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

«That's not going to work in heavy seas, Dillon,» Captain Houser pronounced.

«Like I said, this little exercise was intended to find the problems,» Dillon said.

He leaned over the side of the conning tower.

«That hose is about to be lost at sea,» he called to Lieutenant Lewis. «Unless you want to try to haul it back aboard.»

Lewis cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, «You sign the Certificate of Loss, right?»

«Cut it loose,» Dillon ordered. He turned to the Catalina. «If you can't get that boat back through the hatch,» he called over the bullhorn, «slash it with a knife.»

«Pilot wants to know: 'Are we through?' « an Airedale called back from the forward gun position.

«We're through,» Dillon called. «Tell the guy who took a swim he has his choice of a case of beer or a bottle of booze. See you at Pearl.»

The half-inch hose immediately disappeared from the wing of the Catalina. It was partially buoyant. From the bridge of the conning tower, it could be seen snaking four or five feet below the surface. Its weight was so great, however, that it had pulled the simple knot that Lieutenant Lewis had tied to one of the steps on the conning tower too tight to untie. It was necessary to send for a fire ax from the submarine, then carefully lower it to the deck in order to cut the hose free.

By the time that was done, the Catalina had taken off and vanished from sight in the direction of Pearl Harbor.

Lewis and Dillon climbed back onto the bridge.

«I'm at your orders, Major Dillon,» Captain Houser said.

«Take us home, please,» Dillon said.

«Set course for Pearl Harbor, make turns for fifteen knots,» Captain Houser ordered.

«Set course for Pearl Harbor, make turns for fifteen knots, aye,» Chief Buchanan ordered, then took the talker's microphone off and gave it back to the talker.

After a moment, the

Sunfish'

's diesels revved and water boiled at her stern.

«I'm sorry, Jake,» Houser said, «but I think you're trying the impossible.»

«If at first you don't succeed, fuck it, right?» Dillon replied.

«What now, Jake?» Lewis asked.

«I think I know a guy who could solve this problem,» Dillon said thoughtfully. «Lewis, how hard would it be (a) to find a guy in the Seabees somewhere in the Pacific, and (b) get him here?»

«It could be done, Jake,» Lewis replied. «Who is this guy?»

«A Best Boy I know,» Dillon said.

«A what?»

«Did you see

Culligan's Raid

?» Dillon asked.

«The movie?» Lewis asked, obviously confused. «Yeah, sure, didn't everybody?»

«You remember the scene where the train tries to make it across the burning bridge, and doesn't? Where the bridge collapses? The train goes into the gorge?»

«Sure.»

«The first time they shot that, something happened to the stock—the film. They had to shoot it again. It took this guy five days to clean the location, rebuild the bridge, and get another train.»

«And you think he would know how to refuel a Catalina on the high seas?»

«Yeah, now that I think about it, I think he could figure out a way to do it.»

Chapter Fifteen

note 56

Naval Air Station

Pensaeola, Florida

0830 21 March 1943

Without intending to, Major Avery R. Williamson, USMC, watched Mrs. Martha Sayre Culhane enthusiastically kissing Captain James B. Weston, USMC, goodbye. Without really thinking about it, he immediately decided not to bring the subject up to Weston. An officer and a gentleman does not discuss the romantic affairs of a fellow officer and gentleman, especially when the lady involved is the daughter of a senior officer and gentleman and the widow of a fellow Marine and Naval Aviator.

But he approved this particular romantic involvement.

Since he had first met Weston, he had learned from Brigadier General D. G. Mclnerney much more about Weston's service in the Philippines than Weston himself had provided. The conclusions he had drawn—obviously shared by General Mclnerney and by Charley Galloway—was that Jim Weston possessed very desirable characteristics for a Marine officer. He was not at all averse to sailing in harm's way. And once there, he had proved he had the balls to do whatever was necessary, despite the risk posed to his life. And finally, he was extraordinarily modest about his exploits.

That entitled him to a little extra consideration. The unfortunate truth was that officers like Jim Weston were not as common in the Marine Corps as the public-relations people would have people believe.

With that in mind, and not without difficulty, Major Williamson had arranged for a Douglas R4-D aircraft to return Weston to West Virginia, in place of the PBY-5A Catalina scheduled. Weston had already proved himself to be a skilled PBY-5A Catalina pilot. It would be a waste of time for him to shoot any more touch-and-goes in a Catalina.

Getting the Gooney Bird had required spending several very large favors that Major Williamson had been saving for a good cause. This was a good cause. Unless he was very sorely mistaken, he could return from Asshole, West Virginia, able to certify in good conscience that Captain James B. Weston, USMC, was fully qualified to serve as pilot-in-command of R4-D-Series Aircraft.

Being current in the Cat and the Gooney Bird might not be important in the immediate future (Weston seemed determined to go into the cockpit of an F4U Corsair and General Mclnerney seemed determined to put him there), but it would be a consideration, say, six months down the line when they were selecting captains to be squadron commanders.

Captain Williamson had not had the privilege of knowing the late Lieutenant Gregory Culhane, USMC, but everything he had heard about him was favorable. Proof of that seemed to come from Weston, who had been the best man at his wedding to Admiral Sayre's daughter, Martha. Major Williamson believed it to be absolutely true that birds of a feather flocked together.

In the highest traditions of the Marine Corps, Lieutenant Culhane had died fighting in the valiant—if hopeless—defense of Wake Island. Likewise in the highest traditions of the Marine Corps, then Lieutenant Weston had fought in the valiant—if hopeless—defense of Luzon and Corregidor. And when he had not died, he'd gone on fighting as a guerrilla.

It was not surprising to Major Williamson that Admiral Sayre's daughter was strongly attracted to Captain Weston. And, clearly, Admiral Sayre was not at all displeased that Weston had become a suitor of his daughter.

Forty-five minutes after Captain James B. Weston had waved goodbye to Mrs. Martha S. Culhane from the left seat of the R4-D, he had proved to Major Williamson that his previous, though admittedly limited, experience in the Gooney Bird, plus all of his PBY-5A time, plus his natural ability as a pilot, had combined to turn him into a pilot capable of performing any maneuver within the envelope of the R4-D's capabilities.

An hour after that, after eight touch-and-go landings at the U.S. Army Air Corps field near Midland City, Alabama, Major Williamson was convinced that Weston could fly the Gooney Bird at least as well as most Gooney Bird drivers he knew, and far better than a lot of them. He based this professional judgment not only on the fact that all of Weston's touchdowns, including the first one, had been greasers, but also on the fact that both times he had without warning shut down one of the Gooney Bird's engines on takeoff—a maneuver that caused the aircraft to want to turn abruptly in the direction of the shut-down engine—Weston's response had been immediate, calm, and skillful.

And neither was he worried about Weston's ability to navigate. It was more than reasonable to presume that anyone who had acquired 1,200 hours in a PBY-5A, most of it in the left seat flying over the Pacific Ocean, knew how to navigate.