"I want to show it to my people-our people."
"Get him a copy, Jake," The General ordered.
"General Stewart wants to look at this right away."
"Fuck General Stewart," The General said. "He'll have to wait until you get a copy of that for Rickabee."
"OK, Flem. Whatever you say."
"The Navy has a pretty good photo lab at Anacostia, Dillon," Rickabee said. "But I don't know if they can copy motion picture film."
"I've got a pal, used to work in the Metro-Magnum lab," Dillon replied, "who's running the Army lab at the Astoria Studios on Long Island. I know he won't fuck it up, and he could do a quick edit and get rid of the garbage."
"Call him," Fleming Pickering ordered. "See if he can-will-do it. If he will, we can send George to New York." Hart could see that Colonel Rickabee didn't like that. But he was not surprised that he didn't raise an objection. He had already learned that arguing with The General was usually a waste of breath.
Chapter Eleven
[One]
THE FOSTER LAFAYETTE HOTEL
WASHINGTON, D.C.
0345 HOURS 22 SEPTEMBER 1942
Sergeant George Hart let himself as quietly as possible into the small suite he shared with Lieutenant John Marston Moore.
But as he walked on his toes into the bedroom, the lights came on. And when he opened the door, Moore was awake, holding himself up on his elbows.
"I tried not to wake you, Lieutenant." Moore shook his head, signifying it didn't matter.
"Everything go OK?" Moore held up a large film can.
"I just dropped off the original with Major Dillon at the Willard," he said. "This is two copies."
"Two?"
"They asked me how many copies I wanted, so I said two."
"Good man," Moore said. "I think The General wants one." Despite the differences in their ranks and backgrounds, Hart had come to think of Moore as a friend. And his story was too good to just keep, particularly since Moore was one of the very few people in the world who would believe it.
"Veronica Wood has nipples the size of silver dollars," he announced.
Veronica Wood was a motion picture actress. A photograph, showing her in a translucent negligee, her long blond hair hanging down to her waist, was pinned up on barracks walls around the world.
"I'm sure you're going to tell me how you know that," Moore said.
"She was in bed with Major Dillon," Hart said. "I knocked at the door, and he said come in, and I did, and there she was.
She said `Hi!" and smiled at me. She didn't even try to cover herself.
They were both stinko."
"I would say that Major Dillon is entitled, wouldn't you?"
"Yeah. Jesus, those movies!"
"They were pretty awful, weren't they?" Moore said, and then added: "But you understand, George, that all they shot was... what you saw. It really wasn't all that bad."
"Yeah, and that's why you walk around with a cane, right?"
"Speaking of dollar-sized nipples, Sergeant," Moore said, "you had a telephone call from a lady."
"I did?"
"You did. At midnight. I answered the phone, and she said, in a very nice voice, `George?" and I said, `Sorry, he's not here right now, can I take a message?" and she said, no, she'd call back."
"You're probably talking about my mother," George said.
" I really don't think so. This lady didn't sound like a mother.
And wouldn't your mother have said, `Tell him his mother called'?"
"I have no idea-" `4Maybe it was Captain Sessions' secretary," Moore said innocently. "I've noticed the way she looks at you."
"Thanks a lot, Lieutenant. Captain Sessions' secretary was at least thirty-five, weighed more than a hundred fifty pounds, and had a mustache.
"Consumed with unrequited passion in the wee hours of the morning,"
Moore went on. "Yearning for the feel of your strong arms around her-"
"My arms wouldn't fit around her," George said. "Beats the hell out of me. The only person I gave this number to is my other."
"Jesus, George. If it was your mother, I'm sorry-"
"I don't think it was my mother," George said. "She would have asked where I was at midnight."
"Speaking of midnight, the wee hours," Moore said, "The General called about ten. I am instructed to inform you that he doesn't want to see you before thirteen hundred tomorrow."
"What?"
"You have the morning off. The General also said to remind you that you are not to waste your money eating at the Waffle House or Crystal Burger."
"What does that mean?"
"We are to take full advantage of hotel services. Booze, chow, laundry, whatever. He said I was to consider that an order."