She laughed.
“There’s plenty of food,” she said. “I’ll just slice the barons before I serve them.”
“I’m not going to bring him here,” Pickering said, as he stood up. “The one thing that kid does not need is dinner with a Navy brass hat. I’ll get him a hotel and let Banning take care of him in the morning.”
He drained his glass of scotch and walked out of the library.
First Lieutenant Hon Song Do, Signal Corps, U.S. Army Reserve, arrived at The Elms ten minutes after Pickering left, and Major Edward J. Banning, USMC, arrived five minutes after that. Both men were there at Captain Fleming Pickering’s invitation.
Major Banning had called Captain Pickering on the telephone that morning to tell him he had “something interesting” and was about to fly to Melbourne to show it to him. Pickering asked him then to go directly to The Elms, not only because he liked Banning and wanted to have him to dinner, but also because he liked to keep Banning away from MacArthur’s headquarters as much as possible. If the gossips didn’t see him, they didn’t ask questions. Pickering had also asked Pluto for dinner, not only because he—and Banning—enjoyed Hon’s company, but also because he believed that Hon should know about anything “interesting” Banning had found.
After Mrs. Cavendish told them that Captain Fleming would be a little late, she set out a half gallon bottle of scotch, a soda siphon, and a silver champagne cooler full of ice for them in the library.
Major Banning had been driven to The Elms from the airfield in a Ford station wagon bearing the insignia of the Royal Australian Navy. He had just flown in from Townesville, Queensland, where he commanded Special Detachment 14, USMC. The very existence of Special Detachment 14 was classified CONFIDENTIAL. Its presence in Australia was classified SECRET. Its mission, “to support the Coastwatcher Establishment, Royal Australian Navy and to perform such other intelligence gathering activities as may be directed by Headquarters, USMC,” was classified Top SECRET.
Lieutenant Commander Eric A. Feldt, Royal Australian Navy, who commanded the Coastwatcher Establishment, had surprised a large number of Australians and Americans by taking an immediate liking to Major Banning. He had previously run off every other American officer sent to work with the Coastwatchers. In the process he often used language so colorful that some thought it inappropriate for a senior naval officer.
But Captain Pickering heard from Rear Admiral Keith Soames-Haley, RAN, a pre-war friend of long standing, that Feldt had described Major Banning as “the first sodding American officer I’ve met who could find his sodding ass with both hands.”
Admiral Soames-Haley and Captain Pickering both agreed that the rapport between Feldt and Banning was probably based on the mysterious chemistry that sometimes developed between seemingly dissimilar men—each surprisingly recognizing in the other a deep-down, kindred soul, the two of them bobbing along alone and unappreciated in a sea of fools.
Soames-Haley and Pickering also agreed that the friendship between the two men almost certainly had much to do with the long years that Banning had spent in the Orient before the war. Banning understood the Japanese as well as Feldt did—which is to say as well as any Westerner could. Both officers spoke fluent Japanese. And finally, Feldt probably felt a connection with Banning because of Banning’s personal stake in the war: Banning had been forced to leave his Russian-born wife behind in Shanghai when war came.
Whatever the reasons, both Saomes-Haley and Pickering were truly delighted that the problems of Australian-US Cooperation vis-à-vis the Coastwatchers was solved. Soames-Haley was all too aware of how valuable that cooperation would be to both allies. For his part, he was not just eager, he was hungry to get his hands on some of the logistical largess available from Americans with the right connections. The Coastwatcher Organization needed desperately the latest communications equipment, as well as access to aircraft and submarines. And for his part, Pickering was fully aware of the value of the intelligence that would now flow from the Coastwatchers. Now that Banning was close to Feldt, and not regarded by him as one more arrogant, sodding American over here to tell us how to run the sodding war, the intelligence Feldt could provide would arrive far more quickly than through standard channels.
