"How did he do that?" Carstairs asked.
"There's a story going around that every time the Yankees started out for here from Mobile, their boats seemed to blow up," Dunn said.
"How big is it?" Pick asked.
"Right at a hundred thousand acres," Dunn said. "Most of it in timber now. You ever hear of the boll weevil?"
"No," Pick admitted.
"Up in Dale County, they built a monument to the boll weevil," Dunn said. "Right in the center of town. Everything down here used to be cotton. The boll weevil came along and ate all the cotton, and we had to find something else to do with the land. We put ours in timber. And pecans. We have twelve hundred acres in pecans. And we're running some livestock. Swine, sheep, and cattle. You can graze cattle in pecan groves, get double use of the land."
"I would never have pegged you for a farmer," Pick said.
"My brothers are farmers," Dunn said. "Before I went in the Corps, they hadn't made up their minds what I was going to be. The only thing they knew was that I wasn't cut out to be a farmer. Now I'm not so sure. This all looks pretty good to me, now that I'm home."
"Yours was a pretty spectacular homecoming, Mr. Dunn," Carstairs said.
"He said, preparatory to dropping the other shoe," Pick said. Carstairs gave him a dirty look. "I would like to apologize for calling you Captain Mustache, and thank you for driving us over here," Pick went on.
"Count me in on that," Dunn said. "I have the feeling that light colonel can be a real nasty sonofabitch."
"It doesn't behoove lieutenants, Mr. Dunn," Carstairs said, "to refer to a lieutenant colonel as a 'real nasty sonofabitch' in the hearing of a captain who works for the nasty sonofabitch."
"Yes, Sir," Dunn said. "Can I infer from your presence that all has not been forgiven?"
"Forgiven, no. But there is an opportunity offered for you to make amends."
"And what if we're unrepentant?" Pick asked.
"Let me put it this way, Mr. Pickering," Carstairs said. "I spent the morning delivering 'reply by endorsement' letters to the officers Colonel Porter found drinking beer in the Club yesterday afternoon; these letters asked them to explain why they weren't whitewashing rocks, or doing something else useful, when they were through with their last student of the day."
"Fuck him," Pick said. "If you're suggesting he'll write our CO, even our MAG commander, telling him we were a little tight, let him."
"The letter would go to your new MAG commander, Mr. Pickering, not your old one."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"You don't know, do you?" Carstairs said. "You two are not going back to your squadrons. None of the Guadalcanal aces are. You're going to train new fighter pilots. Here. I mean in the States. Probably at Memphis, I would guess."
"How do you know that?"
"Take my word for it. My orders to Memphis were canceled. I'm going to the Pacific. The Corps seems to feel the new generation of fighter pilots should be trained by people with combat experience, and not by those of us they've kept around the States until now."
"Oh, shit," Dunn said.
"It could be worse than teaching fighter pilots in Memphis or Florida, Mr. Dunn. It could mean teaching basic flight here-sitting in the backseat of Yellow Perils, and whitewashing rocks when you're through with the day's flying."
"He'd do that to us?" Pick asked.
"In a word, Mr. Pickering, you can bet your ass he would."
"How do we make amends? Kiss his ass at high noon in front of the O Club?"
"Colonel Porter feels that it would be educational-perhaps even inspirational-if you were to speak to the Marine Aviators and the Marine students here. And he sent me to ask if you would, for the good of The Corps, be willing to give up one day of your well-earned leave for that noble purpose."
"Or else he writes the reply-by-endorsement letters, right?" Pick asked.
"That sums it up neatly, Mr. Pickering."
"Or has us assigned here flying students in goddamn Yellow Perils," Dunn said.
"Precisely, Mr. Dunn. Or both. I don't suppose you really give a damn, but one of those letters would probably derail the promotion I'm sure The Corps has in mind for someone who's been a squadron exec and has the Navy Cross."
"Fuck a promotion!"
"You don't mean that, Billy," Pick said, and looked at Carstairs. "When?"
"Colonel Porter suggests the day after tomorrow, if that would be convenient. It will take me that long to set it up."
"What are we supposed to talk about?" Pick said.
"What you would have liked to hear when you were about to get your wings. About the Zero, for example. How do you fight the Zero?"
"If it's one Wildcat and one Zero," Dunn said, "you run. You're outnumbered."
Pick laughed. "Very well said, Mr. Dunn."
"Unfortunately, I didn't say it first," Dunn said. "Joe Foss... you remember Foss, Captain Foss? From out west someplace... ?" Pick nodded. "That's his line."
"Is it that bad?" Carstairs asked.
"It's that bad," Dunn said. "The Zero is one hell of an airplane."
"Then that's what you talk about," Carstairs said. "This inspirational speech of yours will take place at Corey Field commencing at 0800 the day after tomorrow. I'll send a car for you-"
"There's wheels here," Dunn interrupted. "I know where Corey Field is."
"I think the Colonel expects that you will appear in the prescribed uniform, which means with brimmed cover, and wearing your decorations."
"I don't have one of those hats," Pick said.
"Me either," Dunn said.
"Then if you will each give me your head size, and... I think they're $21.95... I will buy them for you at the sales store and have the corporal bring them to you."
"Yes, Sir," Dunn said. "Thank you."
"What I will do," Carstairs said, "is pick you up here at 0700. If you want to follow me over to Corey in your car, fine. That would spare me another trip here to bring you back."
"I know where Corey Field is," Dunn said. "You don't have to come over here."
"That wasn't a suggestion, Mr. Dunn," Carstairs said. "This is The Marine Corps. I am a captain, and you are a lieutenant, and I say what we are going to do, and you say, 'Aye, aye, Sir.' "
"Aye, aye, Sir."
"Now that we have our business out of the way, do you suppose I could have another Bloody Mary?" Carstairs asked.
"Won't Colonel Whatsisname be looking for you?" Pick asked.
"If the nasty sonofabitch thinks it took me all afternoon to find you two, why should I correct him?"
They were on their third Bloody Mary when, almost together, two automobiles appeared in the long driveway under the arch of the enormous live oaks. One was an Oldsmobile sedan, the second a Plymouth convertible.
"Unless I'm mistaken," Dunn said, "here comes the paratroops."
"In two cars?" Pick asked.
"You ever go to see the Andy Hardy movies?" Dunn asked, and then went on without waiting for a reply. "You remember when Andy Hardy got a Plymouth like that when he graduated from high school? Sue-Ann thought it was darling, so Mr. Pendergrast bought her one."
The cars came closer.