"... but my position then, my position now, and what I told them, was that I never-Metro-Magnum never-paid Jake Dillon a dime that didn't come back like the bread Christ threw on the water."

But? Is this where we talk about those cold-blooded bastards in New York who don't understand because they are incapable of understanding? All they know is the bottom line?

"I don't mind telling you, Jake, that when you smoothed things over between Veronica and Janos Kazar, I felt my decision to keep you on as a member of the Metro-Magnum family was absolutely justified.... The way those two were at each other's throats, it was costing us more money than I like to think about...."

"Veronica is a sensitive artist, Jim. I really don't think Janos fully appreciates that."

Hearing her name, Veronica made another attempt to place her ear against the headset. Jake stood and walked away from her.

"Jake, I certainly don't want to argue the point, but calling him a Hungarian cocksucker at the top of her lungs in the commissary didn't make him look fondly at her. He's sensitive, too."

"Who is that? Are you talking about me?" Veronica asked.

She caught up with Jake, and he gave in. He held the receiver an inch from his ear so she could hear.

"Well, Jim, I think that's all water under the dam. I talked to Veronica today, and she tells me that they're going to wind up the looping tomorrow."

"So I understand," he said. "But let me continue. My point is that my judgment in keeping you on salary was justified by what you did for Metro-Magnum when you made peace between Veronica and Janos. And now this!"

Now this what? What the fuck is he talking about?

"She photographs like Bergman," Mr. Maxwell went on. "And her speaking voice. I wouldn't want that you should repeat this, but I ran the test again for Shirley, for her opinion..."

Shirley was Mrs. James Allwood Maxwell, a long-legged blonde who was almost a foot taller than her husband.

"... and Shirley said, about her voice, I mean, that it would even make Janos horny."

This can't be what I think he's talking about.

"Well, we all respect Shirley's judgment, Jim."

"So I thank you, my friend, on behalf of the entire Metro-Magnum family, for Dawn Morris."

"I thought that you would appreciate the same things I saw in her, Jim."

"We have major plans for her, Jake. Major plans. She's our answer to Lauren Bacall."

"I'm pleased it turned out well, Jim."

" 'Well' is a gross understatement," Mr. Maxwell said. "And Mort Cooperman had a splendid idea, Jake. And I'm sure it will please you. We can get some instant publicity out of it, and so can you. By you I mean the Marines. Mort wants to send her on the war bond tour with you. I told him I thought you would be pleased."

"Delighted."

"Good. Mort will be in touch. Such a pleasure hearing your voice, Jake."

"Good to talk to you, Jim."

The line went dead.

"I'll be a sonofabitch," Jake said.

"Why not, Jake?"

"It happens. Some people change when they're on film."

"That's not what I meant, Jake, and, goddamn it, you know it!"

"Oh," Jake Dillon said. "That."

"Yeah, that. Why not?"

"In addition to two thousand other reasons, I'm in the Marine Corps; I won't be around."

"Fuck the two thousand reasons. I know what you're thinking, and they're bullshit. And you won't be in the Marine Corps forever."

"Once a Marine, always a Marine. Haven't you ever heard that?"

"Goddamn you, Jake," Veronica said, her voice breaking.

"You think you could wait until the goddamn war is over?"

She met his eyes.

"What is that, a proposal? Can I consider myself proposed to?"

"If it makes you feel better."

"Is it, or isn't it?"

"Yeah, I guess it is."

"You're not just saying that?"

"No."

"You're supposed to drop on your knees when you propose."

"You've been watching too many movies. People don't do that."

"You will, or I'll know you're just bullshitting me."

Major Jake Dillon looked at her for a moment, then shrugged and dropped to one knee.

"This OK?" he asked.

"Honey, that's fine," Veronica Wood said.

[ONE]

Headquarters

First Marine Division

Guadalcanal, Solomon Islands

1115 Hours 2 November 1942

When Lieutenant Colonel Jack (NMI) Stecker, USMCR, walked into Division Headquarters, he was wearing frayed, sweat- and oil-stained utilities and a pair of boondockers covered with mud and mildew.

He was armed with a U.S. Rifle, Caliber.30-06, Ml, commonly known as the Garand. He carried it slung over his shoulder, with two eight-round, en bloc clips attached to its leather strap.

Early on in the battle for Guadalcanal, when then Major Stecker put a pair of bullets from his Garand into the heads of two Japanese soldiers (and did it firing offhand, with only two shots, at a distance that was later measured as 190 yards), he cast considerable doubt upon the widely held, near-sacred belief among Marines that the U.S. Rifle, Caliber.30-06, Ml903 Springfield was the finest rifle in the world.

He also wore a shoulder holster, which held a Colt M1911A1 pistol. These were originally issued to Second Lieutenant Richard J. Stecker, USMCR. When Colonel Stecker went to visit his son a few minutes before he was evacuated by air, he found them lying under Lieutenant Stecker's cot in the hospital.

Certain minor disciplinary and logistical problems within the First Marine Division resulted from Colonel Stecker's carrying of the Garand and his wearing of the shoulder holster. These problems were in no way due to any action or behavior of the Colonel. They just kind of grew like topsy:

As it happened, Marine regulations proscribed shoulder holsters, except for those engaged in special operations, such as tank crewmen and aviators. Naturally, no superior officer was about to challenge Colonel Stecker's right to wear one. Most senior officers, including his regimental commander, had a pretty good idea how he came by it and why he was wearing it. And this wasn't Quantico, anyway, this was Guadalcanal, and what difference did it make?