Men At War - The Soldier Spies - Men at War - The Soldier Spies Part 25
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Men at War - The Soldier Spies Part 25

"And what about your medical records?" Bitter asked.

"As I'm sure you've learned yourself, Commander," Dolan said, "the results of a flight physical depend on who gives the exam."

"Flight physical? You're flying?"

"Who would have ever thought," Dolan asked, innocently, "that you and me would wind up flying B-17s?" It was a question and a challenge, and Bitter recognized it.

"Nothing you do would surprise me, Commander Dolan," he said.

"Good," Dolan said. "You used to be sort of a starchy sonofabitch, if you don't mind my saying so." Bitter told himself that he would deal with the problem of Dolan's physical condition later. And then he realized he was Lying to himself about that.

I'm going to need Dolan, and the only way I can have Dolan is on Dolan's terms. If Dolan can'tfly, he'll simply retire again. Or ask Canidy to find something else for him to do.

"I have grown older and wiser, Dolan," Bitter said.

"Tell me about the Limey broad with the marvelous breasts," Dolan said.

"She going to stay? How'd you talk Canidy out of his Packard?"

"Canidy wanted to impress a SHAEF admiral with the car," Bitter said.

"G. G. Foster," Dolan said. "He was a prick when he was a j. g.

Watch out for that sonofabitch."

"You've seen him?"

"He was nosing around," Dolan said. "Treated me like a long-lost buddy.

He thinks this war is between the Army and the Navy. He wanted me to be a spy for the good guys. I told him if I ever saw his ass around here again, I'd turn his ass in."

"I had lunch with him today," Bitter said.

"Did Canidy say anything to you about a place called Richodan?"

"He mentioned it in passing," Bitter said.

"Pay attention, Commander Bitter," Dolan said. "Very careful attention."

"I read you loud and clear, Commander Dolan," Bitter said.

Dolan punched him affectionately on the arm.

"You were telling me about the Limey sergeant with nice breasts," he said.

"Canidy sent her to drive the car," Bitter said. "And probably to report on what I said to Admiral Foster and vice versa. Is there some place we could put her up tonight, maybe for two nights?"

"You'll be crowded, two to a GI cot," Dolan said. "But sure."

"Dolan," Bitter snapped, "I'm not sleeping with her."

"I thought you got shot in the knee," Dolan said. "What the hell is the matter with you? That's the best-looking Limey I've seen since I've been here."

"For one thing, Dolan," Bitter said. "I'm a married man. And for another, she's a sergeant." "Oh, I see," Dolan said, and smiled, and Bitter knew that Dolan thought he was a fool.

You can put an enlisted man in an officer's uniform, Bitter thought self-righteously, but that doesn't make him an officer. s.

"Come on in your office," he said. "I've got some good bourbon."

"I don't think that's my office, Dolan," Bitter said. "I'm just here to look around." "Canidy said you would be around for a while," Dolan said. "And you're senior." It didn't seem worth arguing about, and he didn't think he should refuse the drink Dolan offered when he had ushered him into the small office.

Dolan poured an inch of bourbon into two water glasses and handed one to Bitter.

"Welcome aboard, sir," he said. He drank it down neat, then raised his voice and called out, "Go find Mr. Kennedy. Ask him to come meet the new skipper."

"Who's Kennedy?" Bitter asked.

"He's the only original asshole I kept," Dolan said, then corrected himself. "He was the only one of the originals who was not an asshole, I mean.

That's why I kept him. He's a reservist, and he doesn't have much time, but he's a good man. And, considering the few hours he's got, he's a pretty good pilot." A few minutes later, Commander Bitter, watching Lieutenant Joseph P.

Kennedy, Jr. , USNR, through the hut window, saw that he was first and foremost a gentleman. Kennedy stopped by Sergeant Draper and asked at some length if he could be of some assistance to her. But finally he came into the hut.

"Joe," Dolan said, "this is the Pentagon candy-ass Canidy sent us.

He flew with Canidy and Douglass in the AVG. He got nine kills before he caught a slug. "I think maybe I better go out and come in again and report properly," Kennedy said. "I thought I was being summoned to meet yet another of Dolan's old salts for yet another tale of the Old Navy."

"So far as you're concerned, Lieutenant Kennedy, Commander Bitter is an old salt," Dolan said.

Kennedy was unrepentant.

"In that case, I suggest we go splice the main brace before we chow down," he said. "How's that for old salt talk?"

"Remind you of anybody we know, Commander?" Dolan asked.

There was obvious affection between the two, Bitter saw. That spoke well for Kennedy. Dolan, like Canidy, liked few people.

"MIT, Mr. Kennedy?" Bitter asked. Kennedy had, like Canidy, a slight Massachusetts accent.

"Across the street," Kennedy said. "Harvard."

"Commander Dolan and I will try not to hold it against you," Bitter said, offe ring his hand.

"I like your driver, Commander," Kennedy said.

"So do I," Bitter said, then realized he was sounding proprietary.

