CHAPTER FOURTEENBy midnight the United States Army was working one of its accustomed miracles.
It involved a number of things, starting with a phone call at noon from the White House to Fort Lowder, New Jersey. A major general commanding a division in training there said to the phone call, “Yes sir,” and after he hung up, to his one-star assistant commander, “Excellent training for the 432nd, Jim. Get it done.” The brigadier made some calls and then he and the C.G. finished their lunch serenely. The calls whipped Fort Lowder to a froth of activity that looked senseless at first; an engineer officer took off like a bat out of hell in one of the division’s light planes and soared over the flood valley 175 miles away, swooped low over promising field after field, and returned. Leaves were ca
