In Danger's Path
Page 40
Banning turned back inside. After proceeding quite a long way, he found what he was looking for, a sign announcing the space off the main tunnel that housed the office of the Signal Officer, USMMCHI. There was a door in a wooden wall; he opened it and walked though, finding himself in a perfectly ordinary military office—except of course, there were no windows. It held four desks, filing cabinets, a safe, and a rack for clothing. At the largest desk sat an Army Signal Corps lieutenant colonel. Banning walked up to the desk, and after a moment the officer raised his eyes from the papers on his desk.
“Good morning,” Banning said. “I’m Ed Banning. I’d like to see the Signal Officer, please.”
“The General is not available at the moment, Colonel,” the army lieutenant colonel said. “Perhaps I can help you?”
“I have to see him, I’m afraid,” Lieutenant Colonel Edward J. Banning, USMC, replied. “When could I do that?”
“Why do you want to see the General, Colonel?” the Army lieutenant colonel said. There was a touch of impatience in his voice.
“I’m not at liberty to discuss that,” Banning replied.
“The General is a very busy man.”
“I’m sure he is,” Banning said.
His temper was a little short, too. It had been a very long flight from Newark. The original idea had been to spend only enough time on the ground to take on fuel and perform necessary minor maintenance. That had worked. This meant they had spent long hours trying to sleep on the floor of the Curtis Commando’s fuselage, with the roar of the engines as background, three quarters of the way around the world until, after “Flying the Hump,” they had arrived in Kunming, China. There the weather had been so bad, they had to spend two days in a flea-infested transient billet until they could make the final leg into Chungking.
No one came to meet them at the airport—which was, of course, to be expected. But the Air Corps personnel running the terminal did not consider it their responsibility to see that incoming passengers got from the airfield to wherever they were going. Gunner Rutterman and Gunny Zimmerman had finally commandeered an Air Corps General Motors six-by-six truck by offering its PFC driver the choice of helping them out or having his arms pulled off at the shoulder.
“My job,” the Signal Corps lieutenant colonel said, “is to see that people don’t waste the General’s time.”
Banning was tempted to show his orders to the officer—he quickly came to think of him as “this idiot’—but decided that wouldn’t be wise. This idiot was the type who wouldn’t be able to wait until he got to the Officers’ Club to start telling his pals about the Marines who had just arrived on Top Secret orders issued by the Joint Chiefs of Staff.
The door to the chief signal officer’s outer office suddenly opened and a major general marched in. He was a short, stocky man, with a pencil-line mustache. He was wearing a brimmed cap with the crown stiffener removed, à la Air Corps pilots, and an open necked khaki shirt with two silver stars on each collar point. Over that he was wearing a jacket that looked like something Ernest Hemingway would wear while shooting lions in Africa. There were two stars on each epaulet. He had a swagger stick clutched in his hand.
He smiled at Banning. “Colonel Banning, I presume? Welcome to the mysterious East.”
How the hell does he know my name?
“Yes, sir,” Banning said, and saluted.
The General returned the salute by touching the brim of his cap with his swagger stick. “Well, come on in,” the General said, and turned to the lieutenant colonel. “Ask General Newley to come in chop-chop, will you, please?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Sir, I had hoped to see the General alone,” Banning said.
“I have no secrets from General Newley, Colonel, something you should understand from Step One. He’s my deputy.”
“Yes, sir.”
He motioned with the swagger stick for Banning to follow him into his office. Inside, he walked behind his desk and sat down. On the ornately carved desk was a nameplate adorned with his name—Frederick T. Dempsey—inlaid in some sort of shell above a painted fire-breathing dragon. On either side of his name were the two silver stars of a major general.
He did not offer Banning a chair. Banning assumed the position of Parade Rest.
“Those were your men I passed in the main lateral?” General Dempsey asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“I couldn’t help but notice the civilians are wearing beards. They’re probably not civilians, are they, but CIC agents? What’s that all about?”
Before Banning could reply, another officer entered the office. He was dressed like General Dempsey, except that he had only one silver star on each collar point and epaulet. He took a very good look at Banning.
“Colonel Banning, obviously,” he said. “Right?”
“Yes, sir.”
And this one knows my name, too! How come? Did General Pickering send them a heads-up? He’s pretty casual about classified matters, but I can’t believe he would do that.
“I’m General Newley, Colonel. Welcome to USMMCHI.” He pronounced the acronym, “U.S. Double M Chi.”
“Thank you, sir,” Banning said, and shook General Newley’s offered hand. Then he turned to General Dempsey. “General, may I show you my orders?”
