Griffin W.E.B. - The Corps 09 - Under Fire

"I understand, Mr. President," Fowler said.

"I'm glad you do," Truman said. He looked between the two of them again. "Now I'm getting hungry. I had no ap-petite at all when I walked in here."

"Mr. President," Pickering said. "I don't want McCoy hurt by what he did."

"I'll tell you what's going to happen to Captain McCoy, General," Truman said. "The Commandant of the Marine Corps has been ordered (a) not to separate him and (b) to have him report as soon as possible to Admiral Hillenkoetter. I declined to tell the Commandant what this is all about, and I'm not going to tell any of the brass, either."

"I don't want him hurt, Mr. President," Pickering re-peated. "He's a captain. When people are looking for scapegoats, captains are expendable."

"What Captain McCoy needs is a protector in high places-is that what you're saying?"

"Yes, Mr. President, I guess it is."

Truman looked at him for a moment, then nodded and smiled.

"I was going to save this for later," Truman said, "but we're clearing the decks, right?"

"I don't think I follow you, Mr. President."

"How's your health, General? Could you pass a physi-cal?"

"Yes, sir, I probably could."

What the hell is he suggesting? That I go back in the Marines?

"I think what's about to happen to you, General, is going to happen to a large number of other people in the next few weeks," Truman said.

"Sir?"

Truman walked to a wall-side credenza, picked up a telephone, and dialed a number from memory.

"This is the President," he said. "Get the Commandant of the Marine Corps for me, will you, please?"

It took less than sixty seconds.

"This is the President, General," Truman said. "I under-stand you're acquainted with Brigadier General Fleming Pickering, USMC Reserve?"

There was a very short pause.

"Please cause the necessary orders to be issued calling the general to active service for an indefinite period, effec-tive immediately, and further placing him on duty with the Central Intelligence Agency," Truman ordered. "It won't be necessary to notify him-he's with me now."

"Jesus H. Christ!" Pickering said.

Truman put the phone down and turned to Pickering.

"Take as long as you need before actually reporting to Ad-miral Hillenkoetter," he said. "But obviously, the sooner the better."

He smiled at Pickering's obvious discomfiture.

"Can we now have our breakfast?" he asked.

[SIX]

OFFICE OF THE DEPUTY CHIEF FOR OFFICER RECORDS

OFFICE OF THE ASSISTANT CHIEF OF STAFF, G-l

HEADQUARTERS,

CAMP PENDLETON, CALIFORNIA

2330 29 JUNE 1950

Captain Kenneth R. McCoy had learned the legalities of leave as a PFC of the 4th Marines in Shanghai.

Leave is earned at the rate of 2.5 days per month, which adds up to 30 days a year. Leave may be accrued up to a to-tal of 60 days; anything over that is lost. Leave begins at 0001 the first day of leave and ends at 2359 on the last day.

He also believed that whatever was going to happen to him-now that there was a war-was not going to happen after duty hours, specifically, after 1630, on 29 June, the last day of his leave.

When he and Ernie had arrived in San Diego at 1545 that afternoon, therefore, he had gone to the Coronado Beach Hotel, gotten the key to the room from the desk clerk, gone upstairs, had a shower, and then gone down to the bar with Ernie to have a drink and discuss with her the possibilities.

There were several of them, starting with the most likely one, that the war in Korea was so new that there had not been time for the Corps to put into effect any new we're-going-to-war regulations. In that case, Captain McCoy would be separated from the Naval service on 30 June 1950.

It was also possible that we're-going-to-war regulations had been put into effect, and the most likely result of that would be that separations from the Naval service would be suspended either indefinitely, or, as they had been in War II, for the duration of the war plus six months.

It was also possible that while they'd been off seeing Ernie's folks, and the Bannings and the Zimmermans, Eighth and Eye had come through with the determination that ex-Corporal, now Captain, McCoy should be allowed to reenlist in the Corps as a staff sergeant, or a gunnery sergeant, or a master sergeant, and that he would be sepa-rated from commissioned service, but not the Marine Corps, and he could volunteer to reenlist as a staff sergeant or a gunnery sergeant, or a master sergeant, and if he didn't voluntarily do so, be retained as a private, USMC, until a determination about what the hell to do about this guy could be reached.

Ken and Ernie had had two drinks in the bar, then walked hand in hand along the beach, and then gone back and had a very nice dinner in the hotel dining room, and then gone to their room and had another shower, this one together, and then fooled around in the conjugal bed until 2215, when he'd risen from the bed, dressed in a uniform, told his wife not to go anywhere, he'd be back just as soon as he'd signed off leave at Pendleton.

Then he'd gotten in the Buick and driven out to Pendle-ton, arriving, as he had planned, at the office of the Deputy Chief for officer records with thirty minutes to spare.

There was a master gunner and a corporal on duty. The master gunner, a portly man in his late forties, did not bel-low "attention on deck" when McCoy pushed the door open. Master gunners rarely-if ever-pay that much mil-itary courtesy to lowly captains, especially at almost mid-night.

"Good evening," McCoy said. "Where do I sign off leave?"

"What's your name, Captain?" the master gunner asked.

"McCoy."

The master gunner reached for the telephone on his desk.

"Mister, I asked you a question," McCoy said.

There was a tone in McCoy's voice-a tone of command, of I'm a captain and you're a master gunner, and you will respect that difference in rank-that the master gunner did not expect.

He had been told by Major Robert B. Macklin to keep an eye out for Captain McCoy, Kenneth R. Out of school, between old warriors, he had told the master gunner that he knew McCoy, that the Corps had finally realized McCoy should have never been commissioned in the first place, and that McCoy had reported to Pendleton for involuntary separation. He had told him further that Eighth and Eye had determined that McCoy should be offered the chance to enlist as a gunnery ser-geant on his separation.

That fact-that tomorrow Captain McCoy would either be a civilian or a gunnery sergeant-had influenced the master gunner's decision not to stand up or call "attention on deck" when McCoy had come in the office.

The master gunner now made another decision-based on right now this clown's still a captain-and let the tele-phone fall back in its cradle.

"Sir," he said. "My orders are to inform Major Macklin the moment you showed up here."

"Have you any idea what that's all about?" McCoy asked.

"No, sir, I don't. But if the captain will have a seat, I'm sure it will be cleared up in a couple of minutes."

He reached for the telephone again.

"Get Colonel Brewer on the horn, please," McCoy said.

"Sir?"

"You heard me," McCoy said.

The master gunner made another decision, based both on the tone of the clown's voice and the fact that he was still a captain, and dialed Colonel Brewer's quarters number.

He was aware that McCoy's eyes were on him.

Colonel Brewer answered on the third ring.

"Sir. Matthews. I have a Captain McCoy here in the of-fice. He asked me to call you."

"Finally!" Colonel Brewer said. "Put him on, Matthews."

"Aye, aye, sir," Master Gunner Matthews said, and held out the phone to the clown.

"McCoy, sir," McCoy said. "Sorry to bother you at home."

"I can't tell you how glad I am to hear your voice," Brewer said. "Stay right there. I'll be there in twenty min-utes."