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That’s my plan for the future.
Do whatever the hell I think will be good for Operation Ost, and keep doing it until somebody hands me my ass on a shovel.
Abraham Lincoln Tedworth, his sleeves now adorned with the first sergeant’s chevrons to which he had been entitled since 1700 the previous day, was waiting for him when he walked into the bar.
“This came in about ten minutes ago, Captain.”
He handed Cronley a SIGABA printout.
“Top, I just relieved Lieutenant Max as commander of the Polish Guard,” Cronley announced.
“With all respect, sir, that was a dumb move.”
That’s what they call loyalty downward.
“I deeply appreciate your unfailing confidence in my command decisions, First Sergeant.”
“Well, you b
etter reconsider that one. Max is a damned good man.”
“That’s why I am transferring him to the Operation Ost Air Force. I told Schröder to check him out in a Storch.”
Tedworth thought that over for a minute, and then announced, “Now that, sir, is a fine command decision.”
“I’m glad you approve, First Sergeant,” Cronley said, and then read the SIGABA printout:
PRIORITY
TOP SECRET LINDBERGH
DUPLICATION FORBIDDEN
FROM POLO
VIA VINT HILL TANGO NET
2210 GREENWICH 30 DECEMBER 1945
TO ALTARBOY
UNDERSIGNED WILL ARRIVE RHINE-MAIN MATS FLIGHT 343 ETA 0900 2 JANUARY 1946. USUAL HONORS WILL NOT BE REQUIRED. A SMALL BRASS BAND WILL SUFFICE.
POLO
END
TOP SECRET LINDBERGH
IV
[ONE]
Arriving Passenger Terminal
Rhine-Main USAF Base
Frankfurt am Main
