“Yes, Sir.”
“Well, I don’t want to give you the impression, Homer, that I’m running you off,” General Stewart said. “But just take a look at this desk!”
“Thank you very much for your time, General,” Dillon said formally, and then stood up and came to attention. “By your leave, Sir?”
“That will be all, thank you, Major Dillon,” General Stewart replied, as formally.
Chapter Eight
[ONE]
U.S. Naval Hospital
Pearl Harbor, T.H.
1015 Hours 20 October 1942
“So far as I can tell, gentlemen,” Lieutenant Commander Warren W. Warbasse, Medical Corps, USNR, said, “you are all far healthier than you look, or frankly should be.”
“Doctor, I don’t know about these two, but in my case that is obviously due to the fact that I am pure in heart,” First Lieutenant Malcolm S. Pickering, USMCR, said solemnly. “I did not run around the tropical islands chasing bare-breasted maidens in grass skirts.”
Dr. Warbasse smiled. He was thirty-five or so, tall and curly haired, with a mildly aesthetic look. Despite this last, he had instincts that were solidly down to earth. These told him that the young officer was well on his way to being plastered. He wondered how he managed to find the liquor; the three of them had been brought by station wagon directly to the hospital from the seaplane base at Pearl.
It was a standard procedure for those returning from Guadalcanal. The percentage of returnees with malaria was mind-boggling.
“I’d like to keep you in that pure state, Lieutenant,” Dr. Warbasse said. “Have they told you where you’re going from here?”
“Ewa, Commander,” Captain Charles M. Galloway, USMCR, said. “The squadron has been ordered there for refitting.”
“The other squadron officers will follow?” Dr. Warbasse asked.
“Sir,” First Lieutenant William C. Dunn said, a little thickly. “You are looking at the officers of VMF-229. Our noble skipper, his devoted executive, and this disgrace to The Marine Corps.”
My God, that’s all the officers out of the squadron? Three out of how many? Twenty, anyway, probably twenty-five.
“Have you been at the sauce, too, Captain?” Dr. Warbasse asked. “Or can I talk sensibly with you?”
“I didn’t even know they had any until he breathed on me in there,” Galloway said.
“Ordinarily, I would order you into the hospital for a couple of days’ bed rest,” Dr. Warbasse said. “But since you’re going to Ewa, maybe I could waive that, if I had some assurance that these two wouldn’t try to drink the islands dry.”
“I’ll keep an eye on them, Doctor,” Galloway said.
“I hope so,” Dr. Warbasse said. “It would really be a shame to have to scrape you off a tree, or shovel you out of a Honolulu gutter, after all you have gone through.”
“I’ll keep my eye on them, Commander,” Galloway repeated.
“OK. You’re free to go.”
“Commander, do you happen to know where I could find Commander Kocharski?” Galloway asked.
“Who is that?” Pickering asked. “The Polish chaplain?”
“Shut up, Pick. You are not amusing,” Galloway said.
“The nurse?” Dr. Warbasse asked.
“The nurse?” Pickering asked delightedly. “And who is going to keep an eye on our keeper while he’s off chasing a nurse, I wonder.”
“One more word, Pick, and you’re in here for as long as they’ll keep you,” Galloway said, not quite succeeding in restraining a smile. He looked at Dr. Warbasse. “She’s an old friend of mine.”
“Commander Kocharski is the chief surgical nurse,” Dr. Warbasse said. “Seven C.”
“Thank you, Sir,” Galloway said. “Out, you two!”
Commander Warbasse’s curiosity got the best of him. “I’d like a word, Captain.”
“You two better be here when I come out,” Galloway said, then closed the door after them and turned to face Dr. Warbasse.
“Did I hear him correctly? You’re all that’s left of VFM-229?”
“All the officers, yes, Sir.”
“Welcome home, Captain,” Dr. Warbasse said. “One more thing, there’s been some scuttlebutt that they’re sending the Guadalcanal Marine and Navy aces home for a war bond tour, after they’ve gone through here. Is that who I’m looking at? Those boys are aces?”
Galloway hesitated a moment before deciding that the doctor had not meant anything out of line, that he probably thought of every serviceman who passed his way as a “boy.” But there was still a little ice in his voice when he finally replied.