W.E.B. Griffin - The Corps VII - Behind the Lines

"Gorillas? As in King Kong? What are you talking about?"

"Guerrillas, with a 'u' and an 'e.' Irregular troops operating behind enemy lines. That sounds right down the Killer's line."

"Oh, my God!"

"Hey, Ernie. Don't underestimate him. He's one hell of a Marine."

"Oh, yeah!" she said sarcastically.

"Ernie, I'd love to chat, but this is an official line, and Little Billy Dunn, my noble squadron commander, is celebrating the joyous Yuletide season by taking our guys up to teach them how to fly in the dark."

"On Christmas Eve, Christmas Day night?"

"Some of them shouldn't be trusted with a tricycle, much less a Corsair. He may have to call."

"Billy has people flying tonight?" she asked incredulously.

"Write this down, Ernie. There's a war on."

"And I'm being hysterical, right?"

"You said it, not me. Ken will be all right, Ernie. And if he isn't, at least you get to marry me."

"You sonofabitch, you!" she flamed.

"Now there's my girl, back to normal. Nightie, night, Ernie!"

The line went dead in her ear.

She replaced the phone in its cradle.

"Everything all right, honey?" her father asked.

He was standing behind one of the couches, wearing his bathrobe. His usu-ally slicked-back hair was askew.

"How long have you been in here?"

"I heard the phone," he said.

"It was from an officer who works for Uncle Fleming. He told me that Ken is safely where he's going, but where that is is a big secret. So I called Pick, and Pick says he's probably in the Philippines. Uncle Fleming wrote Aunt Patricia about helping guerrillas in the Philippines, and she told Pick, and Pick said that's probably where Ken is. That's right down the Killer's line, is the way he put it."

"Ken'll be all right, honey," Ernest Sage said gently.

"If one more person says that to me, I'll throw up!" Ernie snapped, and then she ran into her father's arms and wept.

[ONE]

Headquarters, U.S. Forces in the Philippines

Davao Oriental Province

Mindanao, Commonwealth of the Philippines

0625 Hours 28 December 1942

The first thing General Fertig noticed about the three officers and a Marine sergeant who had come to see him was that they all looked so well nourished, and that their sturdy-looking black clothing and boots were in such good shape.

The second thing he noticed, as they approached his house, was that the two officers wearing the double silver bars of captains stood aside at the foot of the stairs to permit the youngest, and slightest-and most junior, to judge from the single silver bar pinned to his soft cap-to climb up the ladder first.

That has to be Lieutenant "Killer" McCoy, who took it upon himself to order Captain Weston away on the submarine. That young man is about to be put in his place.

The lieutenant saluted as he walked across the porch to Fertig.

"Lieutenant McCoy, Sir, USMC," he said.

Fertig returned the salute.

"And these gentlemen?"

"Lieutenant Lewis, Sir, of CINCPAC," McCoy said. "Captain Macklin of the OSS, and Gunnery Sergeant Zimmerman."

I have no idea what the OSS is, but I'm not going to ask.

"Welcome to U.S. Forces in the Philippines, gentlemen. My name is Fer-tig." He shook hands with everybody, and motioned for them to sit in the rat-tan chairs.

"We're a little surprised to find you here, General," McCoy said. "Everly said that you were-on the run?"

"A precautionary measure," Fertig said. "In case the Japanese captured one of my officers. When I learned that didn't happen, we came back home."

"Yes, Sir," McCoy said.

"Just to clear the air, who is in command of this mission?"

"Lieutenant McCoy is, General," Lewis said. "Captain Macklin and my-self are observers."

"I understand you took it upon yourself, Lieutenant, to order one of my officers aboard the submarine?"

"Yes, Sir. Acting on orders, Sir," McCoy said.

"And what precisely are those orders, Lieutenant? Do I get to see a copy of them?"

"My orders were verbal, Sir. From General Pickering. They were to find you; to provide you with communications equipment and a Signal Operating Instruction; to bring you a few supplies, including some gold; to evaluate your potential-"

"You consider yourself qualified to evaluate my forces?" Fertig inter-rupted.

"-and to send one of your senior officers back on the Sunfish," McCoy went on. "Sir, it doesn't matter what I think of my qualifications. You're sort of stuck with me."

"Presumably you're on General MacArthur's staff?"

McCoy smiled.

"No, Sir. I'm assigned to the USMC Office of Management Analysis, Sir."

"And you're here to analyze my management, is that what you're say-ing?"

"General," Lewis said. "If I may?"

Fertig nodded.

"Among those officers available to General Pickering, Lieutenant McCoy was determined to be the one most familiar with irregular operations. He's done this sort of thing before."

"Conducted guerrilla operations, you mean?"

"Operated behind the enemy's lines, Sir."

"And who is General Pickering? He, presumably, is on General MacArthur's staff?"

"No, Sir. He's Chief of the Office of Management Analysis," McCoy said.

"So you're not here representing General MacArthur and SWPOA?"

"No, Sir," McCoy said.

"General," Lewis said. "I'm on the staff of CINCPAC. CINCPAC was directed by Admiral Leahy, the President's Chief of Staff, to provide whatever assistance General Pickering required to mount this mission."

And that assistance is three junior officers and a sergeant, apparently.

"I had hoped that what we're trying to do here had finally attracted Gen-eral MacArthur's interest and concern," Fertig said. "Apparently, that is not the case."

"El Supremo went on record, General," McCoy said, "saying 'guerrilla operations in the Philippines are impossible.' "

Is that what you call him, Lieutenant? El Supremo?

"I presume you are referring to General MacArthur?"

"And you made it worse when you promoted yourself, General," McCoy went on, unabashed.

"I considered that necessary," Fertig said. "I didn't think anyone would pay attention to a lieutenant colonel."

"I believe both General Pickering and Admiral Nimitz understand that, General," Lewis said. "I believe Lieutenant McCoy is trying, Sir, to make you aware of certain problems we all have to deal with."

"I am here, with several hundred courageous men, American and Filipino, living on the edge of starvation, like hunted animals in the jungle, attempting to wage war against the Japanese, and I find myself a humble supplicant, on my knees, begging for the tools to do that," Fertig said. "I confess that from time to time I find myself growing a little bitter."

"May I suggest, Sir," Lewis said, "that first, what you have been doing here has not gone unappreciated, and second, that your supply situation has already begun to change? We've brought some supplies with us-at least a token shipment-and more will very likely follow."

"Depending on a lieutenant's analysis of my management? Is that what you're saying?"

"Sir, I have reason to believe," Lewis said, "that whatever Lieutenant McCoy's report happens to be, it will be accepted at face value at the highest levels."

"Is that so? What are your reasons for believing that?"

"Sir," Lewis said, "I don't think you have been in a position to know that early on, the President ordered the formation of a special unit within the Ma-rine Corps, the Marine Raiders, something like the British Commandos, with the mission of attacking the Japanese in an irregular manner. In August, ten days after the First Marine Division landed at Guadalcanal, elements of the 2nd Raider Battalion, operating off a submarine, successfully attacked Makin Island."