This is no time for midshipman cant! You’re being sent behind the lines on an intelligence mission. Didn’t you read those books?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I was trying to prepare you, in days, to face facts the men in this room have faced, for months. Obviously, one of us has failed. Report to me at 1630, Mister.” Primrose’s voice rose in pitch and tempo as he spoke, and when he snapped the “Mister,” his words had become a whip which cracked against proud flesh.
At 1630, the flesh was still proud and Hansen’s spirit was not humbled. With the anxiety of a midshipman called before the superintendent, he waited in the admiral’s outer office, but there was a difference between a captain and a midshipman. He stood ready to resign his commission if the admiral continued this madcap scheme. Honor might be old-fashioned, but he valued it above his desire for promotion, and his loyalty to Helga was his honor.
When the warrant yeoman announced that the admiral would see him, Hansen walked into a smile and a hand waving him to a seat. “Sit down, Ben. How’d you like the way I handled the boys?”
“You have unique command presence, sir.”
“If you crack the whip before you pat the head, you’re firm but just. If you pat the head, then crack the whip, you’re a salty old seadog, and you know what that’s a synonym for. Cigarette, Captain?”
If this was the pat, Hansen wanted to make it plain that he would not sell his integrity for an Egyptian cigarette.
“No, thank you. Admiral.”
“Captain, I want to commend you for your attitude, so far, but there’s an area which could use a little spit and polish—your sense of humor. Humor in the service invites familiarity which invites contempt, and double-entendres cloud clarity.
“Taxpayers, however, use wit and humor to ease their burdens, and justly so. Many of them pay us more than they make, and they work for their money. We are called upon only to die for our pay, but they die, too, without getting paid for it.
“Under a democracy, the civilian establishment holds priority over the military except in the area of disbursements. We must always remember that, and when the boss whistles, you and I come running, not for his sake nor for our own, but for larger disbursements.
“Secretary Pickens delights in unusual similes and unique metaphors. When you asked him if your assignment violated the tenets established by the Nuremberg Trials, you couched your question improperly.”
“May I invite the admiral’s attention to the fact that I was talking to the admiral and not the secretary?”
“Wrong, Ben. Whenever you speak in the presence of the Secretary of Defense, you are speaking either to or for the benefit of the secretary.”
“Then, sir, how should I have put my question?”
“First, never ask direct questions in the presence of civilians. Direct questions imply that we lack knowledge of something, and we don’t want to give that impression of the military. Second, if you had stated the Nuremberg question in an allusive manner, if you had said, for instance, ‘Admiral, should I carry a cyanide capsule in my rectum when I go home?’ Secretary Pickens would have loved it.”
Hansen did not clearly understand, but he was learning. “Then, Admiral, Secretary Pickens would have loved me for my hair dye and my padded bra.”
“Well-asked, Captain,” the admiral chuckled. “In my form of your question, there’s an allusion to Goering’s suicide after he was sentenced to hang. You have shown a knowledge of history, advanced a theory regarding Goering’s hiding place for the cyanide, voiced a legal objection, and used the Nuremberg Trials as your precedent. Ogie would rather hear one four-deck allusion than a forty-two-gun salute.” Suddenly the admiral paused, drummed his fingers over the desk, and asked, “But how did the subject of Nuremberg arise in the first place?”
“I voiced moral reservation, sir, about my intelligence
“Yes, sir.”
“I was trying to prepare you, in days, to face facts the men in this room have faced, for months. Obviously, one of us has failed. Report to me at 1630, Mister.” Primrose’s voice rose in pitch and tempo as he spoke, and when he snapped the “Mister,” his words had become a whip which cracked against proud flesh.
At 1630, the flesh was still proud and Hansen’s spirit was not humbled. With the anxiety of a midshipman called before the superintendent, he waited in the admiral’s outer office, but there was a difference between a captain and a midshipman. He stood ready to resign his commission if the admiral continued this madcap scheme. Honor might be old-fashioned, but he valued it above his desire for promotion, and his loyalty to Helga was his honor.
When the warrant yeoman announced that the admiral would see him, Hansen walked into a smile and a hand waving him to a seat. “Sit down, Ben. How’d you like the way I handled the boys?”
“You have unique command presence, sir.”
“If you crack the whip before you pat the head, you’re firm but just. If you pat the head, then crack the whip, you’re a salty old seadog, and you know what that’s a synonym for. Cigarette, Captain?”
If this was the pat, Hansen wanted to make it plain that he would not sell his integrity for an Egyptian cigarette.
“No, thank you. Admiral.”
“Captain, I want to commend you for your attitude, so far, but there’s an area which could use a little spit and polish—your sense of humor. Humor in the service invites familiarity which invites contempt, and double-entendres cloud clarity.
“Taxpayers, however, use wit and humor to ease their burdens, and justly so. Many of them pay us more than they make, and they work for their money. We are called upon only to die for our pay, but they die, too, without getting paid for it.
“Under a democracy, the civilian establishment holds priority over the military except in the area of disbursements. We must always remember that, and when the boss whistles, you and I come running, not for his sake nor for our own, but for larger disbursements.
“Secretary Pickens delights in unusual similes and unique metaphors. When you asked him if your assignment violated the tenets established by the Nuremberg Trials, you couched your question improperly.”
“May I invite the admiral’s attention to the fact that I was talking to the admiral and not the secretary?”
“Wrong, Ben. Whenever you speak in the presence of the Secretary of Defense, you are speaking either to or for the benefit of the secretary.”
“Then, sir, how should I have put my question?”
“First, never ask direct questions in the presence of civilians. Direct questions imply that we lack knowledge of something, and we don’t want to give that impression of the military. Second, if you had stated the Nuremberg question in an allusive manner, if you had said, for instance, ‘Admiral, should I carry a cyanide capsule in my rectum when I go home?’ Secretary Pickens would have loved it.”
Hansen did not clearly understand, but he was learning. “Then, Admiral, Secretary Pickens would have loved me for my hair dye and my padded bra.”
“Well-asked, Captain,” the admiral chuckled. “In my form of your question, there’s an allusion to Goering’s suicide after he was sentenced to hang. You have shown a knowledge of history, advanced a theory regarding Goering’s hiding place for the cyanide, voiced a legal objection, and used the Nuremberg Trials as your precedent. Ogie would rather hear one four-deck allusion than a forty-two-gun salute.” Suddenly the admiral paused, drummed his fingers over the desk, and asked, “But how did the subject of Nuremberg arise in the first place?”
“I voiced moral reservation, sir, about my intelligence
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