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

"Yes, Sir."

"But let me put you on the spot, Galloway. Where do you think you'll be going? What's the scuttlebutt?"

Wagam saw Galloway's discomfiture.

"I will neither confirm nor deny, Galloway. But sometimes it is of value to know what people think, what they are guessing."

Galloway looked at Dawkins for help. Dawkins shrugged again, barely perceptibly. Galloway interpreted this to mean, "Tell him what you think."

"Sir, I think that once the 1st Marine Division has secured the airfield on Guadalcanal, we'll be flown off the Long Island onto the island."

Admiral Wagam audibly sucked in his breath.

"And when does the scuttlebutt have it that the 1st Marines are going to invade, what did you say, Guadalcanal?"

"Yes, Sir. Guadalcanal. Shortly after the first of the month, Sir."

"Goddamn it, I'd love to know where you got that!" Admiral Wagam exclaimed, and then immediately regained control of himself. He held out his hand in a stop gesture. "If you were about to answer me, belay it. We will now change the subject."

"Yes, Sir," Charley said, and put a fork to the shrimp cocktail the messboy had set in front of him.

There was no question in his mind now that Big Steve's scuttlebutt, and his own studied guesses, were right on the mark. VMF-229 was going to Guadalcanal to operate off a captured Japanese airfield. Presuming, of course, that the 1st Marine Division could capture it.

"You're a bachelor, I understand, Galloway," the admiral said.

"Yes, Sir."

"In wartime, there are a number of advantages to being a bachelor," the admiral said.

"And in peacetime, there are a number of advantages to being a bachelor," Dawkins said.

The admiral gave him a frosty look.

"Spoken like a longtime married man, Colonel," he said. "I share that opinion, to a degree. But what I had in mind was that a bachelor can devote his full attention to his duties, where a married man is always concerned with the welfare of his family. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Yes, Sir. I take your point."

"But what you said just made me think of something else," the admiral said. "My wife would probably kill me if she heard me say this, but I would say-how can I phrase this delicately?-Would you agree, Colonel, that the pain of separation from one's wife is less for people like you and me, who have been married for a long time, than it would be for someone who has recently married and then is almost immediately separated from his bride?"

"Yes, Sir. I agree. And I think you phrased that very delicately, Admiral."

"Yes," the admiral agreed.

The messboys appeared, removed the silver shrimp cocktail bowls, and served the roast beef, roasted potatoes, and broccoli with hollandaise. A bottle of wine was introduced, opened, sipped by the admiral, and then poured.

The admiral raised his glass.

"To marriage, gentlemen. A noble institution. But one into which, I don't think, speaking of foolish young men with the best of intentions, Lieutenant David Schneider should enter at this point in his life and career."

Jesus Christ, what's this?

"I wasn't aware he was contemplating marriage." Colonel Dawkins said.

"He is," the admiral said, sawing at his roast beef. "He is now experiencing the ecstasy of what he really believes is true love. True love at first sight, to put a point on it."

"I'll be damned;" Dawkins said.

Not Mary Agnes, for Christ's sake!

"The young lady in question is a Navy Nurse," the admiral said. "Lieutenant (junior grade) Mary Alice O'Malley."

Holy Christ!

"Mary Agnes, Sir," Lieutenant Greyson corrected him.

"Mary Agnes, then," the admiral said, a trifle petulantly. "David came to me last night and told me that he intended to apply for permission to marry. He tells me that he has stolen the affections of this young woman away from your executive officer, Captain Galloway; and for that reason, and others, he fears that his application will be delayed by you. He therefore sought my good offices to overcome your objections." He looked at Galloway. "Was he correct? Would you have, by fair means or foul, put obstacles in his path?"

"Yes, Sir, I would have."

"Good. Then we are all on the same wavelength," the admiral said. "What we have to do now is come up with a plan that will both keep him from making a fool of himself and keep both of us out of the line of fire. Just between us, gentlemen, I don't intend to spend the rest of my life explaining to my sister why I stood idly by and watched her precious Davey-boy marry a peroxide blonde floozie who is seven years older than he is, and who has been satisfying the sexual desires of every other junior officer in Pearl Harbor." The admiral paused and looked at Captain Charles M. Galloway, USMCR. "Including some squadron commanders who should have known better, even when they were in enlisted status."

Chapter Fourteen

(One)

MARINE CORPS LIAISON OFFICE

PRINCETON UNIVERSITY

PRINCETON, NEW JERSEY

27 JULY 1942

When his sergeant major loudly bellowed, "telephone for you, Major, Sir," Major George F. Dailey, USMC, a curly haired, slightly plump man six months shy of his thirtieth birthday, was sitting at his desk in shirt-sleeves in surrender to the heat.

Sergeant Major Martin was more than a little deaf. He was an Old Breed Marine recalled from the Fleet Reserve. He originally retired, after twenty-five years of service, the year before Dailey was commissioned.

"Thank you, Sergeant Major," Dailey said, and picked up the telephone.

"Major Dailey speaking."

"Major George Frederick Dailey?"

"Yes."

"What was your mother's maiden name?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"I asked what was your mother's maiden name?"

"Who is this, please?"

"My name is Rickabee. I'm a lieutenant colonel on the headquarters staff."

He means, Daily realized, genuinely surprised, Headquarters, United States Marine Corps staff. The Director, Central North East Region, Officer Procurement- Dailey-had never before heard directly from Headquarters, USMC.

"Cavendish, Sir," Dailey said.

"OK," his caller said. "I want you to catch a train as soon as you can, Major, and come down here. We're in Temporary Building T-2032 on the Mall. Take a cab from the station. Write that down. T-2032. My name is Rickabee." Rickabee obligingly spelled his name.

"Sir, would... day after tomorrow be all right?"

"I'm talking about this afternoon."

"Sir, that would be difficult. I have a..."

"Get your ass on a train and get down here this afternoon, Major," Colonel Rickabee said, and then hung up.

Dailey held the telephone in his hand for a moment before replacing it in the cradle. Then, for another minute, he looked out his window at the Princeton campus. Then he called for Sergeant Major Martin. He had to call three times before the old Marine appeared at his door.

"They want me to come to Washington," he said. "You'll have to reschedule whatever's on the schedule for this afternoon."

Major Dailey was himself a Princetonian, and he supposed that had more than a little bit to do with his first assignment in wartime. He understood the importance of officer procurement, of course, and why it made a good deal of sense to have a professional, such as himself, deciding which eager young man had the stuff required of a Marine officer and which did not. All the same, he would have much preferred to be in the Pacific as a fighter pilot, but that was out of the question.

At one time Major Dailey was a fighter pilot. He had gone from Princeton to Quantico, after which he'd done two years duty with troops. And then, just after he had been promoted to first lieutenant, he was sent to flight school at Pensacola. He flew for not quite four years, and loved every moment of it. But then he was called in after his annual flight physical and told that he had a heart murmur, and he had better give serious thought to what he wanted to do in the Corps now that he was no longer physically fit to fly.