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

"Pluto has been having trouble getting a radio operator from SWPOA. I'm going to El Supremo this morning to ask him personally. I think he'll come through."

McCoy nodded.

"I really hate having to ask you to go, Ken."

"I really hate to go," McCoy said. "But there's no other solution that I can see."

Pickering met McCoy's eyes. They held for a moment, then Pickering nodded and started out of the library.

Over his shoulder, he called, "Tell Ernie I said hello."

[SIX]

Cryptographic Center

Supreme Headquarters, South West Pacific Ocean Area

0905 Hours 29 November 1942

When Major Hon Son Do slid open the tiny steel window in the steel door and saw Brigadier General Fleming Pickering's face, he knew that something had happened that Pickering didn't like at all.

He slid the bars out of place and pulled the heavy door inward.

"I didn't expect to see you here, Sir."

"I have just come from the throne of God," Pickering said. "I humbly requested an audience with El Supremo, and, feeling gracious, he granted me one."

When there was no elaboration on this, Pluto went to one of the two type-writers on the desk and jerked a sheet of paper from it. "Is this about what you want, Sir?" Pickering took the sheet of paper from him and read it.

T O P S E C R E T

SUPREME HEADQUARTERS SWPOA TIME TIME TIME 29N0V42

EYES ONLY-THE SECRETARY OF THE NAVY

VIA SPECIAL CHANNEL

DUPLICATION FORBIDDEN

ORIGINAL TO BE DESTROYED AFTER ENCRYPTION AND TRANSMITTAL TO SECNAV

DEAR FRANK:

I DEEPLY REGRET HAVING TO INFORM YOU THAT I HAVE JUST LEARNED FROM ADMIRAL NTMITZ THAT MAJOR BROWNLEE DIED IN THE CRASH OF AN AIRPLANE AS HE WAS COMING HERE. THESE ARE THE DETAILS AS I GOT THEM FROM ADMIRAL NIMTTZ:

BROWNLEE DEPARTED HICHAM FIELD AS SUPERCARGO ABOARD USARMY AIRCORPS B17 TAIL NUMBER 42-455502. THE AIRCRAFT ENCOUNTERED MECHANICAL DIFFICULTIES APPARENTLY RESULT OF SEVERE WEATHER APPROXIMATELY 280 NAUTICAL MILES NORTHEAST OF MIDWAY. PERSONNEL ABOARD OTHER B17 AIRCRAFT REPORTED BROWNLEE'S B17 CRASHED AND BROKE UP ATTEMPTING DITCHING OPERATION IN HEAVY SEAS APPROXIMATELY 0725 HOURS LOCAL TIME 22 NOVEMBER 1942.

INASMUCH AS NO SURVIVORS WERE SEEN AT TIME OF DITCHING, AND NAVY AND USARMY AIRCORPS AIRCRAFT WHICH FLEW TO CRASH SITE WHEN WEATHER CLEARED 23 NOVEMBER FOUND NEITHER SURVIVORS NOR CRASH DEBRIS, COMMANDING GENERAL HAWAII DEPARTMENT USARMY AIRCORPS HAS DETERMINED ALL PERISHED IN THE LINE OF DUTY.

I PRESUME YOU OR DONOVAN WILL HANDLE NOTIFICATION OF NEXT OF KIN, AND OTHER ADMINISTRATIVE MATTERS.

CAPTAINS SESSION AND MACKLIN AND ALL EQUIPMENT ARRIVED HERE SAFELY, AND AT THIS TIME IT IS NOT BELIEVED MAJOR BROWNLEE'S TRAGIC DEATH WILL AFFECT THE MISSION.

BEST REGARDS,

FLEMING PICKERING, BRIGADIER GENERAL, USMCR

T O P S E C R E T

"Take out the 'Dear Frank' and make it 'Dear Mr. Secretary,"' Pickering ordered, "and delete the 'best regards.' I don't feel like calling the sonofabitch by his first name, and I don't want to send him my regards."

"Yes, Sir."

"And send an information copy, Eyes Only, to Admiral Nimitz."

"Yes, Sir."

