September 16, 1977

 

After Terry was picked up and taken to a trauma treatment facility, Peter and Bernadette stopped for breakfast. “I’m almost too tired to eat,” Bernadette said. “I badly need a bath and a good 10-hour sleep. But I’d sooner drive back to the cabin. If you can drive long enough for me to get a two-hour nap, I’ll take over and let you sleep.”

“Sounds like a plan. We’ve pushed our bodies hard. I don’t have much more. Adrenalin can only last so long. We’re almost past that. With a huge coffee to sip on, I can drive for a couple of hours. How good is it to get a decent breakfast? People in West Virginia know how to serve up a great one.”

“Give me a chance to go to the ladies room and I’m ready to go. Hope Terry is okay.”

“He’s in good hands. I trust these people to take good care of him.”

“By the way, although I asked no questions, I’m very impressed how a pay phone call delivered a medically equipped helicopter with first class medical people on board. Obviously there is a dark government hand in this somewhere.”

“Knowing when not to ask questions is just one of the things I love about you. During my short call I gave a quick summary of the valley action. I was asked how many people were in our team. I said three, two men and one woman, but only two of us were in the attack force. The other man was on watch and in a standby mode. There was astonished silence on the other end of the line. They will have a recon team there in a few hours.”

“You know we are good, but we can’t keep up action at that level. I may have to go back to Ireland and the IRA.”

“Listen to me, woman warrior, you are done with the IRA! Stick around. I guarantee the level of violence of the last two months will stop. But we will always be in a defensive watchful mode.”

“Good. I’ll join you in the truck in five minutes.”