Knocking little clay disks out of the air with a shotgun probably had a lot to do with me being here and in one piece, instead of dead. Or wrapped in two miles of white gauze, tied up like a goddamned mummy, like Dick.
The lights came on.
Colonel Porter stepped to the lectern and tapped the microphone with his fingernail.
"Gentlemen," he said, "I have to confess-and I am sure that Captain O'Fallon shares my feeling-that it is somewhat embarrassing to have to stand here after everybody has seen proof of how Lieutenants Dunn and Pickering cleaned our clocks."
There came the expected laughter.
"One final observation, gentlemen, and then we can begin our cocktail hour. I'm sure you all noticed how brief those film segments were.
None of them lasted more than a couple of seconds. I hope you understand how that works. The cameras were activated only when the gun trigger was depressed. And Lieutenants Dunn and Pickering only fired when they were sure of their target, when they knew they were within range and were going to hit what they aimed at."
The students and some of the IPs looked at Dunn and Pickering. One of them started to applaud, and others joined in.
I wonder if I look as uncomfortable as Grandpa Bill.
"To the victor goes the spoils," Colonel Porter said. "Tradition requires that the senior officer present is served first. But I think we can waive that tonight. Waiter, would you please serve Lieutenant Dunn and Lieutenant Pickering?"
A white-jacketed waiter appeared. He was carrying a silver tray on which were two glasses filled with a dark liquid and ice cubes.
Thank God! I can really use a drink!
"A toast, Mr. Dunn, if you please," Colonel Porter said.
Bill Dunn raised his glass.
"To The Corps," he said.
Pick took a sip.
Jesus, what the hell is this?
It's tea, that's what it is! I'll be a sonofabitch!
He looked at the lectern. Lieutenant Colonel J. Danner Porter, USMC, was smiling benignly at him.
"I think," Lieutenant Dunn said softly, "that that's what is known as 'inspired chickenshit.' "
"I just hope it means we are forgiven," Pick said.
"You mean for getting drunk?"
"We paid for that by being here. What I mean is for cleaning his clock."
Dunn laughed, and then his face changed.
"I have just fallen in love again," he said. "Will you look at that in the doorway?"
Pick turned.
"That one's off-limits, Billy," Pick said as Mrs. Martha Sayre Culhane started walking across the floor to him. She looked every bit as incredibly beautiful as he remembered her.
"Lieutenant Pickering, how nice to see you," she said. "It's been some time, hasn't it?"
"Hello, Martha."
"I'm Bill Dunn, Ma'am."
"I know," she said.
"Bill, Martha," Pick said.
"Do you suppose you could get me one of those?" Martha said, nodding at Pick's tea with ice cubes.
"It's tea," Pick said.
Colonel Porter walked up.
"Good afternoon, Miss Sayre," he said.
"It's Mrs. Culhane," Martha said.
"Oh, God! Excuse me!"
"My father sent me to ask when you're going to be through with Lieutenant Pickering, Colonel. Anytime soon?"
"Why, I think the Admiral could have him right now, Mrs. Culhane."
"Thank you," Martha said. She turned to Bill Dunn. "You don't have to worry about his getting home, Mr. Dunn. I'll see that he gets there, either tonight or perhaps in the morning."
Pick looked at Colonel Porter.
"By your leave, Sir?"
"Certainly," Porter said, and put out his hand. "Thank you very much, Pickering," he said. "I hope you understand why what happened here today was worth all the effort, and your time?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Good luck, Mr. Pickering," Colonel Porter said, and then added, "Good evening, Mrs. Culhane. My compliments to your father."
"Thank you," Martha said. She put her hand on Pick's arm. "Ready, Mr. Pickering?"
A dark-maroon 1940 Mercury convertible was parked just outside the front door of the Club. It was in a spot marked RESERVED FOR FLAG AND GENERAL OFFICERS.
Martha had the driver's door open before Pick could open it for her. He went around the rear of the car and got in the front. Martha ground the starter, but then put both of her hands on the top of the steering wheel and looked over at him.
"I had to come see you," she said. "But you don't have to come with me."
"I'm here because I want to be," he said. "And besides, I thought your father, your father and your mother, wanted to see me."
"I lied about that," she said. "I lied to Colonel Porter. I told my father I was going to see... a friend of mine, and that I might stay over.
I don't think Colonel Porter knew I was lying; I'm sure my father did."
"What do you want to do, Martha?"
"I want to get it settled between us, once and for all."
"I thought we'd... I was pretty sure you had... already done that."
"So did I, but here I am."
"I don't think this is the place to have a conversation like this," he said.
"Neither do I," Martha said, and put the Mercury in reverse with a clash of gears.
When they passed out of the gate onto Pensacola's Navy Boulevard, Pick asked, "Where are we going?"
"The San Carlos," she said, without looking at him.
"Well, at least I can get a drink. That was really tea Colonel Porter gave me."
"I'm going to drop you off in front," Martha said. "You're going to go in and get a room, and then meet me in the bar."
"Why doesn't that sound like the schedule for an illicit assignation?"
She laughed. "Because it isn't. We're going there to talk. You know, I'd forgotten that about you, that you're really funny sometimes."
"We're going to talk, right?"