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

OSS PERSONNEL WILL DEPART WASHINGTON VIA AIR FOR ESPIRITU SANTO 1200 HOURS WASHINGTON TIME TODAY.

PLEASE INFORM BRIG GEN PICKERING OF THIS CHANGE TO PLAN OF OPERATION GROCERY STORE ONE AND REQUEST HIM TO INFORM COMMANDING OFFICER OF OPERATION WINDMILL TO EXPECT OSS AUGMENTATION PERSONNEL ABOARD SUNFISH.

COMMAND OF OPERATION WINDMILL WILL PASS TO SENIOR OSS AGENT ON DEPARTURE FROM PHILIPPINES OF PRESENT COMMANDER.

BEST PERSONAL REGARDS

FRANK KNOX

END PERSONAL SECNAV TO ADMIRAL NIMITZ

HAUGHTON CAPT USN ADMIN ASST TO SECNAV

T O P S E C R E T

"That sonofabitch!" General Pickering said bitterly, and then corrected himself. "Those sonofbitches, plural!"

"How near is the Sunfish ready to sail?" Admiral Wagam asked.

"She's sailing at first light," Pickering said. "She was to sail at first light. I was about to put my pants on and go buy Captain Houser a farewell drink and dinner. Christ, Dan, we've already pushed up her ETA to the twentieth. We're not running the Congressional Limited here! Do you know how much planning has gone into finding the place and the right time where she can safely sur-face?"

"A good deal, I'm sure."

"And it's not just McCoy and Lewis coming out. There's a dozen sick and wounded...."

"Is there any reason she could not sail immediately?" Wagam asked. "Or have sailed an hour ago, before I got here?"

Pickering looked at him for a long minute.

"That would get you in a lot of trouble. It would get us both in trouble, but right now..."

"It would not get me in trouble with my boss," Admiral Wagam said.

"As a matter of fact, I don't think he would be at all surprised to get a radio from me saying I arrived here too late to keep the Sunfish from sailing, and that imposed conditions of radio silence make it impossible to recall her."

"So that's why you delivered that message in person," Pickering said. It was a statement, rather than a question.

"I'll deny under oath that I said this, but we have here proof that MacArthur's and Admiral Nimitz's worries if Donovan got the OSS nose in the tent have in fact come to pass. The OSS-Donovan-is deciding how operations should be conducted here, and to hell with what the commanders think."

"Knox wouldn't believe that story of you being too late to stop her from sailing. Neither would Leahy," Pickering said.

"I don't think anyone expects them to believe it. With your exception, Fleming, flag officers don't say, 'Fuck you, I won't do it,' when they decide that disobeying an order is the right thing to do."

" 'Gee, I really would have liked to do what you wanted me to, but it just couldn't be done'?"

"Something like that," Wagam said. "How do you want to handle this, Fleming?"

"I'm so goddamned mad right now that any decision I make will be the wrong one."

"Be that as it may..."

"Goddamn them!" Pickering said. "Goddamn Donovan!"

"I agree, but it doesn't solve the problem."

"There's really no problem," Pickering said softly. "I took an oath, the operative passages being that I would carry out the orders of the officers ap-pointed over me."

Wagam nodded.

"The departure of the Sunfish will be delayed until Donovan's people can be carried into the Philippines aboard her," Pickering said, formally.

"I think that's the reaction Admiral Nimitz expected of you," Wagam said.

"Let me put my pants on, Dan," Pickering said. "And we'll go to the Communications Center and get the word passed. And then we'll pick up Cap-tain Houser at the Sunfish, and have several drinks to mark the nonsailing of the Sunfish as originally scheduled."

[THREE]

Espiritu Santo Island

0500 12 January 1943

Senator Richardson K. Fowler

Washington, D.C.

By Hand

Dear Dick:

An unnamed friend leaving here in a couple of hours has promised that he will have this in your hands as quick as humanly possible. He has no idea what it says. I regret having to put you on the spot with this, out I can't think of anyone else I can turn to.

I have come to the conclusion that I am doing more harm than good in uniform, and that my potential for doing the war effort more harm is growing like an out of control cancer.

I want to resign my commission, is what I'm saying, and don't tell me it can't be done. The Navy turned young Lieutenant Henry Ford loose to run the Ford Motor Company, and a couple of months ago I ran into a Texas schoolteacher turned Congressman out here. He got himself a Navy commission and got sent out here-maybe you know him, his name was Linton, or Lyndon, or something like that Johnson, great big guy with bad teeth-Anyway, he was on his way back to Congress, so I know that people are getting out of the service "for the convenience of the government."

Yesterday, I was a hair's breadth away from willfully disobeying the orders of the President. That's bad enough, but it gets even worse. I was almost encouraged to do so by a senior Naval officer.

Bill Donovan is without question an unmitigated sonofabitch, but I have come to understand that he was right when he rejected my application for employment. What do I know about Intelligence, clandestine or otherwise, that would entitle me to become one of his Twelve Disciples? Further, what is there in my background that justifies me running around pretending to be a Marine general? What I am is a reasonably competent ship's master, and that's all.

More important, what gives me the right to question the wisdom of orders from Donovan and Admiral Leahy? What the hell am I doing agreeing with MacArthur and Nimitz-as if we're three equals-that "we're" right and the President, Leahy and Donovan are wrong?

I was sent out to pour oil on troubled waters. What I have done is pour gasoline on a smoldering fire. The one thing we absolutely can't afford to have out here is guerrilla warfare pitting CINCPAC and SWPOA against Washington.

Get me out of here, Dick, before I cause any more damage. Pull what strings you have to to allow me to resign quietly, as soon as possible. As soon as possible is defined as "as soon as the people I sent into the Philippines are successfully evacuated." That should be sometime late this month.

Let me go back to Pacific and Far East Shipping and try to make some contribution to this war doing something I know how to do.

I'll owe you.

Fondly,

Flem

[FOUR]

Headquarters, U.S. Forces in the Philippines

Davao Oriental Province

Mindanao, Commonwealth of the Philippines

1045 Hours 13 January 1943

Lieutenant Percy L. Everly walked into the thatched-roof house on stilts that Brigadier General Wendell Fertig had declared to be the Visiting Bachelor Of-ficers' Quarters carrying a stack of khaki uniforms.

"Los Presentos from El General," he announced to McCoy, Lewis, Macklin, and Zimmerman. He pronounced "General" in the Spanish manner, "Hen-eral."

"Is that supposed to be Spanish, Everly?" Lieutenant Lewis asked, chuck-ling.

"Yes, Sir," Everly said. "Doesn't it sound like Spanish? And special pre-sentos for you, mi capitain, and you, mi gunny," he went on, reaching into his shirt pocket and handing small silver objects to McCoy and Zimmerman.

"I ain't no officer," Zimmerman said, examining the handmade lieuten-ant's bar in his hand.

"You are here," Everly argued. "El Hen-eral says so. It's not so bad, Ernie. You get used to it."

"I'll be damned," McCoy said, almost to himself, examining the captain's bars in his hand. Word of his promotion had been radioed from Australia, but until now, he hadn't thought much about it. The insignia somehow seemed to make it more official than the radio message had.

And then McCoy looked at Everly. "What's with the khakis? Where'd they come from?"

"Money talks," Everly said. "Bullshit walks."