W.e.b. Griffin - The Corps II - CALL TO ARMS

(Three)

Temporary Building T-2032

The Mall

Washington, D.C.

1230 Hours, 7 January 1942

McCoy's encounter with Colonel Wesley was not what he really expected. The meeting was clearly not Wesley's idea; he had simply been ordered to have a look at the kid. Thus at dinner Wesley practically ignored him; what few questions he asked were brief and obviously intended to confirm what he had decided about McCoy before he met him.

Despite what Rickabee had said about the importance to the Corps of checking on Carlson, McCoy didn't want the job. Even the COI seemed like a better assignment. With a little bit of luck, McCoy decided, Colonel Wesley would be able to convince the unnamed general officer that McCoy was not the man for it.

He was a mustang second lieutenant. The brass would not entrust to a mustang second lieutenant a task they considered very important to the Corps.

But just before he went to sleep in a bedroom overlooking the snow-covered golf course, he had another, more practical, thought. He could get away with spying on this gone-Chink lieutenant colonel for the same reasons Colonel Wesley didn't think he could carry it off: because he was a mustang second lieutenant. Wesley would send some Palace Guard type out there, some Annapolis first lieutenant or captain. If Colonel Carlson was up to something he shouldn't be, he sure wouldn't do it with an Annapolis type around. Carlson would not be suspicious of a mustang second lieutenant; but if he hadn't really gone off the deep end, he would wonder why an Annapolis-type captain was so willing to go along with his Chinese bullshit.

In the morning, Captain Sessions told him to stick around the house until he was summoned, and then Sessions drove to work.

He tried to keep out of the way, but Mrs. Sessions found him reading old National Geographic magazines in the living room, and she wanted to talk. The conversation turned to Ernie Sage and ended with him calling her on the phone, so Mrs. Sessions could talk to her.

They had no sooner hung up than the phone rang again. It was Captain Sessions. He told McCoy to meet him outside Building T-2032 at half-past twelve.

When he got there, five minutes early, Captain Sessions was waiting for him. He was wearing civilian clothing.

"Would it be all right if we used your car again, Killer?" Sessions asked.

"Yes, sir, of course." McCoy said.

When they were in the car, McCoy looked at Sessions for directions.

"Take the Fourteenth Street Bridge," Sessions ordered.

Twenty- five minutes later, they turned off a slippery macadam road and drove through a stand of pine trees, and then between snow-covered fields to a fieldstone farmhouse on top of a hill. As they approached the house, McCoy saw that it was larger than it appeared from a distance. And when, at Sessions's orders, he drove around to the rear, he saw four cars: a Buick, a Ford, and two 1941 Plymouth sedans, all painted in Marine green.

"It figures, I suppose," Sessions said dryly, "that the junior member of this little gathering has the fanciest set of wheels."

McCoy wasn't sure whether Sessions was just cracking wise, or whether there was an implied reprimand; second lieutenants should not drive luxury convertibles. He had bought the LaSalle in Philadelphia when he had been ordered home from the 4th Marines in Shanghai. He had made a bunch of money in China, most of it playing poker, and he had paid cash money for the car. He'd bought it immediately on his return, as a corporal, before he had had any idea the Corps wanted to make him an officer.

He parked the LaSalle beside the staff cars, and they walked to the rear door of the farmhouse. A first lieutenant, wearing the insignia of an aide-de-camp, opened the door as they reached it.

"Good afternoon, sir," he said to Sessions, giving McCoy a curious look. "The general is in the living room. Through the door, straight ahead, last door on the left."

"Thank you," Sessions said, and added, "I’ve been here before."

In the corridor leading from the kitchen, they came across a row of Marine overcoats and caps hanging from wooden pegs. They added theirs to the row.

Then Sessions signaled for McCoy to knock on a closed sliding door.

"Yes?" a voice from inside called.

"Captain Sessions, sir," Sessions called softly.

"Come in, Ed," the voice called. McCoy slid the door open. Then Sessions walked into the room and McCoy followed him. There was five officers there: a major general and a brigadier general, neither of whom McCoy recognized; Colonel Wesley; Lieutenant Colonel Rickabee, in civilian clothing; and a captain wearing aide-de-camp's insignia. There was also an enlisted Marine wearing a starched white waiter's jacket.

The brigadier general shook Session's hand, and then offered his hand to McCoy.

"Hello, McCoy," he said. "Good to see you again."

McCoy was surprised. So far as he could remember, he had never seen the brigadier general before. And then he remembered that he had. Once before, in Philadelphia, after he had just returned from China, they had had him at the Philadelphia Navy Yard, draining his brain of everything he could recall about China and the Japanese Army. Two then in civilian

clothing had come into the third-floor room where he was "interviewed." One of them, he realized, had been this brigadier general. And with that knowledge, he could put a name to him: He was Brigadier General Horace W. T. Forrest, Assistant Chief of Staff for Intelligence, USMC.

"Thank you, sir," McCoy said. What did Rickabee mean when he said Forrest was "one of my admirers"?

"I don't believe you know General Lesterby?" General Forrest said, gesturing to the major general.

"No, sir," McCoy said. He looked at General Lesterby and saw that the general was examining him closely, as if surprised at what he was seeing.

Then General Lesterby offered his hand.

"How are you, Lieutenant?" he said.

"How do you do, sir?" McCoy said.

"And you've met Colonel Wesley," General Forrest said.

"Yes, sir," McCoy said.

Wesley nodded, and there was a suggestion of a smile, but he did not offer his hand.

"Tommy," General Lesterby said, "make one more round for all of us. And two of whatever they're having for Captain Sessions and Lieutenant McCoy. And that will be all for now."

"Aye, aye, sir," the orderly said.

"And I think you should go keep General Forrest's aide company, Bill," General Lesterby said.

"Aye, aye, sir," General Lesterby's aide-de-camp said quickly. McCoy saw that he was surprised, and even annoyed, at being banished. But he quickly recovered.

"Captain Sessions, what's your pleasure, sir?"

"Bourbon, please," Sessions said. "Neat."

"Lieutenant?" the aide asked.

"Scotch, please," McCoy said. "Soda, please."

Not another word was spoken until the drinks had been made and the aide-de-camp and the orderly had left the room.

General Lesterby picked up his glass.

"I think a toast to the Corps would be in order under the circumstances, gentlemen," he said, and raised his glass. "The Corps," he said.

The others followed suit.

"And under the circumstances," Lesterby said, "to our oath of office, especially the phrase 'against all enemies, foreign and domestic.'" He raised his glass again, and the others followed suit.

Then he looked at McCoy.

"Obviously, you're a little curious, McCoy, right? Why I sent my aide-de-camp from the room?"

"Yes, sir," McCoy admitted.

"Because if he is ever asked," General Lesterby said, "as he very well may be asked, what happened in this room today, I want him to be able to answer, in all truthfulness, that he was sent from the room, and just doesn't know."

McCoy didn't reply.

"The rest of us, McCoy," General Lesterby said, "if we are asked what was said, what transpired, in this room this afternoon, are going to lie."