And if I did, there would be a story in tomorrow’s Stars and Stripes.
By Janice Whatever the fuck her name is.
“Army Colonel Goes Berserk. In Munich Hotel.
“Strangles Young Captain.
“Then Shoves Silver Coffeepot Up His Ass.”
“I’ve been looking all over for you, Jim,” Major Wallace greeted him. “Where the hell have you been?”
“Why, good morning, Major Wallace, sir. Are you free to join me, sir?”
“Free’s not the word,” Wallace said, and sat down.
“Give the Herr Major some coffee, please,” Cronley ordered the waiter in German.
“You seem to be in a very cheerful mood. Any particular reason?” Wallace asked, and then before Cronley could reply, got to the point. “Did you really tell Colonel Mattingly that he didn’t have the Need to Know about what happened to Claudette and . . . the other one?”
“You mean, Technical Sergeant Miller, sir?”
“Yes or no, goddammit, Jim!”
“Yes, sir, I did.”
“Why, for Christ’s sake?”
“For one thing, he didn’t have the Need to Know. And I confess to being annoyed with him at the time.”
“You were annoyed with him?”
“He told me that he and a major named Davis he had with him had just come from the Compound, where they had business with Colonel Parsons.”
“So?”
“He was supposed to tell us when he wanted to visit the Compound, and he didn’t. And he took Davis inside with him.”
Sonofabitch! He’s right.
I told Mattingly that he could go to the Compound, but only after he told us when, and that he was not authorized to take anybody with him.
“You know Davis works for General Seidel,” Wallace said. “He’s sort of Seidel’s liaison officer with General Greene.”
“I didn’t know that being a liaison officer—read ‘spy’—for the USFET G-2 gets you a pass into the Compound. Or have you changed the rules?”
“No, I haven’t changed the rules. You realize you have really pissed Mattingly off?”
“I suspected he was pissed when he stormed out of the bar, but not as pissed, I suggest, as he would have been if I had told him in front of that Major Davis that he had no right to go into the Compound without telling us first and absolutely no right to take some USFET G-2 officer with him. And don’t do it again.”
Wallace exhaled.
Well, he’s right about that, too.
“The first thing Colonel Mattingly did when he got to the Schlosshotel Kronberg at five this morning—just as I was leaving for the airstrip—was tell me (a) what you had done, (b) that your DCI credentials have obviously gone to your immature head, and (c) ask me how long it was going to be before I came to my senses and put somebody in charge of DCI who knows what he’s doing.”
“Well—and I’m not trying to be flip—at least we now know he doesn’t know who made me chief of DCI and why, does he? Or did you tell him?”
“Of course I didn’t tell him.”