Major Banning had been met at the airport by a RAN Lieutenant, and transported to The Elms in a RAN Ford station wagon, because Commander Feldt had spread the word that Banning was “not too sodding stupid for an American.” This was, for Feldt, praise of the highest order. Commander Feldt was highly regarded by his peers in the RAN, and any friend of his ...
Lieutenant Pluto Hon had driven to The Elms in a 1941 Studebaker President, which had the letters USMC on its hood and the Marine Corps insignia stencilled on its doors.
One of the sixteen enlisted men assigned to Special Detachment 14 was Staff Sergeant Allan Richardson, who was a scrounger of some reputation. Richardson had learned that shortly after the war broke out, a transport under charter to the U.S. Navy and loaded with equipment intended for the Chinese had been diverted to Melbourne. The cargo, which included a large number of Studebaker trucks and twenty President sedans, had been off-loaded and turned over to the only U.S. Navy group then in the area, a small Hydrographic Detachment. Richardson reasoned—correctly—that since Special Detachment 14 needed vehicles and had none, and since it was, furthermore, under the control of Captain Pickering, all it would take to get the needed vehicles would be a call from Captain Pickering to the Commanding Officer of the Hydrographic Detachment, a Lieutenant (j.g.). As a general rule of thumb, Lieutenants (j.g.) tend to comply with requests of Naval Captains.
Captain Pickering made the call. Special Detachment 14 got all the trucks and sedans it needed, plus one additional President. Two days after he made the telephone call on behalf of Staff Sergeant Richardson, Richardson gave Pickering the extra President, now bearing USMC insignia.
Pickering’s rank entitled him to a staff car. Nevertheless, in order to avoid worrying about a driver, he had borrowed a Jaguar drophead coupe from a pre-war business associate for his personal transportation. Consequently, he promptly turned the Studebaker over to Lieutenant Pluto Hon. Pickering was immensely fond of Lieutenant Hon; he also felt himself to be in Hon’s debt, for many courtesies rendered.
It did not surprise Pickering at all that Commander Lentz was waiting at NATS Melbourne, a small frame building plus a warehouse on Port Philip Bay. What surprised Commander Lentz was Captain Pickering’s automobile; he was expecting either a Navy or an Army staff car, with a driver; and so a frown crossed his face when the Jaguar drophead coupe with Victorian license plates pulled into his OFFICIAL VISITORS parking space.
But Commander Lentz noticed the gold braid and the four gold stripes on Pickering’s sleeves when he stepped out of the car, and he was suddenly all smiles.
“Captain Pickering? Commander Lentz, Sir.”
“How are you, Commander?” Pickering replied, returning Lentz’s salute with a far more crisp salute than was his custom.
Sergeant John Marston Moore, USMCR, stood at attention beside his seabag.
“Welcome to Australia, Sergeant,” Pickering said.
“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”
“Put your gear in the back,” Pickering said, and then turned to Commander Lentz. “Do I have to sign for him or anything?”
“No, Sir. Nothing like that. I hate for you to have to have driven all the way down here, Sir. I would have been happy to arrange ...”
“No problem,” Pickering interrupted him. “Thank you for your diligence in finding somebody to take care of the sergeant, Commander.”
“My pleasure, Captain.”
Pickering got behind the wheel, and after John Moore got in beside him, he drove off.
“My name is Pickering, Sergeant.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“That’s a long flight. I suppose you’re tired, Sergeant? Sergeant what, by the way?”
“Moore, Sir.”
“Are you tired
?”
“I’m all right, Sir,” Moore said, although that wasn’t the truth. He had had trouble staying awake waiting for Captain Pickering.
“You don’t have to be afraid of me, Sergeant,” Pickering said. “I’m one of the good Naval officers.”
“Sir?”
“Major Banning, your new CO, identifies good Naval officers as those who have previously been Marines. I was a Marine Corporal in what is now known as World War I.”
Moore looked at him directly, for the first time, and saw that Pickering was smiling. He smiled back.
“And I have a boy about your age in the Corps,” Pickering said. “What are you, twenty-one, twenty-two?”
