Museum of Pathology,” Dr. McClintock said, smiling. “Several of our intense young researchers suggested, more or less seriously, that we just keep him here as a living specimen bank.”
“Do you realize how sick you were?” Dr. Lunsford demanded of his son. “For that matter, still are?”
“I didn’t really feel chipper, now that you mention it, Dad,” Captain Lunsford said, “but there is a silver lining in the cloud. I have been given so many different antibiotics that it is not only absolutely impossible for me to have any known social disease, but I may spread pollen, so to speak, for the next six months or so without any worry about catching anything.”
Dr. McClintock and the elder Dr. Lunsford chuckled. The younger Dr. Lunsford shook his head in disgust.
“We think, Doctor,” Dr. McClintock said, “that everything is under control. We were a little worried, frankly, about the liver, but that seems to have responded remarkably—”
He stopped in midsentence as the door to the room opened suddenly and two men in gray suits walked briskly in. One of them quickly scrutinized the people in the room, then walked quickly to the bathroom, pulled the door open, and looked around inside. Then he stepped inside and pushed the white shower curtain aside.
The other went to the window and closed the vertical blinds, then turned to Dr. McClintock.
“Who are these people, General?” he demanded.
“Who the hell are you?” Captain Lunsford demanded icily.
The wide, glossily varnished wooden door to the corridor opened again.
The President of the United States walked in. On his heels was Colonel Sanford T. Felter, who was wearing a rumpled and ill-fitting suit.
“You can leave, thank you,” the President said.
“Mr. President—” one of the Secret Service men began to protest.
“Goddamn it, you heard me!”
The two Secret Service men, visibly annoyed, left the room.
“How do you feel, son?” the President asked Captain Lunsford with what sounded like genuine concern in his voice.
“I’m all right, sir, thank you,” Lunsford replied, a tone of surprise in his voice.
“This your dad?” the President asked.
“Yes, sir, and my brother.”
“Well, you can be proud of this boy, Mr. Lunsford,” the President said. “He’s something special.”
“It’s ‘Dr.’ Lunsford, Mr. President,” Captain Lunsford said.
“No offense, Doctor,” the President said. “I didn’t know. Usually Colonel Felter tells me things I should know, like that.”
“None taken, Mr. President,” Dr. Lunsford said.
The President turned to Captain Lunsford.
“I’m having a little trouble with Congress about your Belgian and Congolese medals,” he said. “You’ll get the authorization— you and the sergeant—but it may take a while. So, in the meantime, I thought maybe this might make up for it.”
He held out his right arm behind him. Felter put an oblong blue box in it. The President opened the lid and took out a medal.
“That’s the Silver Star, Captain,” the President said. “I understand it will be your third. I can’t believe the others are more well-deserved than this one.”
He stepped to Lunsford and pinned the medal to the lapel of his coat. He did not do so properly; it promptly fell off. Lunsford, in a reflex action, grabbed for it, and the open pin buried itself in the heel of his hand.
“Shit!” he said involuntarily, and then, immediately, “Excuse me, sir.”
“I understand,” the President said, chuckling, “that ‘it’s the thought that counts.’ ” And then there was concern in his voice, as Lunsford pulled the pin free from his hand. “You all right, son?”
“Yes, sir,” Lunsford said.
“I told the chief of staff to find out if there is some reason your name can’t be on the next promotion list to major. I have the feeling he’s not going to find any.”
Lunsford looked at him but didn’t say anything.
“You’re one hell of a man, Captain,” the President said. “I’m grateful to you. Your country is grateful.”
He shook Lunsford’s hand, then punched him affectionately on the shoulder, and then shook the hands of Lunsford’s father and brother.
The President nodded at Dr. McClintock, murmured, “General, ” and, adding, “Let’s go, Felter,” walked out of the room.
“See you soon, Father,” Felter said, and followed the President out of the room.
“It was very good of you, Mr. President, to make the time for Captain Lunsford. I appreciate it,” Colonel Felter said as the presidential limousine headed back to the White House.
“If I had the time, I’d go to Fort Bragg and pin a medal on that sergeant who parachuted with the Belgians, too,” the President said. “Goddamn, men like that make you proud to be an American. ”