W.e.b. Griffin - The Corps II - CALL TO ARMS

When his breakfast was served, he folded the newspaper. As he did that he glanced around the room. It was indeed nearly empty.

But at a table across the room was an attractive young woman sitting alone over a cup of coffee. She was in a sweater and skirt and wore a band over her blond hair. And she was looking at him, he thought, with mingled amusement, condescension, and maybe even a little pity.

Pick, with annoyance, turned his attention to his breakfast.

A moment later, the blonde was standing by his table. He sensed her first, and then smelted her perfume-or her cologne, or whatever it was-a crisp, clean, feminine aroma; and then as he raised his eyes, he saw there was an engagement ring and a wedding band on her hand.

"That was Captain Jim Carstairs," she said, "and as a friendly word of warning, his bite is even worse than his bark."

Pick stood up. The blonde was gorgeous. He was standing so close to her man he could see the delicate fuzz on her cheeks and chin.

"And you, no doubt, are Mrs. Captain Carstairs?" he said.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "Just a friendly Samaritan trying to be helpful. I wouldn't let him catch me needing a shave again."

"The last time he caught you needing a shave, it was rough, huh?" Pick said.

"Go to hell," she said. "I was trying to be helpful."

"And I'm very grateful," Pick said.

She nodded at him, smiled icily, and went back to her table.

What the hell was that all about? Pick wondered. Obviously, she wasn't trying to pick me up. Then what? There was the wedding ring, and she knew the salty captain with the mustache. She was probably some other officer's wife, drunk with his exalted rank. Well, fuck her!

He sat down again and picked up a biscuit and buttered it.

The blonde, whose name was Martha Sayre Culhane, returned to her table wondering what had come over her; wondering why she had gone over to the second lieutenant she had never seen before-much less met-in her life; wondering if she was drunk, or just crazy.

That he was good-looking and attractive never entered her conscious mind. What had entered Martha Sayre Culhane's conscious mind was that the second lieutenant looked very much tike Greg, even walked like him. And that resemblance made her throat catch and her breathing speed up.

Greg was- had been-First Lieutenant Gregory J. Culhane, USMC (Annapolis '38), a tall, lanky, dark-haired young man of twenty-four. A Navy brat, he was born in the Navy hospital in Philadelphia. His father, Lieutenant (later Vice Admiral) Andrew J. Culhane, USN (Annapolis '13), was at the time executive officer of a destroyer engaged in antisubmarine operations off the coast of Ireland. He first saw his son six months later, in December of 1917, after the War to End All Wars had been brought to a successful conclusion, and he had sailed his destroyer home to put it in long-term storage at Norfolk, Virginia.

Admiral Culhane's subsequent routine duty assignments sent him to Pearl Harbor, Hawaii; Guantanamo Bay, Cuba; San Diego, California; and to the Navy Yards at Brooklyn and Philadelphia.

Two weeks after his graduation from Philadelphia's Episcopal Academy in June of 1934, Greg Culhane, who had earned letters in track and basketball at Episcopal, traveled by train to

Annapolis, Maryland, where he was sworn into the United States Navy as a midshipman.

On his graduation from Annapolis in June 1938 (sixty-fifth in his class) he was commissioned at his request-and against the advice of his father-as second lieutenant, USMC, and posted to the Marine detachment aboard the battleship USS Pennsylvania, the flagship of the Pacific Fleet, whose home port was Pearl Harbor, Hawaii.

He immediately applied for training as a Naval aviator, which may have had something to do with his relief from the Pennsylvania four months later and his transfer to the Marine Detachment, Peking, China, for duty with troops.

Second Lieutenant Culhane traveled from Pearl Harbor to Tientsin, China aboard the USS Chaumont, one of two Navy transports that endlessly circled the world delivering and picking up Navy and Marine personnel from all comers of the globe.

In Peking, Greg Culhane served as a platoon leader for eighteen months, along with the additional duties customarily assigned to second lieutenants: He was mail officer; athletic officer, custodian of liquor, beer, and wine for the officer's mess; venereal disease control officer; and he served as recorder and secretary of various boards and committees formed for any number of official and quasi-official purposes.

In April 1939, he boarded the Chaumont again and returned to the United States via the Cavite Navy Base in the Philippines; Melbourne, Australia; Port Elizabeth, South Africa; Monrovia, Liberia; Rio de Janeiro and Recife, Brazil; and Guantanamo, Cuba.

Second lieutenant Greg Culhane reported to the United States Navy Air Station, Pensacola, Florida, on June 10,1939, nine days after the date specified on his orders. His class had already begun their thirteen-month course of instruction.

The personnel officer brought the "Culhane Case" to the attention of the deputy air station commander, Rear Admiral (lower half) (The Navy rank structure provides four grades of "flag" officers corresponding to the four grades of "general" officers of the Army and Marine Corps. The lowest of these grades, corresponding to brigadier general, is rear admiral (lower half). But where brigadier generals wear only one star, rear admirals (lower half) wear two silver stars, as do rear admirals (upper half) and major generals. The result of this inconsistency is a good deal of annoyance on the part of brigadier and major generals of the Army and Marine Corps) James B. Sayre, USN, for decision.

When he had not shown up, the training space set aside for the young Marine officer had been filled by one of the standby applicants. There were two options, the personnel officer explained. One was to go by the book and request the Marine Corps to issue orders returning Lieutenant Culhane to the Fleet Marine Force. The second option was to keep him at Pensacola and enroll him in the next flight course, which would commence 1 September.

"There's a third option, Tom," Admiral Sayre said. "For one thing, it's not this boy's fault that the Chaumont was, as usual, two weeks late. For another, I notice that he came here just as soon as he could after the Chaumont finally got to Norfolk; he didn't take the leave he was authorized. And finally, he's only nine days late. What I think is in the best interests of the Navy, as well as Lieutenant Culhane, is for me to have a word with Jim Swathley and ask him to make the extra effort to let this boy catch up with his class."

"I'll be happy to talk to Captain Swathley, sir, if you'd like," the personnel officer said.

"All right then, Tom, you talk to him. Tell him that's my suggestion."

"Aye, aye, sir."

Admiral Sayre had not considered it necessary to tell the personnel officer that he had been a year behind Greg Culhane's father at the academy, nor that in 1919-20 (before he had volunteered for aviation) he had served under Admiral Culhane with a tin-can squadron.

But as soon as the personnel officer had left his office, he had asked his chief yeoman to get Mrs. Sayre on the line, and when she came to the phone, he told her that Andy Culhane's boy had just reported aboard, and from the picture in his service jacket as well as from the efficiency reports in the record, Greg Culhane was a fine young Marine officer.

"I wonder why he went in the Marines?" Jeanne Sayre said absently, and then without waiting for a reply, she asked, "I wonder if Martha remembers him? They were just little tykes the last time… Well, we'll just have to have him to dinner. I'll write Margaret Culhane and tell her we're keeping an eye on him."