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

«Nevin,» she ordered, «go find a couple of psychiatric Corpsmen.»

«Yes, ma'am,» the chubby Corpsman said, and hurried into the building.

What are they going to do? Wrap the nutty escapee from the Philippines in a straitjacket and drag me inside to a padded cell?

The two muscular Corpsmen who appeared moments later—almost running—did not have a straitjacket with them.

They don't need one. I have seen smaller gorillas.

«Would you please escort this patient to Five-B, please?» the nurse said.

«Yes, ma'am,» one of them said. «You want to get in the wheelchair, please, Captain?»

«No,» Weston said evenly.

«Why not?»

«I don't need a wheelchair; I don't like wheelchairs.»

The Corpsman looked at him intently for a long moment. «Yes, sir. Will you come this way, please, Captain?»

«Certainly,» Weston said. He turned to the nurse. «The memory of our meeting, Lieutenant, will remain with me always.»

She ignored him. «I'll call Commander Kister and alert him that you're coming,» she said to the Corpsmen, and walked quickly into the building.

«What's Five-B?» Weston asked the larger gorilla. «Or is that a military secret?»

«It's preliminary evaluation, Captain,» the Corpsmen answered. «Nothing to worry about. They'll keep you there for a couple of days, and then you'll get transferred to one of the other wards for treatment.»

The entrance to Ward Five-B was barred. A Corpsman as large as the two who had escorted him there unlocked and pulled open a barred door.

«Put him in Four,» he ordered.

Four was a small room furnished with a small desk and two chairs. The window was covered with a steel mesh.

Weston looked out the window—it opened on an interior courtyard—and then tried the door. He was not surprised to learn he was locked in. He walked back to the window and half-sat on the windowsill. He took a long, thin, green cigar from a breast pocket on his tunic, looked at it, decided he really didn't want a smoke right now, and returned the cigar to the pocket.

Five minutes later, the door opened and a chubby, redheaded man in a white smock walked in, carrying a manila folder.

«I'm Dr. Kister,» he announced.

Weston touched his index finger to his temple in a mocking salute.

Dr. Kister sat down at the desk and laid the manila folder on it. «You gave Lieutenant Hardison a hard time,» Kister said.

«That's the nurse?»

Kister nodded. «Nice girl,» he said.

«Nice-looking, too.»

«Then why did you give her a hard time?»

«I didn't give her a hard time. I

did

tell her I didn't need her wheelchair, and that I had no intention of lying on a stretcher in the back of her ambulance.»

«That's standard procedure. She was just obeying orders.»

«Never let common sense get in the way of standard procedure and obeying orders, right?»

«You want to tell me why you're so pissed off, Captain?» Dr. Kister asked.

«Are you really interested, Doctor?» Weston asked. «Or… ?»

«Will you settle for 'curious'? I

am

curious.»

Weston looked at him for a moment, shrugged, reached into the lower right , outer pocket of his tunic, and with some difficulty pulled out a large manila envelope, folded in half. He unfolded it, opened it, rummaged through it, found what he was looking for, and handed it to Dr. Kister.

It was a long sheet of yellow paper, a carbon copy of a Teletype message. Kister took it and read it. As he did, his eyebrows went up.

HQ USMC

1705 08 FEB 43

PRIORITY

COMMANDING OFFICER

MAG-21

EWA MCAS OAHU TERRITORY OF HAWAII

1. DEPUTY CHIEF OF STAFF FOR PERSONNEL USMC HAS INFORMED THE UNDERSIGNED:

A. NO EXCEPTION TO STANDING OPERATING PROCEDURE REGARDING MISSING OR CAPTURED PERSONNEL RETURNING TO USMC CONTROL WILL BE GRANTED IN CASE OF CAPTAIN JAMES B. WESTON, USMCR, USMC SPECIAL DETACHMENT 16, CURRENTLY ON TEMPORARY DUTY VMF 229, MAG 21, EWA MCAS.

B. IN VIEW STRONG OBJECTIONS VOICED BY US NAVY BUREAU OP AERONAUTICS TO COMMANDANT USMC CONCERNING RETURN TO FLIGHT STATUS OP OFFICER WHO HAS BEEN OFF FLIGHT STATUS FOR TWELVE OR MORE MONTHS WITHOUT SUCCESSFUL COMPLETION OF PRESCRIBED BUAER RETRAINING PROGRAM CAPTAIN WESTON'S TRANSITION TRAINING INTO F4U-1 AIRCRAFT AND HIS FLIGHT STATUS WILL BE TERMINATED IMMEDIATELY UPON RECEIPT OF THIS MESSAGE.

2. YOU WILL IMMEDIATELY ISSUE ORDERS DIRECTING CAPTAIN WESTON

TO

PROCEED BY FIRST AVAILABLE AIR TRANSPORTATION TO US NAVY HOSPITAL, PHILADELPHIA, PENNA., REPORTING ON ARRIVAL THEREAT TO COMMANDING OFFICER, TO UNDERGO PHYSICAL AND PYSCHOLOGICAL EVALUATION PRESCRIBED FOR PERSONNEL RETURNING TO USMC CONTROL AFTER ESCAPE FROM ENEMY CONTROLLED TERRITORY.

3. FOR YOUR INFORMATION, PRESUMING CAPTAIN WESTON'S PHYSICAL AND PSYCHOLOGICAL CONDITION IS JUDGED TO BE SUCH THAT HE CAN RETURN TO ACTIVE DUTY, HE WILL BE ORDERED TO THE GREEHBRIBR HOTEL, WEST VIRGINIA, FOR THIRTY DAYS RECUPERATIVE LEAVE, NOT CHARGEABLE AS ORDINARY LEAVE. HE WILL THEN BE SENT TO USNAVY AIR STATION, PENSACOLA, FLORIDA, TO UNDERGO PRESCRIBED BUATR PILOT RETRAINING PROGRAM. IF SUCH COURSE OP INSTRUCTION IS SUCCESSFULLY COMPLETED, IT IS CONTEMPLATED THAT CAPTAIN WESTON WILL BE ASSIGNED TO VMP-262, US NAVAL AIR STATION, MEMPHIS, TENN., FOR TRANSITION TRAINING INTO F4U-1 AIRCRAFT.

4. NO REQUESTS FOR RECONSIDERATION OF ABOVE OR COMMENTS CONCERNING THESE DECISIONS ARE DESIRED.

D.G. MCINERNEY

BRIG GEN USMC

DIRECTOR USMC AVIATION

Doctor Kister looked at Weston. «Very interesting,» he said.

Weston went into the envelope again and came out with a long form, which he handed to Kister. «That's a flight physical,» Weston said.

«Would you believe I've seen one before?» Kister asked, and read it carefully. Then he looked at Weston. «How'd you get this?»

«I went to the Navy Hospital in Pearl Harbor. They examined me for several hours and decided I could see lightning and hear thunder well enough to be allowed to fly.»

«According to this, aside from being a few pounds underweight, you're in excellent health.»

«As, indeed, I am,» Weston said. «So what the hell am I doing in a psycho ward?»

«Interesting question,» Kister said. «This is dated five weeks ago. Have you been flying?»

«Yes, I have. And four hours after I passed my rating check ride in a Corsair, I got orders to come here.»

«Anybody who has been a prisoner of war and escapes gets sent here,» Kister said, «to determine what kind of shape he's in. You were a POW, right?»

«No.»

«Your paperwork,» Kister said, tapping the manila folder he had brought with him, «says you escaped from the Philippines.»

«I was

ordered out

of the Philippines. You asked if I had been a POW.»

«What were you doing in the Philippines?»

«Would you believe it if I told you I was G-2 of U.S. forces in the Philippines?»

Kister examined him carefully and, Weston thought, with disbelief.

«With overwhelming immodesty,» Weston said, «I have a Silver Star to prove it. It was personally pinned to my breast by General Douglas MacArthur.»

Kister opened Weston's records jacket and went through it carefully. «Your Silver Star somehow didn't get into your records,» Kister said. «And you're not wearing it.»

Weston reached into his manila envelope again, came out with a four-by-five-inch glossy photograph, and handed it to Dr. Kister. «I have six more copies of that, eight-by-tens, in my luggage, wherever the hell my luggage might be.»

Kister examined the photograph. It showed the Supreme Commander, South West Pacific Ocean Areas, in the act of pinning the Silver Star to Weston's tunic. Weston was wearing a full beard.