"Well, when you write him, please give him my best regards," Dawkins said.
Back in Central High School, those of us who played varsity ball thought the male cheerleaders were mostly pansies. But I guess things are different at the United States Naval Academy, huh?
"Yes, Sir, I'll be happy to."
"You went to the Academy?"
"Yes, Sir. '40."
Lieutenant (j.g.) Greyson smiled at Charley.
"I understand you were directly commissioned, Sir."
"Well, the Commandant had to make a choice," Charley said. "It was either commission me, or send me to Portsmouth."
Lieutenant (j.g.) Greyson looked uncomfortable and turned to the front again.
"Watch it, Charley," Dawkins said, softly and sternly; but he was unable to suppress a smile.
In 1937-39, when he was still a Captain, Rear Admiral (upper half) Daniel J. Wagam and his family occupied the quarters he shared now with Rear Admiral (lower half) Matthew H. Oliver.
(Rear Admirals, upper half, are equivalent to Army and Marine Corps Major Generals. Rear Admirals, lower half, are equivalent to Army and Marine Corps Brigadier Generals. Army and Marine Corps Major Generals wear two silver stars as the insignia of their rank, while Army and Marine Corps Brigadier Generals wear just one star. All Rear Admirals, however, wear the same two stars that Major Generals wear. This practice is said to annoy many Army and Marine Corps Brigadier Generals, particularly when they learn that they actually outrank the Rear Admiral, lower half, whom they have just saluted crisply.)
Though the Pearl Harbor officer corps had tripled or quadrupled in size since 1939, there were now very few dependents. That meant that many former family quarters were now occupied by "unaccompanied" officers. It had worked out remarkably well.
Placing "unaccompanied officers" in family quarters afforded senior officers with quarters appropriate to their rank. This was valuable not only because these provided greater creature comforts-such as privacy and luxury- than can be found in Bachelor Officer quarters, but because these also gave them a place where they could hold private meetings over drinks, or drinks and dinner.
Admiral Wagam's quarters were a four-bedroom house. He occupied the master bedroom, Admiral Oliver the guest room, and their aides-de-camp occupied what he still thought of as Danny's and Joan's rooms. The admiral's children were now waiting out the war with their mother, near Norfolk, Virginia.
Three Filipino messboys took care of the housekeeping and cooking. (Two of them were assigned as a prerogative of rank to Admiral Wagam and one to Admiral Oliver.) The loyalty and discretion of Filipino messboys was legendary. Admiral Oliver was not senior enough to have a permanently assigned staff car and driver. Admiral Wagam's driver lived over the garage.
Admirals Wagam and Oliver got along splendidly. When one or the other of them wished to hold a meeting in the house, he simply asked the other if it would be possible for him to eat in the Flag Mess that night. Neither, both being gentlemen, ever asked who was being entertained. It might be CINCPAC himself, for example; or it could be an old family friend-female-with whom the admiral had a platonic relationship but did not wish to wine and dine at the mess because of the way people talked. No matter who it was, each admiral could count on the discretion of the other.
A white-jacketed, smiling Filipino messboy had the front door of Admiral Wagam's quarters open even before Lieutenant Greyson could put his finger on the highly polished brass door bell.
Greyson waved Dawkins and Galloway through the door.
"I'll tell the Admiral you're here, gentlemen," he said, and went to the closed door to the study and knocked.
In a moment, Admiral Wagam emerged, carrying a leather briefcase.
"Lock that up, will you please, Dick?" he said, as he handed the briefcase to his aide-de-camp.
"Aye, aye, Sir."
"Gentlemen," Admiral Wagam said, smiling at Dawkins and Charley. "Welcome. I'm glad you were able to come tonight."
"Very good of you to have us, Sir," Dawkins said.
"Dick's been telling me, Colonel, that you and his brother are classmates."
"Yes, Sir. '32."
"I'm '22," the admiral said, and turned to Galloway.
"And the famous-or is it infamous-Captain Galloway. I've been looking forward to meeting you, Captain. I was present, Captain, for the famous 'Q.E.D.' remark."
"Sir?" Galloway asked, wholly confused.
"I was in Admiral Shaughn's office when word came that you were flying that F4F out to the Saratoga. Captain Anderson of BUAIR [Bureau of Aeronautics] was there, sputtering with rage. He said, 'Admiral, this simply can't be. My people have certified all of VMF-211's aircraft as totally destroyed.' And Admiral Shaughn replied, 'Quod erat demonstrandum, Captain, Quod erat demonstrandum.' What made it even more hilarious was that Anderson didn't have any Latin, and it had to be translated for him."
"Yes, Sir," Charley said, still wholly confused.
"He didn't know that 'Quod erat demonstrandum'meant 'the facts speak for themselves'?" Dawkins asked. "Really?"
You made that translation for me, Charley realized. Thank you, Skipper.
"He hadn't the foggiest idea what it meant," Admiral Wagam said, chuckling. "And he gave an entirely new meaning to the word 'ambivalent.' Like everybody else... Anderson is really a nice fellow, personally... he was hoping that Galloway would make it onto Sara. But on the other hand, if he did, in an airplane Anderson's BUAIR experts had certified was damaged beyond any possibility of repair, he was going to look like a fool:"
Admiral Wagam laughed out loud. "Which Galloway did, of course, making him look like a fool. No wonder BUAIR was so angry with you, Galloway. Well, it turned out all right in the end, didn't it? All's well that ends well, as they say."
"Yes, Sir," Charley said.
"Let's go in the living room and have a drink," Admiral Wagam said. "I've been looking for an excuse since three o'clock."
A small, pudgy Filipino messboy in a starched white jacket was waiting for them behind a small, well-stocked bar. Through an open door, Charley saw a dining room table set with crystal and silver. A silver bowl filled with gardenias was in the center of the table.
"We've got just about anything you might want," the Admiral said, "but Carlos makes a splendid martini, and I've always felt that a martini is just the thing to whet the appetite before roast beef."
"A martini seems a splendid notion, Admiral," Dawkins said.
"Yes, Sir," Charley said.
"Four of your best, Carlos, please," the admiral ordered. "And I suggest you have a reinforcement readily available."
I could learn to like living like this, Charley thought. But this was instantly followed by two somewhat disturbing second thoughts: Jesus, Caroline's house in Jenkintown is bigger than this. And so is Jim Ward's parents' house. And compared to the apartment on the top floor-the penthouse- of the Andrew Foster Hotel, this place-this Admiral's Quarters-is a dump.
Carlos filled four martini glasses from a silver shaker, and the Admiral passed them around.
The Admiral raised his glass, and looking right at Charley, said, "To youth, gentlemen. To the foolish things young men do with the best of intentions."
"Admiral," Colonel Dawkins said, "with respect, I would prefer to drink to the wise elders who keep foolish, well-intentioned young men out of trouble."
"Colonel, I normally dislike having my toasts altered, especially by a Marine, but by God, I'll drink to that," Admiral Wagam said, taking a sip and beaming at Dawkins.
Charley and Lieutenant (j.g.) Greyson dutifully sipped at their martinis.