"I've only been in the goddamned Marine Corps six fucking weeks!" Moore heard himself blurt and was horrified.
The consequences of making a statement like that, especially to an officer, boggled the imagination.
Sessions, to Moore's genuine surprise, did not flare back at him. He looked at him and chuckled.
"Six weeks is long enough, don't you think? Don't you think that six weeks has changed you forever?"
"Oh, Christ," Moore said, and heard himself chuckle. "Yes, Sir, I think I have been permanently changed."
"For what it's worth," Sessions went on, "I've learned that you get back from the Corps whatever you put into it. Sometimes a little more."
He believes that This man is not a fool, not one of the cretinous savages they make into drill sergeants. He's well educated-Christ, talking about Franz Kafka and Everyman at Parris Island I And he speaks Japanese, and not at all badly. And whatever this is they want me to do, it's important He really did come down here to see me from Washington.
And what happens if I say 'no'? Since it is important, then obviously they will be annoyed that I have refused So far as they're concerned, I'm a Marine and Marines do whatever they are asked, or told to do I will have, so to speak, in their judgment, let the side down. And equally obviously, the consequences of that would be very unpleasant Am I a Marine? Why do I have the insane urge to go along with this?
Possibly because he is the first man in authority to talk to me as if I were a human being, perhaps even an intellectual equal, since I got on that fucking train from Yemassee to Port Royal
Fuck it! Why not? What the fuck have I got to lose? The fuckers are right, my fucking ass really does belong to the fucking Marine Corps!
Why, John Marston Moore! Listen to your language!
"Yes, Sir," Moore said. "Whatever it is you want me to do, Sir, is fine with me."
He had no idea what sort of response his patriotic, "Aye, Aye, Sir! Semper Fi, Sir! We Are All Marines In This Together, Sir!" decision would produce in Captain Sessions, but the one he got was not at all what he expected:
"OK," Sessions said, matter-of-factly, even coldly. "That's it. But don't feel noble. What you just did made you a sergeant and got you five days at home. If you had decided the other way, you would have been on a plane tomorrow as a private."
"Yes, Sir," Moore said, more as a reflex action than a reply.
"This is very serious business, and we can't take any chances with it whatever. Between now and tomorrow, I will come up with some sort of credible story for you to tell your parents when you go home. But from this moment on, you're operating under a whole new set of restrictions. For example, you will not tell anyone that you were pulled out of boot camp and made a sergeant, or that you even met me. If anyone asks you any questions, your response will be, simply, 'I'm sorry, I can't talk about that.' Clear?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Just so that I'm sure you understand me, that includes everybody here, including Major Humphrey. Clear?"
"Yes, Sir."
Sessions got up, walked to the door, and opened it.
"Major Humphrey? May I see you a moment, please, Sir?"
Humphrey came into his office, uneasy, Moore saw, about taking his own chair behind his desk.
"Something I can do for you, Captain?" he asked.
"Yes, Sir. There are several things I'd be grateful if you would do for me. From this point on, you will consider this conversation classified TOP SECRET."
"OK," Humphrey said. Moore had the feeling that Humphrey had only with effort kept himself from saying 'Yes, Sir.' There was now a tone of command, I Will Be Obeyed, in Sessions's voice that had not been there before.
"Sergeant Moore will not be returning to his platoon," Sessions said. "I will take his service records jacket with me..."
"Sergeant Moore?" Major Humphrey interrupted.
Captain Sessions ignored him. "In the next day or two, there will be a TWX from Enlisted Personnel routinely transferring him. You are to discuss the circumstances of Sergeant Moore's departure with no one."
"I understand, Captain," Humphrey said. "Colonel Westman, the G-2, has asked me for an after action report."
"I'll go see Colonel Westman when I leave here. You are not to tell him anything. I'll make sure he understands that I'm responsible for that decision."
"Whatever you say, Captain."
"I don't want the people in his platoon, boots or Drill Instructors, discussing the unusual circumstances of Sergeant Moore's departure," Sessions said. "Do you see any problem there?"
"No, that can be handled, I think. I'll have to tell my sergeant major something. You understand, he will be curious."
"OK. Tell him that there's been an administrative fuck-up-that shouldn't surprise him-and that we're quietly trying to make it right. I would rather you talk to him than me. And also, by the time Sergeant Moore and I get on the courier plane in the morning, I want him to be wearing the insignia of his rank. Which means that someone is going to have to go to his platoon and get his gear and run the shirts and blouses past a seamstress."
"I think the Gunny can handle that without trouble, Captain," Humphrey said.
"Another practical matter. Where is Sergeant Moore going to spend the night?"
"There's a guest house. I don't suppose too many eyebrows would be raised if he was in one of those rooms. He could be waiting for his wife, or mother, whatever."
"Particularly if he went to his room and stayed there until I fetched him in the morning, right?"
Humphrey nodded.
"How is he going to eat?"
"There's a snack bar," Humphrey said.
"Could I stay there, too?"
"It's an enlisted guest house," Humphrey said.
"OK. I'll get a room in the transient BOQ. Moore, you will be taken to the guest house. Your gear will be delivered to you there. You will take supper and breakfast in the guest house. You will not leave your room for any other purpose. I will fetch you at about eight-thirty tomorrow morning. You are to make no telephone calls, or communicate with anyone but myself. I will get you a number where I can be reached. Clear?"
"Aye, aye, Sir."
"Questions?" Sessions asked.
Christ, he thought, I sound just like Colonel Rickabee.
There were no questions.
(Four)