Honor Bound (Honor Bound 1)

He reached the waterfront and started toward the bus stop.

He saw a taxi.

Fuck the bus. Lieutenant Pelosi has made all the sacrifices in the service of his country he intends to today.

He flagged the taxi down and told the driver to take him to the Alvear Palace Hotel.

Jesus, that was a good-looking woman!

[TWO]

Aboard MV Colonia

Río de la Plata

0115 8 December 1942

“What do you say we go on deck and take the evening breeze?” First Lieutenant Cletus Howell Frade, USMCR, said to Second Lieutenant Anthony J. Pelosi, CE, USAR, as the waiter cleared their table.

“All right,” Tony replied.

Clete stood up, peeled a couple of bills from a thick wad and tossed them casually on the table, then walked out of the dining room onto the deck.

The dining room, like their cabin, was on the bridge deck. There were benches along the bulkheads, and a dozen or so deck chairs. All the deck chairs were occupied, and people were scattered along the benches.

Clete looked aft. There was a glow on the horizon, obviously the lights of Buenos Aires. He estimated they were twenty-five, maybe thirty miles into the river. It was about a hundred twenty-five miles from Buenos Aires to Montevideo. The Colonia looked like a miniature ocean liner, and carried probably two hundred people. It sailed from Buenos Aires just after midnight, and would arrive in Montevideo at about nine in the morning. There were cabins, a dining room, a lounge, and a bar. You came aboard, had a drink and dinner, and then went to bed. When you woke up, you were in Uruguay. A couple of times Clete took the overnight boat from New York to Boston with his grandfather, when the Old Man had business with the Bank of Boston that had to be handled in person. The Colonia reminded him of that.

He led Pelosi forward, then down a ladder, then forward again, and down another ladder to the main deck. They stepped over a chain, with a sign in Spanish, “No Entry—Crew Only,” hanging from it, and walked forward to the bow.

“That sign meant ‘off limits,’ didn’t it?” Tony asked.

“Well, if somebody comes, we’re just a couple of dumb Norteamericanos who don’t speak Spanish. Besides, what they’re worried about is a bunch of people out here lighting cigarettes, which will keep the helmsman and the officers on the bridge from seeing. No lights forward, in other words.”

“No shit?”

“Would you like one of these?” extending to him a leather cigar case.

Tony considered the offer for a moment…He gives me a speech about no cigarettes up here, and then pulls out cigars… and then took a long, thin, black cigar.

“Thank you,” he said.

“A fine conclusion to a splendid meal,” Clete said.

“If you like eating at midnight.”

“I wonder what they were serving at the O Club at Fort Bragg tonight? Three’ll get you five it wasn’t what we had.”

“Jesus, their food is good, isn’t it?” Tony said. “First-class steak!”

Clete handed him a gold cigarette lighter.

“You have to flip the top up first, and then spin the wheel,” Clete explained. “I have the feeling that was made sometime around World War One.”

Pelosi lit his cigar, then, hefting it, handed the lighter back.

“Heavy. Gold?”

“I’m sure it is. Nothing was too good for my uncle Bill.”