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The major offered his hand. “Remember me, Cronley? Major Derwin? ‘Techniques of Surveillance’?”
“Yes, sir, of course. Good to see you again, sir.”
“So they sent you back, did they, to finish the course?”
“Just passing through, sir.”
“From where to where, if I can ask?”
“Munich to Munich, sir. With a brief stop here. I was the escort officer for some classified documents.”
That bullshit came to me naturally. I didn’t even have to wonder what cover story I should tell this guy.
“Munich? I thought you’d been sent to the Twenty-second in Marburg.”
“Yes, sir. I was. Then I was transferred to the Twenty-seventh.”
Counterintelligence Corps units were numbered. When written, for reasons Cronley could not explain—except as a manifestation of the Eleventh Commandment that there were three ways to do anything, the Right Way, the Wrong Way, and the Army Way—Roman numerals were used. For example, the XXVIIth CIC Detachment.
“I’m not familiar with the Twenty-seventh. Who’s the senior agent?”
Is that classified? No. It’s not.
The XXIIIrd CIC Detachment and what it does is classified—oh, boy, is it classified!—but not the XXVIIth. The XXVIIth is the cover for the XXIIIrd.
“Major Harold Wallace, sir.”
“Wallace? Harold Wallace?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I don’t think I know him.”
“I’m not sure if this is so, sir, but I’ve heard that Major Wallace was in Japan, and sent to Germany because we’re so under strength.”
Actually, before President Truman put the OSS out of business, Wallace had been deputy commander of OSS Forward. I can’t tell this guy that; he doesn’t have the Need to Know. And if I did, he probably wouldn’t believe me.
And, clever fellow that I am, I learned early this morning from Admiral Souers—who really knows how to eat someone a new anal orifice—that sharing classified information one has with someone who also has a security clearance is something that clever fellows such as myself just should not do.
“That would explain it,” Major Derwin said. “The personnel problem is enormous. They scraped the bottom of the Far East Command CIC barrel as they scraped ours here.”
“Yes, sir.”
As a matter of fact, Major, the morning report of the XXIIIrd CIC Detachment shows a total strength of two officers—Major Wallace and me—and two EM—First Sergeant Chauncey L. Dunwiddie and Sergeant Friedrich Hessinger. And we really see very little of Major Wallace of the XXVIIth.
“No offense, Cronley,” Major Derwin said.
&
nbsp; “Sir?”
“It certainly wasn’t your fault that scraping the barrel here saw you sent into the field before you were properly trained. Did you find yourself in over your head?”
“Sir, that’s something of an understatement. No offense taken.”
On the other hand, this morning Colonel Mattingly patted my shoulder and said, “You done good, Jimmy.”
Their conversation was interrupted by the bartender, a sergeant who was earning a little extra money by tending bar. He inquired, “Is there a Lieutenant Crumley in here?”
