The colonel smiled at this. “You’re not in any trouble, Lieutenant, far from it in fact.”
“Sir?”
“Captain Summers here is from the Public Information Office. We don’t get too many mathematical doctors around here and he wants to talk to you. This comes down from on high, too, so it would behoove you to cooperate.”
“Cooperate, sir? With what?”
“Captain Summers will explain. Dismissed.”
Both the PIO captain and I snapped to attention and saluted, and then left. Captain Summers dragged me back to his office and explained. Nobody seemed to mind the paper, and nobody in G-2, Intelligence, had flagged the paper because it was letting loose the nuclear secrets. Instead, it was a human interest piece for the post newspaper and probably the Army newspaper, the Army Times, the 22 year old PhD mathematician in the Airborne artillery.
My first thought was, “You’re kidding me, right?”
No, it got better. Somebody got the bright idea that it was a really good idea for me, in my uniform, to attend the conference in February, in Washington no less, and have pictures of me being mathematical.
“Please, God, tell me you’re kidding!” I reiterated. “I’m just a soldier, for God’s sake!”
My attitude didn’t impress the PIO officer. Astonishingly enough, this joker had actually gone through jump school, just like everybody else in the division. I guess if we ever needed a press release from inside a hot LZ, he would be there to write it for us. In fact, he picked up a phone, and used his authorization code to order up a long distance phone call, and had me call Professor Rhineburg. These guys really wanted this done! I don’t know if they had somebody sitting in the professor’s office, but he was actually there and not only gave me permission to attend, he wanted me to give the lecture, with him in the audience, and not the other way around. As the Navy says, somebody had greased the ways!
I went back to the battery is a state of shock. I sat down with Captain Harris and explained what had happened. Surprisingly, he wasn’t all that surprised.
“Carl, you’re pretty unusual. You’re a 22 year old kid who has three degrees in math and jumps out of airplanes. That ain’t exactly normal. Don’t be surprised when somebody notices.”
“Sir, I am about the most boring guy on the planet. I’m just trying to do my job.”
“Well, the Army seems to think your job is going to include doing something with these scientists, so don’t try to fight it. You should have some fun with it.”
“Sir?” Fun? This sounded like a monumental pain in the ass!
“When is this thing?” I gave him the dates of the conference, the last week in February. “And who’s going? Besides you, I mean.”
I shrugged. “No idea. I guess this publicity guy, Captain Summers. Know anything about him?”
“Not a lick. So, you’re going to DC, have some fun. It’s not going against your leave, so take a few days. They want you there, have them lay on a plane or fly you there. Get separate rooms, and have some fun. There’s no lectures at night, are there?”
“I wouldn’t imagine so.”
“Lots of time after hours for some wine, women, and song,” he replied.
“Sir, I’m engaged!”
“So, I won’t tell her if you don’t. You’re a paratrooper. Just act like you’re behind enemy lines and stay out of sight. Hell, if you have to, invite her along,” he said with a grin.
I opened my mouth to protest, and then shut it. I hadn’t seen Marilyn very much since graduation, and the juices, so to speak, were backing up. She had flown out to Sill right before going back to school in the fall and that was it. I wasn’t sure where we would be, but I’d spring for the room service! “You think we could?”
“L’audace, l’audace, toujours l’audace! Now, get lost, I have work to do!”
I thought about what he said. Before the day was over, I contacted the publicity guy and asked him some details about where we would stay (two separate rooms, the Hilton near Dupont Circle) and transportation (he’d see about laying on a flight) and Marilyn (yes, she can come; no, I don’t want to know about her rooming arrangements). That night I called Marilyn to see if she could attend. It would be in the middle of the semester, but a few days in a luxury hotel might sway her mind, especially if I paid for the ticket.
And so it was that on the third Monday in February, after getting laughed at by Captain Harris and Lieutenant Brimley, and ignored by Lieutenant Goldstein, and being joked at in the cadence during our morning run, I found myself in an Air Force turboprop flying out of Pope Airfield at Bragg to Andrews in DC, along with my dress uniforms and Captain Summers. He was in the process of writing my acceptance speech for the Nobel Prize in Mathematics already, and I had to gently let him know that Alfred Nobel’s wife had cheated on him with a mathematician, and as a result Nobel hated mathematicians, and thus there was no Nobel Prize in Mathematics. I’ve heard that this is somewhat apocryphal, but it was considered common knowledge in the math business.
Marilyn was flying down at the end of classes, and would take a fair bit longer to get to Washington than I did. She would fly to New York and then catch the hourly Eastern shuttle to DC. Fortunately that landed at National, which is downtown, and not out at Dulles, at least a half hour further away. When she landed she was to call me and then take a cab in. I would meet her at the door and pay off the cabbie. It was still almost eight in the evening before she got there, looking somewhat bedraggled.
I gave her a big, long kiss, and said, “God, you look great!”
She looked in a mirror in the lobby and ran a hand through her hair. “I most certainly do not!”
“Are you hungry? Want some dinner?”
“Yes, but not until after I clean up. I think that was the dirtiest airplane I’ve ever been on!”
“You should try a Herky Bird flying out of a dirt strip,” I replied.
“I don’t know what that means and I don’t care. I want a shower.”
“Might I suggest something from room service?” I asked, waggling my eyebrows.
“That sounds delightful, but I’ll probably fall asleep.” I didn’t know if this was a yes or no, so I grabbed her two suitcases (we were only going to be there three nights, but she packed two large suitcases) and carried them to the elevator bank. Once in our room, I asked her about room service again, and showed her the menu, and she picked out a small steak. I insisted she unpack, and then called in our orders (two small steaks, medium rare, asparagus with Hollandaise sauce, bottle of champagne, chilled.) I then cleaned up the bedroom, put her empty suitcases in the back of the closet, and laid out something for her to wear to dinner.
I had the lights dimmed appropriately when Marilyn came back out. She had taken her time, too. I had heard the water shut off, but it had been at least ten or fifteen minutes since then before she appeared. She came out of the bedroom with a demure smile and asked, “I assume you wanted me to wear this?”
My heart pretty much stopped when I saw what she had on. I had managed to buy, through a catalog, a couple of nightgowns from Fredericks of Hollywood, and had packed them along. I had seen that she had a pair of white high heeled pumps in the closet, so I had placed them on the bed along with the white gown I had bought her. It was lacy and completely transparent and held together with only a single tie at the waist. She had on the gown and her white pumps and had taken the time to brush out her hair and put on some jewelry and a spray of perfume. She could have given a eunuch an erection!
I swallowed and nodded, not trusting my voice not to crack. “Wow!” I breathed out. I twiddled my fingers in a motion to make her turn around, and Marilyn slowly turned around, modeling the outfit, and more importantly, what was underneath. “The hell with dinner!” I told her, and came closer.