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

Chief petty officers with twenty-two years of service are not normally very impressed with lieutenants. Lieutenants who are aides-de-camp to flag officers— who sit, so to speak, at the foot of the throne of God—are an exception.

Commander Sloane, who looked very much like Chief Haber, lithe, muscular, and natty, picked up on the change of voice. While a mere reservist, he

was

a graduate of the U.S. Naval Academy at Annapolis. He looked up at Chief Haber in interest.

«Yes, sir, we have a Chief McGuire aboard,» Chief Haber said.

Now Commander Sloane was really interested.

Chief Carpenter's Mate Peter T. McGuire, USNR, known popularly as «Chief Hollywood»—if he was to be believed, and Commander Sloane was among the dubious, he not only was acquainted with many Hollywood stars, but also had carnal knowledge of many of them—was not only a reservist but had never worn a uniform, much less been to sea aboard a man-of-war, until the day he had raised his hand and been sworn into the Naval Service as a chief petty officer.

In order to form its construction battalions—the Seabees—the Navy had tried to recruit highly skilled civilian construction workers and other civil engineering specialists. Construction foremen, demolition experts, and heavy-equipment operators were not, however, about to swap ajob that was high-paying and almost always essential to the war effort, and thus exempt from the draft, in order to become seaman apprentices at twenty-one dollars a month. The solution was threefold: an appeal to patriotism, an assurance that their skills would be utilized by the Navy— that they would not find themselves mopping decks or peeling potatoes—and enlistment in a grade appropriate to their civilian skills and years of experience.

Peter T. McGuire more than met all the requirements for enlistment as a chief petty officer. If his application was to be believed—and again Commander Sloane was among the dubious—he could not only operate just about every piece of heavy construction and road-building equipment known to engineering, but was also licensed by the state of California as an «unlimited explosives technician»

and

as a master electrician. Commander Sloane would be the first to admit that whenever he told McGuire what he wanted done, it had been done—and done well—with astonishing speed. But Chief McGuire did not conduct himself as Commander Sloane—or Chief Haber—thought a chief should. Chiefs are supposed to supervise, not do the necessary manual tasks themselves. Chief McGuire did not seem to understand this. Although he had been told, time and time again, with increasing firmness, that he was to

supervise

his men, Sloane knew that the minute he or Chief Haber turned their backs, Chief McGuire was wielding a sledgehammer, or, more frequently, operating a Caterpillar D-6 bulldozer or a road grader—or some other kind of heavy equipment—most often with his shirt off.

«Aye, aye, sir,» Chief Haber said. «I'll have Chief McGuire report to you immediately, sir. Sir, it may take a little while. Chief McGuire is at Auxiliary Field Two, sir.»

In addition to other assigned construction tasks, the 3rd Seabees had been ordered to remove the pierced steel planking that «paved» the runway of Auxiliary Field #2 and to extend the length of the runway and then pave it with concrete. Chief McGuire had been charged with removing the pierced steel planking and then with site preparation of the new runway.

Admiral Henton's aide said something else Commander Sloane could not overhear.

«Aye, aye, sir, thank you, sir,» Chief Haber said, very courteously, and hung up. He looked at Commander Sloane. «The Admiral wants to see McGuire right now.»

«What the hell is that all about?» Commander Sloane wondered aloud.

Chief Haber shrugged.

«Well, you better go out to Auxiliary Two and get him,» Commander Sloane ordered, and then changed his mind. «Tell you what, Chief, I'll go get him, and

you

get on the horn to your pal in the Admiral's office and see if you can find out what the hell this is all about. What the hell has McGuire done now?»

Although no witnesses could be found to testify against Chief McGuire in a court-martial, it was common knowledge that Chief McGuire, who was six feet three inches tall and weighed 230 pounds, had thrown two fellow chief petty officers through the screen enclosed verandah of the Chiefs' Club after they'd made remarks about the Seabees that he'd considered disparaging.

«Aye, aye, sir,» Chief Haber said.

When his aide informed him that Chief McGuire was at Auxiliary #2 and it might take a little while to get him to the Admiral's office, the Admiral also changed his mind about the best place to meet with the Chief:

«Okay,» the Admiral said. «The minute he gets here, bring him in.»

«Aye, aye, sir.»

«Oh, hell, Charley. I've been in the office all day, and I would really like to know how long Auxiliary Two will be down. Find the driver, and we'll take a run out there.»

«Aye, aye, sir.»

When Commander Sloane's jeep approached Auxiliary Field #2, he was surprised and annoyed to find that the road was blocked by a Caterpillar D-6 bulldozer. He stood up in his jeep, holding on to the windshield. «Get that thing off the road!» he ordered.

The driver of the bulldozer shook his head, «no.» He was a stocky, barrel-chested, shirtless Seabee who wore his white cap with the rim turned all the way down and looked like a beach bum. Then, taking his good sweet time about it, he climbed off the 'dozer and walked to Commander Sloane's jeep, remembering at the last minute the quaint Navy custom that you were supposed to salute officers. «Good morning, Commander,» he said pleasantly.

«Couldn't you hear me, sailor? Get that 'dozer off the road!»

«It'll be a minute. McGuire's about to blow the pierced steel planking.»

«McGuire's about to do what?»

«Blow the runway,» the sailor replied.

«You mean dynamite it?»

«Yes, sir. He decided that would be the quickest way to get it up.»

Commander Sloane's attention was diverted when he heard the sound of wheels on the dirt road behind him. He turned and saw Admiral Henton's Plymouth staff car, his blue, two-starred flag flapping from a pole mounted to the fender.

Oh, my God.

Admiral Henton and his aide-de-camp got out of the car.

«Good afternoon, sir,» Commander Sloane said, and saluted.

«What's going on here?» Admiral Henton said, returning the salute and then shaking Commander Sloane's hand.

When in doubt, tell the truth. When in great doubt, tell the truth, but as little of it as possible.

«We're about to blow the runway, sir,» Commander Sloane said. «I was about to walk to the crest of the hill and see how things are going.»

»

Blow

the runway?» Admiral Henton asked. «Won't that make salvaging the pierced steel planking a little difficult?»

He had expected to see a crew of Seabees, armed with sledgehammers. They would sledgehammer the interlocking parts of one piece of pierced steel planking free from the adjacent piece of planking. The freed piece would then be loaded onto a truck and carted off for future use.

«Yes, sir, it will,» Sloane said.

This maniac McGuire is going to cost me my promotion!

Admiral Henton made a gesture indicating that Commander Sloane should lead the way to a place where they could see what was going on.

«Admiral,» the Seabee said, «I wouldn't go too far down the slope, if I was you.»

Admiral Henton turned and looked at him. «Thank you very much,» he said. «I'll be careful.»

«You never can tell how far some of that shit will fly when you do something like this,» the Seabee added.