W.E.B. Griffin - The Corps V - Line of Fire

RPT 06 13 21 XXXX 14 16 07

SUB D

RENDEZVOUS STATION C 0550M 9 OCT RPT 05SOM 9 OCT

END FROM BANNING

PART THREE

ADVISE ADMIRALTY MOST URGENT SIGNAL

SUB A ON ARRIVAL GREYHOUND

SUB B READINESS TO EFFECT SCHEDULED RENDEZVOUS

SUB C CAUSE OF AND EXPECTED TIME OF REMEDY ANY DELAY

SUB D ON DEPARTURE GREYHOUND FOR STATION C

SUB E RETURN OF GREYHOUND TO STATION B

BY AUTHORITY: SOAMES-HALEY, VICE ADM RAN

END

When the R4D With MARINES lettered along the side of its fuselage made a low approach from the sea and touched down smoothly, Lieutenant Commander Eric Feldt, RANVR, was standing outside RAAF Moresby Base Operations. It was 1655 hours (Melbourne Time).

A BSA motorcycle with a sidecar onto which a FOLLOW ME sign had been bolted led the R4D to a sandbag revetment. The driver signaled the aircraft where to shut down, then a ground crew appeared and manhandled the airplane into the revetment.

The rear door opened and a ladder was lowered. Once that was done, Major Jake Dillon climbed down.

"Hello, Jake," Feldt said. "How are you, old man?" It was not the profane and/or obscene greeting Dillon expected.

"Can't complain, Eric. Yourself,?"

Captain Charley Galloway appeared and climbed down the ladder.

"Captain Galloway, Commander Feldt," Dillon said.

Galloway saluted.

"You're the Coastwatcher commander, Commander?" Galloway asked.

Feldt nodded.

"A lot of people where I come from have a lot of respect for your people, Commander," Charley said.

Feldt looked uncomfortable.

"I hope you had a good flight," he said after a moment. Then he put out his hand to Second Lieutenant Malcolm S. Pickering as he turned from climbing down the ladder. "My name is Feldt, Lieutenant. Welcome to Port Moresby."

"Thank you, Sir."

"is the aircraft all right, Captain?"

"It ran like a Swiss watch, Sir. I'd like to go over it before we leave, of course."

"There's plenty of time for that. You're not due at Buka until six the day after tomorrow. Major Banning sent some steaks and whiskey. The rest of the lads are guarding it from the RAAF boys. I've got a car whenever you're ready."

MOST URGENT

RAAF MORESBY 1705 7Th OCTOBER NUMBER 107

FROM OFFICER COMMANDING RAAF MORESBY

FOR ADMIRALTY MELBOURNE FOR VICE ADMIRAL SOAMES-HALEY

VIA RAAF MELBOURNE

MOST SECRET

START

PART ONE

REFERENCE YOUR 212 7 OCT PART THREE SUB A: 1655M RPT 1655M

PART TWO

REFERENCE YOUR 212 7 OCT PART THREE SUB B: NO RPT NO PROBLEM ANTICIPATED

END FELDT LT COMM RANVR

[Four]

FLIGHT OPERATIONS BRIEFING ROOM

ROYAL AUSTRALIAN AIR FORCE STATION

PORT MORESBY, NEW GUINEA

1800 HOURS 8 OCTOBER 1942

The four Marines and the RANVR Signalman First who were to land on Buka, along with Major Jake Dillon, Captain Charles M. Galloway, and Lieutenant M. S. Pickering, were sprawled in chairs in the small, airless, steaming hot room.

Most of them clutched beer bottles.

"I rather doubt if any of you people are sober enough to understand any of this, but permit me to go through the motions," Lieutenant Commander Feldt said.

Their laughter sounded just a bit forced.

"The last word we had from Ferdinand Six was at 9:55 this morning. Chief Wallace reports that the party that will carry the supplies up to Ferdinand Six from the beach, and the people who are being extracted, all departed at noon yesterday, that is, 7 October. Using as a guide the time it took Wallace to get from the beach to Ferdinand Six, it should take them about thirty hours to reach the beach. That means, barring any trouble, they should be getting there right about now.

