W.E.B. Griffin - The Corps IV - Battleground

Although there were some.38 Special caliber revolvers around, Galloway and Dunn and most of the others had Model 1911A1 Colt autoloaders in shoulder holsters.

Captain Brannon and his officers were all wearing battered leather-brimmed caps, from which the crown forms had been removed, ostensibly so that earphones could be worn over them. Dawkins recognized them for what they really were. They were pilots' hats, so that no one could mistake their wearers for some pedestrian soldier. Dawkins thought it was a classy idea-though he would not have shared this opinion with Brannon.

Galloway had a utility cap at least four sizes too small for him perched on top of his head. He had pinned to it his gold Naval aviator's wings and his railroad tracks. Dunn and most of the others wore khaki fore-and-aft caps, carrying the Marine insignia and the insignia of their rank.

I wonder what's going to happen to Dunn today? He's going out as Charley's exec, not as just one more airplane driver.

"Take your seats," Dawkins ordered. "Good afternoon, gentlemen."

There was a chorus of "Good afternoon, Sir," from the pilots, as they settled onto the plank benches.

"I am sorry to have to tell you that Captain Frankel is not available. Word has reached me that he was out carousing all night, and will not be sober until much later this afternoon. Consequently, I will handle this part of the briefing," Dawkins announced, straight-faced.

There was another chorus, this time of chuckles. There was, of course, no place to carouse; and even if there were, Captain Tony Frankel, MAG-21's S-2, was an absolute teetotal, and everybody knew it. And most of the pilots knew that Frankel had caught some kind of bug and had a spectacular case of the running shits. The scuttlebutt was that the Doc said he didn't know what it was, although he didn't think it was dysentery. Whatever it was, the Doc had grounded him.

Dawkins grabbed the oilcloth covering the maps and threw it over the back of the tripod.

A map showing the area from New Britain in the North to San Cristobal island, southwest of Guadalcanal, was now visible.

"For those of you who may have been wondering where the U.S. Navy is..." Dawkins began, and waited for the laughter to subside, "I have it on pretty reliable authority that as of midnight last night, Task Force 61 was in this area, about 150 miles east of here."

He used a pointer to show where he meant; it was made of a shortened pool cue, to which was fixed a.3O'O6 cartridge case and bullet.

"Task Force 61 consists of three smaller forces, each grouped around a carrier. Saratoga is out there, and Enterprise. Wasp and her support ships left the area yesterday so she could refuel; no estimate on when she will return.

"And we had, as of 2400 last night, precisely located the Japanese Navy as being right here," Dawkins said and waved the pointer over the map from New Britain to San Cristobal. His pilots correctly interpreted the move to mean that as of 2400 no one had any idea where the Japanese were.

More chuckles.

"At 0910 this morning," Dawkins went on, and his changed tone of voice indicated that the witty opening remarks were now concluded, and this was business, "a Catalina found the aircraft carrier Ryujo and its support vessels right about here. Just to the right-ten, fifteen miles-there's a transport force. Intelligence thinks it is safe to assume that the transports carry troops to be landed on Guadalcanal."

The tent was now dead quiet.

"At 1030 this morning, F4Fs operating off Sara shot down an Emily here. The Saratoga was then twenty miles away, which means the Emily got pretty close before they found it.

"About an hour ago, another Catalina found the Ryujo again, still on a course that would bring her to Guadalcanal. Nobody's said anything, but you don't have to be Admiral Nimitz to guess that Enterprise has mounted a rather extensive search operation, so as not to lose Ryujo. It's just as clear that Sara is preparing a strike. Or vice versa, with Sara looking and Enterprise preparing to launch an attack.

"We also have word that at about half past ten the Japs sent a hell of a lot of airplanes, about a hundred of them, down this way from Rabaul. The word comes from what CINCPAC chooses to call an Intell Source One. That means they think the poop is the straight stuff. I think it probably comes from the people the Australians left behind when the Japs occupied the islands between here and New Britain/New Ireland."

Dawkins paused until the murmur died down, and then went on: "About forty Zeroes escorting thirty Vals, ten Bettys, and fifteen Kates. Now, the odds are that their scouts are going to find Sara or Enterprise, or both, in which case I think we can presume that a good many of them will divert to make their attack. But some of them, maybe even most of them, will continue on to hit us. It's also just possible that they may not find either of our carriers. In that case, they will all come here, probably with all the aircraft Ryujo can launch coming with them.

"The best guess we can make of their ETA here is a few minutes after two. It's now," he paused to look at his watch, "1225. At 1300 we're going to start launching the SBDs as our scouts, in thirty-five minutes in other words. At 1330, we will start launching the fighters. First, VMF-211. And at 1345, VMF-229.

"If things go as scheduled-and they rarely do-at 1400 the SBDs should be at altitude here," he pointed again, "in a position to spot either the planes from Ryujo or the planes from Rabaul, or both. VMF-21 l's F4Fs should be about here, just about at the assigned altitude. And Captain Galloway and his people should be about here, almost at assigned altitude.

"We've been over this in some detail, so I'll just touch the highpoints: When the SBDs positively locate the stream of attacking aircraft, or when it is positively located by aircraft from Lexington and/or Sara, they will start to look for the Ryujo, fuel permitting. Fuel permitting is the key phrase. I don't want to lose any aircraft because they ran out of go-juice. When the SBDs start to run low on fuel, they will return here to refuel. I don't want any stupid heroics out there. I think I can guarantee there will be ample opportunity for the SBDs to take on an aircraft carrier, or carriers. It doesn't have to be this afternoon. Unless, of course, our estimates are way off, and you find them sooner than we think you will and can attack and still have enough fuel to get home safely.

"The mission of the fighters is right out of the book. They will locate, engage, and destroy the enemy. And they will do that in the knowledge that if they run out of fuel doing so, a scorned woman's fury can't hold a candle to that of your friendly commanding officer."

There was a murmur of chuckles.

"And something you haven't heard before: Stay off the radio unless you have something to say."

More chuckles.

"No damned idle chatter," Dawkins went on firmly. "When this thing starts, all I want to hear on the radio is business. I want a word with the squadron commanders and the execs. The rest of you may go."

"Ten-HUT!" somebody bellowed. Dawkins was surprised.

He was looking at Charley Galloway, and Galloway didn't even have his mouth open when the command came.

Colonel Dawkins jumped off the truck bed, walked behind the tent wall to wait for his squadron commanders and their executive officers.

(Five)

HEADQUARTERS MAG-21

HENDERSON FIELD GUADALCANAL, SOLOMON ISLANDS

1715 HOURS 24 AUGUST 1942

Lieutenant Colonel Clyde W. Dawkins had decided early on that squadron commanders, and certainly air group commanders, really had no business being present when individual pilots were being debriefed by intelligence officers. With The Skipper standing there, pilots would be far less prone to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, than if they were talking alone, and more or less in confidence, to the debriefing officer.