“You can if you like,” General Dempsey said. “But we already know what they are.”
“Thank you, sir,” Banning said. He took a sealed envelope from his tunic pocket, tore it open, removed a sheet of paper, and handed it to General Dempsey.
* * *
TOP SECRET
The Joint Chiefs of Staff
The Pentagon
Washington, D.C.
15 March 1943
SUBJECT: Letter Orders
1. You will proceed at the earliest possible time by air transportation to Headquarters, U.S. Military Mission to China (USMMCHI), Chungking, China, or such other places as may be deemed necessary in connection with your mission. Priority AAAAAA is assigned.
2. While enroute you will serve as guards of certain classified material which will be entrusted to you at your port of aerial departure.
3. On arrival at USMMCHI, Lt. Col. Banning will explain the nature of his mission to Commanding General, USMMCHI, and Signal Officer, USMMCHI, and ONLY such other senior officers who he, in his sole discretion, believes have the Need To Know in order to facilitate the carrying out of his mission.
4. On arrival at USMMCHI, Lt. Col. Banning will detach, at such time and under such circumstances as he deems appropriate, Captain McCoy and Gunnery Sergeant Zimmerman so they may undertake the execution of their mission as directed by the Joint Chiefs of Staff.
FOR THE JOINT CHIEFS OF STAFF:
Charles M. Adamson
Major General, USA
Secretary, JCS
T O P S E C R E T
General Dempsey read the orders.
“As I said, we were expecting you, Colonel. But I was under the impression that the devices would be guarded by CIC agents. Are they on separate orders? Don’t tell me those two bearded characters I just saw are Marines?”
He knows about the MAGIC devices. Jesus H. Christ!
“I’m not sure I know how to answer the General’s question, sir,” Banning said.
“Actually, Colonel, there were two questions. The first was ‘where are the CIC agents I expected to be guarding the MAGIC devices?’ and the second was ‘are those two bearded characters Marines?’”
“I know nothing about CIC agents, sir.”
“Then you guarded the MAGIC devices?”
Banning did not reply.
“Something wrong with your hearing, Colonel?” General Dempsey asked, a touch of unpleasantness in his voice.
“Sir, may I speak to the General alone?”
“I thought we’d already been down that path,” General Dempsey said. “To answer your question, Colonel, when we have finished our business here, yes, I will have a word with you in private if
you insist. Now to my question…Let’s get down to basics. Do you have the MAGIC devices?”
“Sir, as I’m sure the General understands, I am not at liberty to discuss anything of that nature with anyone who does not hold the proper security clearance.”
“Frankly, Colonel, I am rapidly moving from appreciation of your concern for security to annoyance. Your own orders direct you to inform me of the nature of your mission. I already know the nature of your mission. You are to serve, as a member of my cryptographic staff, as officer-in-charge of the MAGIC devices.”
“Then the General possesses a MAGIC clearance? I was not so informed.”
“I’m sure there are many things about which you are not informed, Colonel. Do I have a MAGIC clearance? No. I expect one momentarily. I would have thought you would have brought that with you.”
“No, sir.”
“Do you, sir?” Banning asked General Newley.
“Not at this moment, Colonel.”
“Sir, under these circumstances, I would be in violation of my orders to discuss MAGIC in the presence of General Newley,” Banning said.
“Now, listen to me, Colonel, and listen carefully, for I have had just about enough of your word-bandying. I am the person who decides who in this headquarters is cleared for MAGIC. And when I ask you a question about MAGIC, you will answer it. Is that clear enough for you, Colonel?”
“Sir, I respectfully protest you are ordering me to disobey my previous orders.”
“I don’t give a good goddamn about your previous orders, Colonel. Get that though your head. You are now attached to the Signal Section of Headquarters USMMChi. You take your orders from me. Got that?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now, for the last goddamned time, do you have the MAGIC machines?”
“Yes, sir.”
“How long will it take you to set them up?”
“Once I have a secure area, sir, I can be up and running in about eight hours.”
“You will set them up in my crypto area.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now, who are those two bearded characters I saw in the main lateral?”
“Captain K. R. McCoy, USMCR, and Gunnery Sergeant Zimmerman, sir.”
“And why are they wearing beards and civilian clothing?”
“Sir, it is in connection with their mission.”
“Which is?”
“Sir, with respect, Captain McCoy and Sergeant Zimmerman are on an OSS mission that I am not at liberty to discuss.”
“You are refusing to answer my question?”
