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

"Not a chance, sir. It's full. There may be another flight late this afternoon, but I think you'd better find a bed in the BOQ. I know I can get you on the flight first thing tomor-row."

"We need to be on that one," McCoy said, and took the Dai-Ichi orders from his pocket and handed them to the sergeant.

"Sorry, Captain," the sergeant said. "Just about every-body on that airplane has SCAP orders, and a priority, like yours. And the junior one is a major-"

"How about these orders?" McCoy said, and handed him the CIA orders.

The sergeant's eyes went up.

"I'll have to show these to the duty officer," he said, and turned from the counter.

"I don't let those orders out of my sight, Sergeant. Why don't you go fetch the duty officer?"

The sergeant shrugged, handed McCoy the CIA orders, and went to an office at the end of the room. An Air Force major came out and went to the counter.

"Sir, we need to be on that airplane," McCoy said. "Here's the authority."

The major read the orders. His eyebrows went up.

"You have the manifest, Sergeant?" he asked.

The sergeant handed him a clipboard, on which had been typed the names of the passengers.

He went down the list with a finger.

"There's a bird colonel on here with a Triple A," he said, "Minor, George P. And the junior officer with a Quadruple A is apparently Major Finney, Howard T. Go out there, Sergeant, and tell them they've been bumped. They are not going to like it."

"Yes, sir," the sergeant said.

"As soon as they get off," the major went on, "you two get on. While they're in here, raising hell with me, I'll have the pilot close the door and taxi away from here until he gets his takeoff clearance."

"Thank you, sir."

"I never saw orders like that before," the major said.

Three minutes later, Colonel Minor and Major Finney, in khaki uniforms, came down the ladder from the C-54, saw the two Marine officers in sweat- and dirt-stained util-ities waiting at the foot of the ladder, returned the Marines' salutes, and walked toward the passenger terminal.

Colonel Minor looked over his shoulder as he entered the building and saw McCoy and Zimmerman climbing the stairs. Then he hurried into the building.

[FIVE]

HANEDA AIRFIELD

TOKYO, JAPAN

1305 2 AUGUST 1950

As the MATS C-54 taxied toward the terminal, McCoy and Zimmerman saw a long line of staff cars and several small buses obviously waiting to transport the passengers from the airfield into Tokyo.

"The question now is how we get into Tokyo," McCoy said.

"My question is what the hell is going on?" Zimmerman said. " `Immediately. Repeat immediately.' What the hell is that all about?"

McCoy shrugged.

"I have no idea," he confessed.

When they finally reached the door of the aircraft and stepped out onto the platform at the head of the stairway, Zimmerman said, "Hey, there's a Marine officer."

McCoy looked where Zimmerman was pointing, and saw the Marine officer just as Zimmerman added, "Jesus, that's George Hart, or his twin goddamn brother!"

"I'll be damned," McCoy said, and waited impatiently for the SCAP brass to get off the stairway.

Captain George F. Hart, USMCR, or his doppelganger, in a crisp uniform, pushed himself off the front fender of a 1950 Chevrolet U.S. Army staff car and walked to the stair-way.

He saluted.

"Hello, Ken," he said. "Ernie."

"Jesus, George, I thought you'd be running around the hills of Pendleton," McCoy said, reaching for Hart's hand.

"So did I," Hart said. "Delicate subject. I'll tell you later."

"You're here to meet us?" McCoy asked.

Hart nodded. "Old times, huh?" he said. He gestured to-ward the staff car, and they started walking to it.

"What's going on, George?" Zimmerman asked. "What's this return immediately, repeat immediately' all about?"

"I don't know much," Hart said, interrupting himself to ask, "You have luggage, gear?"

McCoy and Zimmerman shook their heads, "no."

"I don't know much about what's going on," Hart re-peated. "It's got something to do with an Army two-star, a guy named Howe."

"General Howe is here?" McCoy asked.

Hart nodded. "We got in yesterday afternoon-"

" `We'?" McCoy interrupted.

"Same plane," Hart said. "I think it was a coincidence, but with Colonel Banning involved, you're never sure."

They reached the car. The driver, an Army sergeant, got from behind the wheel and opened the rear door on the dri-ver's side.

"I'll get in front," Hart said, and got in beside the driver. McCoy and Zimmerman got in the back.

The driver got behind the wheel.

"Take us to Captain McCoy's quarters, please," Hart said.

"Yes, sir," the sergeant said.

"My quarters?" McCoy asked, confused.

Hart turned on the seat, held his right hand in front of his face, nodded toward the driver, and put his left index finger on his lips.

"Your orders, gentlemen," Hart said, "are to shower, shave, put on uniforms, and join General Pickering as soon as possible. You, Captain, under the circumstances, may have thirty minutes of personal time-no more; the general was quite specific about that-with Mrs. McCoy."

McCoy didn't speak, but asked with his eyes and eye-brows if he had heard correctly. Hart nodded.

"My uniforms are in the Imperial Hotel," Zimmerman said.

"Not any longer, Mr. Zimmerman," Hart said.

Zimmerman opened his mouth to speak, and McCoy laid a hand on his leg to silence him.

They rode the rest of the way to Denenchofu in silence.

[SIX]

NO. 7 SAKU-TUN DENENCHOFU,

TOKYO, JAPAN

1420 2 AUGUST 1950

The wooden sign reading "Capt. K. R. McCoy, USMCR" that had hung on the stone wall was gone, but what he could see of the house through the gate-Why is the gate open?-looked very much the same as it had when it had been home to Ken and Ernie. That surprised McCoy, until he realized that it had been only two months-exactly two months-since he had left here more or less in disgrace, about to be booted out of the Marine Corps.

It seems like a hell of a lot longer.

"Wait for us," Hart ordered the driver. "We won't be very long."

McCoy had a lot of questions to ask, but Hart had made it clear that they shouldn't be asked in the hearing of the

CIC agent/staff car driver Willoughby had assigned to "en-sure General Pickering's security."

He got out of the car and walked through the gate toward the house.

The door to the house slid open. A female that Captain Kenneth R. McCoy sincerely believed was the most beau-tiful woman in the world came out.

Maybe you can't gild a lily, but Jesus, Ernie never looked that good before!

Mrs. Ernestine McCoy was wearing an ankle-length elaborately embroidered black silk kimono.

She bowed, in the Japanese manner.

"Welcome home, most honorable husband," she said.

I am so goddamned dirty it would be obscene to get close to, much less hug, something that beautiful.

"Hey, baby," he said. His voice sounded strange.

Ernie turned and reached through the open door and came back with what looked very much as if it was a dou-ble scotch.

"I hope my humble offering of something to drink pleases my honorable husband," Ernie said and, bowing again, handed him the drink.

"What's with the Japanese-woman routine?" McCoy asked, taking the drink.

"I hoped that my honorable husband would be pleased," Ernie said.

"Your honorable husband is delighted," McCoy said. "Have you got one of those for Zimmerman?"

"For Zimmerman-san and Hart-san, honorable hus-band," Ernie said, and signaled through the door.

A Japanese woman came out with two drinks on a tray. Ernie took them one at a time and, bowing to Zimmerman and Hart, gave them to them.

"Hey, Ernie," Zimmerman said. "Could you get Mae-Su to think along these lines?"