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

It wasn't a long walk from the press club to the Imperial Hotel, but it was hotter than she thought it was, and she ar-rived at the Imperial sweaty.

When she tried to call General Pickering on the house phone, the operator politely denied having a guest by that name. Jeanette took the elevator to the floor on which the Dewey Suite was located and started down the corridor.

She was stopped by a young American in civilian cloth-ing who politely asked what she wanted. She took her press credentials from her purse, and while the young man-obviously a guard-was examining them, said that she was there to interview General Pickering.

"Ma'am, this is a restricted area. I'll have to ask you to leave."

"I want to see General Pickering."

"Ma'am, this is a restricted area. I'll have to ask you to leave."

With ten minutes to spare, Jeanette managed to make the train to Kobe. She arrived there after midnight, and took a cab to the U.S. Naval Base, Kobe.

Lieutenant Commander Gregory F. Porter, USN, the public affairs officer, was disturbed and annoyed that she had heard that Marine aviation would be arriving in the very near future, and was afraid she would break the story-"Marine Aviation to Debark at Kobe"-before it happened. There was no censorship, he told her, but he re-ally hoped she could see her way clear to embargo the story until the Marines actually got there. The other way might really give aid and comfort to the enemy. If she would embargo the story, the Navy information officer would do everything he could to help her get the story once the Marines were actually there.

Jeanette told him she understood completely, and would happily hold the story until told its publication would in no way give aid and comfort to the enemy. Lieutenant Com-mander Porter was grateful, and said that he would be hon-ored to buy her breakfast in the morning, at which time he might have some other news for her that she might find of interest.

The dining room of the Kobe U.S. Naval Base Officer's Mess provided a good view of the airfield, and at 0815 the next morning, while she was eating a surprisingly good grapefruit, Miss Priestly saw a North American Navion touch down smoothly on the runway.

"Oh, I didn't know the Army used this field," she said to Lieutenant Commander Porter. "General MacArthur has an airplane just like that."

"Actually, Jeanette," the commander said. "That's his. But he's not in it."

"Who is?" she asked, sweetly.

"Right now, that's classified," Commander Porter said. "But if you'll give me another couple of hours, I'll tell you all about it. And I'll even get you some exclusive pictures of something I think you'll agree is one hell of a story."

Jeanette had already decided that Commander Porter was no dope, and that he had told her all she was going to hear until he decided to tell her more, so she smiled sweetly at him, laid her hand on his and said, "Thank you."

She looked to see if she could see who was in the Navion, but it taxied out of sight.

At 1015, Commander Porter found Jeanette in the lounge of the Officers' Club and led her back to the table at which they had breakfast.

"In a very few minutes, you're going to see something very interesting-perhaps even historic-out there. I'm not at liberty to tell you what now, but you have my word I will at the proper time, and I'll have those exclusive pic-tures I promised you."

He's talking, probably, about the first Marine planes that will land here. But if I get the pictures first, and exclu-sively...

"You're very kind, Greg," she said, softly, and touched his hand with hers.

"I'll see you shortly," he said.

At 1025, two Chance-Vought F4U Corsairs dropped out of the sky and landed. The word Marines was lettered large on their fuselages.

"The Marines have landed," Jeanette said, out loud, and just slightly sarcastically, although there was no one in the dining room to hear her.

The Corsairs parked on the tarmac and shut down. Ground crewmen approached them as a fuel truck drove up. First two Navy photographers, carrying Speed-Graphic press cameras, and then Lieutenant Commander Porter and another man, wearing those overalls pilots wear, walked up to the air-planes as their pilots got out.

I'll be damned, if I didn't know better, that pilot looks just like Captain Pickering of Trans-Global Airways.

The pilot of the first Corsair saluted the pilot who looked just like Captain Pickering of Trans-Global Airways and Commander Porter.

Then Pick Pickering's doppelganger walked up to the pilot of the second Corsair and saluted him, then wrapped his arms around him, picked him off the ground, and kissed him on the forehead.

The ground crewmen swarmed around the aircraft, refu-eling them, circling them, examining them.

The pilot of the second Corsair and-damn it, that is him-Pick Pickering were herded reluctantly to the na-celle of one of the Corsairs and the Navy photographer took their picture.

Then the pilot of the second Corsair climbed back into his aircraft, and Pickering climbed into the other one.

What the hell is he doing?

He looked down from the cockpit to make sure there. was a fire extinguisher in place, then made a I'm-gonna-wind-it-up motion with his hand, and then the propeller be-gan to turn slowly and a moment later, in a cloud of blue smoke, the engine caught.

My God, he's going to fly that thing!

A moment after that, with Pickering's Corsair leading, both aircraft taxied toward the runway.

The Navy photographers trotted toward the runway so they would be in position to photograph the takeoff. Com-mander Porter and the pilot who was now without an air-plane walked toward the officers' mess.

Jeanette could quite clearly see the takeoff of the two aircraft-including the pilot of the first aircraft, who had

earphones cocked jauntily on his head, and was without any possibility of mistake whatever, Captain Pick Picker-ing of Trans-Global Airways.

Commander Porter and the pilot came into the dining room.

"What you have just seen, Jeanette," Commander Porter announced somewhat dramatically, "what you will within thirty minutes have the first, and exclusive, photos of, was the takeoff of the first Marine aviation combat sortie to Ko-rea."

"Who was flying... who was the pilot who took his air-plane?" Jeanette demanded.

"Major Malcolm S. Pickering, ma'am," the pilot said.

"The other pilot was Lieutenant Colonel William C. Dunn," Commander Porter said.

"Why did you give him your airplane?"

"Pick's the skipper, ma'am," the pilot said. "Of VMF-243. He didn't ask me. Skipper's order, ma'am, they don't ask."

"What happened, Jeanette," Commander Porter said, "was that Major Pickering came to the Far East before his squadron. And flew orientation missions to Korea..."

"In MacArthur's Navion?" she asked, incredulously.

"Yes, ma'am."

"And then Colonel Dunn and... excuse me, Jeanette, may I present Captain David Freewall of USMC Reserve Fighter Squadron 243? Freewall, this is Miss Jeanette Priestly of the Chicago Tribune."

"I know," Captain Freewall said.

"You do?"

"Yes, ma'am," Captain Freewall said, smiling at her. "The last thing Ol' Pick said to me before he climbed in the airplane was that the penalty for treading on his turf was two broken legs."

Jeanette looked at him wordlessly for a long moment.

"Treading on his turf"? Does that arrogant sonofabitch actually think I'm his turf?

She turned to Commander Porter.

"You were saying, Commander?"

"Well, when the Badoeng Strait-the aircraft carrier, Jeanette, that brought Marine Air Group 33 from San Diego-got close enough to fly Corsairs off her to here, Major Pickering communicated with Colonel Dunn..."

"They're ol' pals, Miss Priestly," Captain Freewall said. "They go back to Guadalcanal. And for a regular, Colonel Billy's a pretty good ol' boy."