Behind the casket was a Capitan of Husares, head bent, his hands resting on his unsheathed saber.
Ramirez touched Clete's arm, a signal that he was supposed to approach the casket. He walked alone, uncomfortably, down the one hundred feet or so toward it. When he was halfway there, he heard a faint order being given, and was surprised to see the troopers and the officers, in slow motion, raise their heads and then bring their weapons to Present Arms, the troopers with their car-bines held at arm's length in front of them, the Capitan with his saber also held upright at arm's length.
He remembered his father, who'd had more than a couple of drinks at the time, telling him that he was not at all surprised that he had "done well" in the Corps, since the blood of Pueyrred¢n-of whom Clete had never heard before that moment-"coursed through his veins."
That salute is as much for me, as the great-great-grandson, or whatever the hell I am, of Pueyrred¢n, as it is for my father.
He felt his throat tighten, and his eyes watered.
For Christ's sake, control yourself. You 're a Marine officer, and Marine of-ficers don't weep!
He reached the closed, beautifully carved solid cedar casket. An Argentine flag was draped over the lower half of it. His father's high-crowned, gold-encrusted uniform cap and a blue velvet pillow covered with medals rested on the upper portion.
Where the hell did you get all those medals, Dad? Argentina's never been in a war. So far as I know, you never heard a shot fired in anger.
Except one, of course. El Coronel-Medico Orrico said death came instan-taneously.
He dropped to his knees at the prie-dieu.
I don't want to think of you inside that casket, Dad. I've seen what happens to people when they take a load of 00-buckshot in the face.
I 'm sorry my coming here got you killed.
I'm sorry I spent most of my life thinking you were an unmitigated sonofabitch.
I feel sorry as hell for myself because I will never get to know you better.
I really hope that Enrico was right, and that you're with the angels and my mother in heaven.
And I swear to God, Dad, I'll get the sonsofbitches who did this to you.
He rose to his feet. As he did, he heard the Husares Capitan murmur an-other order. He looked at him. The Capitan was starting the slow-motion rou-tine of changing from Present Arms to whatever the hell they call that head-bowed, hands-on-weapon position.
Clete snapped his right hand to his temple in a crisp salute. There was sur-prise and maybe displeasure in the Capitan's eyes.
Well, fuck you, Capitan. I'm an officer, you're an officer, and my father was an officer. If I want to salute, I goddamn well will salute.
He held the salute until the Capitan had rested his hands on his saber again and started to incline his head. Then he made a precise left-face movement and marched away from the casket.
The Capitan who had come aboard the seaplane, now wearing a Husares full dress uniform, and who Clete decided was probably a couple of years older than he was, stood by a door at the side of the room. He motioned to Clete, and Clete went through the door and found himself in a small room furnished with heavy, leather-upholstered furniture.
"May I offer you a small refreshment, Mayor Frade?" the Capitan asked. Sure. Why the hell not? A couple of canap‚s, how about a cucumber sand-wich and a deviled egg ?
The Capitan held a bottle of Johnny Walker scotch in one hand and a bottle of Martel cognac in the other.
"The cognac, por favor, Capitan," Clete said.
The snifter he was handed a moment later was half full of liquid. He had just taken a healthy swallow and was beginning to feel the warmth spread through his body when generals Ramirez and Rawson came into the room. Ramirez took a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at his eyes.
"A soldier is not supposed to show emotion," Ramirez said. "But when you saluted..."
Well, at least he didn't disapprove. That makes me feel better. Ramirez pointed a finger at Clete's snifter, as a signal to the Capitan to get him one.
"What we will do, with your permission, Se¤or Frade," Ramirez said, "is wait for the other officers to join us. Then, if you think it is appropriate, we will raise our glasses a final time in the presence of your father." "I think he would like that, mi General."
"And then I will turn you over to Capitan Lauffer, who is General Rawson's aide-de-camp," Ramirez said, inclining his head toward the Husares Capitan. "He will be with you until after the interment tomorrow. If there is anything you need that the Capitan cannot provide, please get in touch with me." "You're very kind, mi General."
"Not at all. Your father was a lifelong friend, and I can't tell you how sorry I am, how ashamed, that this terrible thing happened to him."