James Benn - The White Ghost

Jack led us down into his wardroom, which was about as big as a broom closet. A crewman brought in coffee, even though below deck it was as hot as Hades. Which wasn’t much different from being in the sun above deck, so we drank it.

“We need your help, Jack,” I said. I outlined what we’d figured about Peter Fraser, aka Silas Porter.

“He killed three people over a copra plantation?” Jack asked. “That’s nuts.”

“And he probably didn’t mind it that you were a suspect,” I said, making it as personal an affront as I could.

“What can I do?” Jack asked.

“Take us to Choiseul,” I said. “Tomorrow night.”

“You’re crazy,” Jack said.

“Don’t worry about orders,” I said. “We’re working on that.”

“It’s not orders I care about,” he said. “You two are going to get yourselves killed. Don’t you know there’s about five thousand Japs on Choiseul?”

“No,” Kaz said, giving me the eye. “We did not know there were quite so many.”

“They’re half-starved remnants from units withdrawn from other islands. But a half-starved Jap can kill you just the same.”

“How do you know all this?” I asked. It struck me odd that Jack would have such precise knowledge about any single occupied island, having been sidelined in the hospital recently.

“That’s why I’ve been ordered up here,” he said. “Tonight, a battalion of marines is landing on Choiseul. The brass wants some firepower on hand in case they get in trouble.”

“Why only a battalion?” Kaz asked. “That’s only five or six hundred men.”

“It’s a diversion,” Jack said, grabbing a chart from the rack behind him. “I don’t know where the real attack is going to be, but these guys are supposed to keep the Japs focused on Choiseul instead. They’re being landed by destroyer transports and establishing a base at Voza, here.” It was a coastal village up on the northern part of the island, facing the Slot. “There’s a Jap base on the northern tip of the island, here at Choiseul Bay, and south of Voza at Sangigai. South of there, the island is free of Japs.”

“It’s safe to assume John Kari and Fraser are involved in this,” I said.

“Sure. I don’t have the details, but they’re likely to be organizing native scouts and porters to help the marines.”

“They were bringing crates of weapons to arm the natives,” Kaz said.

“I doubt that will happen, at least not right now,” Jack said. “The whole point of the operation is to draw more Nips to Choiseul. If there’s a native uprising and we leave, they’d be slaughtered.”

“I would venture to say that Kari and Fraser will not be told it is a diversion,” Kaz said.

“There’d be no need for them to know,” Jack said.

“Good,” I said. “If all goes as planned, Hugh Sexton will order them to meet us tomorrow night for a shipment of arms. We grab Fraser and come back. Simple.”

“Leaving the marines with only one Coastwatcher,” Jack said.

“That, or take a chance on Fraser getting away,” I said. “Besides, John Kari knows what he’s doing. Who better than a native to work with the natives?”

“Are you both sure you want to do this?” Jack said, looking first to Kaz and then to me. “You don’t have to, you know.”

“He killed Deanna, Jack,” I said.

“I know. That’s why I’ll take you tomorrow, orders or no, although orders would be nice. I’d like to avoid a court-martial if possible. But if you end up dead, it’s on your shoulders. I’ve gotten two guys killed already and I don’t want any more on my conscience.”

“Agreed,” I said, extending my hand. Kaz did the same. “It’s on our shoulders.”

By morning we’d received responses to our radio messages. Without asking why this time, Hugh Sexton had set up a weapons drop on a deserted stretch of beach south of the village of Nukiki, the area where Kari and Porter were operating in support of the marines. He confirmed that they’d be waiting at 0100 hours, staying for no more than thirty minutes. They’d shine a flashlight out to sea to let us know it was safe to come ashore. Ritchie also gave his okay for Jack and PT-59 to ferry us out and wait for us to bring Porter back from the beach. The only downside was that Ritchie ordered Jack to wait only twenty minutes for our return.

That meant we had to get there right on time, given that the Coastwatchers would not stay exposed on an open beach for long. The same for PT-59; hanging around off the beach was an invitation to get trapped by a Jap destroyer and pushed too damn close to shore batteries and concentrated small-arms fire. We’d be on a tight schedule, but if all went according to plan, it would work.

Kaz and I drew weapons from the base armory; an M1 Carbine for him, an M1 rifle for me.

“Odds are we won’t need these,” I said, “for either Porter or the Japs. But if we do, don’t count on one bullet to take a man out. The carbine is lightweight, but so are the rounds.”

“I much prefer this weapon,” Kaz said, hefting the short carbine. “I am lightweight myself, but still quite dangerous.”

“That’s the spirit,” I said as we went off to check in with Jack. PT-59 was covered in camouflage netting, as much for the dappled shade it provided as for cover from the air. Crewmen were carrying crates of fifty-caliber ammo aboard, and Chappy was busy greasing the swivel on the forward forty-millimeter gun. He gave us a smile and a lazy salute, seeming to be satisfied with his handiwork.

“I got my orders from Ritchie,” Jack said, climbing onto the bridge. “Seems like he thinks it was my idea in the first place.”

“I figured he’d take to the idea easier that way,” I said, trying to read Jack’s face, which was tough with his aviator’s sunglasses and brimmed cap pulled down over his bushy hair. “Ritchie’s got connections with your father through ONI, and I didn’t want him to hesitate about putting you in harm’s way. And I don’t want to be your fall guy again.”

“After the baron reminded me of how I treated you back in Boston, I probably deserved that,” he said, and laughed, his eyes lighting up as he removed the sunglasses. “But harm’s way is exactly where I plan to go. Let’s head below and I’ll show you the route in.”

We followed, as I lifted my eyebrows at Kaz, astonished at what amounted to an apology from Jack. I had to admit, he wasn’t quite the same guy I knew back in Boston. Harder, and a touch more humble. Just a touch though, since he had to qualify his statement with “probably.”

“Here we go,” Jack continued, rolling out a chart in the tiny wardroom. “The marines landed here, at Voza, along the north central coast.” He tapped his finger about three-quarters of the way up the coast of Choiseul. “There’s lots of Japs south of there, down to Sangigai, here. We’re going in at Nukiki, which is north of Voza but not close enough to Choiseul Bay to worry about the Japs up there.”

“Why not simply go in at Voza, where the marines are?” I asked.

“They’ve already gone inland, established a base in the mountains, to raid north and south,” Jack explained. “The whole idea behind this diversion is to have the Japs think a full division has landed. The brass is even announcing the invasion on the radio. According to them, twenty thousand marines are now on Choiseul.”

“But the reality is six hundred or so,” Kaz said. “Not very good odds for them if the enemy rushes reinforcements to the island.”

“That’s what we want,” Jack said. “Then we hit their transports by sea and air, and get the marines out of there.”

“Sounds good on paper,” I said. “But then so does our scheme. What are the waters like off Nukiki?”