"Do you think you could make it through the Japanese lines?" Banning said.
"You can't go anywhere for a while," McCoy replied.
"That's not what I asked," Banning said.
"What the hell is the point?" McCoy asked. "I think I'd much rather go in the hills for a while and see how I could fuck them up. If I go back, they'll just give me a platoon, and the same thing will happen to me as happened to those poor bastards on the beach yesterday."
"The point, Lieutenant McCoy, is that you are a Marine officer, and Marine officers obey their orders. You have two that currently affect you. The first is to leave the Philippines."
McCoy chuckled.
"Who's going to enforce that one? They'd have to come get me."
"I am," Banning said. "This is an order. You will make your way through Japanese lines and report to the proper authorities so that you may comply with your basic orders to leave the Philippines."
"You're serious, aren't you?" McCoy asked, genuinely surprised.
"You bet your ass, I'm serious, Lieutenant. You better get it through your head that you'll fight this war the way the Corps tells you to fight it, not the way you think would be nicest."
"And what happens to you?"
"I am in compliance with my orders. I was ordered to resist'the Japanese invasion. I'll continue to do that, as soon as I am physically able."
"This sounds like one of those dumb lectures at Quantico," McCoy said.
"Maybe you should have paid closer attention to those dumb lectures," Banning said.
"Shit," McCoy said.
"Has it ever occurred to you, goddamn you, that you can do a hell of a lot more for mis war as an intelligence officer than you could running around in the boondocks ambushing an odd Jap here and there?"
"So could you, Captain."
"But I can't move, and you can."
McCoy, several minutes later, asked once more: "You really think I should go back and try to get back to the States?"
"Yes, goddamnit, I do."
"Aye, aye, sir," McCoy said. "As soon as it gets dark, I'll go."
(Six)
Quarters 3201
U.S. Marine Corps Base, Quantico, Virginia
14 December 1941
Elly Stecker knew what was happening when she saw Doris Means at her door with her husband, but she pretended she didn't. Even after she saw the staff car parked behind the Means's Lincoln on the street.
"Is Jack home, Elly?" Doris asked.
"Jack!" Elly called brightly. "It's Colonel and Mrs. Means!" Then she turned and said, "Excuse me. Please come in."
Jack came to the door to the living room in his shirt sleeves.
He seemed to know, too, right off, Elly thought. But he didn't say anything out of the ordinary.
"Good evening, sir," he said.
"We've got a telegram, Jack," Colonel Means said.
"Yes, sir?"
Colonel Means took it from the crown of his cap and extended it to Stecker.
"Would you read it, please, sir?"
Means cleared his throat.
"The Secretary of the Navy deeply regrets to inform you that your son, Ensign Jack NMI Stecker, Jr., USN, was killed in action aboard the U.S.S. Arizona at Pearl Harbor, Hawaii, 7 December 1941. Frank Knox, Jr. Secretary of the Navy."
Captain Jack NMI Stecker, USMCR, stood there at attention a moment, rigidly; then his body seemed to tremble, and then the sobs got away from him. Making a noise much like a wail, he fled into his living room.
"Jesus Christ, Elly," Colonel Means said. "I'm sorry."
(Seven)
The Madison Suite, the Lafayette Hotel
Washington, D.C.
2215 Hours, 17 January 1942
McCoy pushed open the door and threw his suitcase in ahead of him.
"Pick? You here?"
There was no response. He went to Pick's bedroom and pushed the door open. The bed was made.
He shrugged and went to the bar and poured two inches of Scotch in a glass and drank it down. And then poured another two inches into the glass. He was so fucking tired he could barely stand, which meant he would not be able to get to sleep. He didn't know why the hell it was, but that's the way it was.
They'd sent him out of the Philippines on a submarine. The sub had gone to Pearl. Stopping only for fuel, he had flown directly from Pearl, via San Francisco, here. His clothes had not come off for sixty hours. And he was so fucking tired he hadn't gone to see Ellen Feller, although he was convinced that was the only way he was going to get Miss Rich Bitch out of his mind.
"Welcome home," Ernie Sage said.
She was standing in the door to his bedroom, wearing a bathrobe.
Jesus Christ, she's beautiful!
"What are you doing here?"
"You can't get a hotel room in Washington," she said. "Pick's letting me stay here."
"Oh," he said.
"When did you come back?"
"About an hour ago," he said. "Is it as bad as they say?" "It's pretty fucking bad, lady, I'll tell you that." "I was worried about you," she said. Then she raised her eyes to his: "Goddamn you, we thought you were dead!" "No," he said. "Why did you think that?" "Because there was a cable that said, 'Missing and presumed dead,' that's why."
"I was behind the lines for a while," he said. "They must have sent another cable when I got to Corregidor."
"And you think that makes it right? Goddamn you, Ken!"
"Why should you give a damn, one way or the other?"
"Because I love you, goddamn you!"
"You don't know what you're saying," he said.
"You'll get used to it in time," she said.
"I said, you don't know what you're saying," McCoy said.
She ignored it. "What happens to you now?" she asked.
"I'll get sent back out there, sooner or later."
"So we have between now and sooner or later," she said. "That's better than nothing."
"Will you knock that off?"
"Meaning 'stop'?"
"You got it."
"You didn't feel a thing? I was just a piece of ass? One more cherry to hang on the wall?"
"Goddamnit, don't talk like that."
"I want to put my arms around you," she said.
"You wouldn't want to do that, I smell like a horse."
"Just as long as you don't smell of perfume," she said. "That I couldn't handle."
"I thought of you," he said. "I couldn't get you out of my mind."
"Me either," she said. "Then what the hell are we waiting for?"
"I don't know," he said. Then he said, "Jesus, when I saw you there I thought I was dreaming!"
She walked to him and took his hand and guided it inside her bathrobe.
"No dream," she said. "Flesh and blood."
After that he forgot that he smelled like a horse. And she didn't mind.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
W.E.B. Griffin is the author of the bestselling Brotherhood of War, Corps, Badge of Honor, Men at War and Honor Bound series. He has been invested into the orders of St. George of the U.S. Armor Association, and St. Andrew of the U.S. Army Aviation Association; and is a life member of the U.S. Special Operations Association; Gaston-Lee Post 5660, Veterans of Foreign Wars, and China Post #1 in Exile of the American Legion. He has been named an Honorary Life Member of the U.S. Army Otter Caribou Association; the U.S. Army Special Forces Association; and the U.S. Marine Corps Combat Correspondents Association.