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Phil blew just about all the forty bucks that same night on Alexandra Black in Manhattan. But to no avail. Worse, that night as she gave him a friendly kiss on the cheek good night, Alexandra told him that she had met a very nice boy from Yale and didn’t think she and Phil should see each other anymore.

—

Even worse, the next Monday morning, Phil was summoned by his first sergeant.

“How come you know General Schwarzkopf, PFC EXPLETIVE DELETED!! head?”

General H. Norman Schwarzkopf, Sr., who invented the New Jersey State Police and later returned to the Army for service in World War II, was a pinochle-playing crony of Phil’s grandfather, the corporate counsel for the Public Service Company of New Jersey. The other General H. Norman Schwarzkopf, his son, the one who would win the first Desert War, was at about this time a second lieutenant.

“First Sergeant, sir, he’s a family friend.”

“Well, he got you a Top Secret security clearance. I never saw one of the EXPLETIVE DELETED!! come through so EXPLETIVE DELETED!! quick.”

Why in the world, Phil wondered,

would General Schwarzkopf get me a Top Secret security clearance?

And then he remembered that early in his military career he had opted for the Army Security Agency to avoid going to West Point, and that he had been then required to fill out a multi-page form wanting to know every detail of his life. The form had asked for references, and as he was hard-pressed to think of any, he had given General Schwarzkopf as one of these.

“Just as soon as you pass the Morse Test, PFC EXPLETIVE DELETED!! head, you will pack your duffel bag and head for Fort Monmouth, New Jersey, for Army Security Agency training,” the first sergeant said.

“The what test, First Sergeant, sir?”

“There are three requirements to get into the ASA, PFC EXPLETIVE DELETED!! Head,” his first sergeant explained. “You have to type thirty EXPLETIVE DELETED!! words a minute, hold a Top EXPLETIVE DELETED!! Secret clearance, and pass the EXPLETIVE DELETED!! Morse Test. You know, Dit EXPLETIVE DELETED!! Dot EXPLETIVE DELETED!! Dit?”

“Yes, sir, First Sergeant.”

“You got two out of EXPLETIVE DELETED!! three, and as soon as you take the Morse Test, you’ll have all EXPLETIVE DELETED!! three. And then sayonara, PFC EXPLETIVE DELETED!! Head, don’t let the doorknob hit you in the EXPLETIVE DELETED!! EXPLETIVE DELETED!! on your way out.”

Phil saw a problem concerning a military career as an Intercept Operator in the ASA. He had learned that while such personnel did in fact perform their duties indoors sitting out of the sun, snow, and rain, they did so while wearing earphones for eight hours at a stretch, day after day.

That didn’t seem like much fun compared to working three half days a week and spending the rest of his duty time on the KD and skeet and trap ranges. Besides, there was a possibility, however slim, that Alexandra might become disillusioned with the nice boy from Yale she had met.

Before the EXPLETIVE DELETED!! Yalie had appeared on the scene, Phil had been tantalizingly close to achieving what was the greatest ambition of his entire seventeen years.

“First Sergeant, do I have a choice in this?”

“Indeed you do, PFC EXPLETIVE DELETED!! Head. You can get the EXPLETIVE DELETED!! out of my sight now, or delay doing so for thirty EXPLETIVE DELETED!! seconds, after which I will shove my boot so far up your EXPLETIVE DELETED!! that you’ll have EXPLETIVE DELETED!! shoelaces coming out of your EXPLETIVE DELETED!! nose.”

—

After giving the subject a great deal of thought, Phil purposefully failed the Morse Test. Failed it twice, as the tester suspected he wasn’t really trying on his first try. And then a third time when his failure came to the attention of various officers in the chain of command.

Phil saw for the first time in his life the unexpected ramifications that can occur when there is a bureaucratic misstep. This took place immediately after he failed the Morse Test for the third time.

Captain Barson Michaels, who looked kindly on Phil as a result of their time together on the skeet and trap ranges, turned to him and said, not unkindly, “What the hell are we going to do with you now, Phil?”

“Make him take the EXPLETIVE DELETED!! Morse Test once an hour until he passes the EXPLETIVE DELETED!! thing,” another officer in the room suggested.

“There has to be another option,” Captain Michaels said. “I know this young soldier, Lieutenant. He’s given the test his best shot, so to speak.”

He winked at Phil, which suggested to Phil that Captain Michaels understood and sympathized with Phil’s reluctance to become an ASA Intercept Operator.

“The regulation is clear,” the lieutenant argued. “Complete background investigations, which cost a EXPLETIVE DELETED!! arm and a leg, are not to be initiated until all testing has been satisfactorily completed. It’s the same with the CIC. No background investigation until the soldier passes the tests. Do you want to tell the Inspector General who EXPLETIVE DELETED!! that up here?”

Phil had never heard of the CIC.

“What are the tests required for the CIC?” Captain Michaels inquired.