Who’s not going to apologize?
And for what?
Dulles turned to Frade and said, “For your general fund of knowledge, Major Frade, in the opinion of our beloved chief, Wild Bill Donovan, the chances of your being able to pull off this trip ranged from negligible to zero.”
“Don’t let this go to your head, Major Frade,” Graham added, “but Allen and I are ever so grateful to you for proving Donovan wrong. That rarely happens.”
Graham and Dulles took another sip of the champagne.
“Semper Fidelis, Major,” Graham said. “Which reminds me: I have something from our beloved Corps for you.”
He handed Frade an envelope. Frade opened it and found a U.S. government check and a complicated form.
“Your back pay, Major. If you’ll endorse it, I’ll take it back to Washington and deposit it for you. It is suggested that you purchase War Bonds with twenty percent of the total as your personal contribution to the war effort.”
Clete shook his head and took a closer look at the form.
“Surprising me not at all, this is fucked up,” he said.
“How so?”
“No flight pay.”
“But you weren’t flying, were you? Not Marine aircraft . . .”
“Jesus! You’re kidding!”
“Not at all. But I checked that form. You did receive that munificent two-dollars-a-month payment that comes with your Distinguished Service Cross. Don’t be greedy, Major.”
Frade shook his head.
“And you are being paid six dollars per diem in lieu of rations and quarters from the day you volunteered for the OSS. That’s a nice chunk of change.”
“From which the sonsofbitches deducted the price of my watch,” Frade said, holding up his wrist, to which was strapped what the U.S. Navy described as Watch, Hamilton, Chronometer, Naval Aviators, w/strap, leather.
“The Corps didn’t give you that watch, Major,” Graham said. “They issued it to you for use while flying their airplanes. When you stopped doing that, the Corps naturally wanted it back, and when that didn’t happen, they presumed you had ‘lost’ it and deducted the price from your pay.”
Frade tossed the check and the accompanying forms on the table and then picked up one of the wine bottles. He grunted derisively as he expertly pulled the cork.
“And as I mentioned, Major Frade,” Graham said, “just as soon as you can be spared from your present duties, you have been selected to attend the Naval Command and General Staff College.”
Frade looked at him warily. “What is this? ‘Remind Frade he’s a serving officer’?”
“That’s part of it. It started out when the Marine Corps liaison officer—from Eighth and Eye; he keeps track of Marines in the OSS—came to m
e and asked when you could be expected to return from Brisbane.”
“From where?”
“Brisbane. It’s in Australia. Some people say ‘Down Under.’ This chap somehow got the idea that you are in Brisbane evaluating Marine fighter pilots’ after-action debriefings so that we may learn more about Japanese capabilities.”
“‘Oh what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive,’” Dulles quoted cheerily. “Sir Walter Scott, 1771 to 1832.”
“What the hell is that Brisbane nonsense all about?” Clete asked.
Graham ignored the question and went on:
“He told me about your selection for C&GSC, and that he was concerned that you hadn’t been paid since September 1942. So I told him to have a pay-check cut and I would get it to you. And then, frankly, it did occur to me, Major Frade, that it was about time to remind you again that you are indeed a serving officer of the Marine Corps.”