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

"Ah, Captain Galloway," Mclnerney said. "And Mr. Oblensky!"

"Good afternoon, Sir," Oblensky said formally.

"Marine Corps legends in their own time!" Mclnerney went on. "Why am I not surprised to find you two in such an environment of primitive squalor?"

"General, I don't believe you know Mrs. Oblensky?" Galloway said.

"No, but I am genuinely honored to meet you, Commander," General Mclnerney said, then walked to her and shook her hand.

When she was not playing the role of Mrs. Master Gunner Oblensky, USMC, she was Commander Florence Kocharski, Chief Surgical Nurse, U.S. Navy Hospital, Pearl Harbor. She had been awarded the Silver Star for her valor-"with absolute disregard for her own life"-going aboard a sinking battleship to treat the wounded on December 7, 1941.

"Commander, how's the Stecker boy doing?" Mclnerney asked.

"He's a long way from well, Sir," she said. "But, considering the shape he was in when we got him, he's doing fine."

"I saw the crash," Mclnerney said. "It wasn't pleasant."

"Steve told me," she said.

"That's another item on my agenda," Mclnerney said. "When can I see him?"

She smiled.

"They generally waive visiting hours for general officers, General."

"I meant, when would it be convenient for you and your people?"

"Anytime would be fine, Sir."

"His father and I are old friends," Mclnerney said. "We were in France together in the last war. And so, incidentally, was our host."

"May I offer the General something to drink?" Galloway asked.

"Hawaiian hospitality, right?" Mclnerney said. "Goes with the rope of flowers around your neck? Second time today I've had that offer. Colonel Dawkins offered me something to drink, pineapple juice and gin. I was about to accept, and then the Colonel told me you'd put Gunnery Sergeant Zimmer-man on TDY to the 2nd Raider Battalion, and I thought I'd hold off until I heard all about that."

"I'm surprised you heard about that, Sir," Galloway said.

"Not as surprised as the Secretary of the Navy is going to be," Mclnerney said, and handed Galloway the telephone memorandum he had shown Dawkins at Ewa.

Galloway read it and handed it to Oblensky, who read it and winced. "Permission to speak, Sir?"

"Certainly, Mr. Oblensky," Mclnerney said.

"The Captain really didn't know much about this," Oblensky said. "I was mostly responsible for this, Sir."

"I'm so carried away with auld lang syne, I may cry," Mclnerney said.

"Zimmerman was a Raider before we got him, Sir," Galloway said. "He came to me when we were relieved on the 'Canal and said he wanted to go back to the Raiders. I told him to go ahead, I'd fix the paperwork later."

"And why didn't you?" Mclnerney said.

"I tried, Sir," Galloway said. "I ran into a couple of problems."

"Be specific, Charley. I'm fascinated."

"Sir, the Personnel Officer at Marine Barracks, Pearl Harbor, told me the only way to get Zimmerman into the Raiders was for Zimmerman to apply for them. I couldn't apply for him. They have to be volunteers."

"Did you tell him Zimmerman was already running around behind the Jap lines on Guadalcanal with the Raiders?"

"I didn't think that would be a wise course of action under the circum-stances, Sir."

Mclnerney chuckled.

"So you just decided to sit tight and see what happened?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Something was bound to happen, right?"

"I'm sorry the Secretary of the Navy got involved, Sir. And that you did, Sir."

"So am I," Mclnerney said.

"I'd love to stay here and have several strong drinks, Charley," Mclner-ney said. "But I have to go find a message center so I can send a radio to General Forrest telling him that Gunny Zimmerman is running around Guadal-canal somewhere."

"Sir, you can call him from here, if you like," Charley said.

"Call, as in telephone call, Charley?"

"The Pacific and Far East Shipping Company Office in Honolulu has a dedicated line to their office in San Francisco."

"And you can use it?" Mclnerney asked incredulously.

Galloway walked to the wall of the patio and returned with a telephone on a long cord. He dialed a number.

"This is Captain Galloway," he said. "Would you put me through to San Francisco, please?"

He handed the phone to General Mclnerney.

[ONE]

Naval Air Transport Station

Brisbane, Australia

0625 Hours 24 November 1942

The storm struck as the Consolidated PB2Y-3 Coronado made its final ap-proach. They'd had bad weather all along the route from Hawaii, and their takeoff from the refueling stop at Midway Island was delayed for over two hours by weather. As Captain Edward Sessions, USMC, saw the flashes of lightning, heard the rain drumming on the fuselage, felt the huge plane being buffeted by strong winds, and saw the whitecaps on the water, he thought it entirely likely that having flown literally close to halfway around the world, he was about to get killed on landing.

It had been a long trip. It was 2,269 miles from Washington to San Diego; 2,606 miles from San Diego to Pearl Harbor, Hawaii; and 4,702 from Pearl Harbor to Brisbane-with a refueling stop at Midway Island.

The landing itself was a series of crashes against the water. When they finally stopped, the Coronado rocked sickeningly from side to side, as the pilot taxied it as close as he dared to the shoreline. The storm seemed to worsen by the minute.

A little train of open whaleboats started out through the choppy waters to the Coronado. It required great boat-handling skill to transfer the passengers and cargo (with the exception of the boxes Sessions was carrying, mostly mail-bags) into the whaleboats without permitting the boats to crash against the thin aluminum of the seaplane.

By the time the whaleboats made it from the seaplane to the shore, all the passengers were soaked through. On the face of the quai itself, there was a flight of narrow stone steps onto which the passengers had to jump from the bobbing whaleboats.

Sessions was amazed that no one fell into the water, and that he finally managed to heave his personal luggage and the boxes onto the steps without losing anything.

He surveyed the boxes, decided the one carrying the obsolete M94 Cryptographic Device and its replacement was the most valuable, picked it up, and carried it up the stone stairs.

A Marine, a very young one, wearing an Army poncho and a rain-soaked khaki fore-and-aft cap, walked up to him and saluted.

"Captain Sessions, Sir?"

"Right."

"Staff Sergeant Koffler, Sir. If you'll point out your gear, Sir, I'll take care of it. General Pickering's over there, Sir." He pointed to two cars, a Studebaker President and a Jaguar convertible.

"Everything that's on those steps, Sergeant. Thank you," Sessions said, and headed toward the Studebaker.

He was halfway there before his tired mind slipped into gear.

"Staff Sergeant"? Is that what he said? That boy is a staff sergeant? And what did he say his name was? "Koffler"? That's the kid who's been living like an animal under the noses of the Japs on Buka?

As he came close to the Studebaker, the rear door opened, and he stepped in. Brigadier General Fleming W. Pickering extended his hands to take the box from him.

"Hello, Ed, how was the flight?" Pickering said.

"About like that, Sir," Sessions said, waving a hand at the rough water. "Most of the way from Midway."

A hand was thrust at him, and Sessions took it before he saw that it was attached to First Lieutenant Kenneth R. McCoy, USMCR. "Welcome to sunny Australia," McCoy said.

"If it hasn't melted, I have a letter-actually a little package-from Ernie for you," Sessions said.

"Give it to him now," Pickering said. "You have to go back out in the rain. You're going to staying with us. Which means you and McCoy will go in the Jaguar to the house, while George and I take our guests to the SWPOA BOQ."