The Last Heroes (Men at War 1)

‘‘I stopped for scrambled eggs on the way home,’’ Canidy said.

‘‘And you can’t stay?’’

‘‘No, I wish I could.’’

‘‘It was good to see you, Dick, and thanks for filling in.’’

‘‘Thank you again, for having me.’’

‘‘Don’t be silly, anytime,’’ Chesty said. He put out his hand, patted Canidy on the back, and left him.

I don’t think he thinks I know. I hope not.

Transient Officers’ Quarters Anacostia Naval Air Station Washington, D.C. 0630 Hours 5 June 1941

When Lieutenant (junior grade) Edwin Howell Bitter, USN, woke he saw that the bed of Lieutenant (j.g.) Richard Canidy, USNR, had not been slept in.

This bothered Ed Bitter, as did many other Canidy escapades in and out of bed. Dick Canidy did not, in Bitter’s opinion, conduct himself as a commissioned officer and gentleman was expected to. He was less interested in discharging his duties to the best of his ability than he was in chasing skirts. If Dick Canidy was aware of the hoary naval adage that officers were supposed to keep their indiscretions a hundred miles from the flagpole, he paid no attention to it.

It wasn’t that Ed Bitter didn’t like Dick Canidy. He did. Canidy was not only an amusing companion, but he had, in a number of ways, made it clear that he liked Bitter, which was of course flattering, and that he considered him to be highly intelligent, which was even more flattering. But Canidy seldom bothered to conceal his disdain for the limited brainpower of their peers.

Nor did Bitter believe chasing skirts was dishonorable. What it was was that he was a professional naval officer— with corresponding standards—and Dick was not. Dick was a civilian in uniform.

Bitter got out of bed, stripped off his pajamas, and marched naked to the shower. Naked, he looked even more muscular than he did dressed. While Dick Canidy was spending weekends lifting the skirts of Smith coeds, Ed Bitter was lifting weights in the Naval Academy gym. It showed. He was in splendid physical shape, firm-muscled, capable of great physical exertion. But to Bitter’s annoyance, so was Dick Canidy. Half-jokingly, half-pridefully, Canidy had announced that the only college athletic program he had joined was performed in the horizontal attitude.

He had just finished returning his safety razor to its stainless-steel snap-shut case when Dick Canidy came home.

‘‘Home is the sailor, home from the sea, and the lover, home from God only knows where,’’ Bitter greeted him.

‘‘From a very nice house in Georgetown, actually,’’ Canidy said, smiling as he started to take off his uniform. ‘‘The smell of spring in the air. The gentle murmur of Rock Creek wending its way inexorably toward the Potomac. Very romantic. ’’

‘‘And what about her parents? Were they conveniently away?’’

‘‘I don’t know about her parents,’’ Canidy said. ‘‘Her husband was away.’’

‘‘She was married? You can get your oversexed ass courtmartialed for that, you know. They call it conduct unbecoming, ’’ Bitter said as he buttoned the cuffs of a heavily starched gray khaki shirt. Canidy stuffed his civilian clothing in his bag, took a gray khaki shirt from his chest of drawers, and started to put it on.

After that he took a twill aviator-green uniform from the closet. He pulled the trousers on, and as he tucked the tail of the shirt in, he looked at Ed and asked: ‘‘How was the dinner party? Did you learn anything useful?’’

‘‘I did, but I’m not sure I should tell you.’’

‘‘Come on, you’re dying to!’’

‘‘Did you know that we’re shipping petroleum products from the Gulf Coast to Nova Scotia?’’

‘‘Yeah,’’ Canidy said, straight-faced. ‘‘Where they are transferred to British ships for the Atlantic crossing. Who told you? That’s supposed to be classified.’’

‘‘Who told you?’’ Bitter asked, disappointed that his secret was known.

‘‘I couldn’t tell you that, Eddie, you understand,’’ Canidy said. ‘‘Suffice it to say that I broke bread with Colonel William ‘Wild Bill’ Medal of Honor Donovan last night.’’

‘‘Really?’’ Bitter wasn’t sure if his leg was being pulled or not.

‘‘Really,’’ Canidy said. ‘‘I learned a lot more than I really cared to learn about the strategic implications of economic warfare.’’

Still not sure whether he was being teased or not, Bitter challenged, ‘‘Did you also know that we are going to start Catalina flights to keep an eye on our shipping?’’

‘‘As a matter of fact, I did,’’ Canidy lied easily. He loved to keep Eddie Bitter off balance. ‘‘Who’s been telling you all this stuff?’’