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

"Never heard of it," Charley confessed.

"Well, for your general information, Captain, Sir, it's an island. The Japs are building a fighter base on it, and the First Marine Division is going to take it away from them."

This scuttlebutt has the ring of truth to it, Charley decided.

"Where is this island?" Charley asked.

Big Steve shrugged his massive shoulders.

"It's in the Solomon Islands, Charley," Flo said, softly. "Down by Australia. And it's Guadalcanal, with an 'L.' I heard the same thing. They've been levying us for doctors and corpsmen. I heard they're going to invade this place right after the first of the month."

"You heard that too, huh, Honey?" Big Steve asked.

Charley looked at Jim Ward.

"Jim, do I have to tell you not to repeat this scuttlebutt?"

"No, Sir. Of course not."

"I don't even know where the Solomon Islands are," Charley said, as much to himself as to the others.

"Wait a minute," Big Steve said. "I brung some maps. I was going to ask Flo."

He left the kitchen. They heard him a moment later walking across the living room, and then they heard the screen door screeching.

"Straight poop, would you say, Flo?" Charley asked softly.

She nodded. "I don't know where he heard it, but I'd bet on my information."

The screen door slammed again, and then Big Steve called for them to come into the living room. They went in, to find him fastening the corners of a large map to the floor with ashtrays and a bottle.

They all got on their knees and examined the map.

"There it is," Flo said, pointing. "And those itsy-bitsy little islands near it. Tulagi and Gavutu. I heard that, too."

"God," Charley said thoughtfully. "It's a long way from nowhere, isn't it?"

There was no reply, except a grunt from Big Steve. And then Charley asked for a sheet of paper and a pencil. When Flo produced both, he laid the paper on the map and copied the scale from it.

Then he began moving the paper around on the map.

"What the hell are you doing?" Big Steve asked, taking the words from Jim's mouth.

"Ssssh, Honeybun," Flo said.

Finally, Charley sat back on his heels.

"Well, if this is the place the First Marine Division is going, they're going without VMF-229," he said.

"How can you tell that?" Jim asked, curiously, not as a challenge.

"Because it's out of fighter range from any land airbase we control," Charley said. "Which means they're going to have to use carrier-based aviation. And VMF-229 is not carrier qualified. I think only Dunn and me ever were."

Big Steve grunted again.

"And, if your date is anywhere near close, Flo, there's no way we could qualify in time."

"Why not?" Big Steve asked. "All you'd need is, what? Two, three days to shoot some landings."

"We'd need a carrier to shoot them on," Charley said. "There's no carrier here right now. And even if there was, there's no way we could be qualified, and put aboard, and still steam that far in time to make the invasion."

"Huh!" Big Steve said, disappointed.

"But I tell you what could happen," Charley said thoughtfully. "They are going to need fighters on that island when they take it."

"Why, if we take it?" Jim asked.

"Because all of those islands are within fighter range of each other. They will be within range of land-based Japanese aircraft. And they're not about to leave aircraft carriers in the area; they'd be too vulnerable to the Japs."

"OK," Big Steve said. "So what? What are you driving at?"

"They could load us on one of those escort carriers, and then catapult us off that onto this island when they have captured the airfield."

"I thought you said nobody but you and Dunn was carrier qualified," Flo asked.

"Nobody else is, but that wouldn't matter. If they were to catapult us off one of the escort carriers, we wouldn't go back to it. The hard part of carrier operation is landing-the approach and the arrested landing. Getting catapulted off a carrier is something else. It's scary, especially the first time. You go from zero to ninety knots in a second. But then you're flying."

Big Steve snorted.

Galloway looked at him and shrugged.

"I was just thinking out loud."

"I was just thinking," Big Steve said, "that you may not be so dumb after all-for an officer, that is."

"You have just been complimented," Flo chuckled. "Enjoy it, Charley."

"I'll drink to that," Charley said, and then looked at Jim Ward. "But you will not. You are flying tomorrow. You will be practicing the technique of taking off short. And you will be as baffled as any of your peers when they start wondering out loud what that crap is supposed to be all about-as opposed to mock dogfights, which are a lot more fun."

"Aye, aye, Sir."

"Let's eat," Flo said. "We've having a Hawaiian Luau. Except it's a pork loin. I can't stand the sight of one of those poor baby pigs with apples in their mouths."

(Six)

OFFICER'S CLUB

U.S. NAVY BASE, PEARL HARBOR

OAHU, TERRITORY OF HAWAII

2130 HOURS 7 JULY 1942

Although he was of course delighted to see his sister's son, Rear Admiral Daniel J. Wagam was also a little annoyed at the way the kid popped up unannounced out of nowhere, expecting to be entertained.

The Admiral had been working his ass off since the Eyes Only EXECUTE OPERATIONAL PESTILENCE radio had come in five days before, and it seemed obvious that the work days were going to grow longer rather than shorter as things finally started to mesh.

The truth of the matter was that the Pacific Fleet and attached Marine Forces were not prepared-in any way-to stage an amphibious assault on an island in the Hawaiian chain, much less on three islands a quarter of the world away in the Solomons.

There was not enough of anything that would be needed. About the only thing that was not in short supply was senior officers. A whole flock of commanders and captains and even a dozen or so flag officers had been called back from retirement. They had come back into uniform willingly, even eagerly, and their expertise was most welcome. But at times, Admiral Wagam had reluctantly concluded, they were like a bunch of goddamned old maids.

By his own actual calculation, Admiral Wagam was spending two-thirds of his time establishing shipping priorities and scheduling convoys and the other third settling disputes over Naval protocol between the retreads, who were exquisitely sensitive to the prerogatives of rank and time in grade.

Most often, the disputes had to do with the assignment of creature comforts-who had a permanently assigned staff car with driver, and who didn't, that sort of thing. But the worst fights were over quarters-where the most desirable rooms in the Bachelor Officer's Quarters were assigned, or in cottages, in the case of captains and flag officers. These assignments were ordinarily made on the basis of rank, and within rank, on the basis of time in grade. Now and again, however, some of the retreads came to believe that the assignment they had been given was beneath their dignity and inappropriate to their rank and seniority.

As Admiral Wagam knew only too well, "seniority" was not as simple a concept as it might at first appear to be. For instance, seniority could not be established solely by date of promotion; for this would have made virtually all of the retreads senior to virtually all of the officers in a particular grade who had not retired. Some of the retreads had retired as early as 1935.

Thus it had been necessary to make up a seniority list for the retreads. Clerks had dug into the records to see how much time in grade Captain So-and-so had at the time of his retirement. This would be added to the time he now had on active duty since being recalled. This produced a seniority list based on time in grade, not date of promotion.