“All right then,” Dulles went on. “There was a scene in that motion picture where Coach Rockne went to the hospital bed of one of his players who was terminally ill. At the moment, I can’t think of his name, either in the film, or in real life—”
“Gipp,” Master Sergeant William Ferris furnished. “They called him the Gipper.”
“Right,” Dulles said.
“The actor’s name was Richard Reagan,” Frade said. “He’s now the only aerial gunner in the Air Force who’s a captain.”
“His name is Ronald Reagan,” Ashton quickly corrected him. “And he’s a first lieutenant in the Signal Corps making those venereal disease movies they make everybody watch.”
“You know,” Schultz chimed in, “you pick up some dame in a bar, diddle her, and two weeks later your dick drops off.”
That produced laughter.
“Clark Gable is the only commissioned officer aerial gunner in the Air Forces,” Ferris said. He then quoted Gable’s most famous line: “‘Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn!’”
“You would if it was your dick about to drop off,” Schultz said.
More laughter.
Clete saw the look on Dulles’s face.
“Silence on deck!” Frade barked.
And when he had it, Clete said, “Please go on, Mr. Dulles.”
“I don’t think that would be a very goo
d idea,” Dulles said. “And it was my mistake to open the bar so soon.”
Frade said, “Inasmuch, sir, as we obviously need a pep talk, I really wish you would. Please, sir.”
After a long moment, Dulles shrugged.
“Very well,” he said. “I think I should make the point that not all motion-picture actors in uniform find safe sinecures for themselves. Jimmy Stewart is also in the Air Forces. He has led his B-17 group on twenty-odd missions over Germany and was recently promoted colonel. Closer to home, Captain Sterling Hayden, a Marine, has been infiltrating fellow members of the OSS into—and out of—Albania for some time.”
He paused to let that sink in.
Ashton then popped to his feet, stood at attention, and said, “Sir, I started that unfortunate silliness. I hope you will accept my apology.”
“We are all under something of a strain, Major,” Dulles said after a moment. “No apology is necessary. Please take your seat.”
Ashton did, and after a moment, Dulles said: “Now, where was I? Oh, yes, in the film Rockne goes to the bed of the terminally ill football player known as the Gipper. As difficult as this will obviously be, try to think of me as the character, the Gipper, that Lieutenant Ronald Reagan played.
“This is what he said to Coach Rockne: ‘Rock, sometime when the team is up against it and the breaks are beating the boys, tell them to go out there with all they’ve got and win one for the Gipper. I don’t know where I’ll be then, but I’ll know about it and I’ll be happy.’”
There was silence in the quincho.
Frade thought: The silence of embarrassment.
“The point I had hoped to make,” Dulles said, “and obviously failed so completely to make, was that I know that Team Turtle is really up against it. But I haven’t seen a suggestion that any of you are thinking of throwing in the towel. And I wanted you to know how much I appreciate that. I’m proud to be associated with all of you.”
There was a moment’s silence.
Then O’Sullivan stood up.
“And I want you to know, Mr. Dulles, that this Irishman will be proud for the rest of his life that he was privileged to work for you.”
Ashton stood and said, “Hear, hear!” and began to applaud.