Free The Hunting Trip by III William E. Butterworth Page A

‘Sir, CIC Administrator Williams reporting to the supervisory special agent in charge for duty, sir.’ Can you remember that?”
    â€œI thought you said we’re not supposed to say ‘sir.’”
    â€œIf memory serves, and mine invariably does, the word I used was ‘required.’ Supervisory Special Agent O’Reilly has told me on several occasions that rather than taking offense as he does when one of his peers refers to him as ‘Bill,’ when someone calls him ‘sir,’ it warms the cockles of his Irish heart as it reminds him of his happy days as an upperclassman in the West Point Corps of Cadets tormenting plebes.” He paused, then added, “Clear?”
    â€œYes, Mr. Dumbrowski.”
    Dumbrowski walked to an interior door, knocked on it, opened it a crack, and announced, “Mr. O’Reilly, sir, newly arrived CIC Administrator Williams is here and requests audience.”
    â€œSend him in.”
    Phil entered the office, went through the routine previouslydescribed, and found himself looking at Lieutenant Colonel William O’Reilly, who wore a red crew cut above a freckled face. He was about five feet four in height and appeared to weigh somewhere in the 125- to 135-pound body weight range.
    â€œYou may relax,” the colonel, who was in civilian attire, said.
    Phil decided this was the CIC version of At Ease and relaxed.
    The colonel stared at him intently.
    â€œI have been going over the final report of your complete background investigation, Williams. It has been my experience that when one wishes to learn all there is to know about an individual, one is wise to do so. Reading yours makes me suspect that whoever assigned you here is either grossly incompetent or had been drinking.
    â€œAccording to your FRCBI, your secondary education ended with your expulsion from Saint Malachi’s School, at which time you had completed two years and some months of your secondary education. Is this true?”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    â€œPhrased another way, you do not have a high school diploma?”
    â€œYes, sir. Correct.”
    â€œThe FRCBI also states that you were expelled from Saint Malachi’s School for moral turpitude, but does not go into the details of such turpitude. Would you care to share them with me?”
    â€œNo, sir.”
    â€œDo it anyway.”
    Phil related his transgression with regard to the intimate undergarments of Miss Bridget O’Malley.
    â€œI have to tell you, Williams, that even having the acquaintance of another former student of Saint Malachi’s School and knowing the depths of depravity to which he frequently sinks, I consider the humiliation of a nice Irish Catholic girl by a teenaged Protestant sexualdeviate, such as you obviously are, absolutely indefensible. And I warn you sternly herewith that if you pull anything like that while assigned to the Thirty-third CIC, you will rue the day you did.”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    â€œDismissed.”
    Phil went through the protocol of leaving an officer’s presence when dismissed—except for the rendering of the hand salute—and left Lieutenant Colonel William “Don’t Call Me Bill” O’Reilly’s office.
    â€œWhat happens now?” he asked Special Agent/First Sergeant Dumbrowski.
    â€œWell, once we get you settled in your room, you will commence ROTPIP.”
    What the
EXPLETIVE DELETED!!
is rot pip? Sounds painful.
    â€œRot pip, Mr. Dumbrowski?”
    Dumbrowski nodded.
    â€œRequired Orientation Training Program for Incoming Personnel. On your completion of that you will be assigned to CIC administrator duties. Any other questions?”
    â€œI couldn’t help but notice that,” Phil said, pointing to a wall-mounted cabinet that held a dozen Thompson submachine guns. “What are they for?”
    â€œThis will be covered in some detail during your ROTPIP, Williams, but briefly, those are