Griffin W.E.B. - The Corps 08 - In Dangers Path

«And what do we do now?»

«The night you almost got blown away in France, do you remember volunteering to go take out that machine gun?»

Pickering didn't reply.

«The way I recall it,» Mclnemey said, «Lieutenant Davis said, 'Pickering, go take out that machine gun. And take Mclnerney and'—what the hell was his name? He got about thirty feet out of the trench.»

«Blumenson,» Pickering said softly, remembering an entirely different war a long time ago. «Private Aaron Blumenson. He was from Cicero, Illinois. A sniper got him. In the throat.»

»… and

Blumenson

with you.' « Mclnerney went on. «In other words, realizing (a) that Sergeant Pickering, Corporal Mclnerney, and Private Blumenson were not about to volunteer to do something dangerous and (b) that unless somebody took that Maxim away from Fritz, a lot of Marines were going to have holes in them, Lieutenant Davis did what he had to do. He volunteered us to do what had to be done.»

«Is that what you're going to do?» Pickering asked, and then, before Mclnerney had a chance to reply, added: «I volunteered McCoy to go into the Gobi and see if he can find those people. It has to be done, and he was the guy to do it.»

«You can have Galloway, Flem, if you say so,» Mclnerney said.

Pickering looked at him.

«It has to be done, and Charley's good at this sort of thing,» Mclnerney added.

«I thought you said you told Dawkins you weren't volunteering Galloway?»

«I'm not. I'm really short of fighter pilots, Flem. In my judgment what Charley is doing now, putting some backbone into that collection of misfits in VMF-229, is damned important. I don't know anybody else who could do what he's doing. But it's your call, General. You have the priority. If you want Charley Galloway, you can have him.»

Pickering did not reply directly. «Who else is available? Who else were you thinking of volunteering?» he asked.

«One major for sure. He's got a lot of Catalina time, and more important, he's a good officer. That will be important, because the volunteers I volunteer are probably going to show up manifesting a magnificent lack of enthusiasm. I'll get you pilots, Flem. Good ones.»

«Let's put Charley Galloway on the Only If Absolutely Necessary List,» Pickering said.

«Thank you,» Mclnerney said.

«Where is this major I am going to get? How soon can I have him?»

«He's at Pensacola,» Mclnerney said. «What I think I'll do, Flem, instead of going back to Anacostia tomorrow, is go to Pensacola and tell him that not only has he just volunteered, but he'll see if he can't come up with somebody else, too.»

«How soon can I have him? And the somebody else?»

«It'll take a couple of days to get orders cut.»

«Plus a week or so for a delay en route leave to see his family,» Pickering said.

«He's got his family with him at Pensacola.»

«The sooner I can have him, have all the pilots, the better.»

«I understand.»

note 66

Base Operations

Memphis Naval Air Station

Memphis, Tennessee

2245 28 March 1943

Rear Admiral Jesse R. Ball, USN, Flag Officer Commanding Naval Air Station, Memphis, arrived at base operations in his official 1941 Navy gray Plymouth staff car, at almost the same time that First Lieutenant Malcolm S. Pickering, USMCR, drove up in his privately owned motor vehicle, a fire-engine-red 1941 Cadillac convertible coupe. Admiral Ball knew Lieutenant Pickering only by reputation, and to the best of his recollection had never before laid eyes on him, but there was no question in his mind that the driver of the fire-engine-red Cadillac was Lieutenant Pickering.

There had been seven incident reports in the office of the base provost marshal, five of them chronicling off-base speeding-limit violations and two of them on-base speeding-limit violations by a Lieutenant Pickering at the wheel of a Cadillac convertible. Admiral Ball thought it highly unlikely that the driver of the Cadillac was anyone but First Lieutenant Malcolm S. Pickering, USMCR.

Though it had been Admiral Ball's intention to speak with Lieutenant Pickering as this day's first order of business, that did not prove possible. When his aide had called VMF-262 to direct Lieutenant Pickering to present himself forthwith at the Admiral's office, he had been informed that Lieutenant Pickering was leading half a dozen of VMF-262 'ts Corsairs on a cross-country training flight and was not expected back until late that night, or—considering the possibilities of bad weather or some other exigency of the Naval Service—possibly not until the following morning.

Admiral Ball had then directed his aide to ask Captain William C. Dunn, USMCR, Lieutenant Pickering's immediate superior officer, to present himself immediately. Admiral Ball knew Captain Dunn and regarded him as a fine officer. He also knew that Captain Dunn and Lieutenant Pickering had flown together—had indeed become aces together—flying Wildcats off Henderson Field on Guadalcanal. It was not surprising, therefore, that Captain Dunn proved extremely reluctant to discuss his knowledge of Lieutenant Pickering's amorous activities, or other strayings from the path of righteousness. In fact, he did a remarkable job trying to cover his buddy's ass. It became immediately apparent to Admiral Ball that if he was going to get a full picture of Lieutenant Pickering, it was not going to be from Captain Dunn. He sought out other sources of information.

By noon, it was clear to Admiral Ball that Lieutenant Pickering was a royal fuckup, even by comparison with other Marine Corps fighter pilots. His transgressions ranged from doing barrel rolls at an estimated altitude of 100 feet and a speed of 350 knots over the Memphis Air Station's control tower to hiding his salami in the banker's wife. His only surprise was that an officer with such a history had not previously come to his official attention.

Admiral Ball had left word with VMF-262 late that afternoon that he expected to see Lieutenant Pickering either at 0800 the next day or immediately upon his return to Memphis NAS, whichever occurred first.

Then he put from his mind the unfortunate business of an out-of-control Marine fighter pilot and turned to something pleasant. Memphis NAS had been informed that Major General D. G. Mclnerney, the just-promoted Deputy Chief of Marine Corps Aviation, would arrive sometime after 2200 hours and would remain overnight. Jesse Ball and Mac Mclnerney went way back. They had done a tour together aboard the old

Lexington

, when the Admiral had been a j.g. lieutenant and Mac a brand-new Marine captain. As far as Jesse was concerned, Mac's promotion was long overdue. They would wet down his new stars together. Jesse wouldn't have been at all surprised if Mac was coming to Memphis for just that purpose.

And now here was the notorious Lieutenant Pickering, getting out of his red Cadillac, wearing, the Admiral noticed, his leather flight jacket and not the prescribed uniform, including any sort of uniform headgear. Giving him the benefit of the doubt, he might just have landed and not yet had time to put on what he was supposed to be wearing. According to record, he'd been cited fourteen times for not being in the properly appointed uniform.

When Lieutenant Pickering saw the Admiral, he saluted. It was more in the nature of a casual wave of his hand in the vicinity of his forehead than a proper salute. «Good evening, Admiral,» Lieutenant Pickering said.

Admiral Ball returned the salute. He said nothing about the absence of headgear. That violation of regulation paled in comparison to his other transgressions against good order and discipline.

«Just landed, did you, Lieutenant?» Admiral Ball asked.