of World War II. Enlisted members of the Chrome Domes wore standard pistol belts, but they were painted white, as were the accoutrements thereof—the leather pistol holster, and two pouches for spare pistol magazines.
The Buick stopped. The doors were opened, and three men got out. One of them was Colonel Sidney Huff, senior aide to General Douglas MacArthur. He was in his usual splendidly tailored tropical worsted tunic and blouse, from which hung all the especial insignia decreed for the uniform of an aide-de-camp to a five-star general. Colonel Huff was not armed.
The second man out of the Buick was wearing somewhat soiled fatigues and mud-splattered combat boots, into which the hem of his trousers had not been stuffed. The chevrons of a master sergeant were sewn to his sleeves. He was armed with a Model 1928 Thompson .45 ACP caliber submachine gun and a Model 1911A1 Pistol, Caliber .45 ACP, worn in a shoulder holster. The pockets of his fatigue jacket bulged with spare magazines for both weapons.
The third man was dressed identically to the master sergeant—including jacket pockets bulging with spare magazines—with these exceptions: He was carrying a submachine gun, M3, caliber .45 ACP, instead of a Thompson. The M3, developed in World War II, was built cheaply of mostly stamped parts, and was known as a “grease gun” because it looked like a grease gun. And instead of chevrons indicating enlisted rank, there were two silver stars on each of his fatigue jacket collar points.
Major General Ralph Howe, NGUS, returned the salute of the Chrome Dome holding open his door and started to follow Colonel Huff up the stairs and into the Dai Ichi Building. Master Sergeant Charley Rogers brought up the rear.
Standing just outside the door itself were six more Chrome Domes and the Chrome Dome officer, already saluting, and two more were holding the door itself open.
“Perhaps,” Colonel Huff said, in the Supreme Commander’s outer office, “it would be best if you left your weapons with your sergeant.”
“Colonel, I really hadn’t planned to shoot General MacArthur,” Howe said. He handed Rogers the grease gun, but made no move with regard to his pistol.
“Colonel, how about seeing if you can have someone send something up here for Charley to eat? Neither one of us could handle the powdered eggs they were feeding at K-1.”
Huff’s face tightened.
“Yes, sir,” he said, then went to the right of the double doors, knocked twice, and pushed it open before Howe heard a reply.
“General, Major General Howe,” Huff announced.
He indicated that Howe should enter the office.
MacArthur, who was behind his desk in his washed-soft khaki, tieless uniform, rose as Howe entered the room. Howe saluted. MacArthur returned it, then came around the desk and offered Howe his hand.
“Thank you for coming so soon, General,” MacArthur said. “I didn’t think, frankly, it would be this soon.”
“I came right from the airport, sir. Your colonel, at Haneda, said you wanted to see me ‘at my earliest convenience. ’ Coming from you, I interpreted that you meant you wanted to see me immediately.”
“I would have understood certainly that you might have taken time to freshen yourself,” MacArthur said.
“If I had known that, sir, I would have stopped for breakfast, ” Howe said.
“Can I get you something here?” MacArthur asked.
“General, I would just about kill for a fried-egg sandwich, a glass of milk, and a cup of coffee.”
Howe saw the look of surprise that flashed across MacArthur’s face.
I was supposed to say, “No thank you, sir, but thank you just the same.” Right? You’re not supposed to order a snack in El Supremo’s office, right?
MacArthur turned and pushed a button on the desk.
Colonel Huff appeared immediately.
“Huff, have the mess send a fried-egg sandwich—make that two; no, make it three, I’m suddenly hungry myself— a glass of milk, and coffee up, will you, please?”
Colonel Huff wasn’t entirely able to keep his face from registering surprise.
“Right away, General,” he said.
“It should be here shortly,” MacArthur said. “Is it too early in the morning for you, General, for a cigar?”
“It’s never too early or too late for a good cigar or a good woman, sir,” Howe said.
MacArthur laughed, then turned to his desk again, picked up a small humidor, and offered it to Howe. Howe took one of the long, black, thin cigars, sniffed it, then rolled it between his fingers.
“Philippine,” MacArthur said. “I smoked them all through the war, courtesy of our friend Pickering.”
“How’s that, sir?”
“The Pacific Princess brought one of the first troop shipments to Australia