Part 34 (1/2)
When Schultz and Ashton finally got off the ground, he knew there was no chance of his making it to the monastery strip before dark, so he went to the snack bar in the terminal and had a greasy hamburger, fries, and a c.o.ke before leaving Rhine-Main.
He had another-much better-hamburger at Schleissheim, the Munich military post airfield, when he landed, and then got a ride to the hotel.
As he walked down the corridor to his room, he saw light under the door to 507, which was where Fat Freddy held court, and he pushed the huge door handle down and walked in.
I will tell Freddy everything Schultz said in the generals' mess and see what he has to say.
Hessinger was not behind the desk. Technical Sergeant Claudette Colbert was.
She rose from behind the desk at which she was typing when she saw him.
She was wearing a ”pink” as in pinks-and-greens officer's skirt and a khaki s.h.i.+rt, and he saw an officer's green tunic on the coatrack.
Well, it didn't take much time for her to get in triangles, did it?
”Good evening, sir.”
”Now that you're a civilian, you can drop the 'sir,' Claudette.”
”Sorry, I forgot.”
”Where's Freddy?”
”He said he was going to visit a friend.”
”Yeah.”
”He left a number, shall I call him for you?”
”I try not to call Freddy when he's visiting friends. He sulks.”
She smiled.
”Is Mr. Ostrowski with you?”
”He's at Kloster Grnau. I had to wait until Schultz and Ashton took off, which meant it was too dark for me to land there. So I came here.”
”Major Derwin called. He said he'd like to see you at ten hundred tomorrow.”
What does that sonofab.i.t.c.h want?
”Wonderful!”
”Can I get you anything?”
”No, thank you. I'm going to go to my room, have a stiff drink, and go to bed.”
”How did things go with General Greene?”
”It was interesting, Claudette, but not worthy of an after-action report.”
Subject: Screw Up and Get Thrown to the Wolves.
”That's what I've been doing,” she said, nodding at the typewriter. ”After-action reports.”
”Claudette-”
”My friends call me 'Dette,'” she said.
”Because if they shortened it the other way, it would be 'Claude'?”
”And I don't want to be called 'Claude.'”
”Well, Dette, as I was about to say, Freddy will push you around if you let him. Don't let him. It's quarter after eight. Knock off. The after actions aren't that important.”
”Okay, I'll finish this one and knock off,” she said. ”Thank you.”
”Good night, Dette.”
”Good night . . . What should I call you?”
”Good question. When no one's around, call me Jim. Otherwise, Mr. Cronley.”
”Got it. Good night, Jim.”
”Good night,” Cronley said, and walked out.
Cronley went to his room, which was actually a suite, found a bottle of scotch, poured himself a stiff drink, and then decided he would first have a shower and then have the drink, catch the 2100 news broadcast on the American Forces Network Munich radio station, and then go to bed.
Ten minutes later, as he pulled on the terrycloth bathrobe that came with the suite, he heard over AFN Munich that he was just in time for the news. It was always preceded by a solemn voice proclaiming, ”Remember, soldier! VD walks the streets tonight! And penicillin fails once in seven times!”
And he wondered again, as he often did, how Daddy or Mommy explained the commercial to nine-year-old Jane or Bobby when they asked, ”Daddy, what's that man talking about?”
When he came out of the bathroom, Technical Sergeant Colbert was sitting in an armchair.
”You almost got a look at something you don't want to see,” he snapped. ”What the h.e.l.l are you doing in here?”
”Well, I finished the first after-action report, and thought you might want to see it. Wrong guess?”
”I don't think being in my room is smart,” he said.
”Since Freddy gave me the master key, I thought coming in made more sense than waiting in the hall for you to finish your shower,” she said. ”Shall I leave?”
”Let me see the after action,” he said.