W.E.B. Griffin - The Corps 03 - Counterattack

"What did I say?"

"I’m the asshole, not you. I should have warned you, getting called ‘Killer’ pisses him off."

"You mean it’s true? He has killed people?"

Joe nodded.

Ernie Sage reappeared, holding Second Lieutenant Kenneth R. McCoy, USMCR, by the ear.

"Ken has something to say," she said.

"Ouch!" he said, as she twisted the ear. He looked at Barbara. "I apologize for my language." Ernie Sage let go of his ear, whereupon McCoy added, "I’m sorry I called your asshole of a boyfriend an asshole."

"You bastard!’ Ernie Sage said, and jabbed him in the ribs.

"Hey, Ken," Joe said. "I’m sorry."

"Ah, forget it," McCoy said. "I never thought you were very bright."

"What we’re going to do," Ernie Sage said brightly, "is do this all over again. Hello, my name is Ernestine Sage. This gentlemen is Lieutenant Kenneth R. McCoy. I know that you’re Lieutenant Howard, but I don’t believe I know this young lady." "How do you do," Barbara said, going along, and deciding she liked both this young woman and her boyfriend. "I’m Barbara Cotter."

"How do you do," Ernie Sage said. "Welcome aboard the Last Time."

"Miss Cotter?" Ken McCoy asked politely. "May I call you Barbara?"

"Yes, of course."

"Anybody ever tell you, Barbara, that your boyfriend is an asshole?"

"That did it," Ernie Sage said, and struck McCoy with both hands, palms open, on the chest-which action caused him to stagger backward, encounter the low rail of the aft cockpit, and do a backward flip into the water.

Joe Howard laughed deep in his stomach, went to the rail, looked over the side, and waved.

Whereupon Ensign Barbara Cotter struck Lieutenant Howard in the small of his back with both hands, palms open, which caused Lieutenant Howard to go over the side and into the water, face first.

Ernie Sage looked at Barbara Cotter.

"Why do I have this feeling that what we’re witnessing here is the beginning of a long, close, rewarding friendship?"

"Oh, God!" Barbara wailed, and tears formed in her eyes.

"Did I say something wrong?" Ernie asked.

Barbara did not trust her voice to speak; she shook her head.

"I’m sorry, really sorry, if this upset you," Ernie said.

Barbara shook her head and made a gesture with her hand meaning that it didn’t matter.

"Can I get you a drink?" Ernie asked.

"I got my orders today," Barbara blurted. "I haven’t told him yet."

Ken McCoy’s head appeared at the rail.

"If you’re wearing anything that will melt in water, I respectfully suggest you have ten seconds to take it off."

"Barbara got her orders today," Ernie said evenly. "Joe doesn’t know."

"Oh, Christ!" McCoy said. He hoisted himself into the boat. Then he turned and gave his hand to Joe Howard and hauled him aboard.

Joe stood there, dripping water onto the deck.

"Which of these two goes in first?" he asked.

"Barbara got her orders today," Ernie said.

"Oh, Jesus!" Joe said. "When?"

"I start processing Monday," Barbara said softly.

"When did you find out?"

"Just before I met you."

He took a couple of steps toward her, and then, remembering he was soaking wet, stopped.

And then she took several steps to him and threw herself in his arms.

(Four)

Pensacola Naval Air Station

Pensacola, Florida

1525 Hours 28 February 1942

The pilot of the Army Air Corps twin-engine "Mitchell" bomber was slight and balding. There were the silver leaves of a lieutenant colonel on his collar points. He picked up his microphone, then put it back in its hanger, adjusted the frequency of his transceiver, and then picked up the microphone again.

"Pensacola, Army Six-Four-Two, a B-25 aircraft, twenty miles east of your station, for approach and landing."

"Army Six-Four-Two, Pensacola, say again?"

"Six-Four-Two, a B-25 aircraft, twenty miles east of your station, for approach and landing."

"Army Six-Four-Two, be advised that Pensacola is closed to transient traffic without prior approval. Suggest you try Eglin Army Air Corps Field."

"Pensacola, Six-Four-Two has a Navy captain aboard who wishes to deplane at Pensacola. We will require no ground services."

"Army Six-Four-Two, advise Naval officer’s name and purpose of his visit to Pensacola."

"Pensacola, the Navy Captain’s Pickering. I spell: Peter Item Charley King Easy Roger Item Nan George. Be advised that any questions regarding him are to be directed to the Office of the Secretary of the Navy."

"Army Six-Four-Two, stand by."

There was a ninety-second pause.

"Army Six-Four-Two, Pensacola. You are cleared for a straight-in approach to runway two-seven. The winds are from the west at fifteen. The altimeter is two-nine-niner-eight. The time is two-five past the hour. Report over Pensacola Bay."

"Army Six-Four-Two, Pensacola. Thank you very much."

As the B-25 Mitchell, a light bomber, dropped low over Pensacola Bay, a telephone call was placed from the office of Base Commander, Pensacola Naval Air Station, to the office of the Secretary of the Navy:

"Office of the Secretary, Captain Haughton."

"Captain, this is Captain Summers. At Pensacola. I’m calling for the Admiral."

"What can I do for you?"

"Does the name Pickering mean anything to you, Captain?"

"Is Captain Pickering at Pensacola?"

"He’s about to land here."

"Great! The Secretary’s been wondering where he was. Would you ask him to call me just as soon as he can, please, Captain?"

"Yes, of course. Be glad to. Captain, we could probably be of greater usefulness to Captain Pickering if we knew what it is he’s after at Pensacola."

Captain Haughton chuckled.

"I have no idea, I’m afraid, but I’m sure he’ll tell you when he lands. When did you say that will be?"

"He should be landing right now. I’ll relay the message."

Captain Summers first called the Officer of the Day.

"I don’t know who this captain the B-2S wants to drop off- Pickering-is, Jack," Captain Summers said, "or what he wants. But pass the word to him to call Captain Haughton in the Secretary of the Navy’s office, as soon as he can. And then ask what we can do for him."

He then called Rear Admiral Richard B. Sayre, who stood third in the chain of command at Pensacola, and was, at the moment, the senior officer aboard. He reported what little he knew about Captain Pickering, and what steps he had taken. Admiral Sayre grunted, and then told Summers to keep him posted.

Less than a minute later, Admiral Sayre called back.

"Pickering, you said? The VIP from Washington?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Present my compliments to Captain Pickering, please, and inform him I would be pleased to receive him at my office at his earliest convenience."

"Aye, aye, Sir."

Captain Fleming Pickering was driven directly to Admiral Sayre’s office from the airfield. The Admiral’s aide was waiting on the sidewalk when the staff car pulled up, and escorted him directly to the Admiral’s office.

"Welcome to Pensacola, Captain," Admiral Sayre said. "May I offer you a cup of coffee, or something a little stronger?"

"Admiral, I feel like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar," Fleming Pickering said. "I’m not here officially . . ."

"You did get the message to call Captain Haughton?"

"Yes, Sir. I did. Thank you. Sir, I was about to say that I’m not here officially, and that what I hoped to do was get off and back on the base with no one noticing."

"Oh?"

"Sir, I’ve been over at Eglin Field on duty. I’ve got a seat on the courier plane to Washington from here tomorrow morning. I have some personal business in Pensacola."

"I thought that might be it," Admiral Sayre said.

"Sir?" Pickering asked, surprised.