GUSTAW HERLING
57
circumstances?"
"During the war. We were chasing the Germans who were rapidly
retreating up the Adriatic. I was radio operator in the Polish artillery division.
Air reconnaissance was needed for successful pursuit, so an English airman
was detached to us, Lieutenant Melton. He flew a dilapidated little one-seater
- we called it the "Duck." He flew at very low altitude for maximum
visibility, to help us find the range of moving enemy targets as accurately as
possible. Since I knew English, I was assigned to receive his orders and cor–
rections by radio and relay them to our gunnery positions. Malcolm was a
master at tracking the Germans, but he ran terrible risks circling so low over
their constantly changing positions and dodging German fire in the twilight.
He played a dangerous game, and he enjoyed it; danger was what he was
looking for. Like many well-bred young Englishmen, he seemed to think of
the war as a once-in-a-lifetime chance for some sport, a unique kind of safari.
Our joint efforts were very successful, and the" Duck" became the division
mascot. Every evening after the day's action, Malcolm would drive his jeep
over from the landing field to see us. He was tall and handsome, and there
was something boyish about him. He had a gawky flat-footed way of walk–
ing that earned him the nickname of the "Drake" from our soldiers. He drank
a lot, but he could hold his liquor. Evidently he overdid it the day he was
promoted to captain, because that night on his way back from the mess he
ran his jeep into a transport truck. He came out ofthe accident with his left
leg broken in several places. But perhaps I am dawdling over this too much?"
"You might actually summarize a bit at this stage."
"That's what I'll do, because the rest of it I know only at second hand.
After an operation in a field hospital in Italy, they took him to England for
further treatment, but it did not give the hoped-for results. He was left with a
bad limp, and he couldn't walk without a cane. He remained that way for–
ever. I lost sight of him. The last thing I heard of him, it turned out that at
the end of the war he accepted a commission in the regular army and went
to work in ordnance. Two years after the war Sir Harold, who had been
Councillor at the British Embassy in Rome during World War I, returned to
Naples to his villa on Posillipo. In the meantime I had left Rome for discharge
in
England."
"Did you look up Malcolm in London?"
"I tried
to.
They told me on the telephone that he had gone to the
States on service. I left my address and phone number. He never called
back, and I took it to mean he did not want to resume a wartime friendship.
And I didn't bother him again."
"Could we digress for a moment, while we have the chance? Tell me
about Malcolm's father. I had his dossier dug out of the archives, pretty thick,
