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“How do you do, sir?” Bitter said. “It was my intention to call on you in the morning.”
That isn’t exactly true, Bitter admitted, but he rationalized that by telling himself he probably would have thought of a courtesy call tomorrow.
“Danny Ester,” the major said, offering his hand. “I’m the exec.”
"Actually, Commander, we knew you were coming,” D’Angelo said. “General Lorimer called a while ago. He said three fascinating things about you: That you are riding in a Packard. That the Packard is driven by a gorgeous sergeant. And that you were a Flying Tiger.”
Bitter was uncomfortable.
“Guilty on all counts, sir,” he said.
“He also said I was to cooperate with you,” D’Angelo said. “Do you suppose he just said that? Or have you been carrying tales, Dolan?”
“No, sir,” Dolan said.
"Danny,” D’Angelo said,“I think it would be easier all around if you went and brought over the ‘Field Grade Officers’ sign than for us to change tables. ”
“Yes, sir,” the major said. He walked across the room, picked up the sign, and walked back with it. When the other officers saw what he was doing, there was laughter and applause. Major Ester turned and bowed deeply from the waist.
“‘Every cooperation,’” Colonel D’Angelo said, “and for that matter, the drinks I would love to have with you. But that’s out of the question for tonight. We’re scheduled for tomorrow. Unless there’s anything really important? ”
“That’s very kind of you, Colonel,” Bitter said,“but there’s nothing I can think of now. Tomorrow, Commander Dolan and Lieutenant Kennedy are going to show me around. When you get back, however, I would like to ask a favor.”
“Name it,” D’Angelo said.
“I’d like to go along on a training mission,” Bitter said. “I’ve got almost no experience with bombers. I’ve never even been inside a B-17.”
“You know how to fire a .50-caliber Browning, Commander?” Major Ester asked.
“Sure,” Bitter said.
“Unless you’ve got your heart set on a training mission, Commander,” Ester said,“there’s one way to get a hell of a lot of experience in a hurry. Come along with us in the morning.”
“Wouldn’t I be in the way?”
“You’d replace one of the waist gunners,” Ester said.
Bitter was aware that everybody at the table was waiting for his respons
e.
“I’d like that very much,” he said.
Actually, he didn’t want to go on a B-17 mission in the morning. And this bothered him a lot. He could already feel his stomach tighten with the fear.
“I’ll get you a copy of the Dash-One,” Colonel D’Angelo said. “You might want to glance through it later tonight.”
“Thank you,” Bitter said again and smiled at him, wondering if D’Angelo could see how frightened he was.
The manual, TM-B-17F-1 Operating Manual B-17F Aircraft, was produced before he left the officers’ mess.
On the way back to their area, Dolan said, “That was a shitty thing for that little shit to do to you. If I were you, I’d tell him to go fuck himself.”
“Meaning what?”
“You’ve paid your dues,” Dolan said. “You already know what it’s like to get shot at. You don’t have to get shot at while you’re taking a familiarization hop.”
“If I didn’t go, Dolan, you know what that little shit would start saying.”