“Twenty-two, Sir.”
“How long have you been in the Corps?”
“About four months, Sir.”
“You made buck sergeant in a hurry,” Pickering said. But it was more of a question than a statement.
“When they took me out of boot camp to send me here, they made me a sergeant, Sir. I was originally supposed to go to Quantico and get a commission.”
“Oh, really? You went to college, then?”
“Yes, Sir. Pennsylvania.”
“Well, I’m sorry about the commission. But the Corps needed your skill here and now. What is that?”
“Sir?”
“Why did they take you out of boot camp and rush you over here?”
“Captain, I was told not to talk about anything connected with my transfer here.”
“I understand, but, for all practical purposes, I’m Major Banning’s commanding officer.”
“Captain, with respect, I don’t know that.”
Pickering chuckled. “No, you don’t. Good for you, Sergeant.”
“Are we going to Special Detachment 14 now, Sir?”
“They’re in Townesville, in Queensland, sort of on the upper right-hand corner of the Australian continent. What we’re going to do is get you a hotel room. Have you got any money?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“You’re sure? Don’t be embarrassed.”
“I’ve got money, thank you, Sir.”
“OK. So we’ll get you a hotel. You can have a bath, and get something to eat, and in the morning, we’ll get you together with Major Banning.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“I suppose I’d better have a set of your orders, and your service records, if you have them.”
“Yes, Sir, they’re in my bag.”
IX
(One)
THE ELMS
DANDENONG, VICTORIA, AUSTRALIA
1845 HOURS 28 JUNE 1942
Major Ed Banning and Lieutenant Pluto Hon were on the wide veranda of The Elms when Pickering drove up. It was a pleasant place to watch darkness fall.
They both stood up as soon as the Jaguar drophead stopped. Banning set his drink on the wide top of the railing, and Hon stooped and set his on the floor.
“Good evening, Sir,” they said, almost in unison.
Charley Cavendish, in a striped butler’s apron, came from inside the house.
“I’d have been happy to go to town for you, Sir,” Charley said.
“I know. Thank you, Charley. It was no trouble. I hope you have been taking care of these gentlemen? Lemonade, tea, that sort of thing?”
“Of course, Sir.”
“Major Banning,” Pickering said dryly, “the Marine Corps, in its infinite wisdom, has seen fit to increase your troop strength with a Sergeant John M. Moore. I just put him in a hotel. Here’s his paperwork.”
“How did you wind up with Sergeant Whatsisname, Captain?” Major Banning asked, as he took the service record envelope from Pickering.
“Moore is his name,” Pickering said. “I wound up with him, Major, because you have failed in your obligation to keep Melbourne NATS up to date on your telephone numbers. I know this because a Lieutenant Commander named Lentz called up here and chewed me out about it.”
“What?” Banning asked incredulously.
“At the time, he thought I was a Marine and one of your subordinate officers,” Pickering said.
“And you didn’t tell him?”
“Not at first,” Pickering said, “but I think I ruined his supper when I dropped ‘we Naval officers’ into the conversation later on.”
“Captain, I could have gone down there and picked him up,” Pluto Hon said. “You should have called me.”
“Then I wouldn’t have had a chance to rub all my gold braid in the Commander’s face,” Pickering said. “Besides, it was no trouble.”
“Well, I’m sorry that this guy bothered you, Captain,” Banning said.
“He didn’t really bother me. And I was interested to learn how much trouble he had finding Special Detachment 14. That’s the way it’s supposed to be.”
Banning had meanwhile torn open the envelope and was scanning through Moore’s service record with a practiced eye.
“Well, he’s not a radio technician,” he said, and then a moment later, “nor even an operator. And they didn’t send him to parachute school. According to this, he just got out of boot camp. How come he’s a sergeant?”
“He said they took him out of the officer candidate program to send him here. And made him a sergeant instead,” Pickering said.
He held the service record envelope upside down and shook it. A business size envelope fell out. On it was written, “Major Ed Banning, USMC Special Detachment 14, Personal.”
