The major opened the service-record jacket of MACKLIN, John D., 1st Lt.

There was a file of orders concerning the officer in question bound to the record jacket with a metal expanding clip. The order on top, which made it the most recent one, had been issued by the 4th Marines. Lieutenant Macklin, having been decreed excess to the needs of the command, was relieved of duty and would proceed to the United States of America aboard the U.S.S. Shaumont, reporting on arrival to Headquarters, USMC, Washington, D.C., for further assignment. A thirty day delay en route leave was authorized.

Macklin was not really expected to physically report in Washington. His orders and his records would be sent to Washington. When Washington decided what to do with him, either a telegram or a registered letter would be sent to his leave address telling him where to go and when to be there.

In a manila folder were copies of Lieutenant Macklin's efficiency reports, mounted in the same manner as his orders.

"I wonder what he did?" the major asked, without expecting an answer, as he turned his attention to Lieutenant Macklin's most recent efficiency report. Officers were rarely decreed excess to the needs of a command. Commands, as a rule of thumb, generally sent a steady stream of justifications for the assignment of additional officer personnel to carry out their assigned missions.

A civilian, reading the efficiency report, would probably have concluded that it was a frank, confidential appraisal of the strengths and weaknesses of what a civilian would probably think was a typical Marine officer.

He was described as a "tall, lean, and fit" officer of "erect bearing" with "no disfiguring marks or scars." It said mat Lieutenant Macklin was "slightly below" the avenge of his peers in professional knowledge; that he had "adequately discharged the duties assigned to him"; that there was "no indication of abuse of alcoholic beverages or other stimulants"; and that Lieutenant Macklin had "a tendency not to accept blame for his failures, but instead to attempt to shift the blame to subordinates." In this connection, it said that Lieutenant Macklin was prone to submit official reports that both omitted facts mat might tend to make him look bad, and "to present other facts in such a manner as to magnify his own contribution to the accomplishment of the assigned mission." It said finally that Lieutenant Macklin "could not be honestly recommended for the command of a company or larger tactical unit at this time."

A civilian would doubtless mink mat here was a nice-looking erect young man, who was mostly competent, did what he was told to do, and had no problem with the bottle. If there was anything wrong with him at all, it was a perfectly understandable inclination to present only his best side to his superiors. If he could not be recommended to be a company commander at this time, well, he was young, and there would be a chance for that later. In the meantime, there were certainly other places where his "slightly below average professional knowledge" could be put to good use.

In the Corps, Macklin's efficiency report was lethal.

"Jesus, I wonder what the hell he did?" the major repeated.

"The endorsing officer is Chesty Puller," the captain said. "Puller's a hardnose, but he's fair. And you saw how he endorsed it."

" "The undersigned concurs in this evaluation of this officer,' " the major quoted.

"So what do we do with him?" the captain asked.

"Maybe he got too friendly with some wife?" the major asked.

"I think he got caught writing a false report," the captain said.

"In which he tried to shaft somebody…"

"Somebody who worked with him, you saw that remark about 'shifting blame to subordinates?' "

"And got caught," the major agreed. "That would tee Chesty Puller off."

"So what do we do with him?"

"Six months ago, I would ask when he planned to resign," the major said. "But that's no longer an option, is it?"

"No, sir."

"What's open?" the major asked.

"I gave you the list, sir."

The major consulted the week's listing of actual and projected billet vacancies for company-grade officers.

"It says here there's a vacancy for a mess officer at the School Battalion at Quantico. I thought we sent that kid from the hotel school at Cornell down there? Ye Olde Round Peg in Ye Olde Round Hole?"

"He developed a hernia," the captain said. "They sent him to the Navy hospital at Norfolk. It'll be more than ninety days before he's fit for full duty, so they transferred him to the Detachment of Patients."

"I would hate to see someone who has graduated from the Cornell Hotel School assigned anywhere but a kitchen," the major said.

The captain chuckled.

"I've sort of penciled in when he's available for assignment, assigning him to the Marine Barracks here. He'd make a fine assistant officers' club officer."

"Don't let him get away," the major said. "And in the meantime, I think we should send Lieutenant Macklin to Quantico, at least for the time being. All a mess officer does anyway-Cornell Hotel School graduates excepted-is make sure nobody's selling the rations."

"Aye, aye, sir," the chief of company-grade officer assignments said. And then he thought of something else: "We've got another one, sir."

"Somebody else with an efficiency report like that?" the major asked, incredulously.

"No, sir. Another hotelier. Is that right?"

The major nodded.

"One of the kids starting the Platoon Leader's course listed his current occupation as resident manager of the Andrew Foster Hotel in San Francisco. That sounded a little odd for a twenty-one-year-old, so I checked on it."

"And he really was?"

"He really was. And not only because he's Andrew Foster's grandson."

"Our cup runneth over," the major said. "Don't let that one get away, either. Maybe something can be done about the quality of the chow after all."

"Aye, aye, sir," the captain repeated with a smile.

Chapter Nine

(One)

U.S. Marine Corps Schools

Quantico, Virginia

29 August 1941

The man at the wheel of the spotless Chevrolet pickup truck was Master Gunnery Sergeant Jack (NMI)( No Middle Initial) Stecker, USMC. Stecker was a tall, muscular, tanned, erect man of forty-one who looked the way a master gunnery sergeant, USMC, with twenty-five years in die Corps, was supposed to look.

He was in stiffly starched, impeccably pressed khakis. A vertical crease ran precisely through the buttons of the shirt pockets to the shoulder seam on die front of the shirt. There were four creases on the rear One ran horizontally across the back of his shoulders. The other three ran down the back, one on each side, and one down the middle. There were a total of six pockets on his khaki shirt and trousers. Two were in use. Stacker's left hip pocket held his wallet; and his right shirt pocket held a small, thin notebook and a silver-plated Parker pen-and-pencil set. The other pockets were sealed shut with starch, and would remain sealed shut.

The keys to his office, to his quarters, and to his personal automobile, a 1939 Packard Phaeton, as well as a Saint Christopher medal, were on a second dogtag cord worn around his neck.

Stecker did not think it fitting that the uniform of a master gunnery sergeant, USMC, should bulge in any way. There was a handkerchief in his left sock. Sometimes, not often, when he knew he would be away from another source of smoking material for a considerable period of time, he carried a package of Lucky Strike cigarettes and a book of matches in his right sock. Mostly, he kept his smoking material in various convenient places-the glove compartment of the pickup, his desk drawer, and sometimes (if he knew he was not going to have to remove his campaign hat) in the crown of the hat.