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“Under these circumstances, Colonel, while you will be afforded the courtesies to which your rank entitles you, there are several conditions I feel necessary to impose.”

“Shoot,” Frade said. “Figuratively speaking, of course, Captain.”

“You will mess with the officers in the wardroom. Pushing that button”—he pointed—“will summon my steward, who will take care of your laundry, et cetera, and bring you, if you wish, coffee and doughnuts from the galley. You will not engage in conversation with the ship’s company—the sailors—at any time, and will converse with my officers only when I or my executive officer is present.”

“That’s that sort of roly-poly lieutenant who brought me down here when I came aboard?”

“His name is Lieutenant John Crosby, Colonel. You are not permitted to leave ‘officer’s country’—do you know what that means, Colonel?”

“I’d hazard a wild guess that’s where your officers hang out.”

Prentiss nodded. “And you are not permitted to be on the bridge. You may, should you desire, go to the flying bridges on either side of the bridge itself.”

Frade waited for him to go on.

“I think I’ve covered everything. Any questions, Colonel Frade?”

“I guess I missed supper, huh, Captain?”

Captain Prentiss turned and left the cabin without speaking.

[TWO]

Executive Officers’ Quarters USS Bartram Greene DD-201 South Atlantic Ocean off Brazil 0805 15 June 1945

Captain Prentiss knocked at the door, was given permission to enter, and did so.

Frade, who had been sitting at the fold-down desk, stood.

“I had hoped to see you at breakfast, Colonel.”

“It’s a little chilly in there for me, Captain.”

“I had planned to read this aloud to the wardroom,” Prentiss said, and handed Frade a sheet of paper. “That was transmitted in the clear, Colonel.”

FOR SLATS FROM LITTLE DICK

POPPA SAYS YOUR SUPERCARGO REALLY GOOD GUY

TREAT HIM ACCORDINGLY

Frade handed the paper back without comment.

“My roommate at Annapolis,” Captain Prentiss explained, “Colonel J. C. Wallace, was called ‘Little Dick.’ He called me ‘Slats.’”

&

nbsp; “I understand why people could call you Slats, Captain. But it would not behoove me as a field-grade Marine officer to ask why you called your roommate Little Dick.”

Prentiss grinned. Then he said: “Actually, one of the reasons was because his father, Vice Admiral Wallace, is called Big Dick.”

“Oh.”

“Colonel, you now have freedom of the ship, including the bridge. And I would be pleased if you would join me now for breakfast. I assure you, it will be much warmer in the wardroom than it has been.”

“Thank you.”

“All of my officers, and me, have been wondering exactly what it was that caused you to give Colonel Flowers the finger as we let loose all lines.”