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

He painted his cheek with them and, very carefully, began to hack away at his beard.

Fertig's Filipino sergeant came into the house while he was working on his chin and stood silently watching him while he finished shaving.

Then he handed Weston a campaign hat. Pinned on it were the double sil-ver bars of a captain. They were unquestionably of local manufacture; the marks of a silversmith's hammer were clear.

Weston put on the battered, broad-brimmed hat and looked at himself in the mirror. The hat was several sizes too small. But if he pushed it forward on his head, it would probably stay on, and it even gave him sort of a rakish ap-pearance that he did not find hard to take.

That made him think of something. He went into the baggy pocket of his cotton trousers and pulled out a tied-together handkerchief. In addition to other small items he hadn't needed for a long time, including golden dress-shirt studs, it held a small, gold USMC Globe and Anchor. At one time he'd worn it on a fore-and-aft cap that he had last seen on The Rock.

With some difficulty, he managed to pin The Marine Corps insignia onto the campaign hat, above the captain's bars.

The Filipino sergeant was smiling at him.

"Do you speak English?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Would you take me to my men?"

"Yes, Sir."

Sergeant Everly was sitting with his back against a tree, an empty plate on the ground beside him. Weston thought at first he was asleep, but as he ap-proached, Everly pushed himself away from the tree and looked at him.

Weston gestured with his finger for Everly to join him. The other members of Weston's Weary Would-Be Warriors who had noticed the campaign hat and Weston's now clean-shaven face, looked at them with only mild, even listless, curiosity.

Weston thought he knew their thoughts: There's no apparent immediate danger. We are being fed. What else could be important?

"Nice cover, Mr. Weston," Sergeant Everly said, indicating the hat.

"General Fertig gave it to me," Weston replied.

"I never saw a general with a beard before," Everly said evenly.

"He's an engineer officer who decided he didn't want to surrender, and that he did want to make trouble for the Japanese," Weston said, realizing as he spoke that he had decided not to tell Everly that Fertig had promoted him-self to brigadier general.

Everly did not respond.

"He knows the islands, speaks Spanish," Weston said. "This whole thing just started. There's apparently at least two groups-of people like us-on their way here."

Everly nodded his head and waited for Weston to continue.

"Under military law, as he is the senior officer of the line in the area, we fall under his command."

Everly nodded again.

"He's made me a temporary captain. He asked me if I thought you could handle a temporary commission as a lieutenant, and I told him I thought you'd make a pretty good lieutenant."

Everly cocked his head when he heard that, and took the time to think it over.

"There were a lot of China Marines in Shanghai who'd served in Haiti, Mr. Weston," he said. "They told me they had what they called the Constabu-lary down there. A lot of Marine noncoms were officers in the Constabulary. Is this something like that?"

"Something. You would be commissioned into the Army, as an officer of United States Forces in the Philippines."

"Not in The Corps? You're wearing The Corps insignia."

"I don't think General Fertig will object to my wearing The Corps insig-nia. Or if you or any other Marine wears it. But your commission would be in the Army."

"Sure, Mr. Weston. Why not? I think I could handle it."

"I'm sure you will," Weston said. "Come on, I'll introduce you to the General."

"Can I ask you a question, Mr. Weston?"

"Certainly."

"Is this General Fertig going to be able to do any damage to the Japs?"

"Yes," Weston replied. "I'm sure he is."

I'll be damned. I really believe that.

"We don't have doodly-shit to fight with," Everly said. "What's this gen-eral going to do about that?"

"Well, first we have to get organized. You and I are going to be his G-2 section. He's got an Army radio operator whose orders are to find a radio and get in touch with General MacArthur in Australia."

"I did a little work for Intelligence in Shanghai," Everly said.

"You did?" Weston replied, surprise evident in his voice.

"Worked for Captain Banning, the S-2."

Weston searched his mind for a face to go with "Captain Banning," but failed. Yet he judged from the tone of Everly's voice that he was being told the truth.

"Doing what?"

"Keeping an eye on the Japs. Troop strength. Locations of units. Counting artillery pieces and trucks, that kind of stuff."

"Espionage," Weston said without thinking.

"No. More like reconnaissance. I never took off my uniform or anything like that. I never thought I could get away with trying to pass myself off as a Jap."

"I'm surprised," Weston thought aloud, "that they didn't have you work-ing in Intelligence on The Rock."

"I don't think anybody but maybe the Colonel and the exec knew I ever worked for Captain Banning."

"What about Captain Banning?" Weston asked, confused, adding, "I don't remember seeing him on The Rock."

"The first time we came under fire, when the Japs first landed, long before we pulled back to The Rock, Captain Banning got hit. Artillery. He took enough shrapnel so they didn't dare move him right away. So he found himself behind the Jap lines. Then the Army started shelling where he was hiding. Didn't hurt him much, but the concussion got his eyes. Or maybe his brain. Anyway, it made him blind. When they finally got him through the Jap lines and to the hospital on The Rock, he was in pretty bad shape. Finally, they evac-uated him on one of the submarines that came to The Rock to take the gold off."

"Christ!" Weston said.

"And I guess he never said anything about me to anybody," Everly said, adding, "He was a hell of a good Marine officer."

From you, that's quite a compliment. I wonder what you think of me?

"I wish I knew more about Intelligence than I do," Weston said. "What I really know is nothing. I'm an airplane driver."

"You'll do all right, Mr. Weston," Everly said. "You learn fast."

I'll be damned. I've been complimented. And I don't think Everly would say that unless he meant it.

"Come on, I'll introduce you to the General," Weston said.

"I never talked to a general before," Everly said as he bent over to pick up his Thompson.

[FOUR]

Headquarters, U.S. Forces in the Philippines

Davao Oriental Province

Mindanao, Commonwealth of the Philippines

0625 Hours 9 October 1942

Breakfast in the Officers' Mess of United States Forces in the Philippines con-sisted of freshly squeezed pineapple juice, fresh pineapple chunks, and bana-nas.

Brigadier General Wendell Fertig, sitting at the head of the table, apolo-gized to the members of the mess for not having coffee, bread, eggs, bacon, or ham, but as soon as he acquired a G-4 (Supply) Officer, providing such neces-sities would be high on his list of priorities.

Present at the table were Captain James B. Weston, Second Lieutenant Percy L. Everly, and Second Lieutenant Robert Ball.

Weston noted that Everly and Ball had also acquired broad-brimmed cam-paign hats, onto which were pinned brass second lieutenant's bars. And Ev-erly's had a USMC insignia pinned to it. Like Weston himself, Everly had obviously kept his insignia even when it made no sense at all to keep his tat-tered, worn-beyond-any-utility uniform.

Why is that little piece of metal so important to us? God knows, there are no impressionable blondes around to dazzle with our membership in The Corps. So why is it important to us, in these circumstances, that no one mistake us for soldiers?