Robert Conroy - 1942

“First of all, Colonel, you will keep your rank. It’s now permanent, and you deserve it.”

“Thank you, sir.” A year ago Jake had been an overage captain. Now he was a full colonel, with prospects for additional advancement.

“I wish you to work here in the Pentagon for about six months, providing us with as much insight as you can regarding the Japanese way of war. After that, you will be sent to England to serve with those who are planning future actions against the Nazis. It is most likely that you will be serving in an intelligence and security capacity. Because of your knowledge of Magic, you will not be given a combat command.”

Jake was slightly surprised, but not disappointed, at not getting a combat command. He’d had his fill of fighting. “Then I will not be returning to the Pacific?”

“No. The land war portion of the Pacific campaign will belong to the marines and General MacArthur, with the marines probably bearing the brunt of it. Your penchant for honest evaluations and assessments would not serve you well there. MacArthur’s staff includes officers who tell him what he wishes to hear. They would destroy you. Eisenhower is probably going to command in England. He is an honest man who can handle bad tidings. He doesn’t like them any more than the next man, but he can deal with them.”

“Yes, sir.”

Marshall stood. The interview was over. “Take a couple of weeks’ leave time, Colonel. You deserve it, and that’s an order.”

Jake grinned. “Thank you, sir.”

“Oh, and you’re going to get a medal. No one’s decided which one yet, but a Silver Star is very likely.”

Jake found it difficult to speak. “Thank you, sir,” he finally managed.

In the hallway, Alexa took his arm. She was wearing a blue dress that must have been several years old since it covered much of her magnificent legs.

“How did it go?” she asked.

“I have two weeks off, six months here, and a future. Oh yeah, I’m getting a medal.”

She squeezed his arm. “Excellent summary. I can see why the military likes you. Take me to dinner and fill me in on the details.”

“All right.”

“Here’s a summary of my own. You have two weeks. Marry me.”

Jake took a deep breath. He loved her, and they’d discussed marriage a number of times, although without coming to any conclusions. “Are you sure?”

“You’re a colonel with medals, and that’ll dazzle my relatives. Soon you’ll be a general, and that will knock them on their elegant cans. Besides, my dearest Jake, I love you very much, and, after all we’ve been through, do you think I give a shit? I want to be called Mrs. Novacek, and I want to have a little Jake on the way before you go to England.”

Jake laughed. How the hell had she known he was going to England? Magic?