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She should, he wrote, think of it as an automobile accident. He had been a passenger in a wrecked car, so to speak, and when the driver couldn’t drive it himself, he simply took the wheel and drove it to the garage for him. He was not making regular bombing missions. He had thought, however, that he should make one mission as a passenger, so that he would understand what was involved. As far as he knew, he would never make another.
He gave it to Ann, who sat down at a teletype machine and retyped it, sending it to the SHAEF press center for censorship, then transmitting it by radio to Brandon Chambers, editor-in-chief of Chambers News Service, as a service message. He would see that it got to Sarah in Palm Beach.
“I don’t think she’ll believe you, Eddie,” Ann said. “But I will write her and tell her that Canidy told me he’s grounded you.”
“Where did you hear that?” he asked.
“I didn’t,” Ann said. “I just made it up. But now that I think about it, it seems like a good idea.”
“Just mind your own business, please, Ann.”
“Just how long do you think you can— What is it you say? ‘Harm’s way’? Just how long do you think you can go in harm’s way without getting harmed?”
“Isn’t tha
t a moot point? We’re in a war, and I’m a naval officer.”
“You’re a horse’s ass,” Ann said. “Worse, you’re a horse’s ass with courage. That can get you killed. It will get you killed.”
They locked eyes for a moment, and then Ann broke the silence: “Come on, let’s get to the Dorchester before someone starts making eyes at Dick.”
“Does that happen often?” he asked. “How is the great romance?”
“I don’t know if you’ll believe this or not,” Ann said. “But if I can ever get him out of this war and up in front of an altar, I really believe he will be the perfect husband. His eye doesn’t wander when I’m around.”
“Why don’t you marry him now?” Bitter asked.
“The way that works is that the boy asks the girl, Eddie,” Ann said, “and Dick hates having to tell me that over and over.”
“Aren’t you worried about…”
“About what?”
“Getting in the family way.”
“Eddie, that’s in the category of none of your goddamned business!” Ann snapped. “God, I can’t believe you asked me that!”
She gestured impatiently toward the door.
When he saw Canidy’s Packard in front of the Dorchester, he knew he would have to face Agnes. And do so in front of the others. He hadn’t had a chance to speak to her at all after Dolan came to his room at Fersfield and told him that Commander Korman had arrived from London.
Dolan, of course, knew that Agnes had been in his bed. He wondered if Dolan had decided that Canidy would be interested in that little bit of interesting information. And he wondered what Canidy’s reaction would be if he knew. Canidy might tell Ann, certainly would tell Ann, unless he went to him and expressly asked him not to.
He decided he would have to do that. If Ann knew, it would get back to Sarah.
The way to handle the situation was to tell Canidy and Agnes the truth. He would tell Agnes that he was deeply ashamed, that he had been, as she knew, under terrible strain. He would tell her there was no excuse for what he had done, but that it would not happen again.
And he would tell Canidy much the same thing. That he was deeply ashamed, not of getting laid especially, but of taking advantage of an enlisted person. It was a violation of the officer’s code that he had not thought himself capable of.
The bar was now jammed with shoulder-to-shoulder drinkers, and it took them several minutes to find Canidy and the others.
Canidy was half in the bag, with one arm around Agnes’s shoulders and the other around a rotund English private whom he introduced to Ed Bitter as a Hollywood ballet master with a Russian name.
There was an English major at the table who wasn’t feeling any pain either. And Fulmar, resplendent in pinks and greens and glossy parachute boots and wearing the Silver Star. And Fine, also a little tight, which surprised Bitter.
“Agnes,”Ann said,“that man with his arm around your shoulders belongs to me.”
“I have more than enough to go around,” Canidy said grandly.
