“We ran off the road and hit a stone post,” the captain called up, “and we couldn’t get it out of the ditch in the dark. Aside from that, it was worthy of John Dillinger.”
“Does anyone know you stole it?” Canidy asked.
“Are you a half mile ahead of the MPS? ” “I told you, Dick, it went like clockwork.”
“Until you ran it off the road.” Canidy chuckled, “Where’s Jamison?
“We also stole some whiskey,” the captain reported.
“He drank some of it.” At that moment, a lieutenant stumbled out the other side of the car. Since he was deeper in his cups than the captain, the duchess concluded that this one was Lieutenant Jamison, the man to whom she was supposed to report. “You can’t leave the car there,” Canidy said.
“Not out in the open.” My God, they did steal it! 14 Istole a tarpaulin for it,” the captain announced, then went back to the trunk and hauled out a huge canvas tarpaulin. Lieutenant Jamison went into the backseat of the car and began to unload cases of whiskey and beer.
“Did you steal that from the OSS, too?”
“No,” the captain said.
“We found it in the middle of the road. “Jimmy, behave yourself and come in,” Canidy called.
“That English captain we’ve been waiting for showed up. It’s a female, a real tight-assed bitch. I’m sure she’s been sent to spy on us, anyway, so keep your hands off her and your mouth shut. That applies to you too, Jamison. Deeply offended, her face coloring, the Duchess of Stan field stepped back from the open window and very carefully closed it. She rummaged through her summer linen for suitable underclothing, then went through the steamer trunks until she found nightgowns. She wrapped one of the nightgowns around everything else and descended the stairs to the kitchen. When she pushed open the door, she startled Major Canidy, the captain, and Lieutenant Jamison, who were sharing various breakfast preparation tasks. One of the unused stoves was littered with what they obviously planned to eat; this amounted to a week’s ration for a British family of six, not counting the oranges.
“Up early, aren’t you, Captain?” Canidy asked sarcastically.
“Tight, all right,” the rather good-looking captain observed, “but not too tight.”
That was a reference to my fanny!
“I told you to watch your mouth,” Canidy snapped.
“I was gathering some personal possessions,” the duchess blurted, and exhibited her nightgown bundle.
“You’ve been here before, then?” Canidy accused. “Yes,” she said, “I have.”
Obviously, he has never even looked at my orders. If he had, he would know who I am.
“The captain has been sent by the War Office to ‘liaise’ with us,” Canidy said.
“Apparently, ‘to liaise’ means to roam through the place before anybody is up.”
“I’m Jim Whittaker,” the rather good-looking captain said, advancing on her with his hand extended.
“I think I should warn you that I am a pervert and find females in uniform terribly exciting.”
He was looking at her with great fascination, and she flushed.
“I’m not going to tell you about your mouth again, Jimmy,” Major Canidy flared. “I didn’t catch the name, Captain,” Whittaker said. He had her hand now and seemed reluctant to let it go. “My name is Stan field,” the duchess said. “Like the duke?” Canidy asked. “I am the duchess,” she said. It did not produce the reaction she expected: Major Canidy, she saw, was more annoyed than awed. “You should have told me that last night,” Canidy said. “You didn’t give me the chance, Sir,” she said, Jim Whittaker bowed deeply, with an accompanying sweep of his arm. “How’s that, Duchess?” he asked.
“Is that the way to do it?” She had to restrain herself from smiling at him. The rather good-looking young captain was drunk. A happy young man who is drunk can almost be expected to stare at a female bosom. Major Canidy was the unpleasant one. A question of protocol occurred to Lieutenant Jamison. “If you’re the duchess,” he asked somewhat thickly, “what are we supposed to call you? Captain or Duchess?”
“I had a dog named Duchess one time,” Captain Whittaker announced. You remember her, Dick? Great big Labrador bitch?”