"Yes, Sir."
"I am going to recommend to the Commandant the Medal of Honor," General Stewart said. "But in any event, obviously, the sergeant belongs on your war bond tour."
"Yes, Sir."
"Do you think it likely that he will encounter on his way home the same kind of difficulty you did?"
"Yes, Sir. I think he probably will."
"OK. I'll take steps to see that doesn't happen," General Stewart said firmly. "As soon as I have word on when he's due here, I'll let you know."
"Yes, Sir."
"I had his records checked. He has a sister in Norristown and a brother in The Corps. An officer. A first lieutenant. Here. "
"Sir?"
"I thought it would make a very nice human interest photograph. A Marine officer welcoming his brother, a sergeant and a hero, home."
"Yes, Sir."
"His brother is assigned here to headquarters. The Office of Management Analysis, whatever the hell that is. It's in Building T-2032 on the Mall. You know where that is?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Good, because I want you to go over there and see him. I had one of my people call over there and they got the runaround. They said they never heard of Lieutenant K. R. McCoy. I want you to go over there, Jake, and lay your hands on him, tell him-more importantly tell his superiors-that we need him."
"Aye, aye, Sir. Sir?"
"Yes?"
"Sir, would that wait until tomorrow? I really feel a little bushed. I'd sort of like to take it easy today."
"Absolutely," General Stewart said after a moment's hesitation. "First thing tomorrow morning would be fine. Perhaps by then your film will be in from the West Coast, right?"
"Yes, Sir. It should be."
"You take the day off, Jake," General Stewart said magnanimously.
"You've earned it."
"Yes, Sir. Thank you, General."
[Two]
TEMPORARY BUILDING T-2032
THE MALL
WASHINGTON, D.C.
0845 HOURS 21 SEPTEMBER 1942
Major Jake Dillon had little trouble finding Building T-2032 among its many twins on the Mall; but because he was more than a little hung over and in a foul mood, he grew rapidly annoyed when there was no answer to his repeated knocking on what seemed to be the building's main door.
"What the fuck are these feather merchants up to?" he inquired aloud.
Then he spotted a less imposing door to the left. And when he tried it, it opened. Inside he discovered a set of interior stairs, which he then climbed. At the top of the stairs, he found himself facing a counter. Above the counter, wire mesh rose to the ceiling. A staff sergeant and a civilian examined him curiously from behind the counter.
"Is this the Office of Management whatever?"
"The Office of Management Analysis, yes, Sir," the staff sergeant said.
"I'm looking for First Lieutenant K. R. McCoy," Dillon said, taking a note from his pocket.
"I'm sorry, Sir," the staff sergeant said immediately. "We have no officer by that name, Sir."
"Then you better tell Eighth and Eye," Dillon said, just the near side of nasty. "They say you do."
"I'm sorry, Sir," the sergeant said. "We have no officer by that name." Dillon became aware of movement behind him. He glanced and saw a second lieutenant, then turned back to the sergeant.
"I want to see the officer in charge of this outfit, please," Dillon said. "Who would that be?"
"That would be General Pickering, Sir." There was the buzzing sound of a solenoid; a gate in the wire mesh opened and the Second Lieutenant went through it.
"Would you get word to him that Major Dillon of the Public Affairs Office, USMC, would like to see him?"
"General Pickering will not be in today, Sir. Sorry," the staff sergeant said.
"Well, then, goddamn it, Sergeant, tell whoever is in charge here that I want to talk to him."
"Major Dillon!" the Second Lieutenant said.
Dillon looked at him. There was no recognition.
"Do I know you, Lieutenant? More to the point, do you work here?"
"Yes, Sir," the Lieutenant said. "My name is Moore, Sir. We met in Australia."
"In Australia?" Dillon asked, searching his memory.
"You know this officer, Lieutenant? He's been asking for Lieutenant McCoy." Recognition came to Dillon.
"You were Fleming Pickering's orderly," Dillon accused.
And then associations came. The Lieutenant was wearing the woven gold rope worn by aides-de-camp to General Officers. "General Pickering will not be in today, Sir. "