Top Secret by W.E.B. Griffin

Author:W.E.B. Griffin
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2014-07-20T16:00:00+00:00

VII

[ ONE ]

Schlosshotel Kronberg

Kronberg im Taunus, Hesse

American Zone of Occupation, Germany

1805 1 November 1945

The huge dining room looked just about full. Officers in their pinks and greens and a surprising number in the rather spectacular Mess Dress uniform, and their ladies, filled just about every table.

“In my professional judgment,” Lieutenant Colonel Cletus Frade, USMCR, said to Captain James D. Cronley Jr., AUS, as they stood in the doorway waiting for the attention of the maître d’hotel, “there are enough light and full bull colonels in this place to form a reinforced company of infantry. And they all seem to have brought two wives with them.”

“And you’ve noticed, I suppose, that you and I are the only ones not wearing the prescribed uniform. You think they’ll let us in?”

Frade was wearing his forest green Marine uniform and Cronley his olive drab—OD—Ike jacket and trousers. Both were “service” uniforms.

“We’re about to find out,” Frade said as the maître d’ walked up to them.

“We are the guests of Colonel Schumann,” Frade told him.

The maître d’ consulted his clipboard, then led them to a table in a large alcove on the far side of the dining room.

Colonel Robert Mattingly was sitting alone at a table with place settings for ten people. He was wearing Dress Mess—an Army dinner jacket—with lots of gold braid stripes and loops and lapels showing the wearer’s rank and branch of service, which in Mattingly’s case was the yellow of Cavalry.

Mattingly stood as Frade and Cronley approached. He put out his hand to Frade.

“The Schumanns and General Greene and his wife should be here any moment.” He looked at Cronley. “I really wish you had brought pinks and greens.”

“Sir, you didn’t tell me to.” Then he added, “Sir, I’m obviously out of place here. Maybe it would be better if I left.”

“Actually, Cronley, maybe that would be . . .”

Cronley saw that Clete had picked up Mattingly’s quick acceptance of his offer to leave and didn’t seem to like it.

“Just sit down and try to use the right fork,” Frade said to Cronley, then looked at Mattingly. “Do these people always get dressed up like this, or is it some kind of holiday I’m missing?”

“I’d say what they’re doing, Colonel—half of them, anyway—is making up for the good times they missed.”

“I don’t understand,” Frade said.

“Well, Colonel . . .”

That’s the second time Mattingly’s called Clete “Colonel.”

With emphasis. What’s that all about?

Ah, he’s reminding Clete he’s a light bird talking to a full bull colonel and should have said “sir.”

I wonder why Clete didn’t?

“. . . two months ago many of the officers here tonight—even some of the wives—were behind barbed wire in Japanese POW camps.”

“Really?”

“The story I heard was that General George C. Marshall asked himself, ‘What do I do with officers who’ve been behind barbed wire since 1942 when they’re finally freed?’ And then came up with the answer. He sent many of the ones from the Philippines and Japan here, and many of the ones from German POW camps to Japan.

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