“Sir, with respect, I do not believe the General has the Need To Know.”
“We’ll see about my Need To Know just as soon as you have MAGIC up and running,” General Dempsey said. “In the meantime, I am going to give you two simple orders. One, get MAGIC up and running and tell me the moment we have a link with Washington. Two, have those two characters report to Colonel Platt at the OSS station. I’m sure he’ll see that they are shaved and into uniform.”
“Sir, with respect, I don’t believe you have the authority to issue orders to Captain McCoy or Sergeant Zimmerman.”
“Goddamn you! How dare you question my authority? Don’t you ever again question any order I give you!”
“Yes, sir.”
“You are dismissed, Colonel. Report to me, whatever the hour, when you have established a MAGIC link with Washington.”
“Yes, sir.”
Banning snapped to attention, saluted, performed a crisp about-face maneuver, and marched out of General Dempsey’s office.
Over his shoulder, he heard General Dempsey furiously demand of General Newley, “Jack, can you believe that? Goddamned arrogant Marine!”
He walked back to the wide area in the tunnel and motioned for McCoy to join him.
“Captain,” he said, formally, “you may consider yourself and Gunnery Sergeant Zimmerman detached.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” McCoy said. “What’s going on?”
“You’ve got the gold?” Banning asked.
McCoy tapped his waist. A money belt heavy with U.S. twenty-dollar gold coins was strapped around it.
“There’s an OSS station here. Do you know anything about that?”
McCoy shook his head negatively. “First I’ve heard of it.”
“The signal officer here has ordered me to order you to report there, to a Colonel Platt.”
“What gives this Army Signal Corps officer the right to give you orders?”
“That’s a very interesting question, Captain.”
“Is that what you’re doing? Ordering me to report to the OSS here?”
“You’re detached,” Banning said. “I am no longer authorized to give you orders.”
“What went on in there?” McCoy asked. “What’s going on?”
“I can’t go into that, Ken,” Banning said. “Sorry.”
McCoy looked at him very thoughtfully.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, Captain, but I seem to recall that your last valid order from Brigadier General Pickering was, upon detachment from the team bringing personnel records here, to make preparations to move into the Gobi Desert.”
“Yes, sir, that is correct.”
“Having been detached, Captain, those orders remain valid unless countermanded by an officer senior to Brigadier General Pickering, such as the major general who is the signal officer here.”
“I’m getting the message,” McCoy said.
“I don’t know what’s going on around here, Ken, but whatever it is, you shouldn’t be involved with it.”
“Yes, sir,” McCoy said, and put out his hand to Banning.
“Grab your gear, Ernie,” he said. “We’re leaving.”
“Don’t go into the desert, Ken, until Pickering tells you to.”
“I’ll be around,” McCoy said, and motioned for Zimmerman to precede him out of the tunnel.
[FOUR]
U.S. Navy Hospital
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
1615 25 March 1943
“Well, look what’s washed up on my beach again,” Commander Jerome C. Kister, MC, USNR, greeted Captain James B. Weston, USMC, when he walked into his office and found Weston waiting for him. He touched Weston’s shoulder.
“Good afternoon, sir.”
“Come on in. Rest your weary bones. It’s a long drive from West Virginia, isn’t it? Even in your gas guzzler?”
“It’s a long ride,” Weston agreed.
During which I had a lot of time to think about what I’m going to do about Janice. And did not come up with any answer, except perhaps suicide.
“Sit,” Dr. Kister said, indicating an upholstered chair facing his desk.
“Thank you, sir.”
“And how was your recuperative leave? Are you appropriately grateful to the grateful taxpayers who picked up the tab for your month in the lap of luxury?”
“I wish they just gave me the money,” Weston said.
“But—a little bird told me—you did find the time to work in a little romance. So all was not lost time, was it?”
“I also found time to go to Pensacola,” Weston said. “I don’t think I’m going to have to learn to fly all over again.”
“I heard. Tubby Bolemann has been keeping me up to date.”
Weston smiled. Although it made sense, it was the first time he had heard the corpulent psychiatrist called that. “He’s a good guy,” Weston said.
“Yeah. They offered him retirement—a hundred percent to start, and fifty percent guaranteed for the rest of his life—but he decided to stick around. Now he’s trying to go back to sea.”
“A good guy,” Weston repeated.
“He’s also made it official that you are no crazier than any other Marine Aviator. So what happens now is we run you though another quick physical, which I’ll schedule for tomorrow morning. And then you can go back to full duty.”
“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 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.”