“Right.”
“How are things going?”
“Not too hot,” Dolan said. “You wouldn’t believe the assholes that were here when I got here. I think we may be getting things shipshape, though, now that we shipped the experts out.”
“And what about your medical records?” Bitter asked.
“As I’m sure you’ve learned yourself, Commander,” Dolan said, “the results of a flight physical depend on who gives the exam.”
“Flight physical? You’re flying?”
“Who would have ever thought,” Dolan asked, innocently, “that you and me would wind up flying B-17s?”
It was a question and a challenge, and Bitter recognized it.
“Nothing you do would surprise me, Commander Dolan,” he said.
“Good,” Dolan said. “You used to be sort of a starchy sonofabitch, if you don’t mind my saying so.”
Bitter told himself that he would deal with the problem of Dolan’s physical condition later. And then he realized he was lying to himself about that.
I’m going to need Dolan, and the only way I can have Dolan is on Dolan’s terms. If Dolan can’t fly, he’ll simply retire again. Or ask Canidy to find something else for him to do.
“I have grown older and wiser, Dolan,” Bitter said.
“Tell me about the Limey broad with the marvelous breasts,” Dolan said. “She going to stay? How’d you talk Canidy out of his Packard?”
“Canidy wanted to impress a SHAEF admiral with the car,” Bitter said.
“G. G. Foster,” Dolan said. “He was a prick when he was a j.g. Watch out for that sonofabitch.”
“You’ve seen him?”
“He was nosing around,” Dolan said. “Treated me like a long-lost buddy. He thinks this war is between the Army and the Navy. He wanted me to be a spy for the good guys. I told him if I ever saw his ass around here again, I’d turn his ass in.”
"I had lunch with him today,” Bitter said.
“Did Canidy say anything to you about a place called Richodan?”
“He mentioned it in passing,” Bitter said.
“Pay attention, Commander Bitter,” Dolan said. “Very careful attention.”
“I read you loud and clear, Commander Dolan,” Bitter said.
Dolan punched him affectionately on the arm.
“You were telling me about the Limey sergeant with nice breasts,” he said.
“Canidy sent her to drive the car,” Bitter said. “And probably to report on what I said to Admiral Foster and vice versa. Is there some place we could put her up tonight, maybe for two nights?”
“You’ll be crowded, two to a GI cot,” Dolan said. “But sure.”
“Dolan,” Bitter snapped,“I’m not sleeping with her.”
“I thought you got shot in the knee,” Dolan said. “What the hell is the matter with you? That’s the best-looking Limey I’ve seen since I’ve been here.”
“For one thing, Dolan,” Bitter said. “I’m a married man. And for another, she’s a sergeant.”