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

"Sir, McCoy and I go back a long way," Dunn said. `To Guadalcanal. Nothing he does surprises me."

There were some chuckles at that.

"And before that, I just remembered," Dunn said, "he was in Major Pickering's OCS class."

"Oh, really?" the captain said. "You've heard, McCoy, that Major Pickering went down?"

"Yes, sir, I have."

"We all feel bad about that," the captain said.

He shook his head, then went on: "It would probably be useful, Captain, if we knew why you wanted the photo-graphs," the captain said.

"Sir," McCoy said. "The problem there is that I can't take the risk of another aviator going down with that knowledge."

"Obviously, it has to do with an amphibious operation in the Inchon area," the captain said. "On our way here-be-fore the First Marine Brigade was diverted to Pusan-I was given a preliminary alert that such an operation-"

"Operation Blueberry," his executive officer furnished.

The captain flashed him a displeased look and then went on: "-was being planned. And then it was called off. Since you come here asking for photographs of the Flying Fish Channel islands, it would then seem logical to me that the operation is back on, or another operation with the same purpose is being planned. My point, Captain, is that if I can figure that out, so can the enemy."

This guy doesn't like getting his marching orders from a lowly captain. If I were the captain of an aircraft carrier, I wouldn't either.

McCoy didn't respond directly. Instead, he dipped into the cavernous pockets of his utilities, came out with a map, and laid it on the captain's chart table.

"My superiors feel, sir," he said, "that during routine re-connaissance flights-or flights seeking to engage targets of opportunity-along the coastline here, photographs could be taken of the Flying Fish Channel, and the islands along it, without unduly raising the enemy's suspicions."

"Captain, as you're doubtless aware, the First Marine Brigade is already engaged in the Pusan area," the captain said. "The aircraft aboard the Badoeng Strait are charged with close air support of the brigade. What if there is a con-flict between what the brigade needs and your photographic mission?"

"Sir, I would hope that this requirement would not con-flict with the requirements of the brigade-"

"But if it does?" the captain asked, not very pleasantly.

"This mission, sir, requires photographs as I have de-scribed at least once in every twenty-four-hour period until further notice," McCoy said.

"Even if that means the brigade doesn't get what it asks for?"

"Yes, sir."

"How am I to explain that to General Craig?"

"General Craig is aware of this operation, sir."

"In detail?"

"Yes, sir."

"And, if I understand you correctly, Captain, I am not to be made `aware' of the details of this operation?"

"Yes, sir."

"Those are your orders? Not to tell me?"

"Sir, I was told that only General Craig was to be in-formed of the details."

"Captain, I'll be very frank. If those orders you have just shown me were not signed by the Commander-in-Chief, I'd tell you to go to hell," the captain said. He turned to his executive officer: "See that it's done, Mr. Grobbley."

"Aye, aye, sir."

The captain started to walk out of his sea cabin. The oth-ers watched him uncomfortably until someone on the bridge called out, "Captain on the bridge!" then Lieutenant Colonels Unger and Dunn-the two Marine aviators- bent over the map McCoy had spread on the captain's chart table.

"Charley," Dunn said. "We'll just have to squeeze this into the schedule. It can be done."

Lieutenant Colonel Unger snorted.

Dunn raised his eyes to McCoy.

"How do we get the pictures to you, McCoy?"

"The first ones, sir, on the COD flights to K-l. In a sealed envelope, classified Top Secret, to be delivered to the Marine liaison officer at K-l. He'll be expecting them, and I'll get them, somehow, from him."

Dunn nodded. ,

"In a week, sir," McCoy went on, walking to the chart table, then pointing, "maybe less, they'll have to be air-dropped onto one of the Tokchok-kundo islands, here. I'll get the signal panel display to you. And there will be ground-to-air radios."

"You're going to be on those islands, are you?" Dunn asked.

McCoy didn't reply.

"The colonel asked you a question, Captain," Lieutenant Colonel Unger said, unpleasantly.

"Which question, obviously," Dunn said, "Captain Mc-Coy is not at liberty to answer. Easy, Charley."

"I don't like diverting aircraft from the brigade for any purpose," Unger said.

"And I know Captain McCoy doesn't like it any more than you do," Dunn said. "You said you wanted to see me privately, McCoy?"

"Yes, sir, I do."

"Why don't we go to my cabin?" Dunn suggested. "And get out of the captain's sea cabin?"

He gestured for McCoy to precede him into a passageway.

The Badoeng Strait-and the Sicily-on which the Ma-rine air wing had been transported from the United States and from which the wing was now operating, were offi-cially "escort carriers," often called "Jeep carriers." They were smaller than "a real carrier," and everybody believed they were in service because they were far cheaper to oper-ate than "real" carriers.

While they were perfectly capable of doing what they were doing now, they were smaller all over, which also meant "the creature comforts," such as officers' state-rooms, were fewer in number and less spacious than those on a "real carrier."

Even senior officers often had to share their staterooms with another officer. There was a cardboard sign in a slot on the door of the stateroom to which Dunn led McCoy, white letters stamped on a blue background. It read:

Lt Col W. C. Dunn, USMC

Maj M. S. Pickering, USMCR

Dunn pushed the door open and motioned for McCoy to precede him inside, then gestured for him to sit in one of the two chairs in the stateroom. He closed the door and leaned against it.

`Taking care of his gear is another little task Pick left behind for me to take care of," Dunn said, pointing to a packed canvas bag sitting on one of the bunks.

McCoy didn't reply.

"It has been decided that Major Pickering will become a Marine legend," Dunn said. "An ace, a hero of Guadalcanal and other places, a reservist who rushed to the sound of the guns when they blew the trumpet, who flew the first Ma-rine combat sortie of this war, and died nobly in the glori-ous traditions of the Corps while engaging a target of opportunity. The sonofabitch should have been court-martialed for disobeying a direct order, and I'm the sono-fabitch who should have court-martialed him."

McCoy looked up at him.

Tears were running unashamedly down Lieutenant Colonel Dunn's cheeks.

"What happened?" McCoy asked.

Dunn went to the desk and took from it an envelope and handed it to McCoy. There were three eight-by-ten-inch color photographs in it. At first glance, McCoy thought they were three copies of the same photograph, but then he saw there were differences. In each, Pick, smiling broadly, was pointing up at the cockpit of his Corsair. But Pick was dressed differently in each photo. In one of the photos, he was wearing a.45 in a shoulder holster; in the others he was not. And he was wearing different flight suits. Then McCoy saw what he was pointing at.

Below the cockpit canopy track there was the legend "Major M. S. Pickering, USMCR," and below that, nine "meat balls," representations of the Japanese battle flag, each signifying a downed Japanese aircraft.

And then, on one photograph, below the meatballs, there was a rather clever painting of a railroad locomotive blow-ing up.

There were two blowing-up locomotives painted on the fuselage in the second picture, and three in the third.