MACARTHUR GLANCED UP FROM HIS desk and found George Moseley at his door, brandishing a rolled newspaper like a mace. “How long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough for another hundred bums to invade the city,” Moseley said. “Have you thought about what we talked about yesterday?”
Miffed that an intruder had been allowed to trespass his office’s picket line, MacArthur barked at the lobby, “Eisenhower!”
His adjutant, Major Dwight D. Eisenhower, rushed in from his station just outside the door on the upper floor of the old War Department building. “Yes, sir.”
“What did I tell you about announcing visitors?”
“Sir, General Moseley ordered me to allow him in without warning you.”
Rolling his eyes, MacArthur shot a sneer at Moseley and waved the aide out. “Shut the door behind you.”
Alone now with his superior, Moseley grinned at having captured the hero of the Marne undefended. “That desk stripe of yours is useless, Doug. Hell, at least get an officer in here who has had some combat experience.”
MacArthur brushed off the suggestion. “He may not be much of a guard dog, but I see something in him. He’s going to be a fine soldier, mark my word.”
“How long are we going to wait before we move on the White Plan?”
MacArthur stood and, lighting his pipe, walked toward the far window to draw Moseley away from the door, out of earshot of anyone who might be lurking in the lobby. With a heavy sigh suggesting that he had given the matter much thought, he warned, “We must be absolutely circumspect.”
Moseley unrolled the newspaper to display the headline in that morning’s Washington Post. “Those rail hobos broke through from St. Louis last night. This codger crusade is now on every front page in the country. Damn it, Doug! If they catch the trains right, they’ll be here in less than a week!”
“There are only four hundred of them. We’ve got that many in the city now.”
Moseley stood gape-mouthed, incredulous at MacArthur’s lack of alarm. “Haven’t you been reading the reports? These Oregon hobos are just the vanguard. The Intelligence Division says there could be thousands more on the way. This agitator Waters is becoming a goddamn pied piper hero to every drifter from California to New York. The Reds have infiltrated them. You know how those bastards operate.”
“Has Governor Emmerson called out the National Guard?”
Moseley snorted. “Hell, Emmerson is giving those freeloaders a parade across Illinois. The damn politicians are just hurrying the scum to us now.”
“It’s Glassford’s problem.”
“If we leave it to Glassford, we’re all going to end up shoveling shit in the gulags. Did you hear what that sonofabitch asked Hurley yesterday?’
“I really don’t want to know.”
“Glassford wants the Army to authorize funds for shelter and bedding for this Oregon plague of locusts coming at us. Can you believe that?”
“And?”
“Hurley sent him off with his tail between his legs. Said the federal government wouldn’t recognize the invasion. But your old pal is one stubborn sonofabitch. He went behind Hurley’s back and begged the brass at the Navy Yard and the Marines for help.”
For the first time, MacArthur expressed concern. “Marines?”
“They all turned him down, thank God.”
MacArthur paced the office, puffing furiously on his pipe. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Floyd Gibbons was behind this appeal to Quantico. We need to keep a close eye on the leathernecks. Smedley Butler has been going around the country giving speeches on behalf of the Bonus.”
Moseley made a strange gurgling sound of disdain in his throat. “A Quaker Marine running for the Senate. What the hell’s the world coming to? If Butler gets elected, we’ll have to circle the wagons around our appropriations.”
MacArthur debated the possible consequences of implementing the first steps of the secret military plan to defend the city against a civilian invasion. “We’ll need to manage this on the highest security level.”
“The president gave his approval?”
MacArthur’s eyes darted off. “Hurley managed to extract a mealy-mouthed general directive about national security. But the president has yet to be briefed on the details.”
Moseley pounded the desk with his fist. “Let’s put the damn thing in motion, then.”
MacArthur picked up his old riding crop from the bookcase behind him and gently slapped his thigh. “Our arrangements should not be revealed, even to the senior brass at Fort Myer. Not until we are ready. There are too many sympathizers over there.”
“Sympathizers? Hell, come out with it, Doug. You mean Communists.”
“We can’t be too careful. Yesterday I saw something that struck me as a warning sign. Several dozen of these dole-clamoring veterans have camped outside the barracks across the river. Some of the enlisted men were giving them handouts and money.”
“You think there’s a conspiracy brewing in the ranks?”
MacArthur deflected the question. “How many tanks do we have at Fort Meade?”
“Twenty.”
“Transfer five of them to Fort Myer at night. If anyone asks the reason, tell them the tanks are being used for training.”
Moseley walked over to a wall map of the city’s ring of defenses. “We’ll need transport at Fort Washington to bring troops down into the city on the quick.”
MacArthur nodded. “Send Perry Miles a fleet of trucks. If he asks the reason for the transfer, tell him it’s an appropriations issue. Then bring in more troops from Fort Meade and Fort Holabird. Coordinate with Moran to draw up plans to defend the White House and Treasury Building. One of the first targets of any attempted coup will be the Bureau of Printing and Engraving. If the Reds get their hands on the currency plates, all hell will break lose.”
“We should find some good undercover agents to infiltrate this hobo army.”
MacArthur gaveled the contents of his pipe into an ashtray. “I’ll speak to Al Smith over at Intelligence. He has a stable of trustworthy operatives.”
Moseley rapped his knuckles on the desk in approval. “Crissakes, Doug. Now that’s what I call a command decision. I wish you were sitting in the White House instead of—”
“George!”
“Hell, it’s my opinion! And I don’t give a damn who knows it! We need somebody running this country who’ll show some spine against these insurrectionists.”
“That will be all.”
Moseley saluted with a knowing smile, and walked out.
MacArthur waited until the lobby was clear, then called for Eisenhower again. Motioning for the door to be closed, the general pulled a gift box from the lower drawer of his desk and handed it to his aide.
Eisenhower stared at the wrapped bow. “Sir, I don’t know what to say.”
MacArthur glared at the presumption. “It’s not for you, Major.”
Eisenhower reddened with embarrassment. “No, of course. Sorry, sir.”
“I need you to make another delivery. And tell Miss Cooper that I won’t be home for lunch today.”
“Yes, sir.”
MacArthur studied his aide’s reaction. “How is Mamie?”
“She’s fine, sir. She complains about the long hours, but what Army wife doesn’t?”
“I’ve no doubt she takes my name in vain every night.”
“Right after mine, sir.”
“And young John? Is the boy going to be a soldier?”
“He enjoys walking Civil War battlefields with me, so there’s hope.”
MacArthur felt a pang of regret. “I wish I had a son to do that with.”
“Still time, sir.”
MacArthur leaned back in his chair. “Major, I know you disapprove of my arrangement at the Chastleton.”
“Sir, I—”
“You needn’t defend your beliefs. Perhaps someday you will understand. There comes a time in a man’s life when …” MacArthur’s voice trailed off, and he coughed down the emotion in his throat. Straightening his back, he returned to form. “Tell Dimples how beautiful she looks, will you? That will make her feel better. She’s been restless lately.”
Eisenhower saluted and turned for the door.
“Oh, and Major.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Take Mamie out this weekend. Maybe a nice dinner at the Officer’s Club.”
“Any particular reason, sir?”
MacArthur walked to the window and looked toward the White House. “She may be seeing even less of you during the next few months.”