Griffin W.E.B. - The Corps 08 - In Dangers Path

«Ordinarily, I give Naval Aviators a wide berth. They're dangerous,» Bolemann said.

«Yes, sir?»

«The reason I am not standing at the bar in there,» Bolemann said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the bar, «is a Naval Aviator.»

«How is that, sir?»

«First this idiot proved that he shouldn't have been allowed to fly airplanes in the first place by running his Wildcat into the island on the Enterprise. Then he just sat there, wondering what to do next. When I went up on the wing root to suggest he exit the airplane, its fuel tanks chose that moment to explode. I spent a year learning to walk with a stiff leg, most of it where you just came from.»

«I saw the… cane,» Weston replied, deciding just in time that Bolemann would prefer that to a reference to his Silver Star.

«I need that to beat off all the women with uncontrollable urges for my body,» Bolemann said. «Anyway, when I was in Philadelphia, I got to be pals with Kister. I started out as one of his lunatics, of course, but finally he recognized me as a fellow psychiatrist. When they finally turned me loose, they sent me here. Any other questions?»

«No, sir.»

«And Kister told me all about you, and I mean all about you, including the unwarranted—or did he say 'unwanted'?—attention you have been paying his favorite nurse, so we won't have to waste any time on that. Unless you

want

to tell me about your heroic service in the Philippines?»

«We ate a lot of pineapples,» Weston said. «That what you have in mind?»

«Ah, here's the booze,» Bolemann said as the waiter approached the table.

After the waiter had left their drinks on the table, Bolemann lifted his glass. «Welcome to the Greenbrier, Weston.»

«Thank you, sir.»

They touched glasses and Weston took a sip. Almost immediately, he could feel the alcohol. «Very nice,» he said.

«What did you drink in the Philippines?»

«We made our own beer. It was pretty bad, but not as bad as the rum we made.»

«And did all the pineapples, the bad beer, and the even worse rum cause you to have nightmares, then or since you came home?»

Weston suddenly understood that the question was not idle or bantering.

«No,» he said seriously. «Over there, I used to dream about food. But no nightmares. There or here.»

«They're nothing to be embarrassed about,» Bolemann said. «I've been blown off the wing root of that goddamned Wildcat at least a hundred times, sometimes twice a night.»

«Nothing like that, sir,» Weston said.

Bolemann looked at him intently for a long moment.

«While you are here, you will be counseled, once a week,» he said. «You just had Counseling Session Number One. Your other duties will consist of eating and availing yourself of healthy recreational activities. These run the gamut from A to B, but do not include trying to make out with either the waitresses or the wives of your fellow returned heroes. The food is free. So are the golf, swimming, hiking, et cetera. The booze you have to pay for yourself.»

«What's the pass system?»

«Where do you want to go?» Bolemann asked, and then, before Weston had time to reply, went on: «You've got it bad for Kister's nurse, do you?»

«That sums it up nicely, sir.»

«We can probably work something out,» Commander Bolemann said, and raised his martini glass again. «To Love, Captain Weston.»

«I'll drink to that,» Jim Weston said.

note 29

The Foster Lafayette Hotel

Washington, D.C.

1945 24 February 1943

In Washington, Senator Richardson K. Fowler (R.-Cal.) made his residence in a six-room corner suite on the eighth floor of the Foster Lafayette Hotel, half of whose windows offered an unimpeded view of the White House across Pennsylvania Avenue.

Living in the Foster Lafayette provided benefits he wasn't aware of before he moved in. Twenty-four-hour-a-day room service, for one thing. Sneaking people into the suite for confidential chats, for another.

Thus, when the Foster Lafayette's doorman alerted Fred, Fowler's butler, that the Director of the Office of Strategic Services had arrived downstairs, Fred had the door to Senator Fowler's apartment open when Donovan stepped off the elevator.

Fred had also been instructed by Senator Fowler to serve the liquor at a glacially slow pace.

«Good evening, Mr. Donovan,» Fred said. «Won't you please come in, sir? The Senator and the General are in the library.» He took Donovan's hat and topcoat and, carrying them in his arm, led Donovan to the library.

Both Senator Fowler and General Pickering stood up when Fred opened the door. Pickering was in civilian clothing, an impeccably tailored double-breasted pin-striped suit.

«Hello, Bill,» Fowler said, approaching him with his hand extended.

«Senator,» Donovan said, and looked at Pickering. «General,» he said.

Well, so much for my not embarrassing Colonel Wild Bill by not rubbing my general's stars in his face.

«Good to see you, Bill,» Pickering said, and walked to him to shake hands.

«What can I fix you, Bill?» Fowler asked.

«A glass of sparkling water, with a little lime, if you have it, please,» Donovan said.

Is that because he doesn't want a drink, or to set the stage for our sober confrontation ?

«Coming right up, sir,» Fred said.

«We are at the bottomless well of Flem's supply of Famous Grouse,» Fowler said. «He made sure the liquor stocks were sent ashore before he turned his passenger ships over to the Navy.»

«I can also make you a deal on the silver from the first class dining rooms,» Pickering said.

Donovan laughed dutifully.

«You kept the merchant ships, didn't you?» Donovan said. «What was that all about? Not that it's any of my business.»

«There will always be a need for merchantmen,» Pickering said. «But when I came back from Hawaii, right after Pearl Harbor, we made port in Seattle, and I had a chance to see all the B-17s lined up at the Boeing plant. They can fly to Hawaii in hours. It seemed to me that after the war, people are not going to be willing to spend weeks on a ship—no matter how comfortable—when they can get where they have to go in hours.»

«In other words, buy Boeing stock?»

«I have. And Lockheed, after I saw drawings of a four-engine transport Howard Hughes wants to make that will carry fifty people across oceans at three hundred miles an hour.»

«And what do you think of his wooden airplane? That will carry two hundred and fifty people? Or is it three fifty? Or so he says.»

«I heard about that,» Pickering said. «I haven't seen it, but my gut reaction would be to bet on Howard Hughes. I would be surprised if it doesn't work as promised. But to answer your question, I was delighted to sell the government my passenger ships. I kept the merchantmen because I thought P&FE could operate them more efficiently than the Navy could.»

«And you're probably right,» Donovan said, then switched over to the real point of the meeting. «I have something to say to you, Pickering. And not because of the circumstances. I was wrong when I didn't offer you an assistant directorship when you came to see me.»

«We were not mutual admirers,» Pickering said. «If the shoe had been on my foot—«

«The matter is now out of our hands, isn't it?» Donovan said.

«It would seem that way,» Pickering said.

«Is this the appropriate time for me to say 'welcome'? Or maybe, if an old soldier can get away with saying this, 'welcome aboard'?»

«Thank you very much, sir,» Pickering said, and offered his hand again.

«You see?» Fowler said. «It's like going to the dentist. Once you sit down in the chair and open your mouth, it's not nearly as bad as you imagined.»