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

He had met Carolyn Spencer Howell in the New York Public Library. He had been sent to the Navy Hospital in Brooklyn, ostensibly for a detailed medical examination relating to his lost and then recovered sight. But he was actually there for a psychiatric examination. During his time in Brooklyn he was free-indeed, encouraged-to get off the base and go into Manhattan. (There’d also been strong hints that female companionship wouldn’t hurt, either.)

Carolyn was a librarian at the big public library on 42ndStreet in Manhattan. He went to her to ask for copies of the Shanghai Post covering the months between the time he had left Milla in Shanghai and the start of the war. He also wanted whatever she had on Nansen Passports. As a stateless person, Milla had been issued what was known as a Nansen Passport. He had a faint, desperate hope that perhaps the Japanese would recognize it, and that she could leave Shanghai somehow for a neutral country. Because Banning had given her all the cash he could lay his hands on, just over three thousand dollars, Milla didn’t lack for the resources she’d need to get away. Would that do her any good? Probably not, he realized in his darkest moments.

He did not set out to pursue Carolyn as a romantic conquest. It just happened. Carolyn was a tall, graceful divorcee. Her husband of fifteen years, whom Banning now thought of as a colossal fool, had, as she put it, "turned her in for a later model, without wrinkles."

They met outside the library in a small restaurant on 43rdStreet, where he’d gone for lunch. And they wound up in her bed in her apartment. Banning and Carolyn were very good in bed together, and not only because being there ended long periods of celibacy for each of them. They both had a lot of important things they needed to share with someone who was sensitive enough to listen and understand. He told her about Milla, for instance, and she told him about her fool of a husband.

It was nice while it lasted, but now it was over. He could see in her eyes that she knew he was lying when he said good-bye to her and told her he would write. And she actually seemed to understand, which made him feel even more like a miserable sonofabitch.

Since Carolyn knew about Milla from the beginning, they managed to convince themselves for a while that they were nothing more than two sophisticated adults who enjoyed companionship with the other, in bed and out of it. They both told themselves that it was a temporary arrangement, with no possibility of a lasting emotional involvement-much less some kind of future with a vine-covered cottage by the side of the road. They thought of themselves as friends with bed privileges, and nothing more.

But it became more than that. Otherwise, why would a sophisticated, mature woman be unable to keep from hugging her friend so tightly, not quite able to hold back her sobs, while a Marine major tried, not successfully, to keep his eyes from watering?

The bottom line seemed to be that he was in love with two women, and he was in no position to do anything for either of them.

Major Jack NMI Stecker, USMC, was waiting on the platform when Major Ed Banning threw his Valv-Paks down from the club car. There was nothing fragile in the bags except a small framed photograph of Carolyn Howell she had slipped into his luggage. He had found it while rooting for clean socks when the plane had been grounded for the night in St. Louis.

They shook hands.

"How’d you know I’d be on the train?" Banning asked.

"Colonel Rickabee called and told me what plane you were on. And I knew you couldn’t get a plane further than L.A. And I didn’t think you would take the bus."

"Well, I’m grateful. When did you put the leaf on, Major?"

"Day before yesterday. I just cleared the post. You can put me on the train in the morning."

"You didn’t stick around because of me, I hope?"

"Well, sort of. I got you an office, sort of, in a Quonset hut at Camp Elliott, and I thought I should show you where it is. You’ve already got eight people who reported in. I put the senior sergeant in charge and told him you would be out there in the morning."

"Thank you," Banning said, simply.

They walked to Stecker’s Ford coupe. When Stecker opened the trunk, there were two identical Valv-Paks in it. There was not enough room for two more, so one of Banning’s was put in the backseat.

Stecker got behind the wheel and then handed Banning a sheet of teletype paper.

HEADQUARTERS US MARINE CORPS

WASHINGTON DC

1345 9APR42

COMMANDING GENERAL

2NDJOINT TRAINING FORCE

SAN DIEGO, CAL

1. SPECIAL DETACHMENT 14 USMC IS ACTIVATED 9APR4 2 AT CAMP ELLIOTT CAL. DETACHMENT IS SUBORDINATE TO ASSISTANT CHIEF OF STAFF FOR INTELLIGENCE, HEADQUARTERS USMC.

2. INTERIM TABLE OF ORGANIZATION and EQUIPMENT ESTABLISHED MANNING TABLE OF ONE (1) MAJOR; TWO (2) CAPTAINS (OR LIEUTENANTS); AND SIXTEEN (16) ENLISTED MEN.

3. COMMANDING GENERAL 2NDJOINT TRAINING FORCE IS DIRECTED TO PROVIDE LOGISTICAL AND ADMINISTRATIVE SUPPORT AS REQUIRED.

BY DIRECTION OF THE COMMANDANT:

HORACE W. T. FORREST,

BRIG GEN USMC

Stecker started the car. After Banning had read the teletype message, he said, "That came in day before yesterday. The G-2 here is very curious."

"I’ll bet he is," Banning said. "Do I get to keep this?"

"Yeah, sure."

Banning looked out the window and saw they were not headed toward Camp Elliott.

"Where are we going?"

"Coronado Beach Hotel," Stecker said. "I figured before you begin your rigorous training program, you’re entitled to one night on a soft mattress."

"What training program? My orders are to collect these people and get them on a plane to Australia."

"You just can’t do that," Stecker said. "There’s a program to follow. You have to draw your equipment-typewriters, field equipment, a guidon, field stoves, organizational weapons, training films and a projector to show them-all that sort of thing. Then you start the training program. If there’s no already published training program, you have to write one and submit it for approval."

Banning looked at Stecker with shock in his eyes, and then saw the mischief in Stecker’s eyes.

"Jack?"

"Well, that’s what I’m going to have to do the minute I get to New River and start to organize a battalion," he said. "And I figured that if I have to do it, you should."

"You had me worried."

"You are going to have to do some of that stuff. You’re going to have to turn in a morning report every day, which means you will need a typewriter and somebody who knows how to use it. There’s all kinds of paperwork, Ed, that you just won’t be able to avoid-payrolls, allotments, requisitions."

"That never entered my mind."

"That’s why I brought it up," Stecker said. "Maybe one of the people you’ve recruited can handle the paperwork, but just in case, I had a word with the G-l about getting you a volunteer who can do it for you."

"Jesus!" Banning said.

"The Marine Corps, Major," Jack Stecker said solemnly, "floats upon a sea of paper."

"I’d forgotten."

"Your manning chart calls for two company-grade officers," Stecker said. "You got them?"

"No. I asked for McCoy-and not only because he speaks Japanese. But I got turned down flat."

"You know what McCoy is up to. That didn’t surprise you, did it?"

"I guess not."

"I know a guy-Mustang first lieutenant-named Howard. He doesn’t speak Japanese. Before the war, he was on the rifle team. He’s been seeing that the 2ndRaider Battalion got all the weapons they thought they wanted. That’s about over. Good man."

"How come you don’t want him for your battalion?"

"I do. I offered him a company."

"And?"

"He told me he wasn’t sure he could handle it. He was at Pearl on December seventh. He panicked. He found himself a hole- actually a basement arms room-and stayed there. After he saw that the arms were passed out."