"I'm all right, Sir. And they have been encouraging me to move around."
"They tell me you're being discharged tomorrow," Dawkins said.
"I was about to tell you that, Sir, and ask you what's next."
"You've been assigned to VMF-229," Dawkins said.
"Pending court-martial, Sir?"
"No charges have been, or will be, pressed against you, Dunn," Dawkins said.
"But they don't want me back in the squadron, right, Sir?"
"I ordered your transfer to VMF-229," Dawkins said. "The commanding officer of VMF-211 had nothing to do with that decision."
"Yes, Sir," Dunn said, on the edge of insolence, making it clear he did not believe that answer.
Dawkins felt anger swell up in him, but suppressed it.
"VMF-229 is a new squadron. It was activated today. Right now, you are half of its total strength. The commanding officer is en route from the States. I assigned you there because I wanted someone with your experience..."
"My Midway experience, Sir?" Dunn asked, just over the edge into sarcasm.
"When I want a question, Son," Dawkins said icily, "I will ask for one."
"Yes, Sir."
"You will be the only pilot in the squadron who has even seen a Japanese airplane, much less shot two of them down," Dawkins said. "I want the newcomers to look at you and see you're very much like they are. To take some of the pressure off, if you follow my meaning. Additionally, perhaps you will be able to teach them something, based on your experience."
"Yes, Sir."
"I'm personally acquainted with your new commanding officer, Captain Charley Galloway," Dawkins went on. "I will tell him what I know about you, and the gossip. And I will tell him that I personally feel you did everything you were supposed to do at Midway, and then, suffering wounds, managed to get your shot-up aircraft back to the field."
Dunn for the first time met Dawkins's eyes.
"Now, you may ask any questions you may have," Dawkins said.
"Thank you, Sir," Dunn said after a moment. "No questions, Sir."
"Unsolicited advice is seldom welcome, Dunn, but nevertheless: Do what you can to ignore the gossip. Eventually, it will die down. You now have that clean slate everyone's always talking about, new squadron, new skipper. If I were Captain Galloway, I'd be damned glad to be getting someone like you."
"Colonel, I really don't remember a goddamned thing about how I got back to the field," Dunn said.
I believe him.
"The important thing is that you got back," Dawkins said.
"Sir, where is VMF-229?"
"Right now, it's on a sheet of paper in Major Lorenz's OUT basket," Dawkins said. "When you get out of here, check into the BOQ. When Captain Galloway gets here, or something else happens, we'll send for you. Take some time off. I was about to say, go swimming, but that's probably not such a hot idea, is it?"
"No, Sir," Dunn said.
For the first time, Dawkins noticed, Dunn is smiling. I think it just sank in that he's not going to be court-martialed, and maybe even that someone doesn't think he's a coward.
"Check in with the adjutant, or the sergeant major, once a day," Dawkins said.
"Aye, aye, Sir."
Dawkins put out his hand.
"Congratulations, Lieutenant, on your decoration," he said. "And good luck in your new assignment."
"Thank you, Sir."
Major Lorenz offered his hand.
"If you need anything, Dunn, come see me, or give me a call. And congratulations, too, and good luck."
"Thank you, Sir," Dunn repeated.
(Three)
U.S. NAVAL HOSPITAL
PEARL HARBOR, HAWAII, TERRITORY OF HAWAII
1535 HOURS 19 JUNE 1942
Lieutenant Colonel Dawkins and Major Lorenz left the room, closing the door after them. Dunn lowered his head to look at his Purple Heart Medal-he had seen the ribbon before, but not the actual medal-then unpinned it and held it in his hand and looked at it again. It was in the shape of a heart and bore a profile of George Washington.
He picked up the box it had come in and saw that it contained both the ribbon and a metal pin in the shape of the ribbon, obviously intended to be worn in the lapel of a civilian jacket.
"You're a real fucking hero, Bill Dunn," he said wryly, aloud. "You have been awarded the 'Next Time, Stupid, Remember to Duck Medal.'"
He chuckled at his own wit. Then he put the medal in the box, snapped the lid closed, walked to the white bedside table, and put it in the drawer. As he was closing the drawer, the door opened again.
Lieutenant (Junior Grade) Mary Agnes O'Malley, Nurse Corps, USN, entered the room, carrying a stainless steel tray covered with a wash-faded, medical green cloth.
"Hi," she said and smiled at him.
Lieutenant Dunn was strongly attracted to Lieutenant (j.g.) O'Malley, partly because she was a trim, pert-breasted redhead, and partly because he had heard that she fucked like a mink. He'd heard it so often at the bar in the Ewa Officer's Club that it had to be something more than wishful thinking.
"Hi," he replied.
He thought she looked especially desirable today. When she put the cloth covered tray down on his bedside table, she leaned far enough over to afford him a glimpse of her well-filled brassiere, and the soft white flesh straining at it.