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“That’s what we did,” John Craig van der Ploeg explained. “When we got bored with all that other stuff, Tubes said we could move on, so we went about telling each other about ourselves.”
“And?”
“And what I’m trying to say is that Tubes told me he had put in to train at the Sandbox and really wanted to go operational, not just sit in a dark commo room all hours of the day and night.” He paused, then added, “He’s one helluva radioman, sir.”
Canidy stared at him, deep in thought.
He’s also the furthest from an Italian or Sicilian that I could possibly get.
He’d stick out in Sicily like a preacher in a whorehouse.
But if we find that the gas did the damage we think it did, then Tubes probably won’t be staying, anyway.
Boy Scouts?
Jesus Christ.
But I should be grateful, I guess, because otherwise I right now would have zero other options….
Canidy looked at Darmstadter.
“Go get him, Hank. Take John Craig van der Ploeg here with you. Tell Stan that I want him to take Tubes’s place at the radio there and that they’re going to be each other’s contact.”
Darmstadter nodded.
Canidy looked at John Craig van der Ploeg.
“Anything unclear about that?” he said.
“Makes perfect sense,” John Craig van der Ploeg said. “Thank you, sir.”
Canidy glared at him.
“Hank,” Canidy added. “And tell Tubes to get some clothes out of the wardrobe room. Especially a stocking cap—something, anything, to help disguise those California looks.”
Canidy was standing in the conn tower with L’Herminier when Darmstadter returned in the jeep with Tubes two hours later.
Canidy was watching crewmen on the deck bringing some type of flattened contraptions to the conn tower. They were five feet long, had a wooden frame, and a fabric skin of canvas.
“What the hell are those, Jean?” Canidy said. “Some kind of boat?”
“Kayaks,” L’Herminier said, an element of pride evident in his voice. “You said you didn’t like the rubber boat you used last time to get ashore. I took it upon myself to procure these kayaks. They say they are very fast and maneuverable.”
Canidy looked dubious. “Who’s they? The Eskimos…?”
The jeep stopped at the foot of the gangplank. Crewmen stood at ease on the dock, waiting to cast off the lines of the submarine and retract the plank.
Canidy saw Darmstadter point him out to Tubes, who then waved to Canidy. Canidy caught himself before he almost waved back.
Darmstader helped Tubes get a fat duffel bag’s strap slung over his shoulder. Then Darmstadter reached back into the jeep and produced a cardboard box that was large enough to hold a couple of birthday cakes. He handed this to Tubes, then patted him on the back.
As Tubes started up the gangplank, Darmstadter went back to the jeep and brought out two green suitcases.
There’re the radios, Canidy thought.
Darmstadter handed the suitcases over to one of the crewmen, who carried them aboard. Then Darmstadter waved good-bye at the conn tower.
This time, Canidy returned it.
