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Show Flying - 219 assed bird and we'll all be on our way home." "Fall out, let's go," says Karafa sticking his head in the tent. Behind him they can hear the First Sergeant's whistle and the approaching sound of a helicopter. Hurried into neat ranks, they watch the General's ship settle gently onto the grass a hundred yards in front of the assembled battalion. Freneau is the first to step out, maneuvering vjlth care, his left leg in a cast, a cane in his right hand. Behind hin cones a neat and nervous lieutenant, his aide. The rest of his staff follows nore nimbly-a light colonel, some majors, a captain or two, hopping down the aluminum steps and ducking their heads under the swish of the rotor. Freneau stops before he reaches the group of battalion officers waiting to greet him, and unzips his flight jacket. His aide jumps forward and eases it off his shoulders, then folds it neatly over one arm and steps back out of the way. A tough arrogant old nan. But this will shake hin. A soldier fron the Signal Corps. Like having an old and faithful spaniel suddenly peel back his upper lip and go for your throat. After they take me away and help the General to get up, my colonel will try to explain. He was unstable, but we thought we could pull him through. The suicide attempt of a friend back at Fort Hood pushed him near the edge. We think he blamed the Army, and perhaps the sight of the General was too much for him, sir. |