“The General said if you had ‘any reasonable proposal,’ Jake,” Colonel Frazier said. They were now in his office, drinking coffee to which sour-mash bourbon had been added.
“Sir, the first thing we have to keep in mind is that some people, who are a lot more senior than you and me, think this war bond tour business is good for The Corps.”
“Do you?”
Dillon met his eyes.
“I really don’t know. They told me to do it. I’m saying ‘aye, aye, Sir,’ and giving it my best shot.”
“OK. We’ll go with that, for the sake of argument: The war bond tour is good for The Corps.”
“If we go with that, Colonel, then we have to go with the idea that putting a major, me, in charge, with a lieutenant and half a dozen sergeants to help, is a justified use of Marines. Plus, of course, the heroes. They could be doing other things, too.”
“I’m listening, Jake,” Colonel Frazier said.
“If we go with that, and if it means that instead of The Corps looking foolish for giving the Medal to somebody who turns out to be an asshole, The Corps looks good for giving the Medal to a guy who killed thirty, forty Japs all by himself, then it seems to me that The Corps would be justified in assigning two more Marines to the tour… that would mean for about a month.”
“Two more Marines, Jake? Who are you talking about?”
“I don’t have any names, but I’ll bet you wouldn’t have to look hard around the Recruit Depot to find two gunnery sergeants who are larger and tougher than Staff Sergeant McCoy.”
“And what would these two gunnies do, Jake?”
“Well, I think that by now, as long as he’s been in the Brig, Sergeant McCoy must be pretty dirty. The two gunnies would probably start off by giving Sergeant McCoy a bath. With a fire hose. That would probably put him in a good frame of mind. Then they could talk to him about how important it is to him and The Corps for him to behave himself. And if he ever felt he needed some exercise, they could give it to him.”
Colonel Frazier looked at Major Dillon for a long moment. Then he pushed a lever on his intercom.
“Sergeant Major,” he announced. “I’m sending a Major Dillon to see you. He will tell you what he wants. I don’t know what that is, and I don’t want to know. But you will give him whatever he asks for. Do you understand?”
“Aye, aye, Sir,” a metallic voice replied.
“Thank you, Colonel,” Jake said.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Major Dillon,” Colonel Frazier said. “But I’m sure you’ll be able to work it out with the Sergeant Major. He’s in the third office down the hall to the right.”
[FOUR]
Water Lily Cottage
Brisbane, Australia
1615 Hours 23 October 1942
When he heard the crunch of tires on the driveway, Brigadier General Fleming Pickering, USMCR, was drinking coffee. Not five minutes earlier, he almost took a stiff drink. But now that Ellen was arriving, he knew he’d made the right decision in not doing that.
He checked himself in the mirror, tugging at the skirt of his blouse, then adjusting his necktie to a precise location he decided would please the Commandant of The Marine Corps himself.
He was wearing his ribbons, too. There was an impressive display of them-the Navy Cross, the Silver Star, the Legion of Merit, the Navy & Marine Corps Medal, the Purple Heart with three oak leaf clusters, the World War I Victory Medal, the Legion d’Honneur in the grade of Chevalier, and the Croix de Geurre. And they were neatly arrayed above what Pickering thought of as the “I-Was-There” ribbons: for service in France in World War I, for service since World War II started, and the Pacific Theatre of Operations ribbon.
He rarely wore all this, and he wasn’t sure why he was doing so now. Certainly his visit to General MacArthur required it (he’d correctly suspected that El Supremo would not only have a photographer present for the pinning-on-of-the-insignia, but that he would insist that Pickering get in the picture). But then there was Ellen Feller, who was just now approaching (like a pirate ship on the horizon; up goes the Jolly Roger). Mrs. Feller was impressed with brass. And he was aware that he made a visually impressive brass hat in his general’s uniform, with stars on collar points and epaulets, and all his ribbons.