"These officers are in San Francisco, Sir," Macklin said. "They reported in by telephone. And when I told them what was on the agenda-coming to Los Angeles-and that the question of whether they could have a leave before the tour starts hadn't been resolved, they said-"
" 'They'?" Dillon interrupted. "Who did you talk to?"
"The Captain, Sir. Galloway. He said they all had diarrhea and weren't in any condition to come to Los Angeles. Sir, I don't mean to impugn the Captain's word, but I really wonder if all three of them could be so incapacitated simultaneously."
"Have you got a telephone number for them?"
"Yes, Sir. They're staying at the Andrew Foster Hotel."
"Well, maybe the Andrew Foster is comping them, Lieutenant. I'll deal with that. Anything else?"
"Yes, Sir. There is a major problem with Sergeant Machine Gun McCoy."
"What kind of a problem?"
"He's in the Brig at San Diego, Major. He apparently got drunk and tore up a brothel."
"Christ, they're going to give him the Medal of Honor!"
"And assaulted an officer, Sir."
"Do they know about the medal?"
"Yes, Sir. Captain Jellner, the San Diego Public Affairs Officer, has told them about that. It didn't seem to change their intention to bring him before a General Court-Martial."
"OK. That's my first order of business. I'll go down there right now. Call Jellner and tell him I'm on my way."
"Aye, aye, Sir. And, Sir, I requested Captain Galloway to check in with me every morning at zero nine hundred. What should I say to him?"
"Tell him I said I don't want any of them drinking anything but Pepto-Bismol, and that I will be in touch."
"Aye, aye, Sir," Lieutenant Macklin said.
"I'll call you later," Dillon said.
"Sir, would it be appropriate for me to call Miss Wood and express our gratitude to her?"
"I'll take care of that, Lieutenant," Dillon said. "Thanks, anyway."
[THREE]
Office of the Commanding General
USMC Recruit Training Depot
San Diego, California
1215 Hours 24 October 1942
Brigadier General J. L. Underwood, USMC, looked up from his desk when he heard a knock at his open office door.
"You wanted to see me, Sir?" Colonel Daniel M. Frazier, USMC, his deputy, asked.
"Come in, Dan," General Underwood said, "and close the door."
Colonel Frazier did as he was ordered, then looked at General Underwood.
"What's up, Boss?"
"We are about to be honored with the visit of a feather-merchant major from Headquarters Public Affairs. He wants to discuss 'the ramifications of the Sergeant McCoy affair.' "
"Uh-oh."
"I think it would be a good thing if you sat in on this."
"Yes, Sir. He's coming now?"
"He's on his way."
"Has the General had cause to rethink his decision vis-a-vis Sergeant McCoy?"
"The General has decided to give the sonofabitch a fair trial and then hang him," General Underwood said. "I figure he'll get twenty years. I'm going to let him contemplate his next twenty years from his cell at Portsmouth... for about six months. And then I'm going to have a change of heart and restore him to duty as a private. I figure what he did at Guadalcanal earned him that much. But The Corps cannot tolerate staff sergeants calling officers what... what he called that MP lieutenant. Not to mention all those people he put in the hospital."
"Yes, Sir," Colonel Frazier said.
There was a knock at the door.
"Yes?"
"Major Dillon to see the General, Sir," a voice called.
"Show the Major in, please," General Underwood called, and then added softly, as if to himself, "and I don't need some feather-merchant public affairs puke to tell me about the good of The Corps."
Major Jake Dillon marched into General Underwood's office, stopped exactly eight inches from the desk, came to rigid attention, stared over General Underwood's head, and barked, "Sir, Major Dillon, Homer C."
General Underwood examined Major Dillon carefully, and reluctantly came to the decision that, public relations feather merchant or not, he looked like a Marine. Nevertheless, to set the stage properly, he kept him standing there at attention for sixty seconds-which seemed much longer-before saying, softly, "You may stand at ease, Major."
"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir," Dillon said, and assumed the position of parade rest. Instead of standing rigidly with his arms at his side, thumbs on the seam of his trousers, feet together, he was now standing rigidly with his feet precisely twelve inches apart and with his hands crossed precisely over the small of his back. He continued to stare over General Underwood's head.
"I understand you wish to discuss the matter of Staff Sergeant McCoy?" General Underwood said quietly, with ice in his voice.
"The General is correct, Sir. Yes, Sir."
"And I am to presume you are speaking for the Director of Public Affairs? He sent you here?"
"No, Sir. If the Major gave the General that impression, Sir, it was inadvertent, Sir."
"Excuse me, Major," Colonel Frazier said. "Have we met?"
"Yes, Sir. The Major has had the privilege of knowing the Colonel."
"Where would that have been, Major?"
"Sir, in Shanghai, China, Sir. When the Colonel was S-4 of the 4th Marines, Sir."
"Goddamn it, of course! Jake Dillon."
"You know this officer, Colonel Frazier?" General Underwood asked.
"Yes, Sir. In '38 and '39 he had the heavy-weapons section under Master Gunnery Sergeant Jack (NMI) Stecker."
"Jack (NMI) Stecker has the Medal," General Underwood said.
"Now Captain Stecker," Colonel Frazier said.
"He made major," General Underwood corrected him. "I can't imagine Jack (NMI) Stecker even using the term 'motherfucker,' much less screaming it at an officer."
"Begging the General's pardon," Dillon said. "It is now Lieutenant Colonel Stecker."
"Well, I hadn't heard that," Colonel Frazier said. "Are you sure?"
"Sir, yes, Sir. I saw Colonel Stecker a few days ago, Sir."
"On Guadalcanal?" General Underwood said.
"Sir, yes, Sir. Colonel Stecker commands Second of the Fifth, Sir."
"Dillon, I said 'at ease,' not 'parade rest,' " General Underwood said.
"Aye, aye, Sir. Sorry, Sir," Dillon said, and allowed the stiffness to go out of his body.
"Are things as bad over there as we hear, Dillon?" General Underwood said.
"They're pretty goddamn bad, General. The goddamned Navy sailed off with all the heavy artillery and most of the rations still aboard ship. For the first couple of weeks, we were eating Jap rations; we didn't have any of our own."
"You were there, I gather, Dillon?" General Underwood asked.
"Yes, Sir. I went into Tulagi with Jack (NMI) Stecker's battalion."
General Underwood and Major Dillon were now looking at each other.