"And he said that what they've done has shamed him and his wife before all of their friends, and as far as he's concerned he no longer has a daughter."
"God!"
"So I told him that now that I have proof of what a sodding arsehole he is, if he comes anywhere near Brisbane today-much less near the church-I will break his right leg and stick it up his arse."
"Well said, Eric, well said," Pickering answered.
A somewhat delicate-appearing young man in clerical vestments came out of the church and walked quickly to them.
"General Pickering," he said, "the rector is ready for you now."
"Tell the bloody rector to keep his pants on," Commander Feldt said. "The sodding Americans are still practicing with their bloody machetes."
[THREE]
Water Lily Cottage
Brisbane, Australia
1845 Hours 8 November 1942
The six stiff drinks of Famous Grouse scotch after he, Colonel Stecker, Commander Feldt, and Major Hong Song Do arrived at the cottage, added to considerable champagne at the reception for Staff Sergeant and Mrs. Stephen M. Koffler, USMCR, had left Brigadier General Fleming Pickering much mellower than he'd been earlier, in the dungeon.
"Did I ever tell you, Jack, that Patricia and I really hoped that Pick would one day marry Ernie Sage?"
"I don't know who you're talking about," Jack Stecker replied, confused.
"It sounds like he wanted his son to marry a poufter, is what it sounds like," Commander Feldt said. "Pickering, old sod, you're as tight as a tick."
"Ernie Sage is one of the most beautiful, charming young women I have ever known," Pickering declared indignantly, if somewhat thickly. "For a local reference, Eric, she is now... how shall I put this?... romantically involved with Killer McCoy."
"Romantically involved?" Feldt inquired. "What the bleeding fuck is that? Why isn't the Killer fucking her, if she's so sodding beautiful?"
"Because he is a Marine officer and a gentleman, Eric," Pickering said solemnly. "Marine officers do not fuck. They spread pollen, in a gentlemanly fashion."
"You ever hear the story, Flem?" Colonel Stecker asked; he was about as mellow as General Pickering. "The one about the Marine second lieutenant in Paris in 1917?"
"Which story about which second lieutenant would that be?" General Pickering inquired, carefully pronouncing each syllable.
"He was down on the Pigalle," Stecker said, "and the Mam'selle, who already noticed that he had a month's pay in his pocket, did not mention money until the act was done."
"The spreading of the pollen, you mean, Colonel?" Major Hong Do asked.
"Exactly," Colonel Stecker replied. "But finally, she said, 'Mon Lieutenant. The act is over and soon you shall leave. With great regret I have to bring up the subject of money.' To which he replied, 'Mam'selle, I am an officer of the United States Marine Corps. Marine officers do not take money for rendering a public service.' "
"I like the Killer," Feldt said.
"That was a terrible joke, Colonel, with due respect," Pluto said.
"I'm still trying to figure out Daphne's father," Pickering said.
"He's a sodding arsehole," Feldt said. "Leave it at that."
"I thought it was pretty funny," Stecker said.
"Where is the Killer now, Pickering?" Feldt asked. "I liked that lad."
"Why do they call him 'Killer'?" Pluto inquired.
"He is apparently very good at killing people, which is why Eric likes him," Pickering replied.
"Pickering, I keep asking where the Killer is, and you keep going deaf on me," Feldt said, almost plaintively.
"I suppose he's in Washington," Pickering said. "I'm thinking very seriously of sending him to the Philippines."
"What for?" Stecker asked.
"I am constrained to remind you," Pluto announced solemnly, "that that subject is classified."
"Our own personal Japanese spy having been heard from," Feldt said, "and I hope ignored, please answer the sodding question."
"I am not a fucking Jap spy," Pluto said righteously. "I am a Korean spy."
"There's an Army officer there, on Mindanao, who's set up some sort of guerrilla operation," Pickering said. "I think it's worth looking into. So does Leahy."
"Admiral Leahy?" Stecker asked, and when Pickering grunted, he continued, "To what end?"
"To see if they're capable of doing any damage, that sort of thing."
"Seven to one, sometimes ten to one," Stecker said.
"I'll cover that," Feldt said. "What are you betting on?"
"What do you mean, Jack?" Pickering asked. "Seven to one?"
"A reasonably well led guerrilla force can tie down forces at least seven times its own strength," Stecker said. "Often more. We had a hell of a time in Nicaragua, and we outnumbered them more than ten to one. Good fighters, the little brown bastards."
"That's right, you were in Nicaragua, weren't you?"
"Where is Nicaragua?" Feldt asked.
"It is one of the seven moons of Jupiter," Pluto answered.
"Everybody was in Nicaragua," Stecker said. "Chesty Puller, Lou Diamond, just about everybody who was in The Corps between the wars found himself chasing banditos, or guerrillas, at one time or another.
"Pluto," Feldt asked, almost lovingly, "are you well versed in that jiujitsu business, or can I tell you to go sod yourself?"
Pluto leapt to his feet and waved his arms around, mimicking as best he could an Oriental character he had once seen in a Charley Chan movie. "At your peril, Commander Feldt! My hands are lethal weapons!"
"Pluto, sit down before you fall down," Pickering ordered. Then he turned to Stecker again. "And we had trouble with guerrillas in the Philippines, didn't we, Jack?"
"The Corps and the Army did," Stecker said. "That's where the.45 caliber round came from, you know."
"No, I didn't," Feldt said. "Forty-five caliber round what?"
"The pistol cartridge," Stecker said. "The standard sidearm was the.38. The Filipinos-mainly the Moros-used to come out of the bush swinging machetes. The.38 round just wouldn't put them down. The.38 bullet just wasn't heavy enough. So they came up with the.45. There's not much a 230-grain.45 bullet won't put down with one shot."
"Pickering, this old mate of yours is a sodding encyclopedia of military lore, isn't he?" Feldt asked.
"Yes, I suppose he is," Pickering said.
"Commander," Stecker said, "are you familiar with arm wrestling? I think I'd like to break your wrist."
"Oh, you would, would you?"
"We are not going to start breaking up the furniture," Pickering announced.
It was too late. Commander Feldt and Colonel Stecker were already removing the candelabra from a small table suitable for arm wrestling.
[FOUR]
=TOP SECRET=
Eyes Only - Captain David Haughton, USN
Office of the Secretary of the Navy
DUPLICATION FORBIDDEN
ORIGINAL TO BE DESTROYED AFTER ENCRYPTION AND TRANSMITTAL TO SECNAV
FOR COLONEL F. L. RICKABEE
OFFICE OF MANAGEMENT ANALYSIS
Brisbane, Australia
Monday 9 November 1942
Dear Fritz: