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

Because material for building fires was scarce, there was a good deal of resentment when the gypsies were ordered to part with material to build them.

Furthermore, McCoy suspected (a suspicion Milla confirmed) that he was going to be looking at more resentment as soon as most of the women—and even some of the men—realized that their long ordeal was far from over the minute he showed up.

McCoy had some new ideas about how to get the women, the children, and even some of the men out of the desert, but that wasn't going to happen now. What was going to happen now was that once the Catalinas had off-loaded their cargo and anything on them that might be useful, thermite grenades would be set off on the wing, over the fuel tanks, and the aircraft destroyed.

Then they'd leave the burned aircraft where they were, and take the wagons, the carts, and the two vehicles as far away as they could get as quickly as they could go. The hope was that if reports of two aircraft flying into the desert triggered aerial reconnaissance of the area, the reconnaissance pilots would think both had crashed and burned. If people were then sent in to check on the «crashed and burned» aircraft and no bodies were found, it was hoped that it would be deduced that the aircrews had bailed out. Thus any subsequent search would look for airmen, not a caravan of pony– and camel-drawn wagons.

There was going to be disappointment and resentment when the aircraft were destroyed. According to Milla, as soon as the women were informed that aircraft were coming, some of them immediately decided they'd be able to fly out on them. That wasn't going to happen.

note 100

Aboard Sea Gypsy Two

Somewhere Above the Gobi Desert

Mongolia

1525 2 May 1943

Lieutenant Malcolm S. Pickering, USMCR, climbed into the cockpit of the Catalina with the call sign «Sea Gypsy Two,» slipped into the copilot's seat, and strapped himself in. Moments before, he had been sleeping in the fuselage. Lieutenant Pickering and the pilot-in-command, Captain James B. Weston, USMC, had alternated flying the aircraft and sleeping during the long haul from Pearl Harbor. They didn't actually follow a schedule. Instead, one or the other kipped out when he felt the need to take a nap.

«Anytime, Jim,» Pick said.

Weston took his hands off the control wheel in an exaggerated gesture. «You've got it,» he said, as Pick put his hand on the wheel. For some time they'd been flying the airplane without the assistance of its autopilot. Though it had worked well on the eleven-hour leg from Pearl Harbor to the rendezvous with the

Sunfish

, it had gone out either during landing at the rendezvous, or while taking off. At near takeoff velocity, they had run into a large swell that had really shaken the bird.

«Where are we?» Pickering asked.

«I would estimate that we are perhaps two hundred feet above and three hundred feet behind that airplane out there,» Weston said, indicating the Catalina with «Sea Gypsy One» as its call sign.

«In other words, you have no idea?»

«I just told you where we are,» Weston said.

«There's not much down there, is there?»

«If there was something down there, there would probably be fighter strips to protect it,» Captain James B. Weston, USMC, replied. «You have to learn to look on the brighter side of things.»

«Do you have any idea where we are in relation to where we are supposed to be?»

«We should be where we're going in about an hour, God willing, and if the creek don't rise. I have faith in Major Williamson.»

«And if the sainted Major Williamson has fucked up somehow?»

«He's not the sort to fuck up, Pickering,» Weston said loyally.

«Excuse me,» Pick said sarcastically.

«On the other hand,» Weston said, a smile at the edge of his mouth. «You are a bona fide—capital

F

—fuckup, having been caught in carnal dalliance.»

«Fuck you, Captain, sir.»

«You know where that word comes from, don't you, Mr. Pickering?»

«I have no fucking idea.»

«England. When the cops locked up some guy for what you were doing, they wrote 'F.U.C.K.' in the blotter, standing for: For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge.»

«My education is now complete,» Pick said. «Thank you so much!»

«Was she worth it, Mr. Pickering?»

«I am under orders, sir,» Pick said sarcastically, «as you well know, not to discuss the reasons I 'volunteered' for this.»

«We're no longer at Ewa,» Weston said. «And we're friends, right?»

Pick didn't reply.

«I'm curious, that's all,» Weston said. «If you're uncomfortable talking about the lady who got you in so much trouble, don't. Your silence will, of course, confirm my worst suspicions.»

Pick looked at him. It had been decided from the first day that Major Williamson would train Lieutenant Stevenson as his copilot, and Weston would train Pickering as his. They had spent a lot of time together, both in the cockpit of the Catalina and at Muku-Muku.

During that time, Weston did not join Major Williamson and Lieutenant Stevenson on their frequent tours of the various officers' clubs on Oahu. Soon Pick had come to the conclusion that Weston was depriving himself of that pleasure because he was aware that they were off-limits to him, and didn't want to leave him alone. Even though being left alone at Muku-Muku was not the same thing as being locked in a basement with nothing to eat and drink but bread and water.

Pick had long before decided that Jim Weston was a really nice guy, even if he, like Williamson, was obviously out of his mind for volunteering for an idiot mission like this one.

I

don't want this guy to think I did something really immoral, like getting caught with some sixteen-year-old girl

.

«I loved, Captain sir, not too badly, but rather unwisely,» Pick said.

«What does that mean?»

«In hindsight, she wasn't worth getting myself all fucked up like this, but at the time I was thinking with my talleywacker, not my head,» Pick said. «And she did have magnificent teats.»

«What was wrong with her? You said you weren't serious about her?»

«I was solely interested in carnal pleasure, the sinful lusts of the flesh, as they are known,» Pick said. «The beloved of my life having recently told me that she had no interest at all, thank you, in becoming my blushing bride.»

«You got a Dear John?»

«Delivered in person. She went with me to a hotel—you know the San Carlos, in P'Cola?»

«Yeah, sure.»

«And no sooner had I closed the door and started to open the champagne thanshe delivered the dear john in person. And then walked out the door, leaving me with chilled champagne, an untouched bed, and a badly broken heart.»

«You know the other guy?»

«I don't think there was another guy,» Pick said. «That's why it hurt. I think she just didn't like me, period.»

«So you were on the rebound when you met this other woman?»

«I was, in the best traditions of a Marine officer, looking out for the welfare of my men. She was one of the chaperones at a service club dance for the enlisted men, and I went there to thank her for saving my innocent men from the wild women and other sinful pleasures of Memphis.»

Jim Weston chuckled. «And?»

«Out of a sense of duty, I danced with the lady. Whereupon she told me—while rubbing her belly against mine—that, one, her husband was out of town a lot, two, that he was considerably older than she was and, three, that she was lonely. One thing, as they say, led to another.»

«So what happened?»

«She was well known in Memphis. There was talk. The admiral commanding Memphis NAS placed me under arrest, had me hauled before him, and offered me my choice of volunteering for this, or a court-martial.»