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

«General Mclnerney must think this project is important,» Weston said. Major Williamson didn't reply.

«What's your personal problem, Weston? Try to explain it in thirty seconds or less.»

«Sir, I'd like to volunteer.»

«Are you out of your mind, Weston? Christ, you're just out of the hospital.»

«Sir, with respect, I have twelve hundred hours as pilot-in-command of a Catalina.»

«That's right, isn't it?» Williamson said thoughtfully.

«Sir, I'm a Marine officer. Apparently one with the special qualifications needed for General Mclnerney's project.»

«I thought you wanted to be a fighter pilot?»

«Sir, I am a fighter pilot. Captain Galloway checked me out in the Corsair. I would just be wasting my time, and the Corps' time, to go through the training again here.»

«And maybe you're thinking that if you did this job for General Mclnerney you wouldn't have to do the training again.»

«That thought did occur to me, sir, but it's not the reason I am volunteering.»

«I know,» Williamson said.

«Sir?»

«You're volunteering for the same reason I did,» Williamson said emotionally. «Because, goddammit, you're a Marine and you want to serve where you can do the most good for the Corps.»

«That's not really it, sir.»

«You're sure about this, Weston?»

«I'm sure, sir.»

«One more time, I put the question to you. Warning you beforehand that I have orders to appear at San Diego as soon as I can get there, with any qualified Marine Aviator I choose to take with me. As you have pointed out, you have the necessary qualifications.»

«Yes, sir.»

«You want to go, is that it?»

«Yes, sir.»

«How long will it take you to get packed? To say goodbye to Martha?»

«I'm already packed, sir, and as far as Martha goes, I think I would rather call her from San Diego and tell her my orders have been changed. I don't feel up to facing her with this.»

«You're chicken, Mr. Weston, but in your shoes, I'd do the same thing. I know how it is. I have lied to my wife about this mission—I don't think she believes me, but that's not the point—and I didn't like having to do that.»

«I understand, sir.»

«Women just don't seem to be able to understand that a Marine, at least an honorable Marine, has to answer the call of duty even when that involves a certain amount of personal sacrifice.»

«I suppose that's true, sir.»

«You've got your car?»

«Yes, sir.»

«Go get your luggage. Meet me at base operations. I'll arrange for somebody to take care of your car until we get back. And we will come back, Weston. Get that firmly fixed in your mind.»

«Yes, sir.»

But maybe with a little luck I can stretch the ninety days a little. Maybe to six months. Maybe for the duration of the war plus six months.

Major Williamson touched Captain Weston's shoulder in a gesture of affection. «I should have known, since Charley Galloway likes you, that you are really a Marine, Weston. It shouldn't have taken this to prove it.»

«Thank you, sir.»

Chapter Nineteen

note 72

Patrol Torpedo Boat 197

Kaiwi Channel

North Pacific Ocean

0815 6 April 1943

Lieutenant (j.g.) Max Schneider, USNR, into whose twenty-year-old hands the United States Navy had three weeks before placed command of PT-197, had absolutely no idea what he and his vessel were doing floating around the Kaiwi Channel at a point equidistant between the islands of Oahu and Molokai. And he had been specifically ordered to ask no questions.

He had been summoned to the office of the Squadron Commander shortly after lunch the day before. «I have a mission for PT-197, Max,» Lieutenant Commander James D. Innis, USN, had announced. «A classified mission.»

«Aye, aye, sir. May I inquire into the nature of the mission?»

«The precise nature of the mission will be made known to you in due course, Mr. Schneider,» Commander Innis had said.

Lieutenant Commander Innis, in fact, had no idea himself about the nature of the mission. But he was naturally reluctant to admit this to a twenty-year-old newly promoted j.g. who still believed his skipper knew everything.

When Innis picked up his telephone half an hour before, he was somewhat astonished to find himself talking to an admiral.

«This is Admiral Wagam, Commander.»

While Commander Innis was not familiar with all the senior officers of CINCPAC, he did know who Admiral Wagam was. Admiral Wagam was not only close to Admiral Nimitz, he had the reputation of relieving, on the spot, officers who did not measure up to his standards. Being in command of a PT boat squadron was infinitely better than being, for example, a morale officer, or a VD control officer, which is usually what happened to officers who incurred Admiral Wagam's displeasure.

What the hell does he want with me?

«Yes, sir?»

«If I told you you were going to lose one of your boats and its crew, for up to a month, which of your boats could you best spare?»

I

suspect that no matter how I answer the question, it will be wrong

.

When in doubt, tell the truth.

«That would be PT-197, sir.»

«Why?»

«It has a new skipper, sir. And some new crewmen. There hasn't been time to bring him and the boat up to speed.»

The next question will be, «Why not, Commander? What are you doing all day, lying around on your tail?»

«But the skipper can handle the boat?»

«Yes, sir.»

«You sound very sure, Commander.»

That's both a statement and a question.

«Sir, Lieutenant Schneider has more experience handling boats than any of my other boat commanders.»

Or, for that matter, me. The problem is he doesn't know diddley-shit about anything else in the Navy.

«How is that?»

«Sir, his family operates a fleet of tuna boats out of San Francisco. He was the master of an eighty-footer when he was sixteen.»

«He's my man,» Admiral Wagam said. «It always pays to ask questions, Commander.»

«Yes, sir, I'm sure it does.»

«Has this officer got a big mouth? Rephrased: can he be trusted to keep his mouth shut?»

I

have absolutely no idea

.

«He's a good young officer, sir.»

«Impress upon him, and have him impress upon his crew, that they are not to discuss this mission with anyone.»

«Aye, aye, sir. Sir, may I inquire as to the nature of the mission?»

«Not over a nonsecure landline, Commander,» Admiral Wagam said. «You will be contacted shortly by either Lieutenant Chambers D. Lewis, who is my aide-de-camp, or Major Homer C. Dillon, a Marine. They will tell you what they feel you should know. From this moment, you will consider PT-197 attached to me until relieved.»

«Aye, aye, sir.»

The line went dead, and Commander Innis sent for Lieutenant (j.g.) Max Schneider.

Major Homer C. Dillon, USMCR, driving a Ford station wagon bearing the logotype of the Pacific & Far East Shipping Corporation, showed up as darkness was falling. He was followed by a Marine Corps General Motors six-by-six. The truck was driven by a chief carpenter's mate who had apparently lost his cap somewhere.

Lieutenant (j.g.) Schneider quickly descended the ladder from PT-197 to the wharf. «Major Dillon, sir?» he asked, saluting.

«Right,» Jake Dillon replied, returning the salute. «Lieutenant Schneider?»

«Yes, sir.»

«Where's the captain?» the chief carpenter's mate asked.

«I command PT-197, Chief,» Lieutenant (j.g.) Schneider replied coldly.

«No shit? You don't look old enough,» the chief carpenter's mate said.

«You'll have to excuse the chief, Mr. Schneider,» Major Dillon said. «He's only been in the Navy nine months.»