“And what have we here?” Banning said and tore it open.
Washington, 16 June 1942
Major Ed Banning
Dear Ed:
You have no idea how much trouble it was to find the young man probably now standing in front of you. He knows nothing about radios, I’m afraid, or about parachuting, or for that matter, about the Marine Corps, since I plucked him out of Parris Island before he finished boot camp.
But he speaks fluent Japanese, and I thought you could find some use for him. The FBI had quite a dossier on him (and his family) who were Methodist missionaries in Japan before the war, and he comes to you with a permanent TOP SECRET clearance.
If you can’t use him, I’m sure the First Division, which should be in New Zealand by now, could. But you have the priority, so here he is. I’m working on radio people, parachute qualified, for you, but they’re in nearly as short supply.
I wish I was there, instead of here. I don’t suppose you could arrange something for me, could you?
Best Regards. Semper Fi!
Edward Sessions, Captain, USMC
Banning handed the letter to Pickering, who read it and handed it to Pluto Hon.
“I guess we’d better send him to the 1st Division,” Banning said. “Before I came here, I thought that I would need a Japanese linguist, linguists, which is why Ed Sessions went to all this trouble to get this guy for me. But it hasn’t turned out that way. A couple of Feldt’s people and I can handle what translations we get into. It would be nice to have another linguist, particularly an American, but the First Marine Division really needs him more than I do. What I really need is radio operators, technicians.”
“If you don’t want him, Major, can I have him?” Pluto Hon asked.
“What do you want him for?” Pickering asked.
“Analysis,” Hon said.
“You’re talking about MAGIC?” Pickering asked.
Hon nodded. “Analysis needs someone who understands the Japanese mind, their culture.”
“Christ, we can’t get him cleared for that,” Pickering replied.
“He doesn’t have to know what it is, where it came from,” Hon argued. “All he has to do is compare the intercepts with the translations we get from Pearl, and tell me if that’s the translation he would have made.”
“I’ll have to think about that,” Pickering said. “For one thing, we don’t know if he speaks Japanese well enough to be of any use to you.”
“Let me talk to him a couple of minutes, and I’d know,” Hon said.
&nbs
p; Pickering looked at Hon a moment, and realized that Hon really wanted Sergeant Moore.
“Well, that’s easy enough to arrange. I put him in the Prince of Wales Hotel. We’ll call him up and let you talk to him. But first things first. I need a drink. Unless what you’ve got that’s ‘interesting,’ Ed, won’t wait?”
“It’ll wait long enough for a drink, Sir. I left it in the library.”
“Well, let’s go into the library and have a look,” Pickering said. “It’ll give us an excuse to get close to the liquor, anyway.”
They picked up their empty glasses and followed him into the house.
“I’m going to take my coat off,” Pickering said, as he did so. “Why don’t you two relax, too?”
Then he went to the liquor and made drinks.
When he turned from the table, he saw that Pluto Hon was standing by the telephone.
“I found the number, Sir. Would you like me to dial it for you?”
Pickering nodded, and signaled for Hon to dial the telephone. Then he walked to him and took it from him.
“Sergeant Moore, please. I think he’s in 408,” he said, and then a moment later: “This is Captain Pickering, Sergeant. They taking care of you all right?” And then: “There’s someone here who wants to talk to you.” He handed the phone to Hon.
In Japanese, Pluto Hon said, “Welcome to Australia, Sergeant. I suppose that you’re pretty beat after that long flight. How long did it take you to get from the States?”
Banning walked quickly to the telephone and put his head close to Pluto’s so that he could hear Moore.
“Yes, Sir, I’m pretty ...”
“In Japanese,” Hon interrupted him, in Japanese. “If you will, please, Sergeant.”
“Yes, Sir,” Moore said, in Japanese. “I’m pretty tired, it was a long flight. And in Hawaii, I got off one plane and thirty minutes later got on another one.”
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