“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
Miss Dorothy Northcutt, a stewardess for two of her twenty-eight years, thought the two young Marine officers in 9B and 9C were just adorable. Neither of them looked old enough to be out of school, much less Marine officers.
She did the approved stewardess squat in the aisle.
“Well, the Marines seem to have just about taken over this flight, haven’t they?” she asked.
“I think they have just come back from the war,” the blond one said, indicating the three sergeants in 8A, -B, and -C. “There’s something about their eyes…”
Meaning, of course, Miss Northcutt concluded, that you are on your way to the war. And you’re so young!
“Can I get you anything before we serve breakfast?”
“Do you think I could have a little gin in a glass of orange juice?” the blond one asked. When he saw the look on Miss Northcutt’s face, he added, “My mother always gave me that when my tummy felt a little funny.”
“You don’t feel well?”
“I’ll be all right,” he said bravely. “It’s a little bumpy up here.”
“But you’re wearing wings. Aren’t you a pilot?”
“In training,” Dunn said. “I’ve never flown on one of these before.”
“I’ll get you one,” she said, and looked at Second Lieutenant Easter-brook.
“Could I have the same thing, please?”
Ignoring the Marine officer in 9A (who was obviously older-and even more obviously trying to look down her blouse while she was squatting in the aisle), Miss Northcutt stood up and walked forward to fetch orange juice and gin.
“This isn’t your day, Bill,” Pickering said, leaning across the aisle. “We’re making a fuel stop at Kansas City; I’ll bet they change crews there.”
“With a little bit of luck, we’ll hit some bad weather, or blow a jug or something, and get stranded overnight,” Dunn replied. “Think positive, Pickering! Butt out!”
[THREE]
The Foster Lafayette Hotel
Washington, D.C.
1300 Hours 28 October 1942
Senator Richardson S. Fowler (R., Cal.) knocked on the door of the suite adjacent to his.
“Come!” a familiar voice called, and he pushed the door open.
Three young men, in their underwear, were seated around a room-service table eating steak and eggs and french fried potatoes. When one of them stood up and smiled, Senator Fowler had trouble finding his voice.
“Well, Pick,” he said finally, trying and not quite succeeding to attain the jocular tone he wanted, “home, I see, is the sailor….”
“Uncle Dick…” Pick said, and approached him with his hand extended. But that gesture turned into an embrace.
“Uncle Dick, sailors are those guys in the round white hats and the pants with all the buttons on the fly. We are Marines.”
The other two young men looked at them in curiosity.
“Senator Fowler, may I present Lieutenants Dunn and Easterbrook?” Pick said. “They, too, are Marines.”
Both of them stood up and he shook their hands.
My God, they ‘re even younger-looking than Pick! Are these kids the men we’re asking to fight our wars?
“You could have called me, Pick,” Fowler said.
“We just came in this morning,” Pick said. “The airplane broke… unfortunately, at the wrong airport. And then duty calls. I have to take these two heroes to have medals pinned on them.”
“So I understand,” Fowler said. “Frank Knox called me.”
And what Frank Knox said was, “I’m going to decorate two heroes at three-thirty. One of them is Fleming Pickering’s son. I thought you might want to be there. ”
There was another knock at the door.
“Come!” Pick called.
It was a bellman carrying freshly pressed uniforms, thus explaining the underwear.
“Easterbrook?” Fowler asked, remembering. “You’re the Marine combat correspondent who shot the film Fleming Pickering sent back?”
“Blush for the Senator, Easterbunny,” Pick said.
“That was you?”
“Yes, Sir,” Easterbrook said, furious with himself when he felt his cheeks warm.
“Marvelous work, Son. You should be proud of yourself.”
“Can we offer you something, Uncle Dick?” Pick said.
“Not if it’s an excuse for you to have something. If you’re going to see Frank Knox, I want you sober.”
“I am on my very good behavior,” Pick said.
“That will be a change,” Fowler said, and immediately regretted it. But he moved hastily on: “So the two of you are to be decorated?”