"Of course they may not have been able to move as quickly as Wallace did alone. We don't know what shape Reeves, Howard, and Koffler are in. That may delay them, On the other hand, since they know where they were going, and Wallace had to look for Ferdinand Six, they may have got to the beach hours ago. Either way, we have just about twelve hours in the schedule to take care of the unexpected; the pickup is scheduled for ten minutes to six tomorrow morning.

"There are several potential problems. One is that they will run into our Nipponese friends; that could delay them beyond the twelve-hour cushion-"

"Or forever," one of the Marines said.

There was more forced laughter.

"Thank you ever so much, Sergeant, for that encouraging observation," Feldt said.

The sergeant held up his beer bottle.

"My pleasure, Commander."

"If I may continue?"

"Certainly, Sir."

"Or, as you have so cleverly deduced, Sergeant, it could well keep them from reaching the beach at all," Feldt said. "Second, since we were unable to land a Hallicrafters through the surf, the only radio now on the beach is the hand-held, battery-powered voice radio. That has a limited range and a limited battery life.

"In other words, Captain Galloway can't use that radio as a radio direction-finder; it's not powerful enough. Thus he'll have to find the beach on his own. If-and when-he finds it, he'll attempt to contact the beach, code name Greyhound Base, by radio.

"Now, if the radio is working, the officer in charge there, Lieutenant McCoy, will radio-"

"Sir, what if he's not on the beach?" another Marine sergeant asked; he sounded both very concerned and completely sober. "I thought he was supposed to go to Ferdinand Six. And you just said that they may not make it back to the beach."

"Sorry, I should have got into that. When they landed from the sub, they decided that Wallace could make better time to Ferdinand Six traveling alone. So Lieutenant McCoy stayed with Sergeant Hart."

"Did you say McCoy?" Pick Pickering asked.

"Yes, I did."

"Is he one of your people?" Pick asked.

"As a matter of fact, Lieutenant, no, he is not. He's sort of a rubber-boat expert they sent from Washington."

"Is that Killer McCoy?"

"Yes, but when you meet him, Lieutenant, I strongly suggest that you do not so address him."

"Aye, aye, Sir," Pick said.

"You know this guy?" Charley Galloway asked; they were sitting together.

"We went through OCS Quantico," Pick said.

Galloway shrugged.

"If I may continue?" Felt asked sarcastically. "As I was saying, if the battery-powered radio is working, the beach will communicate with the aircraft. if it is not working, McCoy has two signal panels, one red, meaning Do Not Attempt Landing, and one blue, meaning the beach is Safe to Land. If they display the red panel, the Hallicrafters aboard will be kicked out of the airplane into the water. If we're lucky, their packaging will float them and they will be washed ashore. The aircraft will then return here."

"I'm willing to jump in, Commander," the sober-sounding sergeant said.

"We all are," the other sergeant said, the one who obviously had had one or two more bottles of beer than his metabolism could handle.

"We considered that and decided against it," Feldt said.

"You will return here so we can try this again. Clear? I don't want any heroics out there." There was no reply.

"What I am waiting for, gentlemen, is an acknowledgment of that order."

"Aye, aye, Sir," the two sergeants said. Feldt looked at the other three members of the team and waited for them to say, "Aye, aye, Sir."

"If the green panel is displayed, the aircraft will land," Feldt said. "The radios and other supplies will be off-loaded, Reeves, Howard, and Koffler will be taken aboard, and the aircraft will depart."

"What happens to the two guys on the beach?" one of the Marines asked, "if the airplane can't land?"

"They're fucked," the drinking sergeant said.

"They will remain in position for seventy-two hours if they wish," Feldt said matter-of-factly. "In case we can restage the landing. At the end of seventy-two hours they will make their way to Ferdinand Six."