And then he saw that the Pole’s dyed-black uniform wasn’t baggy cotton twill fatigue jacket and pants.
That’s a dyed-black woolen OD Ike jacket, trousers, khaki shirt, and necktie.
When did they start issuing the PSO regular uniforms?
And those aren’t combat boots, either. What they look like is German Fallschirmjager boots.
When did they start issuing the PSO German paratrooper boots?
Hammersmith crawled out of the L-4, took his small bag out, thanked the pilot for the ride, and turned to face the PSO Pole.
“Mr. Hammersmith?” the Pole inquired politely.
Hammersmith nodded.
“May I see your ID, sir? It’s the protocol.”
He sounds like a fucking Limey.
Hammersmith produced his CIC credentials. The Pole examined them carefully and then handed them back.
“Thank you, sir. If you’ll come with us, we’ll take you over to the office. They’re waiting for you.”
“Who’s ‘they’?” Hammersmith said, as they began walking to the jeep.
“Why don’t you get in front, sir? I’ll hop in the back.”
Hammersmith got in the jeep beside the driver, who smiled broadly at him and said, “Welcome to the Co
mpound. How was the flight in the puddle jumper?”
“Long, noisy, and a little bumpy,” Hammersmith said. “Who’s the guy in the back?”
“That’s Senior Watch Chief Wieczorek. He’s a Pole in the PSO. That’s like a first lieutenant, a senior watch chief is.”
“He said they’re waiting for me. Who’s ‘they’?”
“Well, I guess that would be General Gehlen, and Major Wallace, plus of course the chief.”
“And the chief is?”
“Mr. Cronley. Nice guy. You’ll like him.”
“Whoopee!” Hammersmith said. “Drive on, Sergeant!”
And then he remembered what General Greene had advised him to do, and did it.
Think Major Hammersmith! Think Major Hammersmith! Think Major Hammersmith! Think major! Think major!
[ THREE ]
The South German Industrial Development Organization Compound
Pullach, Bavaria
American Zone of Occupation, Germany
1205 24 January 1946