The winner of the November, 2006 Short Fiction Contest, Bruce Golden’s story looks at the mystery surrounding the death of Major Glenn Miller.
January 30, 1946 — Allied Headquarters, Paris, France
“What is it, Captain? I’m very busy.”
“Sorry to disturb you, Colonel, but you said you wanted a report as soon as I completed my investigation.”
Colonel Washburn searched his desk muttering, “Yes, yes. I’ll read your report as soon as you’ve filed it.”
Captain Mercer didn’t move. He was hesitant to annoy his superior officer when the man was so obviously distracted by other concerns, but he was convinced it was necessary.
“Pardon me, sir, but I know the directive for this investigation came from the top, and I believe you should hear my findings before any official documents are filed.”
The colonel looked up at his subordinate for the first time. “What do you mean? What did your investigation reveal?”
“Well, sir . . . .” Captain Mercer hesitated. He’d rehearsed this, but now wasn’t certain where to begin.
“Come on, son, I don’t have all day. Major Miller’s plane went down somewhere over the Channel — correct?”
“Well yes . . . and no.” Mercer cringed at how it sounded.
“What do you mean yes and no? It can’t be both, Captain. What exactly did your investigation conclude?”...
May 18th, 2015