W.E.B. Griffin - The Corps 03 - Counterattack

The prices in the Willard were of such magnitude that few members of the military establishment, including general officers, could afford them. Mclnerney came here rarely-only when, as today, there was no way he could get out of it. He had been invited for a drink by the Hon. Mr. DiFranco; it does not behoove officers of the regular Marine Corps to turn down such invitations.

Mclnerney knew what the Congressman wanted. When the invitation had come, he had checked with the Congressional Liaison Office and learned that Congressman DiFranco had been in touch with them regarding the son of one of his more important constituents. After an initial burst of patriotic fervor that had led to his enlisting in the Marine Corps, this splendid young gentleman now found that he didn’t like the life of a Marine rifleman. He wanted instead to be assigned to duties that were more to his liking; specifically, he wanted to be an aircraft mechanic. He had apparently communicated this desire to his daddy, and his father had gotten in touch with Mr. DiFranco.

With all the courtesy due a Congressman, the Congressional Liaison Office had in effect told the Congressman to go fuck himself. At that point, Congressman DiFranco had apparently remembered meeting Brigadier General Mclnerney a number of times. He decided then to take his constituent’s problem directly to the second senior man in Marine Aviation, unofficially, socially, over a drink at the Willard.

It was not the first time this sort of thing had happened to Doc Mclnerney, nor even the first time with the Hon. Mr. DiFranco. Getting someone special treatment in the Corps because his father happened to know a Congressman rubbed Mclnerney the wrong way.

Congressman DiFranco sat down and started looking for a waiter. General Mclnerney looked again at the table where maybe Monique Pond sat with another good-looking blonde who might also be a movie star. Both ladies were with a young man about whose identity Doc Mclnerney had no doubts at all. His name was Charles M. Galloway, and he was a technical sergeant in the United States Marine Corps.

"I’ll have a dry martini with an onion," Congressman DiFranco said to a waiter. "And you, General?"

"The same," Mclnerney said, raising his glass. He was about through with his second Jack Daniel’s and water.

Congressman DiFranco handed General Mclnerney a slip of paper. On it was written the name of PFC Joseph J. Bianello, his serial number, and his unit, Company A, Fifth Marines, New River, North Carolina.

"What’s this?" Mclnerney asked, innocently.

"He’s the young man I want to talk to you about."

Mclnerney saw that the waiter was busy at the other table. He delivered three fresh drinks and a small silver platter of hors d’oeuvres.

I hope you’re having a good time, Galloway. When the bill comes, you‘ll probably faint.

"Oh?" Mclnerney said to Congressman DiFranco.

"I’ve known him all his life. He’s a really fine young man. His father owns a trucking firm, Bianello Brothers."

"Is that so?"

The other blonde, the one who was not (maybe) Monique Pond, lovingly fed Technical Sergeant Galloway a bacon-wrapped oyster on a toothpick. He chewed, looked thoughtful, and then nodded his head approvingly, which obviously thrilled the blonde.

"What he did was act impetuously," Congressman DiFranco said. "He’s young."

"How do you mean, impetuously?"

"Without thinking before he leaped, so to speak."

"You mean he now regrets having joined the Marine Corps?"

"No, not at all," the Congressman said firmly.

The blonde who was maybe Monique Pond now fed Technical Sergeant Galloway something on a toothpick that Doc Mclnerney couldn’t identify. Galloway chewed, made a face, and valiantly swallowed. The blonde who was maybe Monique Pond leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. Galloway drank deeply from his glass.

"I’m afraid I don’t understand," Doc Mclnerney said.

Squirm, you bastard.

"His father wants to get him out of the infantry," Congressman DiFranco said.

The Congressman’s unexpected candor surprised Mclnerney. He met DiFranco’s eyes.

"The kid complained to Daddy, and Daddy came to you. Is that it?"

"The boy knows nothing about this," DiFranco said.

Mclnerney decided he was being told the truth.

"I’m glad to hear that," he said.

"The boy is eighteen years old, General."

"I saw some statistics last week that said the average age of enlisted men in the First Marine Division-the Fifth Marines are part of the First Division-is eighteen-point-six years," Mclnerney said. "He won’t be lonely."

"Well, I asked," DiFranco said.

"His father is important to you, huh?"

DiFranco shrugged, acknowledging that.

"OK. I’ll tell you what I’ll do-" Mclnerney said, and then stopped abruptly. Another Marine had entered the cocktail lounge and was making his way to the table where Technical Sergeant Galloway sat with maybe Monique Pond. This one was a major. He looked familiar, but Doc Mclnerney could not put a name to the face.

The Major shook Galloway’s hand, kissed maybe Monique Pond, then looked around for the waiter. When he had caught his eye, he mimed signing the check.

"General?" Congressman DiFranco said, puzzled by Mclnerney’s pause.

"You can tell this kid’s father that you talked to me; that I was difficult about special treatment, but in the end, as a special favor to you, I told you I would arrange to have him transferred into a battalion in the Fifth Marines which is commanded by a friend of mine, who happens to be one of the finest officers in the Marine Corps. That much is for the father. For you, I will add that I will do it in such a way that my friend will not learn why he is getting this boy, and will see that his records don’t get flagged as someone who has Congressional influence."

Congressman DiFranco looked at General Mclnerney carefully.

"I really can’t ask for more than that, can I?" he said, finally.

"No, I don’t think you can," Doc Mclnerney replied. "This way, everybody stays honest."

"Then I’m grateful to you, General," Congressman DiFranco said, putting out his hand.

"Any time, Congressman," Mclnerney said, shaking it.

The waiter delivered a check to the Marine major, who scrawled his name on it, and then walked out of the cocktail lounge.

What the hell is that all about?

"Would you be offended if I cut this short?" DiFranco said. "I really have a busy schedule."

"Not at all," Mclnerney said. "So do I."

DiFranco fished money from his pocket and dropped a ten-dollar bill on the table.

"Thank you again, General," he said, and walked out of the room.

Mclnerney drained his glass and then stood up. He started to leave, but as he did, the waiter delivered the drinks Congressman DiFranco had ordered.

"Let me settle up now," he said to the waiter. The four drinks and a ten-percent tip ate up most of the Congressman’s ten dollars; Mclnerney waved the rest of the change away, thinking, This has to be the most expensive booze in town!

Then he picked up the fresh drink and walked to Galloway’s table.

"Hello, Sergeant Galloway," he said. "How are you?"

Galloway stood up.

"Good evening, Sir."

"Keep your seat. What brings you to town?"

"I’ve got a VIP flight back and forth to New River in the morning, Sir. Miss Pond and some other people. Oh, excuse me, Sir. General Mclnerney, this is Miss Pond and Mrs. McNamara."

So it is her. Of course! Now I know who that major is! Jake Dillon, the ex-Hollywood press agent. I met him when Colonel Whatsisnames parachute didn’t open.

"I thought I recognized you, Miss Pond. And of course, you too, Mrs. McNamara. I’m very pleased to meet you."

"You recognized me?" Mrs. Caroline Ward McNamara asked, surprised. "Have we met?"