FICTION

WILL THE REAL GRETA PLEASE STAND UP?

Marylynne WY-1-Mc FPE

"Well, that's it for this month, Sir," I said. "All reports are done and now we can get back to being Marines for awhile."

The Major smiled as he handed me the signed reports. "I can," he said, "but you're taking a trip."

"A trip, Sir?" I asked, "where to?"

"Washington," he replied. “Your orders for temporary duty are being cut right now. I'm sorry I couldn't let you know before now, but the fewer people that know, the better off we'll be. This way, it will look as if you're just a courier taking confidential reports back east.”

"Yes, Sir," I answered, "when do I leave?"

"On tonight's MATS plane. Take only your ditty bag and one change of clothing."

After completing the distribution of the reports, I packed the few things necessary for the trip wondering all the while why I was taking such a mysterious trip. The Major and I had been together for several years. We started together as 2nd Lieutenant and PFC, and now I was his First Sergeant. I was only 24 and could look forward to a long, fruit- ful service career before I retired.

On the way to the plane, I asked the Major why I was going to Wash- ington, but he knew no more than I did. We exchanged hand shakes and salutes as I boarded the plane. We were early into Washington the next morning, so I had breakfast at the terminal before reporting in.

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