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Chapter THREE
Croydon Air Field
London, England
1035 Hours 6 January 1943
As the C-54 taxied to Base Operations, Ed saw two U.S. Army buses and a limousine waiting. There were three or four full colonels aboard the C-54, and one of them was apparently important enough to be met by a limousine. Not without a little thrill, Ed saw in the limousine a couple of symbols that he was now in the war zone. Except for a narrow slit, its headlamps were painted black, and its fenders were outlined in white so the car would have more visibility in a blacked-out-against-the-enemy city.
He waited impatiently until there was room enough in the aisle for him to stand and put on his uniform cap and overcoat and collect his luggage. Then he walked down the stairs, following the line of people toward the buses.
Then his name was called.
“Commander Edwin Bitter!”
He looked around.
There were five people in uniform (no two uniforms alike) standing in a line by the limousine. Four of them were standing at attention, and the fifth was saluting. Three of them, including the one saluting, were female. It took him a moment to place her. He had never before seen his cousin Ann Chambers in her war correspondent’s uniform.
But he had immediately recognized the two broadly smiling American officers with her. The one in a green blouse and trousers was Dick Canidy. The one in a rather startling all-pink (trousers, shirt, and cut-down blouse) and totally illegal variation of an Air Corps captain’s “pinks and greens” was Captain James M. B. Whittaker. He had no idea who the two Englishwomen, a captain and a sergeant, were.
The other debarking passengers were fascinated with the odd little greeting party. Most were amused, but two of the full colonels failed to see anything entertaining.
Bitter was more than a little embarrassed as he left the line headed for the buses and walked to them.
“The
King was tied up,” Canidy said,“so he sent the Duchess to welcome you.”
“Damn you, Dick,” the British female captain said.
“Commander Bitter,” Canidy said, “may I present Her Gracefulness, the Duchess of Stanfield? And Sergeant Agnes Draper? I believe you know everyone else.”
“The commander seems a bit underwhelmed to see you, Dick,” the British captain said, as if this pleased her.
She’s a good-looking woman, Bitter thought. Somehow aristocratic. I wonder—it wouldn’t surprise me—if she might indeed be a duchess.
“That’s because he hasn’t been kissed, Your Gracefulness,” Canidy said.
“Will you stop calling me that?” She laughed.
Canidy moved quickly to Bitter, grabbed his arms at the moment Bitter grasped what he was up to, and kissed him wetly on the forehead.
“Welcome to England, Edwin,” Canidy said loudly. “We who have preceded you, plus, of course, those who have been here all along, will be able to sleep soundly now that the Pride of the U.S. Navy has arrived.”
“What are you doing here?” Bitter asked.
“We came to fetch you, obviously,” Jimmy Whittaker said. “To spare you the two hours of ‘How to Behave Now That You’re in England’ lectures you’ll be given if you get on one of those buses.”
"How’s Joe, Eddie?” Ann Chambers asked.
“They’re going to Palm Beach,” Ed Bitter said.
“War is hell, isn’t it?” Canidy said dryly.
“You seem to be having a good time,” Bitter said. “How did you know when I was coming?”
“I’m omniscient,” Canidy said.
