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

Admiral Ball met Lieutenant Pickering's eyes for a full sixty seconds, which seemed to be much longer.

«Would you say, Mr. Pickering, that the foregoing was an accurate assessment of the situation?»

«Yes, sir,» Lieutenant Pickering said. «Sir—«

Admiral Ball raised his hand to silence him. «I have several options open to me,» Admiral Ball said. «One of which, I am sure, you devious sonofabitch, has already occurred to you.»

«Sir?»

«The Marine Corps has been sending some of its misfit aviators—fuckups of your ilk, Mr. Pickering—to a squadron based in Hawaii. There is a shortage of fighter pilots in the Pacific, Mr. Pickering, and the reasoning is that it is better to try to salvage these ne'er-do-wells, these disgraces to the uniform, and utilize their flying skills, rather than send them to the Portsmouth Naval Prison. Wiseass that you are, I am confident that you are thinking, 'Fine, let the old bastard send me to VMF-229. Charley Galloway is the skipper, and he appreciates what a fine fellow and all-around splendid aviator I am.» Did that thought occur to you, Mr. Pickering?»

«Sir, if I could be transferred to VMF-229…«

«Transferring you to VMF-229 is not one of the options available to me, you miserable sonofabitch. I know Charley Galloway too. I have known him for years, I think what the Marine Corps is doing to him is disgraceful, and I am not going to add to his burden by sending him a miserable excuse for a human being like you to baby-sit.» He let that sink in.

«Neither am I going to take you off flight status and send you to Quantico for retraining as an infantry officer. For that matter, as a platoon leader in a mess-kit repair company. You are not fit to command men.

«That leaves me with very few other options. One of them is to offer you the chance to resign for the good of the service, which would make you immediately available for the draft. Unfortunately, you might be drafted back into the Marine Corps as a private, or, God forbid, into the U.S. Navy as an apprentice seaman, and I wouldn't want that on my conscience.

«Similarly, while six months or a year in the Portsmouth Naval Prison—I believe the penalty for unlawful carnal knowledge is five years at hard labor, but I have been told that prisoners are being released early—might give you an opportunity to ruminate on your behavior, I am reluctant to do that, too. The idea of you sitting in a warm cell, eating three hot meals a day while good and decent men are being sent in harm's way, offends my sense of right and wrong.

«Furthermore, if I send you off in irons to Portsmouth, your father would be distressed. And probably General Mclnerney, too—why he likes you is a deep mystery to me. Your father would be ashamed and humiliated. As I said, I like your father.»

Admiral Ball let this sink in a moment.

«Going back to my observation that God takes care of fools and drunks like you, and what I said about there being a shortage of pilots, there is one other option available to me.»

«Yes, sir?»

«General Mclnerney has a requirement for twin-engine, R4-D or PB Y-5A, aviators. He was not at liberty to divulge the nature of the operation, except to say that it was somewhere in the Pacific and involves an unusual degree of risk to the participants.»

«I have some R4-D time, sir.»

«So I understand,» Admiral Ball said. «But no PB Y-5A time, as I understand it?»

«No, sir.»

«My problem in offering you the chance to volunteer for General Mclnerney's operation—glossing over, for the moment, your manifold character weaknesses—is that if I send you, you might be more trouble to the people involved than you would be worth. This mission does not need fuckups, Mr. Pickering, and you have proved yourself to be a world-class fuckup.»

«Sir, am I being offered the chance to volunteer for this mission?»

«I'll have to give that some serious thought,» Admiral Ball said. «Right now. on a scale of one to ten, your chances that I will are hovering around two. If you're looking for advice, what I would do in your shoes is get a copy of the Regulations for the Governance of the Naval Service and see what you can learn about defending yourself in a court-martial.»

«Sir, I'll do anything to keep flying.»

«Marine officers don't beg,» Admiral Ball said. «God, you are a disgusting specimen of a human being!»

Admiral Ball pushed the lever on his intercom.

«Send the guard detail in here,» he ordered. «And if my aide is out there, send him in, too.»

The Marine guards marched into the room.

«Take the prisoner to his quarters,» Admiral Ball ordered. «Post a guard outside his door. Arrange for his meals to be brought to him from the enlisted mess. See that he's provided with a copy of the Regulations for the Governance of the Naval Service.»

«Aye, aye, sir,» Technical Sergeant Kranz barked. «Prisoner, one step backward, h-arch.» Lieutenant Pickering took one step backward. «About-FACE! Forward, h-arch.»

Preceded by one Marine Shore Patrolman and trailed by Technical Sergeant Krantz, Lieutenant Pickering marched out of Admiral Ball's office.

Admiral Ball waited until the door was closed before looking at his aide. «God, Marines!» he said. «They're never anything but trouble. If we didn't need them to fight wars, there would be a bounty on them!»

«Yes, sir,» his aide said.

«Call flight scheduling,» Admiral Ball ordered. «Lay on a PBY-5A, and the best IP on the base for 0730 tomorrow. Tell him I want Pickering qualified in the PBY5-A as fast as possible—I don't care if they fly ten hours a day—and to give me daily reports on his progress. And then send a TWX to General Mclnerney's office telling him I think, repeat think, I will have a PBY-5A volunteer for him in a week.»

«Aye, aye, sir.»

Admiral Ball then reached for his telephone and dialed a number. He worked his way through the switchboard of the Planter's Bank & Trust Company of Memphis, and then a secretary, and finally got Braxton V. Lipscomb on the phone.

«Brax, Jesse. That little problem we had? Romeo and Juliet? It's fixed. No further problem, Brax.»

note 70

Naval Air Transport Command

U.S. Naval Base

Pearl Harbor, Oahu, Territory of Hawaii

1715 2 April 1943

Major Jake Dillon, USMCR, leaned against the fender of a 1941 Ford station wagon, with the logo of Pacific & Far East Shipping painted on its doors, and watched as the huge four-engine NATC Coronado with Brigadier General Fleming Pickering aboard splashed down at Pearl Harbor. Parked beside the Ford were a General Motors two-and-a-half-ton canvas-bodied truck and the Plymouth staff car assigned to Rear Admiral Daniel J. Wagam, USN, of the CINCPAC staff. A detail of white hats had sought shelter from the brass hats by stationing themselves at the rear of the truck.

Admiral Wagam was in the backseat of his Plymouth, using his briefcase as a desk. His aide, Lieutenant Chambers D. Lewis III, USN, was leaning on the Plymouth's fender.

When the Coronado was safely down, Lewis went to the rear window of the Plymouth and told Admiral Wagam, who nodded, glanced out the window, and returned his attention to his paperwork. He knew it would be a good five minutes before the passengers could be ferried ashore, and five minutes was precious.

Wagam had come to the terminal to see if he could hasten Pickering, whose time was also valuable, and the cargo—which he knew Pickering would insist on seeing through the bureaucratic process—through deembarkation.

As the first of the barges sent to off-load the Coronado's passengers and cargo reached the wharf, a black 1939 Cadillac pulled in beside the Ford and stopped.

Admiral Wagam saw it out of the corner of his eye and recognized it. It was the staff car assigned to Admiral Chester W. Nimitz, CINCPAC. Wagam hurriedly stuffed his papers into his briefcase and got out of the car.