Lieutenant (j.g.) Greyson looked uncomfortable and turned to the front again.

"Watch it, Charley," Dawkins said, softly and sternly; but he was unable to suppress a smile.

In 1937-39, when he was still a Captain, Rear Admiral (upper half) Daniel J. Wagam and his family occupied the quarters he shared now with Rear Admiral (lower half) Matthew H. Oliver.

(Rear Admirals, upper half, are equivalent to Army and Marine Corps Major Generals. Rear Admirals, lower half, are equivalent to Army and Marine Corps Brigadier Generals. Army and Marine Corps Major Generals wear two silver stars as the insignia of their rank, while Army and Marine Corps Brigadier Generals wear just one star. All Rear Admirals, however, wear the same two stars that Major Generals wear. This practice is said to annoy many Army and Marine Corps Brigadier Generals, particularly when they learn that they actually outrank the Rear Admiral, lower half, whom they have just saluted crisply.) Though the Pearl Harbor officer corps had tripled or quadrupled in size since 1939, there were now very few dependents. That meant that many former family quarters were now occupied by "unaccompanied" officers. It had worked out remarkably well.

Placing "unaccompanied officers" in family quarters afforded senior officers with quarters appropriate to their rank. This was valuable not only because these provided greater creature comforts-such as privacy and luxury- than can be found in Bachelor Officer quarters, but because these also gave them a place where they could hold private meetings over drinks, or drinks and dinner.

Admiral Wagam's quarters were a four-bedroom house. He occupied the master bedroom, Admiral Oliver the guest room, and their aides-de-camp occupied what he still thought of as Danny's and Joan's rooms. The admiral's children were now waiting out the war with their mother, near Norfolk, Virginia.

Three Filipino messboys took care of the housekeeping and cooking. (Two of them were assigned as a prerogative of rank to Admiral Wagam and one to Admiral Oliver.) The loyalty and discretion of Filipino messboys was legendary. Admiral Oliver was not senior enough to have a permanently assigned staff car and driver. Admiral Wagam's driver lived over the garage.

Admirals Wagam and Oliver got along splendidly. When one or the other of them wished to hold a meeting in the house, he simply asked the other if it would be possible for him to eat in the Flag Mess that night. Neither, both being gentlemen, ever asked who was being entertained. It might be CINCPAC himself, for example; or it could be an old family friend-female-with whom the admiral had a platonic relationship but did not wish to wine and dine at the mess because of the way people talked. No matter who it was, each admiral could count on the discretion of the other.

A white-jacketed, smiling Filipino messboy had the front door of Admiral Wagam's quarters open even before Lieutenant Greyson could put his finger on the highly polished brass door bell.

Greyson waved Dawkins and Galloway through the door.

"I'll tell the Admiral you're here, gentlemen," he said, and went to the closed door to the study and knocked.

In a moment, Admiral Wagam emerged, carrying a leather briefcase.

"Lock that up, will you please, Dick?" he said, as he handed the briefcase to his aide-de-camp.

"Aye, aye, Sir."

"Gentlemen," Admiral Wagam said, smiling at Dawkins and Charley. "Welcome. I'm glad you were able to come tonight."

"Very good of you to have us, Sir," Dawkins said.

"Dick's been telling me, Colonel, that you and his brother are classmates."

"Yes, Sir. '32."

"I'm '22," the admiral said, and turned to Galloway.

"And the famous-or is it infamous-Captain Galloway. I've been looking forward to meeting you, Captain. I was present, Captain, for the famous 'Q.E.D.' remark."

"Sir?" Galloway asked, wholly confused.

"I was in Admiral Shaughn's office when word came that you were flying that F4F out to the Saratoga. Captain Anderson of BUAIR [Bureau of Aeronautics] was there, sputtering with rage. He said, 'Admiral, this simply can't be. My people have certified all of VMF-211's aircraft as totally destroyed.' And Admiral Shaughn replied, 'Quod erat demonstrandum, Captain, Quod erat demonstrandum.' What made it even more hilarious was that Anderson didn't have any Latin, and it had to be translated for him."

"Yes, Sir," Charley said, still wholly confused.

"He didn't know that 'Quod erat demonstrandum'meant 'the facts speak for themselves'?" Dawkins asked. "Really?"

You made that translation for me, Charley realized. Thank you, Skipper.

