The Supreme Commander was far less splendidly uniformed than his guests. He wore khakis faded and softened by many washings. He had a long, thin, black cigar in his mouth.
"Fleming, my dear fellow!" he said.
"Good evening, Sir," Pickering said. "Mrs. MacArthur..."
"Jean, please, Fleming."
"... You both know Colonel Stecker and Lieutenant Hart. May I present Captain James Weston, USMC, late G-2 of United States Forces in the Philip-pines?"
Suddenly not at all sure whether this was specified by regulations for such an occasion, Weston saluted.
MacArthur returned it, then put out his hand. When Weston took it, MacArthur put his left hand with his right and squeezed Weston's hand emo-tionally.
"My wife and I thank you for finding time for us, Captain," he said. "I'm sure that you're anxious to return to the United States, to the bosom of your family and friends. Jean, this is the young officer I've been telling you about."
"Good evening, Captain," Jean MacArthur said, and offered her hand.
"How do you do?"
"My wife and I, Captain, as you can certainly understand, are hungry for any word of the Philippines."
"I'll be happy, Sir, to tell you what I can. But that isn't much."
The orderly appeared.
"Will you raise a glass with us, Captain?" MacArthur asked. "Is your physical condition such that..."
"They've just given him a clean slate, General," Pickering answered for him. "He's undernourished, of course, but that was to be expected."
"In that case, Captain, what can Manuel fix you?"
"Scotch, please, Sir. Scotch and water."
"Through General Pickering's generosity, we have a more-than-adequate supply of scotch," MacArthur said. "Famous Grouse all around, please, Man-uel."
El Supremo hasn't said anything about the beard, Pickering thought. I'm sure he's noticed it. Is he just being gracious, or indulgent?
"The beard, I presume, is on medical advice?" MacArthur asked.
There he goes again. I really think El Supremo can read my mind.
"He kept his beard on my orders, actually," Pickering said.
"Indeed?" MacArthur said.
"It occurred to me that Captain Weston would probably find himself being debriefed by one of Colonel Donovan's people," Pickering said. "And I thought-"
"What made you think Colonel Donovan would wish to debrief him?" MacArthur interrupted.
"Just a gut feeling," Pickering said, "and sure enough, shortly after the operation was launched, I received a radio from his deputy-oddly enough an old acquaintance of mine, a lawyer, named L. Stanford Morrissette-asking me to arrange for any of General Fertig's people we brought out to be de-briefed by the OSS here as soon as possible."
The white-jacketed orderly passed around a silver tray holding glasses dark with scotch.
MacArthur raised his glass.
"If I may, gentlemen, three toasts. First, to this valiant young officer, who did what I truly would have exchanged my life to do-disobeyed my orders to seek safety and continued the fight."
"Hear, hear," Pickering said, and the others joined in. Weston looked un-comfortable.
"Second, to the valiant warriors," MacArthur said, "Filipino and Ameri-can, still in the Philippines."
"Hear, hear," Pickering said again, and they all sipped their drinks.
"And finally, to victory!"
"Hear, hear," Pickering repeated a third time. He sipped his drink.
"If I may, General-it seems we left them out," Pickering said. "To Gen-eral Wendell Fertig, and U.S. Forces in the Philippines."
"I had, I hoped, included Fertig and his men in my toast," MacArthur said, a tone of annoyance in his voice. "But, by all means, we should toast our irregular forces in the Philippines, and their commander."
Pickering, restraining the urge to smile, thought: God, he's magnificent. He's unable to call Fertig "General" but USFIP has instantly become, in the regal sense, "our"-read "my"-"irregular forces."
MacArthur took a sip from his glass, set it down, and turned to Pickering.
"I heard from your friend Morrissette, too," he said. "Complaining of inadequate communications between the OSS in Washington and here. He asked if there wasn't some special communications channel to which his peo-ple could be given access." He paused significantly, and smiled. "I politely replied that the only special communications channel I knew of was controlled by you, Fleming."
"Then I shall doubtless be hearing from Morrissette again," Pickering said.
"And what will you tell him?"
"A wise old friend once told me that the greatest danger involved with the OSS was letting the camel's nose work its way under the tent flap, General," Pickering said. "If the question comes up, I shall keep that wise observation in mind."
"You are suggesting that you have had personal proof that what this wise, old-but unnamed-friend warned you about the dangers of the intrusive nose of an ugly dromedary was true?"
"I would be very surprised if my wise, anonymous old friend didn't know that already," Pickering said.
"I understand that you took at least one more officer on your operation than you had originally planned for?"
"Just one more, General."
MacArthur chuckled.
"Excuse us, Jean, and gentlemen," MacArthur said. "A private joke be-tween myself and my young but growing wiser friend here." He touched Pick-ering's shoulder in a gesture of affection and then went on. "So are you going to subject this young man to an OSS debriefing?"
"I don't see how I can avoid it," Pickering said. "Colonel Stecker will take him to see the OSS Station Chief here-"
"Colonel John J. Waterson," MacArthur interrupted. "Class of '22 at West Point. He resigned in 1934, as a passed-over-for-promotion captain. He was commissioned in the reserve in 1939, and called to active duty in Septem-ber 1941. I rather doubt if he's ever heard a shot fired in anger."
There are several reasons for that little biographical sketch, Pickering thought. The first being that he wants me to know that Charley Willoughby has done his homework vis-a-vis Waterson-Know Thine Enemy is the first rule for an intelligence officer. And the second is to make sure that I understand that Waterson had something less than a brilliant career when he was in the Army, and is not a real warrior, in the sense that El Supremo and Stecker and I-and, for that matter, Weston and Hart-are.
"... Colonel Waterson, in the morning," Pickering finished.
"Before Captain Weston leaves SWPOA," MacArthur said icily, "I would very much like for General Willoughby to have the opportunity to speak with him. Would that be possible, do you think, Fleming?"
"General Pickering, Captain Weston and I spent two hours with General Willoughby and his people this afternoon," Colonel Stecker said.
That announcement surprised him. He obviously didn't know. I would have thought Willoughby would have come right to him after hearing what Weston had to say.
"Did you really?" MacArthur said, and warmth came back into his voice and eyes. "I wonder why Charley didn't mention that to me?"