Robert Conroy - Castro's bomb

Two hours later, a navy seaplane from Florida had gingerly but skillfully landed on the gently rolling swells and CIA agent Charles Kraeger, snug in a litter, was put in a lifeboat and transferred to her. Moments later the seaplane was airborne and Lieutenant Commander Paul Watkins was told he was going to be commended for his prompt, decisive and discreet action in rescuing CIA agent Charles Kraeger.

Vitale, on the other hand, had been told by Watkins to keep his damned mouth shut and not tell any of his little chums about the CIA spook. So far as anybody was to know, their visitor was a rich guy with Washington connections who'd gotten in trouble with the Cubans while deep sea fishing.

Second Lieutenant Andrew Ross, United States Marine Corp, walked up to Mrs. Desmond's desk. She was Major Hartford's middle-aged civilian secretary and a very nice lady who liked him, sometimes almost seemed to mother him. This made her a vast improvement over Hartford's clerk, Lance Corporal William Fleming, a plump and obnoxious little prick who thought he ran the place instead of the major.

"He'll be just a minute, Andrew," she said and motioned for him to sit down. Fleming sniffed and turned away. He liked telling lieutenants to wait and she had just spoiled his fun.

She called him Andrew and he appreciated it. He hated being called Andy. There'd been too many jokes about Amos and Andy and they just weren't funny anymore. The major's summons was unplanned and he wondered what he'd done now. His undistinguished tour of duty was almost over. In a few weeks, he'd be out of the corps and be a civilian and could get on with the rest of his life.

He grinned sheepishly at Mrs. Desmond. "Well?"

Mrs. Desmond rolled her eyes in mock dismay. "Well, as in did I find anything about the young lady? As in who is she, is she single, and would she be interested in meeting and possibly going out with a thoroughly average looking marine lieutenant with no future as a marine?"

He nodded solemnly., "As a matter of fact, yes."

"Andrew, I may have some good news for you. I do think I know the young lady, and I'll say something to her after Christmas. That is, if you can wait that long. Goodness, she's been here for a couple of months. A little wait won't matter."

"Do I have a choice? Just remember that I'm not going to be a marine lieutenant all that much longer."

"Don't I know it," she answered. "I just can't understand why an officer and a gentleman and a trained warrior and killer can't work up the nerve to just go up and say hello to the young lady. I really don't think she'd bite you."

"Because, Mrs. Desmond, I am a coward along with being a short-timer."

They both laughed and Fleming walked away in disgust.

Ross had joined the Marine Corps ROTC in college at the University of Indiana where he'd majored in accounting. ROTC helped pay the bills and he enjoyed the challenge of being a marine more than he'd hoped. He held the Marine Corps in highest esteem and, while in college, wondered if he'd be worthy of being an officer. He was, but just barely. Now, after the requisite time on active duty, both he and the Corps had decided it was time to go their separate paths.

While he never regretted his decision to enlist, he sometimes wondered at his motives. He'd been dominated by his mother and his two older sisters who always called him Andy, which was another reason why he hated that nickname. His father never said much of anything and rarely challenged the three women in the house. Andrew's father owned a men's clothing store and worked long hours. Perhaps, Andrew wondered, he worked them to get away from the women in his life.

Was becoming an officer in the Marine Corps a chance to tell them all to stuff themselves? Certainly they'd been upset at his decision and hoped he'd come back home just as soon as he got out. Fat chance. There was no way he was going back to Indiana and he especially wanted nothing to do with his father's store. His father understood and wished him well. He was counting the moments until he could unload the thing and retire.

"Lieutenant Ross, get your furry young ass in here so I can kill you!" came the familiar roar from Major Hartford's office.

Second Lieutenant Andrew Ross grinned at Mrs. Desmond who smiled back. "That's his way of saying he really likes you," she said.

Major Hartford, a bull of a man had only one tone of voice — loud. Mrs. Desmond, however, was not in the slightest bit intimidated, although most of the men in his command were.

Ross squared himself and walked into Hartford's office.

"Sit down and shut the door, Ross," Hartford said.

Ross did as he was told and wondered just what he'd done now. He fixed his eyes on the picture of Hartford's family on the shelf behind the desk. It showed a pleasant, plump woman named Edith who lived in Gitmo and two boys who were away at college. Despite the smiles in the picture, there were rumors that all was not well at the Hartford household. Like many service families, money, or the lack of it, was the cause of the serious problems. Andrew hoped the rumors were false. They were good people.

It was common knowledge that Hartford was a Marine Corp major who was frustrated that he could no longer command a line outfit. A foot injury, caused when he'd tripped over a log while leading his men on maneuvers, had ended the active part of his career. As a result, he couldn't wear combat boots and knew he looked silly in fatigues and wing tips. Now he was in charge of the supply outfit in which Ross worked controlling the budget and finances. Hartford openly hated it. This was not the career he'd planned for and he was reasonably certain he wouldn't be allowed to reenlist the next time. He'd get a medical discharge and he prayed he'd be able to keep his pension. Ross was pretty certain that the major's foot problems and career issues were affecting his marriage. It wouldn't be the first time. He genuinely hoped the two of them worked their way through it.

For all his gruff demeanor, Hartford was a very good man and he and Ross generally worked well together. Unless, of course, Andrew had screwed up again.

Hartford leaned back in his swivel chair and shook his head. "Ross, just when I've decided that you are a complete flaming idiot who probably had no human ancestors, you go and disappoint me by doing something both intelligent and decent."

"What'd I do now, major?" Andrew said, relaxing slightly.

"Taking Hannigan's guard duty over Christmas, Andrew. That's damned decent of you."

"Hell, sir, Hannigan's got family in Florida and I had no plans. Hannigan's also my friend, so it's not that big a deal."

Hartford smiled. "That and the fact that you're getting out in a few weeks and you're saving your leave time so you'll have more money once the Corps sets you free had nothing to do with it, right?"

Ross smiled back. Of course the extra money had been a consideration. "Nothing whatsoever, sir," he said with a smile.

Hartford sighed deeply. "If you weren't so totally un-promotable I would try to convince you to re-enlist and help the corps save the free world. As it is, it's probably better for all of us that you revert to being a lowly civilian. You're a pretty decent guy, Ross, but that will never cut it in the Corps, especially as an officer. They need nasty obnoxious hard-asses like me, not nice-guy accountants like you."

Ross reluctantly agreed. Even if he was allowed to re-enlist, he'd probably never make it higher than captain, which meant a career as a marine was out of the question. At one point an ROTC commission in the Marine Corps had seemed like a splendid idea and he looked good in the dress uniform. And it did help pay the bills, which were a major issue since his parents had him and his two older sisters to care for.