"Hello, John," he said. And then, turning to the other lieutenant and the sergeant standing beside him, he added, "And look who that is! You two all right?" Pickering asked as he shook their hands.
"They let us out of the hospital yesterday, Sir," Sergeant Stephen M. Koffler, USMCR, said. Koffler's eyes were sunken... and extraordinarily bright. His face was blotched with sores. His uniform hung loosely on a skeletal frame.
That was obviously a mistake. You look like death warmed over.
"We're fine, Sir," First Lieutenant Joseph L. Howard, USMCR, said.
Like hell you are. You look as bad as Koffler.
"I'm going to have a baby," Sergeant Koffler said.
"Damn it," Lieutenant Howard said. "I told you to wait with that!"
"Funny, you don't look pregnant," Pickering said.
"I mean, my girl. My fianc‚e," Koffler said, and blushed.
"Koffler, damn it!" Lieutenant Howard said.
Pickering looked back at Second Lieutenant John Marston Moore, USMCR, and asked, "What's that rope hanging from your shoulder, John?"
"That's what we general officer's aides wear, General," Moore said.
You don't look as bad as these two, but you look like hell, too, John. God, what have I done to these kids?
"And you will note the suitably adorned automobile," Hon said.
Not far away was a Studebaker President, with USMC lettered on the hood. A red flag with a silver star was hanging from a small pole mounted on the right fender.
"I'm impressed," Pickering said. "How'd you know I was coming?"
"McCoy sent a radio," Hon said.
"Have you got any luggage, Sir?" Koffler asked.
"Yes, I do, and you keep your hands off it. Hart'll bring it." He looked at Hon. "Where are we going, Pluto?"
"Water Lily Cottage, Sir," Hon replied, as if the question surprised him. "I thought..."
"Who's living there now?"
"Moore, Howard, and me. We found Koffler an apartment, so called, a couple of blocks away."
"And Mrs. Feller?"
"She's in a BOQ," Pluto Hon said uncomfortably. "General, when we have a minute, there's something I've got to talk to you about-"
"Major Banning already has," Pickering said, cutting him off, then changed the subject. "We're all not going to fit in the Studebaker."
"We have a little truck, Sir," Moore said, pointing.
"OK. Koffler: You wait until Sergeant Hart comes ashore with the luggage and then show him how to find the cottage."
"Aye, aye, Sir."
"I'll see you there. I want to hear all about Buka."
Pluto Hon slipped behind the wheel, and Howard moved in beside him. Moore got in the back beside Pickering-somewhat awkwardly, Pickering noticed, as if the movement were painful.
Howard turned. "General, I'm sorry about Koffler. I told him not to say anything...."
"Well, if I was going to have a baby, I think I'd want to tell people. What was that all about, anyway?"
"It'll keep, Sir," Moore said. "We have it under control."
"I want to hear about it."
"You remember the last night, Sir, in the big house? Before we went to Buka?" Howard said.
"The Elms, you mean?" Pickering asked.
When MacArthur had his headquarters in Melbourne, Pickering rented a large house, The Elms, in the Melbourne suburbs. After MacArthur moved his headquarters to Brisbane, Pickering rented a smaller house, Water Lily Cottage, near the Brisbane racetrack.
"Yes, Sir. And you remember the Australian girl, Daphne Farnsworth?"
"Yeoman Farnsworth, Royal Australian Navy Women's Reserve," Pickering said. "Yes, I do. Beautiful girl."
"Has a weakness for Marines, I'm sorry to say," Pluto said. "I can't imagine why."
"The lady is in the family way, General," Moore said, not amused. "It apparently happened that last night at The Elms."
"How do you know that?" Pickering asked, smiling.
"It was the only time they were together," Pluto said.
"Well, Pluto, after all, he is a Marine," Pickering said. "What? Is there some kind of problem?"
"Several. For one thing, they threw her out of the Navy in something like disgrace."
"Well, to judge by the look on his face, making an honest woman of her is high on Koffler's list of things to do."
"She's a widow," Moore went on. "Her husband was killed in North Africa. They had his memorial service the day before she and Koffler..."
"What are you saying? That Koffler has been sucked in by a designing woman?"
"No, Sir. Not at all. She's been disowned by her family, if that's the word."
"And meanwhile, Koffler was on Buka?"
"Yes, Sir."
"How is she living?"
"Well, she had a job. But she lost that."
"I hired her, Sir, to work for us," Moore said.
"Good idea. But what's the problem? Koffler's back. He wants to marry her..."
"We're having a problem with that, Sir. The SWPOA Command Policy is to discourage marriages between Australians and Americans. They throw all sorts of roadblocks up. For all practical purposes, marriages between Australians and lower-grade enlisted men, below staff sergeant, are forbidden." (SWPOA was the abbreviation for the South West Pacific Ocean Area., which was MacArthur's area of responsibility in the Pacific.)
"No problem. We'll make Koffler a staff sergeant."
"There's more, Sir."
"I'll deal with it," Pickering said. "Tell Koffler to relax."
How I don't know. But certainly, someone who has been flown across the world at the direct order of the President of the United States to arrange a peace between the chief of American espionage and the Supreme Commander of the South West Pacific Ocean Area should be able to deal with the problem of a Marine buck sergeant who has knocked up his girlfriend.
"Does General MacArthur know I'm back?"
"I can't see how he could, Sir."
"I thought perhaps they'd sent word from Washington."
"I don't think so, Sir. Wouldn't that have been a 'personal for General MacArthur'?"
"Probably. Almost certainly."
"I keep pretty well up on that file, Sir," Pluto Hon said. "There hasn't been anything."
"Well, that at least gives me today. I need a bath, a couple of drinks, and a long nap. I'll call over there at five o'clock or so and ask for an appointment in the morning."
"There's a couple of things I think you should see, Sir," Pluto said.
"This morning?" Pickering asked.
"Yes, Sir."
When Pickering came out of his bedroom into the living room of Water Lily Cottage, Pluto Hon and John Marston Moore were waiting for him. Pickering was wearing a terry-cloth bathrobe over nothing at all, and he was feeling-and looking-fresh from a long hot shower.
In the middle of room, they'd set up a map board-a sheet of plywood placed on an artist's tripod. Maps (and other large documents) were tacked onto the plywood. A sheet of oilcloth covered the maps and documents; it could be lifted to expose them.
An upholstered chair, obviously intended for him, had been moved from its usual place against the wall so that it squarely faced the map board.