"He hadn't the foggiest idea what it meant," Admiral Wagam said, chuckling. "And he gave an entirely new meaning to the word 'ambivalent.' Like everybody else... Anderson is really a nice fellow, personally... he was hoping that Galloway would make it onto Sara. But on the other hand, if he did, in an airplane Anderson's BUAIR experts had certified was damaged beyond any possibility of repair, he was going to look like a fool:"

Admiral Wagam laughed out loud. "Which Galloway did, of course, making him look like a fool. No wonder BUAIR was so angry with you, Galloway. Well, it turned out all right in the end, didn't it? All's well that ends well, as they say."

"Yes, Sir," Charley said.

"Let's go in the living room and have a drink," Admiral Wagam said. "I've been looking for an excuse since three o'clock."

A small, pudgy Filipino messboy in a starched white jacket was waiting for them behind a small, well-stocked bar. Through an open door, Charley saw a dining room table set with crystal and silver. A silver bowl filled with gardenias was in the center of the table.

"We've got just about anything you might want," the Admiral said, "but Carlos makes a splendid martini, and I've always felt that a martini is just the thing to whet the appetite before roast beef."

"A martini seems a splendid notion, Admiral," Dawkins said.

"Yes, Sir," Charley said.

"Four of your best, Carlos, please," the admiral ordered. "And I suggest you have a reinforcement readily available."

I could learn to like living like this, Charley thought. But this was instantly followed by two somewhat disturbing second thoughts: Jesus, Caroline's house in Jenkintown is bigger than this. And so is Jim Ward's parents' house. And compared to the apartment on the top floor-the penthouse- of the Andrew Foster Hotel, this place-this Admiral's Quarters-is a dump.

Carlos filled four martini glasses from a silver shaker, and the Admiral passed them around.

The Admiral raised his glass, and looking right at Charley, said, "To youth, gentlemen. To the foolish things young men do with the best of intentions."

"Admiral," Colonel Dawkins said, "with respect, I would prefer to drink to the wise elders who keep foolish, well-intentioned young men out of trouble."

"Colonel, I normally dislike having my toasts altered, especially by a Marine, but by God, I'll drink to that," Admiral Wagam said, taking a sip and beaming at Dawkins.

Charley and Lieutenant (j.g.) Greyson dutifully sipped at their martinis.

"So you have the feeling, do you, Colonel..." Admiral Wagam said, interrupting himself to turn to the messboy: "Splendid, Carlos. Splendid."

"Thank you, Admiral," Carlos beamed.

"... that senior officers rarely get the appreciation they should," Admiral Wagam went on, "for-how should I put this?-tempering the enthusiasm of the young men for whom they are responsible?"

"Yes, Sir," Dawkins beamed. "I was just this afternoon having a conversation with Captain Galloway about his excessive enthusiasm for flying."

"At the expense of his duties as commanding officer, you mean?"

"No, Sir. I can't fault Captain Galloway's command. What I was trying to do was point out that all work and no play makes good squadron commanders lousy squadron commanders."

The Admiral grunted. "There was a study, a couple of years back, Medical Corps did it on the quiet. They found out that a newly appointed destroyer captain on his first voyage as skipper averaged five point three hours sleep at night. A man, especially an officer in command, can't function without a decent night's sleep. There's such a thing as too much devotion to duty, Galloway. You listen to Colonel Dawkins."

"Yes, Sir."

"That sleep requirement apparently doesn't apply to aides, Admiral?" Lieutenant (j.g.) Greyson asked.

"Aides have very little to do," the Admiral replied. "They can get their necessary sleep while standing around with their mouths shut." He put his arm around Greyson's shoulders. "I learned that from a distinguished sailor, Mr. Greyson. Your father. I was his aide when he told me that."

A second messboy appeared in the door to the dining room.

"Excuse me," he said. "Admiral, dinner is served."

"Hold it just a moment, Enrique," Admiral Wagam said. "I need another one of Carlos's martinis."

Charley glanced at Dawkins. Dawkins, just barely perceptibly, shrugged his shoulders, signifying that he had no idea what the hell this was all about, either.

The admiral passed out four fresh martinis.

"Let me offer another toast," he said. "Prefacing it with the observation that, obviously, it is not for dissemination outside this room. To the officers and men of VMF-229, who will sail from Pearl Harbor aboard the escort carrier Long Island two August. May God give you a smooth voyage and good hunting."

"Hear, hear," Colonel Dawkins and Lieutenant (j.g.) Greyson said, almost in unison.

"Thank you," Charley said.