Quickly he backed away from that. "Why don't we go get a drink?" FOUR] The 503rd Composite Squadron, the name assigned for bureaucratic purposes to the Aphrodite Project, had too few officers and men to justify its own mess hall. Thus the officers and men were fed in the messes that served the B-17 Heavy Bombardment Group based at Fersfield.

Dolan's rank entitled him to a place at the senior officers' table in the mess. But because of Kennedy, who would not be welcome at the senior officers' table when they went to dinner, Dolan led them to a table in a corner.

Almost immediately, a very young-looking major and an even younger looking lieutenant colonel, both wearing high-altitude sheepskins, joined them without invitation. The colonel turned his chair around and rested his arms on the back.

"Dolan," the colonel said, "I've told you and told you that when you don't eat with me, everybody thinks you're mad at me." Dolan stood up.

"Colonel D'Angelo, this is Commander Bitter," Dolan said.

"Colonel D'Angelo is the Group Commander."

"And the base commander, Dolan," D'Angelo said. "Don't forget that."

"How do you do, sir?" Bitter said. "It was my intention to call on you in the morning." That isn't exactly true, Bitter admitted, but he rationalized that by telling himself he probably would have thought of a courtesy call tomorrow.

"Danny Ester," the major said, offe ring his hand. "I'm the exec."

"Actually, Commander, we knew you were coming," D'Angelo said.

"General Lorimer called a while ago. He said three fascinating things about you, That you are riding in a Packard. That the Packard is driven by a gorgeous sergeant. And that you were a Flying Tiger." Bitter was uncomfortable.

"Guilty on all counts, sir," he said.

"He also said I was to cooperate with you," D'Angelo said. "Do you suppose he just said that? Or have you been carrying tales, Dolan?" "No, sir," Dolan said.

"Danny," D'Angelo said, "I think it would be easier all around if you went and brought over the Field Grade Officers' sign than for us to change tables." "Yes, sir," the major said. He walked across the room, picked up the sign, and walked back with it. When the other officers saw what he was doing, there was laughter and applause. Major Ester turned and bowed deeply from the waist.

""Every cooperation, "' Colonel D'Angelo said, "and for that matter, the drinks I would love to have with you. But that's out of the question for tonight. We're scheduled for tomorrow. Unless there's anything really important?"

"That's very kind of you, Colonel," Bitter said, "but there's nothing I can think of now. Tomorrow, Commander Dolan and Lieutenant Kennedy are going to show me around.

When you get back, however, I would like to ask a favor."

"Name it," D'Angelo said.

"I'd like to go along on a training mission," Biter said. "I've got almost no experience with bombers. I've never even been inside a B-17.".

"You know how to fire a. 50-caliber Browning, Commander?" Major Ester asked.

"Sure," Biter said.

"Unless you've got your heart set on a training mission, Commander," Ester said, "there's one way to get a hell of a lot of experience in a hurry. Come along with us in the morning."

"Wouldn't I be in the way?"

"You'd replace one of the waist gunners," Ester said.

Bitter was aware that everybody at the table was waiting for his response.

"I'd like that very much," he said.

Actually, he didn't want to go on a B-17 mission in the morning.

And this bothered him a lot. He could already feel his stomach tighten with the fear.

"I'll get you a copy of the Dash-One," Colonel D'Angelo said.

"You might want to glance through it later tonight."

"Thank you," Bitter said again and smiled at him, wondering if D'Angelo could see how frightened he was.

The manual, TM-B-I 7F-I Operating Manual B-l , FAIR craft, was produced before he left the officers' mess.

On the way back to their area, Dolan said, "That was a shitty thing for that little shit to do to you. If I were you, I'd tell him to go fuck himself."

"Meaning what?"

"You've paid your dues," Dolan said. "You already know what it's like to get shot at. You don't have to get shot at while you're taking a familiarization hop."

"If I didn't go, Dolan, you know what that little shit would start saying."

"Fuck him! What do you care what he thinks?" "I'll go," Biter said. "Leave it at that."

"Aye, aye, sir," Dolan said.

There was something in Dolan's tone that annoyed Biter. And then he remembered what General Lorimer had told him about Colonel Stevens ordering Canidy grounded when he wanted to fly the photo recon mission.

"Dolan, you stay off the phone tonight," Biter said.

"What?"

"You know what I mean," Bitter said.

"Shit," Dolan said.

""Shit, sir, Commander."

"Canidy'll have my ass if you get yourself blown away," Dolan said.

"And I'll have your ass if I don't make that flight tomorrow," Bitter said.

When he got to the hut, he could see Sergeant Agnes Draper through window. Inside, he found her room and knocked on the door. She answered it with her hair down, wearing a heavy, old, and unauractive bathrobe, obviously chosen for warmth, not style.

"You'll have to amuse yourself tomorrow," he said. "I'll be spending the day with the base commander. You fixed all right for everything?

Money, in particular?"

"Yes, thank you, I am."

"Good night, then, Sergeant." "Good night, Commander," she said.