He’d made additional, very discreet inquiries, and learned that the Office of Management Analysis had virtually nothing to do with either management or analysis. That information did not surprise him; for he also learned that the number-two man at the Office of Management Analysis was Colonel F. L. Rickabee, whom General Stewart knew by reputation-the reputation being that he’d been involved in intelligence matters since he was a first lieutenant. The number-one man at Management Analysis was Brigadier General Fleming Pickering, a reservist. The Washington Post had described Pickering as a close personal friend of the President, and scuttlebutt had it that he was Secretary of the Navy Frank Knox’s personal spy in the Pacific.
Dillon had obviously been doing something for the Office of Management Analysis…. Exactly what he was doing there, General Stewart suspected he would never know. But he’d done it well, witness the letter. And so now he was being returned to Public Affairs for duty, with the official thanks of the Secretary of the Navy.
But who the hell is this corporal?
“Sergeant Sawyer!” General Stewart called; and in a moment, Technical Sergeant Richard Sawyer, USMC, a lean, crisp Marine in his middle thirties, put his head in the door. General Stewart motioned him inside and Sergeant Sawyer closed the door behind him.
“Sawyer, were you aware that Major Dillon is being returned to us?”
“Yes, Sir. There was a call yesterday afternoon. The Major is apparently on his way here-by now, he’s probably arrived-from the West Coast. I arranged for a BOQ for him.”
“Good man,” General Stewart said. “Does the name Easterbrook, Corporal Robert F., ring a bell with you?”
Sergeant Sawyer considered the question a moment, and then shook his head, no.
“No, Sir.”
“See if you can find out who he is, will you?”
“Aye, aye, Sir,” Sergeant Sawyer said, and then an idea came to him. “General, he may be one of the combat correspondents Major Dillon took with him when he went over there the first time, for the Guadalcanal invasion. I’ll check.”
“When he ‘went over for the first time’? Sawyer,” Stewart asked, picking up on that. “Are you saying that Major Dillon went overseas more than once? Has he been over there again?”
“Yes, Sir. I presume so. The call I had-”
“Who was that from?”
“Sir, from a Captain Sessions in the Office of Management Analysis. The Captain said, Sir, that Major Dillon had just arrived from Pearl Harbor.”
“Thank you, Sergeant. See what you can turn up about the Corporal, will you?”
“Aye, aye, Sir. There’s a copy of their orders around here someplace.”
Five minutes later, Sergeant Sawyer returned to confirm that Corporal Robert F. Easterbrook was indeed a member of the team of combat correspondents Major Homer C. Dillon had taken to the Pacific for the invasion of Guadalcanal.
At 1015 Major Jake Dillon walked into the Public Affairs Division office and went up to the sergeant’s desk just inside the door. Dillon was wearing an impeccably tailored uniform, and still smelling faintly of the after-shave applied by the barber in the Willard Hotel.
The sergeant stood up.
“May I help the Major?”
“I guess I’m reporting for duty, Sergeant. My name is Dillon.”
The sergeant smiled. “Yes, Sir. We’ve been expecting you.” He flipped a lever on a wooden intercom box on his desk. “General, Major Dillon is here.”
“Splendid!” Stewart’s voice replied metallically. “Please ask the Major to come in.”
“If you’ll come with me, please, Major?” the sergeant said, then led Dillon deep into the office, finally stopping before the desk of Technical Sergeant Sawyer.
“Major Dillon to see the General,” he announced.
“Yes, Sir,” Sergeant Sawyer said, and then went to a door, held it open, and announced, “Major Dillon, Sir.”
Dillon stepped in. Brigadier General J. J. Stewart walked across the room to him, smiling, his hand extended.
“Welcome home, Major Dillon,” he said. “It’s good to see you back.”
“Thank you, Sir,” Dillon said. It was not quite the reception he had anticipated. He’d heard that Brigadier General J. J. Stewart had asked rather persistent questions about what he was doing for Fleming Pickering, and that the General had been bluntly told to butt out.