"Although I am afraid he sometimes qualifies as one of the foolish, overly enthusiastic young men we were talking about a moment ago, my nephew tells me that VMF-229 is the best fighter squadron in Marine Aviation. Do you think I should believe him, Captain?"

"Sometimes even foolish young men have it right, Admiral," Charley said.

"Is that another example of that famous Marine modesty, Captain?" Admiral Wagam asked, as he put his hand on Charley's arm and led him into the dining room.

"A simple statement of facts, Sir," Charley said.

The admiral took his seat at the head of the table and pointed to the chair where Charley was to sit. Dawkins went to the far end of the table. Greyson sat across from Charley.

"I'm a little surprised you haven't asked where you're going," Admiral Wagam said.

"Sir, I thought that would be classified," Charley said.

"It is, of course," Wagam said. "And I suppose that disqualifies you as a foolish young man. Only a foolish young man would ask, right?"

"Yes, Sir."

"But let me put you on the spot, Galloway. Where do you think you'll be going? What's the scuttlebutt?"

Wagam saw Galloway's discomfiture.

"I will neither confirm nor deny, Galloway. But sometimes it is of value to know what people think, what they are guessing."

Galloway looked at Dawkins for help. Dawkins shrugged again, barely perceptibly. Galloway interpreted this to mean, "Tell him what you think."

"Sir, I think that once the 1st Marine Division has secured the airfield on Guadalcanal, we'll be flown off the Long Island onto the island."

Admiral Wagam audibly sucked in his breath.

"And when does the scuttlebutt have it that the 1st Marines are going to invade, what did you say, Guadalcanal?"

"Yes, Sir. Guadalcanal. Shortly after the first of the month, Sir."

"Goddamn it, I'd love to know where you got that!" Admiral Wagam exclaimed, and then immediately regained control of himself. He held out his hand in a stop gesture. "If you were about to answer me, belay it. We will now change the subject."

"Yes, Sir," Charley said, and put a fork to the shrimp cocktail the messboy had set in front of him.

There was no question in his mind now that Big Steve's scuttlebutt, and his own studied guesses, were right on the mark. VMF-229 was going to Guadalcanal to operate off a captured Japanese airfield. Presuming, of course, that the 1st Marine Division could capture it.

"You're a bachelor, I understand, Galloway," the admiral said.

"Yes, Sir."

"In wartime, there are a number of advantages to being a bachelor," the admiral said.

"And in peacetime, there are a number of advantages to being a bachelor," Dawkins said.

The admiral gave him a frosty look.

"Spoken like a longtime married man, Colonel," he said. "I share that opinion, to a degree. But what I had in mind was that a bachelor can devote his full attention to his duties, where a married man is always concerned with the welfare of his family. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Yes, Sir. I take your point."

"But what you said just made me think of something else," the admiral said. "My wife would probably kill me if she heard me say this, but I would say-how can I phrase this delicately?-Would you agree, Colonel, that the pain of separation from one's wife is less for people like you and me, who have been married for a long time, than it would be for someone who has recently married and then is almost immediately separated from his bride?"

"Yes, Sir. I agree. And I think you phrased that very delicately, Admiral."

"Yes," the admiral agreed.

The messboys appeared, removed the silver shrimp cocktail bowls, and served the roast beef, roasted potatoes, and broccoli with hollandaise. A bottle of wine was introduced, opened, sipped by the admiral, and then poured.

The admiral raised his glass.

"To marriage, gentlemen. A noble institution. But one into which, I don't think, speaking of foolish young men with the best of intentions, Lieutenant David Schneider should enter at this point in his life and career."

Jesus Christ, what's this?

"I wasn't aware he was contemplating marriage." Colonel Dawkins said.

"He is," the admiral said, sawing at his roast beef. "He is now experiencing the ecstasy of what he really believes is true love. True love at first sight, to put a point on it."

"I'll be damned;" Dawkins said.

Not Mary Agnes, for Christ's sake!

"The young lady in question is a Navy Nurse," the admiral said. "Lieutenant (junior grade) Mary Alice O'Malley."

Holy Christ!

"Mary Agnes, Sir," Lieutenant Greyson corrected him.

"Mary Agnes, then," the admiral said, a trifle petulantly. "David came to me last night and told me that he intended to apply for permission to marry. He tells me that he has stolen the affections of this young woman away from your executive officer, Captain Galloway; and for that reason, and others, he fears that his application will be delayed by you. He therefore sought my good offices to overcome your objections." He looked at Galloway. "Was he correct? Would you have, by fair means or foul, put obstacles in his path?"