He also believed that whatever was going to happen to him-now that there was a war-was not going to happen after duty hours, specifically, after 1630, on 29 June, the last day of his leave.
When he and Ernie had arrived in San Diego at 1545 that afternoon, therefore, he had gone to the Coronado Beach Hotel, gotten the key to the room from the desk clerk, gone upstairs, had a shower, and then gone down to the bar with Ernie to have a drink and discuss with her the possibilities.
There were several of them, starting with the most likely one, that the war in Korea was so new that there had not been time for the Corps to put into effect any new we're-going-to-war regulations. In that case, Captain McCoy would be separated from the Naval service on 30 June 1950.
It was also possible that we're-going-to-war regulations had been put into effect, and the most likely result of that would be that separations from the Naval service would be suspended either indefinitely, or, as they had been in War II, for the duration of the war plus six months.
It was also possible that while they'd been off seeing Ernie's folks, and the Bannings and the Zimmermans, Eighth and Eye had come through with the determination that ex-Corporal, now Captain, McCoy should be allowed to reenlist in the Corps as a staff sergeant, or a gunnery sergeant, or a master sergeant, and that he would be sepa-rated from commissioned service, but not the Marine Corps, and he could volunteer to reenlist as a staff sergeant or a gunnery sergeant, or a master sergeant, and if he didn't voluntarily do so, be retained as a private, USMC, until a determination about what the hell to do about this guy could be reached.
Ken and Ernie had had two drinks in the bar, then walked hand in hand along the beach, and then gone back and had a very nice dinner in the hotel dining room, and then gone to their room and had another shower, this one together, and then fooled around in the conjugal bed until 2215, when he'd risen from the bed, dressed in a uniform, told his wife not to go anywhere, he'd be back just as soon as he'd signed off leave at Pendleton.
Then he'd gotten in the Buick and driven out to Pendle-ton, arriving, as he had planned, at the office of the Deputy Chief for officer records with thirty minutes to spare.
There was a master gunner and a corporal on duty. The master gunner, a portly man in his late forties, did not bel-low "attention on deck" when McCoy pushed the door open. Master gunners rarely-if ever-pay that much mil-itary courtesy to lowly captains, especially at almost mid-night.
"Good evening," McCoy said. "Where do I sign off leave?"
"What's your name, Captain?" the master gunner asked.
"McCoy."
The master gunner reached for the telephone on his desk.
"Mister, I asked you a question," McCoy said.
There was a tone in McCoy's voice-a tone of command, of I'm a captain and you're a master gunner, and you will respect that difference in rank-that the master gunner did not expect.
He had been told by Major Robert B. Macklin to keep an eye out for Captain McCoy, Kenneth R. Out of school, between old warriors, he had told the master gunner that he knew McCoy, that the Corps had finally realized McCoy should have never been commissioned in the first place, and that McCoy had reported to Pendleton for involuntary separation. He had told him further that Eighth and Eye had determined that McCoy should be offered the chance to enlist as a gunnery ser-geant on his separation.
That fact-that tomorrow Captain McCoy would either be a civilian or a gunnery sergeant-had influenced the master gunner's decision not to stand up or call "attention on deck" when McCoy had come in the office.
The master gunner now made another decision-based on right now this clown's still a captain-and let the tele-phone fall back in its cradle.
"Sir," he said. "My orders are to inform Major Macklin the moment you showed up here."
"Have you any idea what that's all about?" McCoy asked.
"No, sir, I don't. But if the captain will have a seat, I'm sure it will be cleared up in a couple of minutes."
He reached for the telephone again.
"Get Colonel Brewer on the horn, please," McCoy said.
"Sir?"
"You heard me," McCoy said.
The master gunner made another decision, based both on the tone of the clown's voice and the fact that he was still a captain, and dialed Colonel Brewer's quarters number.
He was aware that McCoy's eyes were on him.
Colonel Brewer answered on the third ring.
"Sir. Matthews. I have a Captain McCoy here in the of-fice. He asked me to call you."
"Finally!" Colonel Brewer said. "Put him on, Matthews."
"Aye, aye, sir," Master Gunner Matthews said, and held out the phone to the clown.
"McCoy, sir," McCoy said. "Sorry to bother you at home."
"I can't tell you how glad I am to hear your voice," Brewer said. "Stay right there. I'll be there in twenty min-utes."
"Sir, my wife expects me to be coming back to the ho-tel."
"Call her and tell her that's on hold; I'll explain every-thing when I see you."
"Aye, aye, sir," McCoy said, and broke the connection with his finger. He looked at Matthews. "How do I get an outside line? I have to call `Diego."
"Captain, that phone's for official business."
"You're an interesting man, mister," McCoy said. "Most master gunners I know are anything but chickenshit." He paused. "What do I do? Dial operator?"
"Nine," Master Gunner Matthews said.
McCoy called Ernie and told her something had come up, and he would be delayed; he could call when he knew something.
Matthews took the telephone from McCoy and started to dial.
"You are not to inform Major Macklin that I have spo-ken to Colonel Brewer. You understand that? That was an order," McCoy said.
"Aye, aye, sir," Master Gunner Matthews said, finished dialing, and when Major Macklin answered, informed him that Captain McCoy was in the office.
He hung up the phone and looked at McCoy.
"Major Macklin, sir, says that you are not to leave the office until he gets here."
"Okay," McCoy said.
"Captain, I'm just following my orders."
"I understand."
"Major Macklin led me to understand that you know each other," Matthews said.
"Then you probably have had a fascinating recital of my time in the Corps," McCoy said. "Yes, mister, Major Macklin and I know each other very well."
Matthews met McCoy's eyes.
"Corporal," he ordered. "Get the captain a cup of cof-fee."
Major Robert B. Macklin, USMC, and Lieutenant Colonel Peter S. Brewer showed up in the office within three min-utes of each other, Macklin first. Macklin was in full uni-form.
"Attention on deck!" Master Gunner Matthews bel-lowed when Macklin came through the door.
He, McCoy, and the corporal popped to attention.
"As you were," Macklin said. He walked up to McCoy.
"Where the hell have you been, McCoy?"
"Sir, I have been on ordinary leave."
"I spent several hours on the telephone in a fruitless search for you," Macklin said.
McCoy didn't reply.
"Get Colonel Brewer on the telephone for me," Macklin ordered.
Master Gunner Matthews dialed a number.
After a long moment, looking at McCoy, Matthews re-ported, "Sir, there is no answer."