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“Rhine-Main, and we have to be there by nine-thirty.”
“Got it,” Ostrowski said, and headed back for the Storch.
“Why are we going to Frankfurt?” Tiny asked.
“Get in the airplane, I’ll tell you on the way.”
“I’ve got things to do in Pullach.”
“Not as important as this. Get in the goddamn airplane.”
“Yes, sir,” Tiny replied sarcastically.
—
“Schleissheim departure control, Army Seven-Oh-Seven, a flight of two aircraft, request taxi and takeoff.”
“Army Seven-Oh-Seven, take Taxiway Three to threshold of Two Seven.”
—
“Schleissheim departure control, Army Seven-Oh-Seven, on the threshold of Two Seven. Direct, VFR to Rhine-Main. Request takeoff.”
“Army Seven-Oh-Seven, you are number one on Two Seven.”
“Schleissheim, Oh-Seven rolling.”
“Why are we going to Frankfurt?”
“For Christ’s sake, Tiny, put a fucking cork in it.”
“Army Seven-Oh-Seven. Schleissheim. Say again?”
—
“You had something you wished to ask me, Captain Dunwiddie?”
“Why are we going to Frankfurt?”
“We are going to see your beloved Uncle Isaac.”
“You’re referring to General White?”
“Unless you have another godfather you
call Uncle Isaac.”
“You’re saying General White is in Frankfurt?”
“ETA Rhine-Main ten hundred.”
“How do you know that?”
“Hotshot Billy Wilson told me.”
“You’re referring to Lieutenant Colonel Wilson?”
“Who else, for Christ’s sake, is known as ‘Hotshot Billy’?”
