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There was only a moment before a major arrived for postflight debriefing. He handed Bitter a miniature 1.5-ounce bottle of medical bourbon. Surprising himself, Bitter twisted the cap off and drank it down.
Agnes Draper took the ice pack from Dolan and gently patted it in place on Bitter’s leg.
The debriefing officer was good at his work. He skillfully drew from Bitter the story of what had happened on “Danny’s Darling.” Twice, Agnes Draper took Bitter’s glass from him and added rye.
And both times he found himself looking into her eyes.
And then he caught himself staring at her as she stood leaning against the wall, her breasts straining the buttons of her blouse, her stomach pressing the front of her skirt. And he sensed that she knew what he was looking at and didn’t care.
But she left with the others when the debriefing officer was finished.
“If the leg is still giving you trouble in the morning,” she said on the way out, “you’d better send for the flight surgeon. Right now, what you need is another belt of rye, and some sleep.”
Bitter fell asleep wondering what Sergeant Agnes Draper’s belly looked like when she wasn’t wearing a uniform skirt.
When he woke up, Sergeant Agnes Draper was sitting on his bed, pinning his shoulders down.
“You were having a nightmare,” she said.
“Yes,” he said.
“It will pass quickly, I think,” she said.
He pushed himself up in the bed, so that his back was resting against the wall of his room.
“It wasn’t about today,” he said.
“Oh?”
“Years ago, flying with Dick as a matter of fact, I rolled a trainer close to the ground. When I was upside down, the engine quit. That’s what I was dreaming about.”
“I see.”
“I’m sorry I woke you, Sergeant,” he said. “I’ll be all right now.”
"Actually,” she said levelly,“you didn’t wake me. It was only that when I came in here I found you thrashing about.”
“I appreciate your concern, Sergeant,” he said.
“Do you think you could bring yourself to call me by my Christian name? Or would you rather I left?”
“I don’t quite understand,” Bitter said.
“Yes, you do,” she said.
He met her eyes but found himself unable to speak. After a long moment she nodded, then stood up and walked to the door.
"Agnes!” Bitter called.
She stopped and was motionless for a moment, and then turned around and ran quickly to the bed.
Chapter SIX
At 2115 hours Lieutenant Commander Edwin H. Bitter, USN, came to the attention of the Public Affairs Office of the Naval Element, SHAEF.
Commander Richard C. Korman had the duty. Six months before he had been Vice President, Public Relations, of the Public Service Company of New Jersey. Korman was writing a letter to his wife on his typewriter when he received a telephone call from a public information officer of Headquarters, Eighth United States Air Force.
“Commander,” his caller announced, “this is Colonel Jerry Whitney. I’m in the PIO shop at Eighth Air Force.”
