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

Captain Pickering had been even more obliging about that. When Colonel Goettge admitted that he didn't have an officer of high enough rank to send to Melbourne, Pickering had volunteered to send a radio message to the Secretary of the Navy asking that an officer of suitable rank and experience be flown immediately from the United States.

Captain Pickering walked into the dining room.

"Good morning, gentlemen," he said, as everyone stood up. He walked to the head of the table and sat down. He looked at Moore.

"You look a little beat this morning, Sergeant," he said. "The scuttlebutt is that you were out until the wee hours carousing. Anything to that?"

"No, Sir."

"But you would characterize how you spent last night as interesting?"

"Fascinating, Sir."

Major Dillon snorted. Colonel Goettge smiled tolerantly.

"Well, I hope you can see well enough to drive these gentlemen around town today. They have several errands to run. They'll tell you what they are."

"Aye, aye, Sir."

"But check in every hour or so with Lieutenant Hon, Moore," Pickering said. "I think he may have something he wants you to do."

"Aye, aye, Sir."

"We keep Sergeant Moore pretty busy around here," Pickering said, a smile around his eyes, "with one thing or another."

"Well, whatever you have him doing," Major Dillon said, "it's still a soft berth compared to living in a tent in the mud at Wellington. I just told him, 'don't fuck up, Kid, you've got it made.'"

"You really think so, Jake?" Pickering asked, innocently.

Chapter Eleven

(One)

ROYAL AUSTRALIAN NAVY BASE

PORT PHILIP BAY

MELBOURNE, VICTORIA

0945 HOURS 2 JULY 1942

Yeoman Daphne Farnsworth, Royal Australian Navy Women's Volunteer Reserve, walked up to Sergeant John Marston Moore, USMCR. Sergeant Moore was then leaning on the front fender of the Studebaker Commander outside a frame building on a wharf on Port Philip Bay.

Moore recognized her immediately. Last night she was sitting in the dining room directly across from the duct in the butler's cubicle. She had lost her husband in action in Africa, he remembered, and was now a Marine's girlfriend... or, in Commander Feldt's words, he was "comforting her in her grief." He also remembered all too clearly what else Commander Feldt said with such bitter cynicism about the Marine, a Sergeant named Koffler now on some Japanese island: His chances of returning alive ranged from "slim to sodding zero."

"Comforting her in her grief could have meant something sordid. But looking at her the night before, Moore decided she was a nice girl, and that whatever was going on between her and Sergeant Koffler was not cheap.

Looking at her now-just as he realized she had never seen him-the same thing occurred to him again. She was a nice girl, with warm, intelligent eyes. And damned good-looking.

"I should be very surprised," she greeted him with a smile, "if you are not Sergeant Moore."

She has a very nice voice.

"Guilty."

"Come with me, Lieutenant Donnelly wants to see you."

"Yes, Ma'am," he said.

She looked at him strangely, and then smiled.

Moore followed her into the building. Lieutenant Donnelly, a tall, sharp-featured, skinny officer with a very pale complexion, and black, unruly hair, had an office on the second floor. Moore recognized Donnelly as the other Australian Navy officer who had been at dinner.

I remember you from last night, but how the hell do you know who I am? And what's this all about, anyway?

"I'm Sergeant Moore, Sir."

"That'll be all, Love," Donnelly said to Yeoman Farnsworth. "Close the door, please."

When the door had closed behind her, Lieutenant Donnelly said, without smiling, "Put your eyes back in their sockets, Sergeant. She already has a Yank Marine sergeant."

Moore looked at him in shock.

"Listen carefully," Lieutenant Donnelly said. "The airfield at Lunga Point is being built by the 11th and 23rd Pioneers, IJN. Estimated strength 450. They are equipped with bulldozers, rock crushers, trucks, and other engineer equipment."

Moore was completely baffled. It showed on his face as he looked at Lieutenant Donnelly.

"What did I just say?" Lieutenant Donnelly asked.

"Something about Pioneers," Moore said lamely, embarrassed.

"Christ!" Donnelly snorted in disgust. He handed Moore a sheet of paper. On it, Moore read what Donnelly had just said. "Try committing that to memory."

Moore read the sheet of paper again. And then again, and again, very uncomfortable under Donnelly's impatient glare. Finally, he said, "I think I have it, Sir."

"Try it," Donnelly said.

Moore repeated what he had memorized.

"Once more, to set it in your head," Donnelly ordered.

Moore repeated it again.

"OK. Repeat that to Major Banning," Donnelly ordered-"Tell him that Commander Feldt said, 'it's as good as gold.' "

" 'It's as good as gold,' " Moore dutifully parroted. "Sir, I don't know when I'm going to see Major Banning."

"You are going to see him right away," Donnelly said. "You get in your car and you go over to the Hotel Menzies, and you repeat to him what you just memorized. And then you forget it, OK? Understand?"

He's talking to me like I'm a backward child. Probably because I am acting like one.

"Sir, I'm driving some American officers around."

"Well, Sergeant, they're just going to have to bloody well wait for you. I'll have Daphne-Daphne being the Yeoman you were ogling-to look out for them and tell them what's happened."

"Aye, aye, Sir," Moore said.

When he got to the Hotel Menzies, Moore realized that he had no idea where to find Major Banning.

Lieutenant Hon will know, he decided. He rode the elevator to the basement and made his way to the steel-doored room.

"I thought you were playing chauffeur?" Hon greeted him.

"I was outside the Australian Navy building when Lieutenant Donnelly sent for me. He gave me a message for Major Banning. Made me memorize it. And then told me to deliver it. I don't know where he is, Sir."

"What's the message?" Hon asked. He saw the look of concern on Moore's face. "Hey, I'm cleared for everything."

"The airfield at Lunga Point is being built by the 11th and 23rd Pioneers, IJN," Moore recited. "Estimated strength 450. They are equipped with bulldozers, rock crushers, trucks, and other engineer equipment."

"Christ!" Hon said, "that's bad news."

"Commander Feldt said 'that's as good as gold,' " Moore added.

Hon looked at Moore thoughtfully. "You don't have the faintest idea what that means, do you?"

"No, Sir."

Hon went to an open file drawer, took from it and unfolded a map of Guadalcanal, and pointed to Lunga Point.

"That's Lunga Point," he said. "We already heard-had aerial photos-that the Japanese had burned the grass off a flat area, a plain, here. Feldt sent Coastwatchers he had on Guadalcanal across the island from here," he pointed, "through the jungle to see what was going on. And now we know-Feldt said his information was 'as good as gold'-that the Japanese are making a real effort to build a major airfield there. Pioneers are what we call Engineers. They've got 450 Engineers in there with rock crushers and bulldozers."

"I realize I must sound stupid, but is that really so important?"

"If they can base aircraft there-even fighters, but especially bombers-we're in real trouble. Always keep that airfield in the back of your mind when you're reading the MAGICS. Let me know if anything-anything-arouses your curiosity."

"Yes, Sir. Sir, what do I do about getting this to Major Banning?"

"He and Captain Pickering are on their way down here," Hon replied, and then handed Moore a sheet of onion skin. "I just got my hands on this."

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