«Sir, I'm afraid I don't understand.»
«Where Rutterman is going, he can perform his duties better if he has a bar on his collar,» Pickering said. «This has to do with the efficiency of the mission. Not that Rutterman isn't fully qualified to be a master gunner.»
«May I ask what that mission is, sir? What this man will be doing?»
«No. You don't have the need to know, Colonel,» Rickabee said.
«Sir, without some sort of special justification, I don't think that it's going to be possible to promote Sergeant Rutterman,» Warren said uncomfortably, looking at Stecker, who seemed to be amused by the exchange.
«There's always a waiver,» Rickabee said. «What we need from you, Colonel, is to tell us who can grant a waiver in this case.»
«Sir, a request for a waiver of this type has to go up through channels. I'll have to check. But, unless I'm mistaken, it has to be approved by the post commanderwhere the sergeant is stationed, and then by both the G-1 and the deputy commandant.»
«How about the Secretary of the Navy?» General Pickering asked. «Could he grant such a waiver?»
The Secretary of the Navy? Personally? What the hell is going on here
«That would be very unusual, sir, for the Secretary of the Navy to become personally involved in something like this.»
«If the Administrative Assistant to the Secretary of the Navy told you it was the Secretary's desire to promote Sergeant Rutterman, would that do it?» General Rickabee asked.
«Yes, sir, of course.»
«May I use your telephone, Colonel?» Rickabee asked.
«Of course, sir.»
Rickabee dialed a number from memory.
«David, Fritz,» he said. «We're at Eighth and I. I'm going to put you on the line with Colonel Warren. He's the enlisted personnel guy in G-1, and he needs the Secretary's authority to promote Rutterman.»
He handed the telephone to Colonel Warren.
«Captain David Haughton, USN, is Administrative Assistant to the Secretary of the Navy,» Rickabee said.
Colonel Warren took the telephone.
He said «Yes, sir» five times; «I understand, sir» twice; and then «Glad to be of service, sir» once.
note 43
Office of the Deputy Director, USMC Aviation
Building F
Anacostia Naval Air Station
Washington, D.C.
1115 9 March 1943
«General,» Brigadier General D. G. Mclnerney's aide-de-camp announced, «there is a General Pickering and a Colonel Stecker to see you, sir.»
«Tony, that's
the
General Pickering and
the
Colonel Stecker,» Mclnerney said. « 'A' suggests there's more than one of each, and that's just not the case.»
«Yes, sir.»
«Send them in, and then lock up the silver. I don't think they're here just to say hello.»
«Aye, aye, sir,» the aide said.
He turned and opened the door.
«Gentlemen, General Mclnerney will see you.»
They walked into the office.
«To what do I owe the honor of such distinguished visitors to my humble abode?» Mclnerney greeted them, coming from around his desk.
«You want the truth, Mac?» Pickering asked, as their handshake turned into a hug.
«If possible, that would be very nice,» Mclnerney said, as he gave Stecker an affectionate hug.
«We want to pick your brains,» Pickering said, «and eventually steal things.»
«Tony, am I flying today?» Mclnerney asked.
«No, sir.»
«In that case, a little nip is called for. Bring in the cheap stuff.»
«Aye, aye, sir.»
First Lieutenant Anthony I. Sylvester had not been General Mclnerney's aide for long. He was still on limited duty following hospitalization for injuries to his neck suffered in a bad arrested landing. But he had been around long enough to know that these two officers were somehow special to Mclnerney. He had never heard of General Pickering, but wondered if Colonel Stecker could be the near-legendary Colonel Jack (NMI) Stecker.
A moment later, Sylvester returned to Mclnerney's office with two bottles, one of scotch, the other of bourbon, the best available in the lower filing case in the office.
«I said the cheap stuff, Tony,» Mclnerney said. «I had the great misfortune to serve with these two in what used to be called The Great War—I was one of Sergeant Stecker's corporals, believe it or not. They wouldn't know good booze if they were drowning in it.»
My God, that is Colonel Jack (NMI) Stecker!
«And even then, Lieutenant,» Pickering said, «he was known for his peculiar sense of humor. That liquor will do very nicely, thank you.»
«Aye, aye, sir.»
«Lieutenant Sylvester—Tony—just came to me from Philadelphia,» Mclnerney said. «And to answer your question, yes, he knows Dick. I asked him, and he confirmed what I'd heard, Dick's doing all right.»
«You're Lieutenant Stecker's father, sir?» Lieutenant Sylvester asked.
Stecker nodded.
«We had therapy together,» Sylvester said.
«They do amazing things at Philadelphia,» Stecker said. «For a while…« He decided not to pursue that thought. «But now,» he continued, «thank God, Dick's walking around with only a cane.»
«He told me he'd been pretty badly banged up,» Sylvester said.
«Young Stecker and young Pickering were in VMF-229 on the 'Canal,» Mclnerney said. «So this is sort of a family gathering. With that in mind, Flem, should I tell Tony to pour himself a drink? Or is this visit official?»
Pickering looked uncomfortable. «I'd rather you decide later, Mac, how much Lieutenant Sylvester should know about what we're going to talk about,» he said finally.
«Okay, Tony. Out. Bar the door. Nobody but the Commandant.»
«Aye, aye, sir,» Lieutenant Sylvester said, and left the office.
«What the hell is going on?» Mclnerney asked.
«What I said. I need to pick your brains.»
«About what?»
«What follows is Top Secret,» Pickering said.
Mclnerney nodded. «Understood.»
«We're going to set up a weather station in the Gobi Desert,» Pickering said.
«Who is 'we'?»
«The OSS,» Pickering said.
«I saw that in the paper—I mean, you going over there. You too, Jack?»
«Jack is my liaison to the Corps,» Pickering said. «Unofficially.»
«When is Vandegrift going to take over? Any word on that?»
«He wants to stay with the First Marine Division until he gets it back in shape. Whenever he decides it is, he'll take over,» Stecker said.
«So you're going to have to wait awhile for your star?»
«If that ever happens,» Stecker said.
«It'll happen. Vandegrift told me it would,» Mclnerney said firmly, then looked at Pickering. «Okay, tell me about your Gobi Desert weather station. I heard the Army Air Corps was going to set one up in Russia. Same idea?»
«The Russians won't let the Air Corps in. Nimitz and Leahy want a weather station as soon as possible. Leahy gave the mission to the OSS, and Nimitz got Leahy to 'suggest' that I be given the job.»