But I will do my best to find a rock to hide him under.
“What I was going to suggest, Colonel… what, to put a point on it, I am requesting, is that Macklin be assigned to my shop.”
What’s this “shop” crap? You sound like you’re making dog kennels.
“I see.”
“My thinking, Colonel, is that nothing succeeds like success. And Macklin, having completed a very, very successful war bond tour, is just the man to set up and run the next one. And then, of course, there is sort of a built-in bonus: Our heroes, Machine Gun McCoy and the flyboys, would be introduced to the public by a Marine officer who is himself a wounded hero.”
“General, I think that’s a splendid idea,” Colonel Wilson said. “I’ll have his orders cut by sixteen hundred hours.”
I was wrong. This has been a gift from heaven. I get rid of Macklin in a job where he can’t hurt The Corps; and the General here thinks I am a splendid fellow.
“Well, I frankly thought I would have to sell you more on the idea, Colonel.”
“General, if I may say so, a good idea is a good idea. Is there anything else I can try to do for you?”
General Stewart looked a little uncomfortable.
“There are two things,” he said, finally. “Both a little delicate.”
“Please go on, Sir.”
“I certainly don’t mean to suggest that you’re not up to the line in your operation…”
But?
“… but, maybe a piece of paper got lost or something. Lieutenant Macklin is long overdue for promotion.”
With what Chesty Puller had to say about the sonofabitch, the only reason he wasn’t asked for his resignation from The Corps is that there’s a war on.
“I’ll look into that myself, General, and personally bring it to the attention of the G-l.”
“I couldn’t ask for more than that, could I? Thank you, Colonel.”
“No thanks necessary, Sir,” Wilson said. “You said there were two things?”
“And-to repeat-both a little delicate,” General Stewart said.
“Perhaps I can help, Sir.”
“I mentioned Major Dillon,” General Stewart said.
“Yes, Sir?”
“I don’t know if you know this or not, Colonel, but Major Dillon has been placed on temporary duty with the Office of Management Analysis.”
“The Office of Management Analysis, Sir?”
“Don’t be embarrassed. I had to ask a lot of questions before I found anyone who even knows it exists,” General Stewart said. “But I think it can be safely said that it deals with classified matters.”
“I see,” Colonel Wilson said solemnly.
“The thing is, Colonel, I’m carrying Major Dillon on my manning table. So long as he is on temporary duty, I can’t replace him. You understand?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Do you think you could have him transferred, taken off my man-ning table?”
“I will bring that to the attention of the G-l, Sir. And if anything can be done, I’m sure the General will see that it is.”
“Splendid!” General Stewart said as he stood up and put out his hand. “Colonel, I really appreciate your cooperation.”
“Anything for the good of the Corps, Sir.”
“Indeed! Thank you, Colonel. And if there’s ever any way in which Public Affairs can be of service…”
“That’s very good of you, Sir. I almost certainly will take you up on that.”
[THREE]
Anacostia Naval Air Station
Washington, D.C.
2055 Hours 16 October 1942
As the B-25 was taxiing from the runway to the Transient Aircraft Ramp, the pilot came out of the cockpit and walked back to Banning, who was seated in the front of the fuselage, in a surprisingly comfortable airline-type seat.
“A car’s going to meet you where we park,” he said.
“Thank you,” Banning said.
He had a headache. His mouth was dry. He’d been sleeping fitfully until his ears popped painfully as they made their descent and approach.
They’d stopped at St. Louis for fuel. And he had a fried-egg sand-wich and a cup of coffee there. The mayonnaise and the slice of raw onion on the sandwich had given him heartburn.
He belched painfully.
It was raining, steadily, and a chilling wind was blowing across the field. And there was no car in sight. He’d just about decided that the pilot had the wrong information, or that the plane was parked in the wrong place, when a 1940 Buick convertible sedan rolled up. The Buick was preceded by a pickup truck painted in a checkerboard pattern and flying a checkered flag.