“General, it’s what reserve Marine Corps officers, like me, who didn’t go to the Naval Academy, say to regular Marine Corps officers, who did.”
“Mi general,” Nervo said, “I should not have said that. It just slipped out. Apparently, I cannot handle my newfound freedom to say what I’m thinking without considering the consequences.”
“General Nervo believes he is about to be thrown into the River Plate with his hands tied behind him,” Rawson said. “And if he ever says something like that again to me, I’ll throw him into the River Plate myself.”
“And I will help, mi general,” Capitán Lauffer said.
“Bobby,” Frade said. “We call people like you ‘ring knockers.’ ”
“A reference, no doubt, to a wedding ring?” Rawson asked.
“No. Naval Academy graduates wear Naval Academy rings. When someone who is not ‘Regular Navy’ says something they don’t like, they knock their rings on a table, or whatever, to remind us amateurs that we are challenging regulars who went to the Academy and therefore know everything about everything and are never wrong.”
“How interesting,” Rawson said. “‘People like you’ would obviously include me. Your father, Cletus, had the odd notion that the Ejército Argentino was making a serious mistake in restricting the officer corps to graduates of the Military Academy.”
“Well, I have to agree with that, sir,” Cletus said.
“Perhaps we are,” Rawson said, his tone suggesting he didn’t believe that for a moment. “So tell me, General Nervo, what—as an amateur—it is that you find wrong with my idea of sending Subinspector General Nolasco to San Martin to deal with Perón?”
“Sir, I don’t think we should arrest Perón until we know more about his involvement in this,” Nervo said. “Send Nolasco to San Martín to locate Perón and keep an eye on him, but not arrest him until he hears from you.”
Rawson nodded but did not reply.
“General,” Clete said. “We don’t know if the Pipers will arrive—”
“I ordered el Coronel Pereitra to send them,” Rawson said impatiently, then heard what he had said. “And if they don’t?”
Clete said, “Even if the Húsares de Pueyrredón’s Pipers do arrive, we won’t know if they’ll work until I have a look at them. And without the Pipers, we’re just pissing in the wind. Which means we’re going to have to think of something else, like commandeering a couple of those.”
He pointed across the airfield to hangars in which at least four privately owned Piper Cubs were parked.
“And what is your suggestion in that regard, Cletus?” Rawson asked.
“Send the general over there with me to commandeer those airplanes.”
“And what would you suggest regarding el Coronel Perón?”
“I agree with the general, sir. Don’t arrest my beloved Tío Juan until we know more than we do.”
“All right,” Rawson said. “Here’s what we are going to do: Subinspector General Nolasco, get back on the airplane. Find and keep your eye on el Coronel Perón in San Martín, but take no action until you hear from either General Nervo or me.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Capitán Lauffer, you, General Nervo, Coronel Martín, and I are going to walk over there with Don Cletus to select which of those airplanes are to be commandeered into the service of the Argentine Republic.”
“Yes, sir.”
[NINE]
Estancia Don Guillermo
Km 40.4, Provincial Route 60
Mendoza Province, Argentina
1525 16 October 1943
Hauptsturmführer Sepp Schäfer—on detached service from the Leibstandarte Adolf Hitler—had his Schmeisser at the ready as he moved as rapidly and as quietly as he could down the area between long rows of grapevines.