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[SEVEN]
Quarters # 1 “The Pershing House” Fort Sam Houston, Texas 0715 12 March 1981
The commanding general, Fifth United States Army, was in the breakfast room of the house named for—and once occupied by—General of the Armies John J. “Black Jack” Pershing when he was joined by Major Allan B. Naylor.
“Good morning, sir,” Naylor said.
“Long time no see, Allan,” General Amory T. Stevens said, offering his hand. He was a tall, very thin man with sharp features.
“Yes, sir,” Naylor said. “General, I feel I’m imposing.”
“Don’t be silly. Could I do less for an officer who was once a darling baby boy I bounced on my knees? Sit down and have some coffee and then tell me what the hell this is all about.”
“You’re not eating?”
“I hate to eat alone. Marjorie’s with her mother. And I didn’t think you’d get up before noon. What time did you get in?”
“A little after three, sir.”
“I said I don’t like to eat alone. I didn’t say I don’t like breakfast.”
“May I fry some eggs for you, sir?”
“I thought you would never ask,” General Stevens said. “I will even go in the kitchen and watch.”
Naylor opened the refrigerator and took out a carton of eggs and a package of bacon, and laid them on the table.
“I have what they call an ‘enlisted aide’ these days,” General Stevens said. “Fine young man. But he’s an even worse cook than I am. There’s a frying pan in there.” He pointed. “Sunny side up but not slimy, if you please. I know how to make toast. It’s done by machine.”
Naylor chuckled.
“I carry with me the compliments of Colonel Lustrous,” Naylor said as he went looking for a frying pan.
“Since you won’t be back over there in time to tell him and ruin the surprise, Freddy is now Brigadier General-designate Lustrous, to my—and a lot of other people’s—surprise. ”
“Well, that’s good news. He certainly deserves it. I’m not surprised.”
“Freddy has always had an unfortunate tendency to tell his superiors they’re wrong,” Stevens said. “That usually results in getting you passed over. Your father being one of the rare exceptions.”
“When did this happen?”
“Yesterday. That’s where I was, in Washington, at the promotion board. Don’t tell him I was on it. He’ll take that as my approval of his big mouth.”
“Which of course you don’t?”
“There’s a difference, Allan, between admiration and approval, ” General Stevens said. “Write that down.”
“I’m going to need a spatula,” Naylor said.
“One of those drawers,” Stevens said, pointing. “And I know there are plates around here somewhere.”
Naylor found the spatula and laid it on the stove.
“So what’s this hush-hush mission for the good of the service you’re on all about?” Then he had another thought: “Don’t you want an apron?”
“That would be an excellent idea,” Naylor said.
Stevens took an apron from the back of a door and handed it to him.
