The Last Heroes (Men at War 1)

‘‘I’m sure we can handle that,’’ he said. ‘‘Hang on, please.’’

He didn’t come back on the line. An officer did.

‘‘This is Commander Kersey, Miss Chambers,’’ he said. ‘‘I’m afraid we have no officers by those names on the base. May I inquire as to the reason you wanted to locate them?’’

‘‘Yeah,’’ Ann Chambers said. ‘‘I’m running down a story that they’re going to China, and wanted to ask them about it.’’

There was a pause. ‘‘Would you mind telling me where you heard that story, Miss Chambers?’’ Commander Kersey asked.

‘‘It’s all over Washington, Commander,’’ she said. ‘‘I’ll check it out with the Navy Department.’’

She hung up and looked at her mother.

‘‘Goddamn it,’’ she said. ‘‘They’re already gone. Now what the hell am I going to do?’’ She was furious with herself when she felt the tears well up in her eyes.

Rockefeller Center New York, New York June 19, 1941

When Bitter and Canidy appeared at the CAMCO office, they were shown to a small, sparsely furnished conference room and given coffee and Danish rolls. A few minutes later, a man in civilian clothing appeared, identified himself as Commander Ommark of the Navy, and opened his leather briefcase.

The briefcase contained the necessary forms and other documentation required for the separation of officers, for the convenience of the government, under honorable conditions from the naval service. Among the documents were checks drawn upon the Treasury of the United States for their pay and allowances through 15 June 1941, including pay for unused accrued leave.

Why they hadn’t been given the discharge papers in Washington was not explained, and Canidy decided questioning the bureaucratic mind would be a waste of time.

‘‘Thank you, gentlemen,’’ Commander Ommark said. He shook their hands and wished them good luck.

A secretary came into the conference room a moment after he left, and told them they should return to their hotel and separate their clothing, military and civilian, into that which they would be taking with them, and that which CAMCO would store or send anywhere they designated.

Canidy could see no point in taking blues or whites or any dress uniforms with them, but khakis and aviator-green twill, from which U.S. Navy insignia could easily be removed, would more than likely be of service in the Far East. Ed Bitter asked her about aviator’s wings. The secretary said she didn’t really know, they could ask when they returned at half past two. She had unassembled corrugated paper boxes and a roll of paper tape for them, and, carrying that, they returned to the Biltmore Hotel, near Grand Central Terminal, and changed into civilian clothing.

Bitter said that he thought that he was going to ship his uniforms to Brandon Chambers to keep for him at The Plantation. They would probably be going to Pensacola anyway, when their year was up.

Canidy asked if Bitter thought Mr. Chambers would mind keeping his Navy uniforms, too. Bitter hesitated before replying, but said finally he was sure his uncle would not mind. Canidy felt Bitter’s attitude was cold and strange, as it had been strange for the last week or ten days. Now was the time to bring it to a head.

‘‘You want to tell me what I’ve done? Or are you planning to sulk from now on?’’ Canidy asked.

‘‘It’s a combination of things,’’ Bitter said after a long pause. ‘‘You were disgraceful in Washington.’’

‘‘I was a little drunk in Washington,’’ Canidy said. ‘‘Whittaker and I had a lot to drink.’’

‘‘You were visibly drunk this morning in Commander Porter’s office.’’

‘‘I won’t debate the point,’’ Canidy said. ‘‘We didn’t go to bed at all. But that’s not what’s bothering you. And I think we should get whatever it is out in the open.’’

Bitter looked at him. For a moment, Canidy thought there would be no reply, but then Bitter said, ‘‘I know what happened on the boat, Dick.’’

‘‘What boat?’’ Canidy asked, confused, and then he understood. ‘‘Oh.’’

‘‘You sonofabitch, that was a filthy thing to do,’’ Bitter said angrily.

‘‘What were you doing, watching?’’ Canidy asked. Bitter didn’t reply, but it was clearly written on his face that he had indeed been watching.

‘‘You fucking voyeur, you!’’ Canidy said, amused.

Bitter had the most infuriating urge to smile.

‘‘She’s my cousin’s wife, goddamn it!’’ he said.

‘‘I didn’t rape her,’’ Canidy said.