a point to keep tabs on his young friend over the months. He'd been instrumental in putting him in the program in the first place. Finding him in England had been a shock that eventually turned into a pleasure when the relationship blossomed into friendship. He'd been concerned with the young man's life and his career since then. When his reputation suffered after his altercation with Byrns, and the word came out of Germany that any commando captured there was to be executed on the spot, he took steps to preserve both by having him transferred to North Africa. The Allies were already there, the US was on its way and he knew Garrison's talents wouldn't be wasted. He knew they'd be sending him behind the lines over there just like they did in Europe, that was a given, but if he could survive until their own troops were in place he'd finally get some of the command experience he would need if he was going to make the Army a career... Working alone would never get him the recognition he'd need for advancement.
From the reports that came back the Lieutenant had done a good job, and he was being considered for captain's bars when his group got blown to bits in that mortar attack. Jackman was there when they brought him off the hospital transport, he talked to the doctors and he sat in the waiting room during the long surgery. Garrison didn't realized just how close he'd come to the end of his life. One of those little pieces of shrapnel had twirled around an artery and the doctors had the devil's own time disentangling it without letting it sever the vessel so the young man could bleed to death.
When he'd come out of the anesthesia the pain of both the injury and the men he'd lost was evident. Their usual sparing wasn't bringing him out of it, he didn't even rise to the bait. When he showed a flicker of interest when Jackman told him his little harebrained scheme was going to be given a chance the general seized on that and decided to let him help choose the men they'd be interviewing for the different positions. But even that didn't seem to be able to keep the ghosts a bay for long. The doctors continued to tell him that the young man would have to work through it himself, and though Jackman agreed, he just didn't agreed to how long he had to get himself back on his feet. So when he had his own little set back he'd known it would pull the boy out, by the roots, and he used it. He was glad to see it had the effect he'd hoped for.
"Oh, a little tired, I guess. Not nearly as bad as they tell me I should feel."
Garrison nodded, and considered the General from his position in the chair, he could relate to that. "I'm glad to hear that, sir."
Jackman watched him from his bed. "Something on your mind, Lieutenant?"
There were a lot of things on his mind, concern for this man who had become his mentor and friend over the last several months, right there at the top of the list. Some how they'd managed to become friends, across generations and across the barrier of rank. Through intermittent contact over time they managed it. Their personalities seemed to click and they were almost instantly attuned and able to read one another and play off each other. The concern for each was manifest in the other's eyes, although it was never spoken, that just wasn't the way things worked. You didn't fall to your knees by the bed of a friend and worry over their condition. If it was improving you rejoiced in your own heart and kept it to yourself, if it was deteriorating you needled the other until they rose out of the depths of depression, illness or injury to strike at the bait and turn onto the path of recovery.
Unfortunately the General wouldn't take kindly to being questioned on the seriousness of his condition, Garrison would have to get that out of the nurses later. "Your little conspirator slipped up and spilled her guts to me in the hallway." Craig eyed the older man a moment before asking "You want to tell me what that was all about?"
The general leaned back into the pillows and laughed "Garrison I enjoy our one on one encounters, but you do tend to wear me out. Melanie just gave you a chance to run off some of that extra energy so I could handle you." Jackman studied the young man a moment. And you were more than a little despondent my young friend, he thought, and I figured I could do something about that. Might as well make the best use out of these damn little heart attacks if I'm going to have them.