"Pluto, in one word, what would be your reaction if someone told you that SWPOA doesn't have a high-speed radio operator they can give us for the Fertig operation?"

"One word, Sir?"

"The one word that came to my mind was 'bullshit,' " Pickering said.

"You got that from El Supremo?"

"Three minutes ago."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to have to send Koffler. What else can I do?"

"I can't see where you have any other options, Sir."

"I had the very unpleasant suspicion when I was in the Throne Room that very few tears would be shed by El Supremo and his cronies if our guys pad-dled away from the submarine and were never heard from again."

Pluto decided that any response to that remark would be the wrong one.

"General, what about what Admiral Nimitz said, his 17 November direc-tive about a submarine? From Admiral Leahy?"

"I never heard a word about it," Pickering said. "Until I do, I am forced to draw the conclusion that either Knox or Donovan has decided I don't have the Need to Know."

"I'm sure this Admiral, Wagam, that Nimitz is sending will bring you in on it, Sir."

"I wish I was sure, Pluto," Pickering said. "Well, get those off as soon as you can. I'm going to go out to the house and weep on Jack Stecker's shoul-der."

[SEVEN]

Company Grade Bachelor Officers' Quarters

Supreme Headquarters, South West Pacific Ocean Area

1105 Hours 29 November 1942

Captain Robert B. Macklin, USMC, was resting, his back against the head-board of the bed of the sparsely furnished room, half asleep, a three-month-old issue of The Saturday Evening Post open on his lap.

Before the war, this BOQ had been a second- or third-rate traveling sales-men's hostelry. He couldn't help making unfavorable comparisons between his room and the mess here with the rooms and mess at the Country Club, which was much nicer than even the hotel rooms and restaurants he'd been in all up and down the West Coast during the War Bond Tours.

Last night at the bar, he had drinks with an Army Chemical Warfare Ser-vice captain, and the captain told him the SWPOA Field Grade Officers' BOQs were much nicer than the Company Grade. He knew, because until he was ranked out of it, he had been living in a Field Grade BOQ.

That encounter triggered several lines of thought: First, that when Major Brownlee finally showed up, perhaps he could pull a string or two and arrange for them both to live in a Field Grade BOQ. Second, he wondered how this OSS assignment would affect his own promotion to major. Major Brownlee's quiet word in the right ear had seen his long-overdue promotion to captain come through almost overnight.

Next, Macklin found it hard to believe that whoever was in charge here would actually send him on this Philippines operation. For one thing, he had not really fully recovered from his wounds. For another, he had not gone through the OSS training program, and knew very little of what would be ex-pected of him on such a mission-nor did he yet possess the skills to do what-ever it was he'd be required to do.

When that became obvious to whoever was in charge here, he felt he would almost certainly be kept in Australia to receive the necessary training- and to fully recover from his wounds-and would not be sent into the Philip-pines. It did not seem unreasonable to think that when the OSS force here was eventually augmented, since he was already here, he would be "an old hand," and could take over as a training officer to train the newcomers. It seemed only fair that people who had not been in combat should be sent on missions before those who had seen combat-had been twice wounded in combat-were sent into harm's way again. And he knew that Major Brownlee was concerned with his lack of training and his physical condition-the reason Brownlee took the one available space on the B-17 was that he thought he could take the physical stress of that flight better.

The knock at his door startled him. He sat fully up on the bed.

"Who is it?"

"Colonel Stecker's compliments, Sir," a young American voice replied.

Macklin lifted himself off the bed, opened the door, and peered around it. It was the boy-faced sergeant who spoke so flippantly to him on the quai three days before.

"What is it, Sergeant?"

"Colonel Stecker's compliments, Sir. He sent me to fetch you."

Who in the wide world is Colonel Stecker? That name never came up in any of the briefings.

"Who is Colonel Stecker?"

"Colonel Jack (NMI) Stecker, Captain," the sergeant replied, and then, smiling, added, "The NMI means 'No Middle Initial.' "

"You find that amusing, Sergeant?"

Colonel Stecker is probably General Pickering's deputy or chief of staff, something like that.