‘Why were you giving that cameraman your pot?’ Kate whispered.
‘What are we doing at the airbase?’ Woody countered.
The major on whom they waited was on the phone. He was another of the insufferable ‘Public Affairs Officers’ with whom members of the press were forced to deal. PAOs acted as if they were on the press’s side. They agreed that everything was unfair. But what could they do? They were just a ‘spoke in the wheel,’ they always said. All information flowed from the ‘hub’ — the commanding officer.
There were two signs above the PAO’s desk. One read, ‘“Four hostile newspapers are more to be feared than a thousand bayonets.” Napoleon.’ The other was of a more recent vintage. ‘“Wherever commanders go, they should plan for CNN. Like the weather, we’ll always be there — just another feature on the battlefield terrain.” Jamie McIntyre. CNN correspondent.’
The major hung the telephone up. He re-read the already crumpled memorandum from General Clark. He went into another office. Kate realized Woody was looking at her. All their traveling gear — his camera included — lay by their sides. ‘What?’ she asked.
‘You didn’t answer my question,’ Woody replied.
‘And you didn’t answer mine. Why’d you give all your pot away?’
‘I didn’t give it all away. But it was a gift to me, so it was sort of a civic duty to pass it on.’
‘But you’re like a human smokestack. Why would you part with any of the stuff?’
‘Where are we going, Kate?’
The major returned with a colonel. The senior officer held Clark’s memo in both hands. ‘What can I do for you?’ the man asked.
‘I want to go to Tangyuan,’ Kate said. Woody’s eyes darted her way.
The colonel laughed and looked at the major. The major laughed just as the colonel turned serious. The РАО was out of sync with his boss — the head of army air transport. ‘I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,’ the man lied inexpertly.
Kate leaned forward and whispered. ‘I’m talking about the 75th and the 101st.’ Nothing registered on the colonel’s face. ‘I’m doing a story on the 75th and 101st,’ she repeated like a mantra. ‘General Clark told me to come see you! Kate glanced down at the name stenciled above his breast pocket. ‘He said go see Colonel Wheatley at the airbase!’
‘Whah-tley,’ the major corrected — pronouncing it like ‘what,’ not ‘wheat.’
‘General Clark mentioned me by name?’ the colonel said. Kate arched her brow and nodded significantly.
‘Well, it doesn’t matter anyway,’ the colonel said. ‘All we’ve got going in there are airdrops. And I don’t imagine either of you are airborne-qualified.’ He wore a broad, amiable grin.
‘What about medevacs?’ Woody unexpectedly asked. His voice was wooden and tired.
The colonel looked at the РАО, who shrugged and said, ‘Under conditions of open coverage, field commanders are required to permit journalists to ride on military vehicles and aircraft whenever feasible.’ Kate looked at the colonel and arched her brow again.
Kate and Woody were taken to a MASF — a Mobile Army Surgical Facility. The wind whipped across the flat tarmac. They were escorted by a nurse in a flight suit to a large helicopter. It was fitted with bulging external fuel tanks. Its engines were already whining. The rotor was beginning to turn. They hoisted their gear up and climbed aboard. Another female medic pulled the sliding door closed with a bang.
Kate and Woody found a place among the litters. The flight was long, but the two nurses remained busy the entire time. There were drip bags to hang on hooks. Oxygen masks to lay on small pillows. Trays filled with small bottles whose caps had to be removed. These women were obviously veterans of previous flights. They thought ahead — even remembering the towels. Stooping to the deck in their one-piece flight suits, they bunched towel after towel underneath each of the litters. Their combat boots squeaked slightly on the bare metal floor.
Kate and Woody watched in silence from their corner. The helicopter began to rock in the increasingly rough weather. Kate’s eyes were drawn by the little squeaks down to the towels. They had to have good footing, she thought as she watched the nurses. The towels were there to keep the stick deck dry.
When she looked over at Woody, his eyes were on her. Sad, tired eyes which sank closed as he laid his head against the bulkhead.
The final few moments of the descent were the worst. The helicopter had flown straight through a cold front which barreled out of Siberia like an avalanche. Now it bucked and rolled as the pilot fought his way down. Each time the deck pitched Kate imagined the rotors smacking the ground and disintegrating.
A hard thud sent pain shooting up her back.
The door slid open. The blizzard flew into the cabin with full force and fury.
Kate and Woody grabbed their gear and headed out. At the door they saw the first bloody body. It was being hoisted aboard through the hellish wind. Soldiers jumped into the helicopter to help the female medics. Kate stood back and watched a parade of the horrible. Men were crying. One screamed for his mother. She leapt to the ground. Woody followed.
The door slid closed and the air filled with snow and dirt. The blast of the rotors forced Kate and Woody to their knees. When the helicopter was gone, the gusts of the storm seemed tame by comparison.
‘Who the hell’re you?’ came a loud voice.
Kate looked up to see a large white parka looming over her and Woody like a polar bear. The distant crackle and boom of gunfire was nearly constant.
‘Kate Dunn — NBC News!’
The bear looked down at her for a moment in. silence. ‘What?’ he suddenly shouted.
Brigadier General Lawson, the brigade commander, took one look at General Clark’s memo and crumpled it into a ball. He threw the wad against a bucking tent wall and cursed. ‘You’ve got some fuckin’ balls cornin’ in here! Do you realize what you’ve gotten yourselves into?’
‘We’re war correspondents covering a military operation,’ Kate replied. ‘We’re just doing our job.’