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

1105 Hours 18 November 1942

Captain David L. Haughton, USN, walked into the office of Colonel F. L. Rickabee, USMC, and handed him a square envelope.

"Sorry, Fritz," he said.

Rickabee opened the envelope and took out the single sheet of paper it contained.

THE SECRETARY OF THE NAVY

WASHINGTON, D.C.

18 November 1942

Colonel P. L. Rickabee, USMC

USMC Office of Management Analysis

Commandant, United States Marine Corps

Washington

By Hand

Dear Colonel Rickabee:

Inasmuch as I have been led to believe that assignment of officer personnel within the Naval Service is my responsibility, I was somewhat surprised to hear from Captain Haughton that you feel that one of the officers being seconded to you from the Office of Strategic Services is "unacceptable."

You are directed to carry out the operation in question with the personnel assigned to it by me.

No further discussion of this issue is desired.

Sincerely,

Frank Knox

Secretary of the Navy

Rickabee looked up at Haughton but didn't speak.

"Out of school, Fritz," Haughton said, "he went right through the roof."

"He doesn't want to risk a confrontation with Donovan," Rickabee said. "Donovan might go to the President, accuse Knox of going back on a deal, and Knox might lose. That's what this is all about."

Captain Haughton did not think it would be proper for him to reply, even though he'd had the same thought when he witnessed Knox's surprisingly angry-and highly unusual-response to Rickabee's request.

"Well, I can always arrange to have the sonofabitch run over by a truck," Rickabee said.

"Don't say something like that, even as a joke," Haughton said.

Rickabee nodded but didn't reply.

Captain Haughton felt a sudden chill.

"For God's sake, Fritz, I hope you were joking."

Rickabee's eyes, cold and expressionless, met Haughton's.

"When Major Brownlee and Captain Macklin reported to me this morn-ing," he said, "I informed them only of what they had Need To Know at this time. Specifically, that tentative arrangements have been made to fly them, this afternoon, to Pearl Harbor, for further transportation to an unspecified location somewhere in the Pacific."

Haughton nodded.

"Captain Macklin assured me that while he was of course willing to go wherever ordered, he nevertheless felt obliged to inform me that not only had he not completed the training course offered by the OSS, but that he had not yet fully recovered from the wounds he suffered at Gavutu."

"Really?"

"Really."

"You will see, won't you, Colonel-personally, I mean-that Captain Macklin makes it safely to the airport?"

"Unfortunately, David, I am one of those people who obeys his orders."

[TWO]

Supreme Headquarters

South West Pacific Ocean Area

Brisbane, Australia

1405 Hours 18 November 1942

Brigadier General Fleming S. Pickering, trailed by Second Lieutenant George F. Hart, passed through the two MP-manned security posts barring entrance to the Cryptographic Facility of Supreme Headquarters, SWPOA, and then walked down an inside corridor to an unmarked steel door leading to the Spe-cial Section.

Hart snatched a.38 Colt snub-nosed revolver from under his tunic and rapped three times with the butt on the door. A lighter knock on the thick steel door-with the knuckles, or even with a Zippo lighter or keys or something else metallic-could not be heard inside; it was necessary to make the door ring like a drum.

In a moment, a three-by-five-inch panel in the door screeched open.

"It's me, Pluto," Pickering said.

The panel screeched shut, there was the sound of metal bars sliding out of place, and then the door creaked open. Pickering and Hart entered the small room.

"I didn't expect you, Sir," Major Hon said, pulling his tie into place. He was also wearing a.45 automatic in a shoulder holster. Pickering looked past him. On a table was an open briefcase, to which was attached a chain and half of a set of handcuffs.

"Going somewhere, Pluto?" Pickering asked.

"To see you, Sir," Pluto said, as he closed the steel door behind Pickering and slid the bars back in place.

Pickering waited.

Pluto went to the briefcase and came out with a business-size envelope. He handed it to Pickering.

"That just came in," he said. "I thought you'd want to see it right away."

Pickering tore open the envelope. His lips tightened.

"Somehow, I didn't think you were going to like that," Pluto said.

"Anyone else seen this?"

"No, Sir."

"Nobody but you, Hart, and me does, OK, Pluto?"

"Yes, Sir."

Pickering handed Hart Secretary of the Navy Frank Knox's Special Chan-nel Personal announcing that Colonel Wild Bill Donovan of the OSS-with Knox's blessing-was sending two OSS agents to participate in the Fertig Op-eration.

Pickering's first reaction-which he immediately recognized as such- was fury.

"Goddamn Franklin Roosevelt," he said, and was immediately sorry. Not for the thought, but for the emotional outburst.

The one thing I cannot afford to do here is lose my temper.

Pluto and Hart looked at him in surprise.

"Am I missing something here?" Hart asked. "Or is that one of the ques-tions I'm not supposed to ask?"

Pickering smiled. "I suppose this will come as a shock to you, as a devout Democrat, George, but our beloved Commander-in-Chief makes Machiavelli seem innocent as Francis of Assisi."

"I never said I was a Democrat," Hart said. "And I still don't under-stand."

"There are a number-by God, this is Machiavellian!-of factors at play here, George. In theory, President Roosevelt is the Commander-in-Chief, and MacArthur, like every other officer in a uniform, is supposed to obey without question any order received. Roosevelt wants the OSS to start operating in SWPOA. MacArthur wants nothing to do with the OSS. On the surface, the simple solution would be to simply issue the order. That is not going to happen. Why?" he asked rhetorically. "Because Roosevelt has decided that issuing the order would not be in his best interests. Why? Because MacArthur-having made his feelings about the OSS known, through me-is very likely to disobey that order."

"Can he get away with that?" Pluto asked, not sounding very surprised.

"Oh, yes. In two ways. Maybe three. For one thing, he could simply ig-nore the order. In effect, he's already done that. The way it's supposed to work is that when the desires of the Commander-in-Chief are made known, every-body is supposed to jump through a hoop to see the desires satisfied. MacAr-thur has not yet found time in his busy schedule to even talk to Donovan's people. That's why I was sent over here this time, to sell Donovan's people to him."

"What's El Supremo got against the OSS?" Hart asked.

"El Supremo doesn't want anything going on in his ballpark that he can't control; and he thinks-probably correctly-that he will not be able to control the OSS because Bill Donovan has the President's ear. This is the proof of that, come to think of it," Pickering said, waving Knox's Special Channel Personal in his hand.

Hart looked confused.

I have no business explaining this to them, Pickering thought. But on the other hand, Roosevelt and Knox had no right putting me in the middle of their chicanery.

Another seed of thought appeared in the back of his mind, quickly sprouted, blossomed, and then gave fruit.

Of course, that's what this is all about! Or at least has a hell of a lot to do with it! Roosevelt is one of those people who believe that "If you're not with me, you're against me" nonsense. If I quietly go along with this business, which would mean not telling MacArthur, deceiving MacArthur, then I will have chosen sides, joined Roosevelt's team. His political team, not his military team. When he ordered me over here to try to sell MacArthur on the OSS, as a serving officer, I had no choice but to obey my orders, even though I thought that Donovan's OSS will probably be more trouble here than they're worth, and that Bill Donovan personally is an arrogant, goddamned Democrat New York lawyer and New Dealer.