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

"I know Fritz," Wagam said.

"When Fritz learned the identity of one of the agents, and was reliably informed what a-for lack of more forceful words-miserable sonofabitch he is, and protested to Knox, he got a nasty note saying in effect that the OSS, including the sonofabitch, goes on the mission, and no further discussion is desired."

"Ouch," Wagam said. "I suppose it's too much to hope that the agent who was lost-"

"The good one is the one who went down with the B-17," Pickering said. "Jack had a word with this chap-he's a Marine captain named Macklin-and made it clear to him that McCoy is in charge of the mission, even if he is only a first lieutenant."

"I'll have a word with Chambers Lewis before I go back to Pearl," Wagam said, "and make sure he understands that."

"I think that would be a very good idea," Pickering said. "Thank you."

"I was very impressed with McCoy," Wagam said.

"He's a very impressive young man. And he has the experience. He made the Makin raid, and he ran the operation when we replaced the Marines with the Coastwatchers on Buka. There's no question he should be in charge."

"And we're working on getting a Marine Raider to go along, a master gunnery sergeant who was with McCoy on the Makin raid," Stecker said. "I think he'll show up in time."

"If you don't mind my saying so, Fleming," Admiral Wagam said care-fully, "there is one thing wrong with McCoy. At least for your purposes."

"And what would that be?" Pickering said coldly.

"He's only a first lieutenant. I somehow don't feel that General MacArthur will change his opinion about Fertig based on the judgment of a lowly first lieutenant."

"The original plan was that Jack was going on the mission," Pickering said. "He has guerrilla experience in the Banana Republics."

"What happened?"

"The incoming Commandant of the Corps decided he needed him in Washington," Pickering said.

Stecker looked uncomfortable.

" 'Incoming Commandant'?" Wagam asked, surprised. "I hadn't heard that. Who? Vandegrift?"

"You didn't hear that from me," Pickering said. "And changing the sub-ject, you're right. McCoy's rank is going to pose some problems. I'm wide open to suggestion."

"Send somebody out right away who's been with Fertig all along, the higher ranking the better. I mean, on the Sunfish."

"That makes a lot of sense," Stecker said.

"OK, we'll do it," Pickering said. "Presuming McCoy can find some-body to send."

"I really wish I could go," Stecker said.

"You're too old and decrepit, Jack," Pickering said, and reached for the bottle.

[TWO]

Naval Air Transport Passenger Terminal

Brisbane, Australia

0715 Hours 30 November 1942

Lieutenant Chambers D. Lewis, USN, was not surprised when Brigadier Gen-eral Fleming Pickering and Colonel Jack (NMI) Stecker showed up to see Ad-miral Wagam off. But he was a little surprised when Captain Ed Sessions, at the wheel of a jeep, drove up as the Pearl Harbor-bound Coronado, two of its four engines running, began to taxi away from the tie-down buoy.

Pickering-about to get into the Studebaker staff car with Stecker- changed his mind and walked up to Lewis as Sessions drove up.

"Everything go all right, Ed?"

"McCoy's all set up, and I've got Lewis the room right next to Macklin, but the telephone's going to take some time," Sessions replied.

Macklin? Lewis wondered. Why does that name ring a bell? There was a guy at the Academy by that name. That would be too much of a coincidence.

"Maybe Pluto knows somebody in the Signal Corps," Pickering said. "I'll work on it."

"Yes, Sir."

"Lewis, Sessions is going to set you up in the BOQ."

"Yes, Sir."

"Did Admiral Wagam have a chance to discuss the... who's in charge of arrangements... for this mission?"

"Yes, Sir. I'm to take my orders from Lieutenant McCoy."

"If you've got any problems with anything, bring them to either Colonel Stecker or me."

"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir."

"I hope you brought some bathing trunks with you," Pickering said.

"Sir?"

"I got some for him, Sir."

"Well, then, I'll see you both later at the cottage. Have fun."

"I'll try to see that he does, Sir," Sessions said.

Pickering walked to the Studebaker.

"How's your head?" Sessions asked when Lewis slid into the jeep beside him.

"I am a Naval officer, Captain. Naval officers know how to hold their liquor. What gets The Marine Corps up at this early hour? And what was that about swim trunks?"

"First, we're going to get you settled in the BOQ, and next we're going to show you-or maybe you'll show us-how to get heavy and awkward objects down a curved, wet, and very slippery surface into rubber boats. And then you're going to practice paddling a rubber boat overloaded with heavy and awkward things around the harbor. And presuming you don't drown today, you'll do it again tonight, or before daylight tomorrow."

"Really? Where are you going to get a curved and slippery surface?"

"McCoy found an old coastal freighter that went belly-up at a pier," Ses-sions replied. "He rented it for a week from the Aussies."

"What do you mean, 'rented it'?"

"When he asked if he could use it, the owners said, 'Certainly, and exactly how much were you thinking of paying?' "

"I don't think you're kidding."

"I'm not. Anyway, he and Koffler and Hart have been over there since daylight, setting things up. I hope you remember how to swim?"

"Are you involved in this exercise?"

"No. I'm not going on the mission, therefore I don't have to practice. But I thought I would watch. With a little bit of luck, the OSS might drown him-self."

"You've really got it in for this guy, don't you?"

"Let's say it wouldn't break my heart if he did drown this morning."

"You going to tell me why?"

"What did your admiral tell you?"

"He said McCoy's in charge, and to conduct myself accordingly."

"If that's all he said, then one of two things is true. Either the General didn't tell him about the OSS, which means that I can't tell you; or he did tell him, and your admiral decided he didn't want to tell you, which also means I can't tell you."

"If you hate this guy so much, why don't you just drown him?"

"I think that's probably been considered. If anyone had asked me, I would have voted 'yes.' "

Sessions reached into the back of the jeep, dipped his hand into a musette back, and came out with a pair of blue swimming trunks.

"Don't let it be said the Marine Corps never gives the Navy anything," he said as he handed them to Lewis.

"General Pickering used the name 'Macklin,' " Lewis said, making it a question. "The OSS officer's name."

"That's his name."

"I think I may know him."

"I don't think so," Sessions said.

"Why not?"

"If you knew him, you'd try very hard not to let anybody know," Sessions said.

Chambers Lewis examined the swim trunks. According to a Royal Aus-tralian Navy label on the inside waistband, they were four inches too large, and they did not have a built-in jockstrap.

"They don't have a jockstrap."

"They're Navy trunks," Sessions said. "Sailors have no balls, and there-fore a jockstrap is unnecessary."

"Screw you, Captain Sessions."

But you 're right. Some sailors don't have balls. This sailor in particular doesn't have balls.

Lieutenant Chambers D. Lewis, USN, Annapolis '40, had been forced to the conclusion that there was serious question whether he had the balls-the intes-tinal fortitude, the courage, however more politely the condition might be phrased-to wear the uniform he was wearing, to represent himself as an offi-cer of the Naval Service.

He was also alive, he believed, because he was a coward.

The first indication that he was equipped with something less than the nec-essary balls came-as one hell of a surprise-shortly after he reported to the Submarine School at New London, Connecticut, six months after he graduated from the Naval Academy.