"I'll be damned," the Commanding General, USFIP, said.
"Now let's see if we can get this sonofabitch on the air," Sergeant Koffler said, and put the earphones on his head.
[SEVEN]
Rocky Fields Farm
Bernardsville, New Jersey
2315 Hours 25 December 1942
When the telephone rang, Miss Ernestine Sage had been standing for ten min-utes, in her bathrobe, before the fireplace in the living room, leaning on the mantelpiece, toying with a poker at the vestiges of the fire that had blazed all day. She and her parents had gone to bed over an hour before.
In a transparent effort to cheer her up, her father had kept the house filled with friends on Christmas Eve, and with a dinner for twelve on Christmas Day.
"It's been a long day for everybody," her father had announced, "and getting to bed early won't do anyone any harm."
Unable to sleep, she'd tossed around for a long time, then left the bed, wrapped herself in a bathrobe, and went downstairs. There she'd fixed herself a stiff drink and swallowed deep, then set the glass on the mantelpiece of the fireplace.
She walked quickly to the telephone, feeling sick.
That has to be bad news. Why the hell else would anyone call at this hour on Christmas?
"Ernie?" She recognized the voice of Captain Ed Sessions.
"Oh, no!"
"Oh no, what?"
"Oh no, what the hell do you think? Tell me, Ed. Oh, Christ, don't tell me. I don't want this goddamned call."
"Ken's been heard from," Sessions said.
"And?"
"He reached where he was going safely. They all did. An Operational Im-mediate to Knox, info us, came in just a few minutes ago from CINCPAC. I'm the duty officer here. I got it."
There was no reply.
"I thought you'd like to know," Sessions said, somewhat lamely.
"I'd like to know that you're surprised he got safely where he's supposed to go? Exactly where he got safely to being another of your goddamn secrets. And from which you'll be surprised again if he makes it safely out?"
Captain Ed Sessions, who could think of nothing to say, said nothing.
"Ed, I'm sorry. I had a premonition all day..."
"Ken can take care of himself. He'll be all right."
"He said, comforting the near-hysterical female, and knowing goddamned well he doesn't know any more than she does whether or not he'll be all right."
"If I didn't mean that, I wouldn't say it. And you don't sound hysterical."
"The only reason I'm not screaming and pulling out my hair is that it would embarrass my parents," Ernie said. "My father is big on bad form."
"Ernie, Ken's going to be all right."
" 'So how's the baby?' she said, to change the subject."
"Baby's fine. Come down and have a look for yourself."
"I can't do that. I get overwhelmed with jealousy. Ken wouldn't give me one, in case you didn't notice."
"Control your jealousy and come down," Sessions said. "Jeanne would love to have you."
There was a long pause.
"Ed, I'm sorry. I've been a bitch. I very much appreciate the call, and I have no right to jump all over you."
"You can get a little excited, Ernie, but you'll never be a bitch."
"Have you a number for Pick?" she asked.
"He's living in the Peabody Hotel in Memphis, isn't he?"
"I tried there before. No answer."
"I've got his squadron number here someplace. Hold on." She heard the phone being laid down, and then he came back on the line and gave her a num-ber. "Maybe they can help," he said.
She heard another telephone ringing, so she knew he was not trying to get rid of her when he said, "Ernie, I have to go."
"Good night, Ed. Merry Christmas. Thank you. Happy New Year."
"Why don't you come down for New Year's? Think about it," he said, and then the line went dead.
"Newton 4-6761, Newton 4-6761," she repeated over and over until she searched for and found a pencil and could write it down. Then she dialed the operator, said, "Long distance, please. In Memphis, Tennessee, Newton 4-6761"
"Is this call necessary?" the operator asked, in compliance with the gov-ernment policy to lower the incidence of long-distance calls in order to keep lines free for essential war-connected business.
"No. I'm a Nazi spy trying to tie up the lines so that we'll lose the war," Ernie said.
"Is this call necessary?" the operator repeated.
"Yes, it is."
The phone was answered on the second ring.
"VMF-262, Sergeant Cadman, charge of quarters speaking, SIR!"
"I'm trying to locate Lieutenant Pickering."
"Hold on, Ma' am," Sergeant Cadman said, and she heard the phone being laid down, and then, faintly, "For you, Sir. A lady."
"Lieutenant Pickering."
"Relax, you don't have to marry me, at least right now."
"Well, God, that's a relief. I'm much too young for that sort of responsi-bility. What's up?"
"What are you doing in-what is that, your office?-at this time of night?"
"Well, before I was summoned to the telephone, I was trying to sleep. I've got the duty."
"You can sleep on duty?"
"There's a cot. What's up, Ernie?"
"Ed Sessions just called. Ken got wherever he went safely. Just where that is being another goddamned secret."
"If they won't tell you where he is, he's probably in the Philippines," Pick Pickering said.
"The Philippines? My God, the Japanese have captured the Philippines!"
"On reflection, I don't think I should have said what I just said."
"Well, you can't leave me hanging, damn you!"
"If you insist on swearing at me, I'll never marry you, Ernie."
"Damn you, Pick!"
"I really don't know what I'm talking about. But Dad wrote Mom-and she told me-that he was trying to help some guerrillas in the Philippines-"
"Gorillas? As in King Kong? What are you talking about?"
"Guerrillas, with a 'u' and an 'e.' Irregular troops operating behind enemy lines. That sounds right down the Killer's line."
"Oh, my God!"
"Hey, Ernie. Don't underestimate him. He's one hell of a Marine."
"Oh, yeah!" she said sarcastically.
"Ernie, I'd love to chat, but this is an official line, and Little Billy Dunn, my noble squadron commander, is celebrating the joyous Yuletide season by taking our guys up to teach them how to fly in the dark."
"On Christmas Eve, Christmas Day night?"
"Some of them shouldn't be trusted with a tricycle, much less a Corsair. He may have to call."
"Billy has people flying tonight?" she asked incredulously.
"Write this down, Ernie. There's a war on."
"And I'm being hysterical, right?"
"You said it, not me. Ken will be all right, Ernie. And if he isn't, at least you get to marry me."
"You sonofabitch, you!" she flamed.
"Now there's my girl, back to normal. Nightie, night, Ernie!"