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

«A flight physical, I hope?»

«Since you're not on flight status, I'm not technically supposed to give you a flight physical. But—don't be shocked by this confession—I have made administrative errors before. I don't know if Pensacola will accept a flight physical from here, but you never know.»

«Thank you.»

«You can spend the rest of the day tomorrow putting your affairs in order— pay, that sort of thing—and then I'll discharge you from here as of the day after tomorrow. I think you get five days to drive to Pensacola.»

«Fine,» Weston said.

«It's one hell of a drive from here to Pensacola,» Dr. Kister said. «I suppose you have been thinking about that.»

«Sir?»

Dr. Kister didn't reply. He reached for his telephone and dialed a number.

«Ah, Lieutenant,» he said to whoever answered the phone. «Just the Naval officer with whom I wished to communicate. And how are you this afternoon?»

He's scheduling my physical

, Weston decided.

There was a reply, and then Kister said, «Yes, by a wild happenstance, he's sitting right here with me.»

He handed the phone to Weston, who took it.

«Captain Weston.»

«Hi,» Janice said.

His heart jumped. «Hi, yourself.»

«How was the drive?»

«Long.»

«Listen, I have the duty until 2000.»

«Damn!»

«Can you meet me in the Benjamin Franklin Hotel at eight-thirty?»

«Sure.»

«You can find it all right?»

«I know where it is.»

«Eight thirty at the bar,» Janice said. «Don't drink too much.»

«Yes, ma'am.»

Janice hung up.

Weston put the handset in its cradle.

«Thank you,» he said to Dr. Kister.

«Nice girl. If I had something like that waiting for me at the end of the long trail, I don't think I'd mind driving all the way up here from Pensacola myself.»

«Yeah,» Jim said thoughtfully.

«Okay, James,» Kister said. «Get out of here. Spruce yourself up. Get a shave and a shower.»

«Aye, aye, sir.»

«I want to see you before you actually leave, Jim,» Kister said.

«Yes, sir. And thanks. Commander.»

«I think of myself as Cupid's Little Helper."' Kister said.

note 60

The Lobby Bar

The Benjamin Franklin Hotel

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

2045 25 March 1943

«Hi, honey,» Lieutenant (j.g.) Janice Hardison, NNC, USNR, said to Captain James B. Weston, USMC, as she slid onto the barstool beside him. She kissed him, chastely.

«My God, you're beautiful!»

«How many of those have you had?» she asked, nodding at the glass in his hand.

«This is the second,» he said.

«Since 1600?» she challenged.

«I took in a movie,» he said.

«What did you see?»

«Tyrone Power,» he said. «

A Yank in the Royal Air Force

. He doesn't make a very convincing pilot.»

She laughed. «But he

is

.» she said. «You don't know?»

«Know what?»

«Tyrone Power is a pilot. He's a

Marine Aviator

.»

«No shit?» Weston exclaimed, truly astonished. Then he heard what he had said. «Sorry.»

«No shit,» she confirmed, then blushed when she realized the approaching bartender had heard her.

God, she's adorable when she blushes.

«Nothing for me, thank you,» Janice said to the bartender. «I won't be staying.»

«I don't have to finish this,» Weston offered. «Where are we going?»

«You're staying. I'm going,» Janice said, then waited for the bartender to move down the bar before continuing. «I've got a present for you,» she said. «Actually two.»

«I didn't get you anything,» he said.

She went into her purse and then pressed something into his hand. It was a hotel key.

«Jesus!» Jim said.

Janice blushed again.

«Stay here. Finish your drink slowly. Give me ten minutes.»

«Yes, ma'am,» he said.

«Nice to see you again, Captain,» Janice said, loudly enough so that the bartender could hear her. Then she slid off the stool and walked out of the bar into the lobby.

Weston watched her go, then turned back to the bar. The bartender was there.

«Very nice,» the bartender said. «Sorry you struck out.»

«The story of my life,» Weston said.

«You want another one of those?»

«One more,» Weston said. «And then I'll have to go.»

«I liked the second present better than the first,» Captain Weston said to Lieutenant Hardison. «But of course without the first, I wouldn't have gotten the second, would I?»

They were in one of the two single beds in Room 416. Weston's uniform and the white negligee Janice had been wearing when he came into the room were on the other bed.

«That wasn't a present.» Janice said. «Except maybe from God. That's what two people do when they're in love.»

«Sorry,» he said. «You said 'two presents.' «

«You get the second present in about two weeks,» Janice said.

«In two weeks, I will be in Pensacola, Florida,» he said.

More than likely in bed with another nice beautiful young girl who thinks she's in love with me. And vice versa.

«And so will I be,» Janice said.

«What?»

«Dr. Kister arranged it,» she said. «The Navy Hospital at Pensacola had a requirement for a psychiatric nurse, and Dr. Kister got the billet for me.»

«Wonderful!» Captain Weston said.

note 61

Naval Air Transport Command Terminal

Pearl Harbor, Oahu, Territory of Hawaii

1615 26 March 1943

The PBY-5A Catalina slowly and carefully approached the ramp until the pilot felt the wheels touch. Then, as the engines revved just slightly, the amphibious aircraft rose from the water and taxied onto the concrete parking area.

The area had been famous right after December 7, 1941, when photographs showing it littered with smashed and burning aircraft had been on the front pages of newspapers around the world. Many of the aircraft had been Catalinas.

There was still some evidence of that mess, Major Homer C. Dillon, USMC, had thought, waiting for this PBY-5A to arrive. The hangars were scarred where flames and smoke had reached them, and many of the windows in the hangars were still broken.

What did the Navy do with all the wrecked airplanes

? he had wondered idly.

Try to salvage what they could, maybe save the metal to be melted down? Or just load them onto a barge, take them offshore, and push them over the side

?

A team of white hats under the supervision of a chief began to hose down the Catalina's fuselage and landing gear even before the crew climbed out of the airplane.

The first person off it was Chief Carpenter's Mate Peter T. McGuire, USNR, who was wearing a mussed khaki uniform with a white cap cover. Even Major Dillon recognized that that made him out of uniform.

Chief McGuire immediately saw Major Dillon standing alongside a gray Navy Plymouth staff car. Beside him was a tall, good-looking Navy officer in impeccable whites, with some kind of a gold rope hanging from his shoulder. McGuire wondered what the hell that was.

The driver of the staff car started toward him.

«Your gear, Chief?»

«Oh, God, I forgot about it,» McGuire said. «It's on that goddamned airplane.»

«I'll get it for you, Chief,» the white hat said.

«No, I'll get it.»

«I don't mind,» the white hat said.

«I puked all over it,» Chief McGuire said. «I'll get it.»

He went back to the Catalina. As he reached it, a fellow chief, this one a chief aviation pilot with the wings of a Naval Aviator on his shirt, appeared in the fuselage bubble gingerly holding a canvas suitcase in his fingers.