'Commander Bonson and his associate are from the Naval Investigative Service,' said Dogwood.
Oh, shit, thought Donny.
The room was dark, the shades drawn. The captain's meager assembly of service medals hung in a frame on the wall behind him, as well as an announcement of his degree in International Finance from George Washington University. His desk was shiny and almost clear except for the polished 105mm howitzer shell that had been cut down to a paper clip cup and was everybody's souvenir from service in RSVN, and pictures of a pretty wife and two baby girls.
'Sit down, Fenn,' said Bonson, not looking up from documents he was studying, which, as Donny saw, were his own jacket, or personnel records.
'Aye, aye, sir,' said Donny. He found a chair and set himself into it stiffly, facing the three men who seemed to hold his destiny in their hands. Outside, the shouts of drill came through the windows, outside it was bright and hot and the day was filled with duty. Donny felt in murky waters here, what the hell was this all about?
'Good record,' said Bonson.
'Excellent job in country.
Good record here in the barracks. Your hitch is up when, Fenn?'
'Sir, May seventy-two.'
'Hate to see you leave, Fenn. The Corps needs good men like you.'
'Yes, sir,' said Donny, wondering if this was some-no, no, it couldn't be a recruiting pitch. NIS was the Navy and the Corps's own, tinny version of the FBI: they investigated, they didn't recruit.
'I'm engaged to be married.
I've already been accepted back at the University of Arizona.'
'What will you study?' asked the commander.
'Sir, pre-law, I think.'
'You know, Fenn, you'll probably get out a corporal.
Rank is hard to come by in the Corps, because it's so small and there just aren't the positions available, no matter the talent and the commitment.'
'Yes, sir,' said Donny.
'Only about eight percent of four-year enlistees come out higher than corporal. That is, as a sergeant or higher.'
'Yes, sir.'
'Fenn, think how it would help your law career if you made sergeant. You'd be one of an incredibly small number of men to do so. You'd truly be in an elite.'
'Ah--' Donny hardly knew what to say.
'The officers have a tremendous opportunity for you, Fenn,' said Captain Dogwood.
'You'd do well to hear them out.'
'Yes, sir,' said Donny.
'Corporal Fenn, we have a leak. A bad leak. We want you to plug it.'
'A leak, sir?' said Donny.
'Yes. You know we have sources into most of the major peace groups. And you've heard rumors that on May Day, they're going to try to shut the city down and bring the war to a halt by destroying the head of the machine.'
Rumors like that flew through the air. The Weather Underground, the Black Panthers, SNICC, they were going to close down Washington, levitate the Pentagon or bury it in rose petals, break into the armories and lead armed insurrection. It just meant that Bravo Company was always on alert status and nobody could get any serious liberty time.
'I've heard.' His girlfriend was headed in for the May Day weekend. It would be great to see her, if he wasn't stuck on alert or, worse, sleeping under a desk in some building near the White House.
'Well, it's true. May Day. The communist holiday.
They have the biggest mobilization of the war planned.
They really mean to close us down and keep us closed down.'
'Yes, sir.'
'Our job is simple,' said Lieutenant Commander Bonson.
'It's to stop them.'
Such determination in the man's voice, even a little tremble. His eyes seemed to burn with old-fashioned Iwo Jima-style zeal. At the same time, Donny couldn't help notice the lack of an RSVN service ribbon on the khaki of his chest.
'Remember November?' asked Bonson.
'Yes, sir,' said Donny, and indeed he did. It stuck in his mind, not the whole thing, really, but one ludicrous moment.
It was late, near 2400, midnight in the American soul, and the Marines of Bravo in full combat gear were filing
