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

Two things happened the very first day. When he told the producer that he had arranged to stay in the hotel so that he would be available around the clock, the director said the least the company could do in return was pick up the hotel bill.

That meant that he would be drawing quarters pay but would not have to spend it.

The second thing that happened the very first day was that he got to meet the star, Mr. Richard Widmark. Widmark had, of course, a suite in the Coronado Beach, but he had come to San Diego on his yacht, which was a con-verted Navy PT-Boat.

They met on the yacht. Mr. Widmark was more than charming, and told him that he would be sleeping on the yacht, rather than in the hotel, and that Macklin should feel free to come aboard whenever he pleased.

"We party a little out here," Widmark said. "On the boat, nobody notices."

That was certainly an interesting prospect, and over the next ten days, Major Macklin learned that many-perhaps most-of the beautiful women associated with a motion picture company were not actresses, but technicians and assistants of one kind or another. And many of these, he quickly learned, were drawn to a real-life Marine major, who had been wounded on a real battlefield, and then been a real OSS agent doing his fighting behind enemy lines.

In order to carry out his duties, he requested first-and got-a staff car. After two days, he decided that what he really needed was a station wagon, and a driver, and Colonel Severance got that for him, too.

On 28 July, the production company's extras casting di-rector came to Major Macklin, and said that as of six-thirty in the morning, 30 July, the company was going to shoot some "filler shots" of utilities-clad Marines crawling through the terrain, and he thought he could get by with forty or fifty people, although more would be better.

"You just tell me how many Marines you need," Major Macklin said, in the spirit of full cooperation.

"What I really would like to do is see if I can't come up with some interesting faces."

"How can I help you with that?"

"Do you suppose you could line up a bunch-say, a hun-dred or so-of your guys, and let me pick the ones I think would fit with the concept we're trying for?"

"No problem at all. I'll get right on it, and get right back to you."

Major Macklin then called the commanding officer of the provisional replacement battalion he knew had been formed to deal with the inflow of Marines to Camp Pendleton. He explained to him what he wanted.

"There's hardly anybody here," he said. "The casuals we had, the regular Marines sent here to fill out the 1st Divi-sion, are just about gone, and there's only one reserve company here.... They weren't expected until August first, but they got in this morning."

"How many men are we talking about?"

"A little over two hundred, plus five officers."

"Have them standing by at 0700 tomorrow. A casting di-rector will select from them the fifty or so men he needs for the Halls of Montezuma project."

"What exactly does that mean?"

"It means for two days-possibly three, whatever it takes-the men selected will be used as extras in the mo-tion picture."

"Christ, Macklin, I don't know. For one thing, there's in-processing to be done, you know, for reclassification and assignment. And then their company commander has re-served the known distance range so they can zero their in-dividual weapons...."

"That will have to be put on hold, I'm afraid, until after the filming is completed."

"By whose authority?"

"General Dawkins has said this project has the highest priority. Are you willing to accept that, or should I call General Dawkins and tell him you're telling me we can't provide the full cooperation Headquarters Marine Corps has promised these Hollywood people?"

The provisional reception battalion commander did not want to discuss anything with the assistant commanding general.

"They'll be standing by at 0700, Macklin," he said.

"Thank you," Major Macklin said, and then went to find the production company's extras casting director to tell him what had been arranged.

When Captain George F. Hart was informed that the 29 July breakfast meal would be served to his company at 0430, as at 0700, he was to have his company formed in front of battalion headquarters, in field gear, and carrying their assigned weapons, he perhaps naturally assumed that battalion headquarters was where the trucks would pick up Baker Company to transport them to one of the known dis-tance firing ranges.

Company B, 55th Marines, was formed at 0655. At that point, the commanding officer of the Replacement Battal-ion (Provisional) appeared at the door to his headquarters, and when he had caught Captain Hart's attention, signaled him to join him.

Hart turned his company over to his exec and walked to the battalion headquarters. Since they were both out of doors and under arms, Hart saluted.

"Good morning, sir," he said.

"Good morning, Captain," the battalion commander said. "You and your officers aren't going to be needed for this little exercise. Turn the company over to the first ser-geant."

"Excuse me, sir?"

"Turn your company over to your first sergeant, Captain, and dismiss your officers from the formation."

"Aye, aye, sir," Captain Hart said. He complied with his orders and then returned to the Replacement Battalion (Provisional) commanding officer.

"Sir, may I ask what's going on?"

"Fifty of your men are going to be in the movies, Cap-tain. A talent scout will shortly appear to determine which ones."

"Sir, I don't understand...."

"That must be them now," the battalion commander said, nodding with his head toward a Plymouth station wagon coming down the street.

The station wagon was driven by a sergeant. In the rear seat were two men, a Marine officer and a plump, wavy-haired blond man the far side of forty. The sergeant opened the door and the two men got out.

"Jesus Christ," Captain Hart said. "Macklin!"

"Are you acquainted with Major Macklin, Captain?"

"Yes, sir, I am."

The last time I saw that cowardly sonofabitch was when we loaded the bastard on the sub Sunfish to go to Min-danao. Killer McCoy had authority to blow the bastard away if he interfered with anything, and I was actually dis-appointed when Killer came out and told me Macklin was still alive; that he'd decided the best way to deal with the sonofabitch was just leave him on Mindanao and hope the Japs caught him.

"Major Macklin is the action officer for the Halls of Montezuma movie project," the Replacement Battalion (Provisional) commander said.

"With respect, sir," Captain Hart said, "I don't really give much of a damn about Major Macklin or his movie project. Sir, my company was scheduled to go to the known distance range..."

"I'm sorry to have to tell you this, in this way, Captain," the replacement battalion commander said, "but you no longer have a company."

"Sir?"

"As of 0001 this morning, Company B, 55th Marines was disbanded, and its officers and men transferred to the Replacement Battalion (Provisional) for reassignment. They-and you-will be reassigned within the Marine Corps-mostly likely as replacements to the 1st Marine Division-where they are needed."

"I'm not sure I understand," Hart said.

"Company B, 55th Marines, no longer exists. It was dis-banded as of 0001 this morning. Its personnel-including you-are now assigned to the Replacement Battalion. You will be reassigned where the Marine Corps thinks you will be of the greatest value to the Marine Corps."

"That's absolutely fucking outrageous!" Hart exploded.

"Watch your mouth, Captain," the major said.

"Goddamn it!" Hart went on. "I trained those men. I'm responsible for them. I promised their families I would look out for them!"