W.E.B. Griffin - The Corps VII - Behind the Lines

"Jealous?"

"Yeah, I guess I am," McCoy said.

"Just for the record," Hart said as McCoy reached out to punch the door-bell, "I was devoutly hoping you'd be able to talk us out of this."

"Just smile and be nice," McCoy replied.

The doorbell, when pushed, caused a clang. A moment later, the door was opened by Staff Sergeant Stephen M. Koffler, USMCR. Sergeant Koffler was five feet seven inches tall, weighed approximately 130 pounds, and looked two years younger than his nineteen years.

"Good evening, gentlemen," he said, clearly having rehearsed his open-ing remarks, "please come in."

"Good evening, Sergeant Koffler," McCoy said, and thrust a brown paper bag at him. It contained a bottle of Famous Grouse scotch.

"How are you, Steve?" Hart said, and thrust a somewhat larger brown paper bag at him. It contained two bottles of "a damned nice Aussie Cabernet Sauvignon," as General Pickering said when he intercepted the two of them leaving Water Lily Cottage and handed them both bags.

"Welcome," Mrs. Daphne Koffler said from behind her husband. "Thank you for coming."

"Thank you for having us," McCoy said.

Even in her flat shoes, Mrs. Koffler was an inch taller than her husband. She had hazel eyes and peaches-and-cream skin. She wore her light-brown hair done up in a bun at her neck, and she wore only a light lipstick as makeup.

"We wanted-I especially wanted-to thank you for what you did for Steve. For the both of us."

"For the three of us," Koffler chimed in. His wife blushed.

McCoy found himself looking at Mrs. Koffler's belly. To his embarrass-ment, she was just starting to show.

"That's not necessary," McCoy said.

"If you hadn't gone into Buka, he'd probably be dead," Daphne Koffler said. "And God only knows what would have happened to me and the baby."

Christ, she sounds like Ernie. Says exactly what's on her mind. And looks you right in the eye when she says it.

"We're Marines, Mrs. Koffler," McCoy said. "We go where we're sent. Steve was sent to Buka, and Hart and I were sent in to get him out. No thanks are necessary."

"Indulge me," she said. "Let me say Thank you.' "

"OK. You're welcome. Now can we change the subject? Hart told me we're going to have roast kangaroo. Is that true?"

"No, of course it's not. We're having steak. Pluto brought some from the officers' mess."

McCoy was momentarily taken aback by the casual reference to Major Hon Song Do, and then he remembered Koffler's pregnant wife was in contact with Pluto, as an assistant to Commander Feldt, long before he was.

"Why don't we have a drink?" Staff Sergeant Koffler said.

McCoy saw that Mrs. Koffler looked a little uneasy.

She knows what's going to happen, McCoy thought. The Boy Sergeant is going to get plastered.

I wonder how they got together? Christ, she's older than he is. More so-phisticated. What the hell did she see in him? What the hell does Ernie see in me ?

I know two things for sure. Whatever the reason she let him... went to bed with him the night before he went to Buka, it's not because she's a slut. This is a nice girl. And her look just now when he offered the drink was of concern for him. She loves him.

Why am I surprised? Because he looks likes a high-school cheerleader?

The drinks Staff Sergeant Koffler provided for his guests were about twice as strong as they should have been.

"Koffler, would you break this one into two? Or three?" McCoy asked. "I would like to be sober when I eat."

Mrs. Koffler looked at McCoy with appreciation. Staff Sergeant Koffler looked at him in embarrassment, as if he had committed a terrible social blun-der.

"Koffler, I just got here," McCoy said. "It was a long trip. And Colonel Stecker had me running all day. I can't handle much liquor when I'm tired."

"I was out stealing plastic from the Army all day," Koffler said.

"What's plastic?" McCoy asked.

"I don't know what the hell it's made of, but the Army is wrapping stuff in it. It's waterproof and airtight. Just what you need for the stuff you're going to take into the Philippines."

He went into the kitchen, carrying McCoy's glass.

Jesus Christ, I don't know how this Fertig operation is classified, but it's at least SECRET, and probably TOP SECRET. It should not be casually intro-duced into conversation.

Well, I doubt if Mrs.- Koffler will spread it among the girls over coffee. I'll have a word with him later about talking too much. If he's sober enough later to listen.

Koffler returned with the drink.

"I hope this is better," he said, and turned to Hart. "Can I... make yours weaker, Lieutenant?"

"I'll just go slow," Hart said.

"Tell me about plastic," McCoy said.

"Well, it looks like a cross between oilcloth and cellophane," Koffler said. "The first time I saw it was when Pluto got the cryptomachine you're going to take with you from the Army-"

"How many other people know about the Philippine Operation?" McCoy interrupted, a tone of annoyance, or exasperation, in his voice.

"I'm not going to discuss this with the ladies during morning tea, if that's what's concerning you, Lieutenant McCoy," Daphne Koffler said.

McCoy, embarrassed, raised both hands in a gesture of surrender.

"That wasn't..."

"Steve thinks he's in the company of friends," Daphne went on firmly, again reminding McCoy of Ernie, "who have the appropriate security clear-ances. And while his wife no longer has the appropriate clearances, he believes she can nevertheless be trusted to keep her mouth shut."

McCoy looked at her but didn't reply.

"Especially since Steve wants very desperately to go with you," she added.

What did she say? He "wants desperately to go"?

"I don't think that's likely," McCoy said.

"You must know, Lieutenant," Daphne said, "that my husband is a rather determined man."

"You need a radio operator," Koffler argued. "So far the General hasn't come up with anybody. And Pluto already showed me how to operate the crypto machine."

"For Christ's sake, why would you want to go with us?" McCoy asked.

The question obviously discomfited Koffler.

"You just got off of Buka. You just got out of the hospital," McCoy said, warming to his subject. "You just got married, for Christ's sake!"

"That's why," Koffler said softly.

"What?"

"I have obligations now. Daphne. And... a family."

"And so you want to go running around in the Philippines, hiding from the Japs?"

"I want to be an officer," Koffler said.

McCoy looked at him long enough to see that he was serious, then breathed, "Oh, Jesus!"

"Lieutenant Moore was a sergeant when he came here," Koffler said rea-sonably. "He went to Guadalcanal, came back, and they made him an officer."

"Moore is a college graduate; he's a Japanese linguist, a cryptographer; and he's twenty-three years old."

Koffler didn't choose to hear the reply.

"Lieutenant Hart came here as a sergeant," he went on. "He went to Buka with you; and when you came back, they made him a lieutenant," he argued.

"Hart is older than Moore," McCoy replied. "Before he came in The Corps, he was a detective. They made him an officer because it makes things easier for the General, not because..." The absurdity of Koffler's reasoning, and the determined look on his boyish face, triggered something close to hilar-ity in McCoy's mind. "... not because he fell heroically out of his little rubber boat trying to paddle ashore on Buka Island."

"How did you get your commission?" Koffler asked. It was a challenge.

"I went to Officer Candidate School at Quantico, as a matter of fact. With General Pickering's son, incidentally. We spent six months busting our asses-excuse the language, Mrs. Koffler-to get that damned gold bar." Koffler now looked hurt and embarrassed.