Over the next few days, General Devers provided Mac with his orders, which had come from Navy Command, while Mac wrote a letter to his wife that the General assured him she would get. Bill Donavan himself, Mac was told, was coming to Corsica to prepare Mac for his mission. In the meantime, he had a few days to himself to get ready, and to dream about the day when he would be home. Mac realized that what he was about to do was far more dangerous than anything he had done before. He would now be hiding from the Nazis, not the Italian Squadristi.
His room in the Palace of Governors was comfortable enough, thoughtfully appointed with overstuffed chairs, and a plush feather bed. The stucco walls were robust enough to keep out the early January weather on the island, but the rain did not stop falling for days. Mac was told that he would be brought to the shores of southern France by French submarine, the Casabianca, which he was excited about. Certainly, it negated the importance of the weather, in the cross-sea transfer. He would be placed in the care of the Resistance to the east of Marseille, and then play it by ear from there. His mission would be set forth in more detail by Donavan.
The days turned into weeks, with little or no contact with anyone other than General Devers. Mac read books he found around the Palace of Governors, poured over maps of southern France in the office of General Devers, and generally tried to relax for his upcoming mission. He was fully aware that he may never return home, but he had confronted that reality before Sicily. He missed his family, yet his country had to come first. If he, and men like him, were not successful, what kind of home would he be returning to?
As January began to slip by, Mac was getting anxious. He wanted to go, Donavan or not. He knew what needed to be done. He asked General Devers to get him over there, into the action. The General assured Mac that he would be going soon enough, and that he should just relax for the time being. Mac wrote more letters to his wife, missing her and his child. Time marched on, with no promise of the future.
Mac was summoned to the office of General Devers toward the end of January, on a day that the sun was finally showing itself. As Mac was brought into the room, he saw that Bill Donavan was there.
“Commander Martin,” said Bill Donavan, “it is good to see you, son.”
“It is good to see you, sir. I am raring to go. I am ready, sir.”
“I am sure you are. We have heard all about Sicily. You did a wonderful job there. Your efforts were brought to the president himself. He lives to hear your stories. You did your Country a great service by taking out the bridges across Sicily. It allowed our boys to access the beaches and southern shores without the Italians being able to shore up their defenses. Well done, son. And you took out a Gestapo agent. Amazing story. Your friend the Don is apparently telling everyone about it.”
“Don Corelli is a brave man, Mr. Donavan, as is his son, and his grandson. Without them, we would not have been able to do what we did, sir. They deserve much of the credit, Mr. Donavan.”
“It has been duly noted, Mac. They will enjoy the appreciations of our country. I assure you that our country knows how to take care of those who are good to us.”
“So, when can we get down to it, sir? I am anxious to get it going. I understand we are under a deadline of late Spring.”
“That is true, Commander, but I think we can wait until tomorrow to discuss that. You have some catching up to do between now and then.”
With that, Donavan nodded to General Devers, who then picked up his telephone.
“Yes, yes, show her in,” General Devers barked into the telephone.
Mac was bewildered as to what was happening, as he looked at the heavy wooden door into the office, along with the other two men. The door swung open after a light rap, the sunlight streaming in behind the silhouette of a young woman, being led in by a finely dressed military officer.
“Carla?” yelled Mac. “I can’t believe it. What are you doing here?”
“You could not keep me away another minute. When Mr. Donavan told me he was going to meet with you, I insisted on coming along. I had to see you!” she cried, as she rushed to her husband. “I flew again, Mac! And I didn’t pee myself this time.”
“Carla, you have no idea how much I have missed you!” said Mac, laughing about her comment, along with the other men. “My legs are weak in seeing you here. Mr. Donavan, thank you so much,” said Mac, shaking the older man's hand.
“It is the least we could do, Mac. The next best thing to going home, I hope. The President himself approved it, which is what took so long for me to get here,” laughed Donavan. “Go ahead, go catch up with your wife, young man. Tomorrow is time enough for us to get back to the business at hand. Go enjoy yourselves.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Mac, as he led his wife back to his quarters. “Where is Teles, Carla?”
“He is at home, with your parents, Mac, staying in our apartment. They are fine.”
As the heavy wooden door to Mac's quarters closed behind them, Mac took his wife in his arms, and kissed her passionately. She returned his kisses, while both had their hands all over each other's bodies.
“Oh Mac, I feel shy. It has been so long.”
“Too long, my dear.”
They spent the next hours making love to each other, with nary a word between them. The bliss they felt for each other was heightened by the anxiety of knowing that today may have to last forever. With their exhaustion, the couple laid in each other's arms, smoking, laughing, and kissing, neither wanting it to ever end.
“Mac, please be careful over there. We need you.”
“I will be careful. It will be safe, darling,” Mac lied.
“I know you are lying, husband, but I know you want to come home to me, and that has to be enough.”
“How do you know I am lying?”
“Your lip turns up when you are lying; dead give away.”
“I’ll remember that,” laughed Mac. “Can’t have you knowing when I am blowing smoke up your skirt.”
“Oh Mac, please come home to us. Please! We all miss you so much.”
“I miss you, kitten. I will come home. I promise.”
“I am going back with Mr. Donavan tomorrow afternoon. I must get back myself. Got myself a job, Mac. Are you proud of me?”
“What are you doing? Isn’t my firm paying all your expenses?”
“Oh yes, Mac. They have been great. They have even insisted that I explore private school on the upper Westside for Teles.”
“So, why are you working?”
“My heart belongs to my husband first, my child second, and then to Broadway. Oh Mac, I just love it. Hallie got me involved; you remember. I got a part in a play, Mac. A small part, but I am on the stage, nonetheless. Oh Mac, I love being on stage.”
“What play are you in,” laughed Mac. “I think it is wonderful,” lied Mac. “I can’t wait to tell Florence Gould. I saw her and Frank back in December. They were asking for you. She will be delighted, seeing as she pushed you out of your shell.”
“It is called “Follow the Girls,” Mac. It is about a servicemen's club on Long Island. I have a small part as one of the girls in the club. I sing a lot, but no solos. It is fun, Mac. It opens in April, on Broadway! I am so excited to be a part of it all. Hallie introduced me to the producer. I auditioned, and apparently, they loved me. Plus, I am sure it helped that President Roosevelt put in a word on my behalf. What choice did they have, but to give me the part?”
“Carla, I have heard about that show. It is a burlesque thing, isn’t it?”
“Oh Mac, it is the stage. And I stay dressed. I am married, after all. Please Mac, don’t be mad!”
“I am not mad, Carla. I am happy for you. I am sure that President Roosevelt and Hallie would not put you into anything that would be improper. I am sure that you would not do anything to embarrass us. With any luck, after this horrible war, I will be home, and go back to my practice. And who knows, maybe use my contacts to run for public office. My wife must be proper; you understand.”
“Oh Mac, trust me, I am proper; always. I am yours.”
Mac lifted the sheets and took a good look at his beautiful wife. He pulled her close, allowing the smell of her hair to tickle his nose.
“Mac, you can always trust me.”
“I do, Carla, I do,” said Mac, “it is the rest of this crazy world that I am not so sure about.