who was in civilian clothing. That pleased him. That meant that the President would not, out of courtesy, show Pickering’s Eyes Only to any one of a number of people around him who really didn’t have to—shouldn’t— see it.
“I came as quickly as I could manage, Mr. President,” Smith said.
“I think I should say this,” Truman said as he shook his hand. “I wasn’t trying to be distant, formal, when I called you ‘Mister.’ I’m just not comfortable with ‘Beetle.’ It sounds disrespectful.”
“Mr. President, you can call me anything you’d like to call me.”
“How about ‘Smith’? Would that be all right? Or even ‘Smitty’?”
“Either would be fine, Mr. President,” Smith said.
“Maybe ‘Smitty’ goes a little too far the other way,” Truman said. “Smith, you remember General Howe, don’t you?”
“Yes, sir. Of course. Welcome home, General.”
“Thank you,” Howe said.
“When you called, Smith, I was just about to send Ralph over to see you. I have ordered him to repeat to you some of the unkind things he’s been telling me about Douglas the First, Emperor of Japan, and his Royal Court.”
“I’ll be interested to hear them, sir. At your convenience, General.”
“What Ralph tells you is to go no farther,” Truman said. “Especially not across the Potomac to the Pentagon.”
“I understand, Mr. President,” Smith said.
“What have you got for me?” Truman asked.
“An Eyes Only from General Pickering,” Smith said.
He started, somewhat awkwardly, to try to open his briefcase.
“That would be a lot easier if you were sitting down,” Truman said.
“Thank you, Mr. President,” Smith said, and found a place on a small couch.
“Are you a drinking man, Smith?” the President asked. “Or is it a little early for you?”
Smith hesitated, and finally said, “I take a drink from time to time, sir.”
“Ralph and I are about to have a very stiff Jack Daniel’s,” the President said. “Is that all right, or would you like something else?”
“Jack Daniel’s would be fine, sir, thank you.”
Howe got out of his chair and walked to the door.
“Charley, get us three Jack Daniel’s—better make that a bottle—and ice, et cetera,” he ordered, then came back in time to carry the envelope Smith had finally gotten out of his briefcase to the President.
Truman opened the envelope, took out the contents, and then pushed himself far back in his red leather judge’s chair to read it. He did so carefully, put the papers back in the manila folder, and then, just as Charley Rogers, also in civilian clothing, came into the office trailed by a white-jacketed steward, threw the folder on his desk and said angrily, “Sonofabitch!”
“Mr. President?” Charley Rogers asked.
“Not you, Charley,” Truman said. He pointed to the manila folder. “Hand that to your boss, and then sit down and have a drink with us.”
Rogers moved to comply as the steward poured the drinks.
“That’ll be all, when you finish, thank you,” Truman said to the steward. “Leave the bottle.”
The steward quickly finished what he was doing and left the room.
“Charley, do you know Director Smith?” Truman asked.
“No, sir.”
“This is Charley Rogers,” the President said. “Master Sergeant Charley Rogers. He and I go as far back as General Howe and myself.” He paused, then added, “One vote the other way, and it would more than likely be General Rogers and Master Sergeant Howe.”
“Sir?” Smith asked, confused.
“When we mobilized for the First War,” Truman said, “we elected our officers. Did you know that?”
“I think I heard something about that, sir,” Smith said.
“I got my commission, captain, and command of Battery B that way. I was elected to it,” Truman said. “Ralph got his the same way. He beat Charley by one vote . . .”
“True,” Howe said.
“. . . and Charley didn’t want to be a second lieutenant . . .”
“Also true,” Rogers said, chuckling. “I still don’t.”
“. . . so he became first sergeant,” Truman finished. “I’ve often thought electing officers is a pretty good way to get them.”
Rogers and Smith shook hands.
“Well, Ralph?” the President asked. “What do you think of that message?”
“Mr. President,” Howe said, “from what Pickering says, and knowing McCoy as well as I do, I’d say you can take this to the bank.”
“Unfortunately, it’s not as simple as taking it to the bank,” Truman said. “It has to go to the Pentagon. And that opens a whole new can of worms. There’s a lot of pressure on me to relieve Douglas MacArthur. If they see this, that’ll give them one more argument that he’s—how do I say this?—past his prime. And should go. Ralph