The commander knew he was beaten, so he let it pass. “All right, you’re the doctor and by the way, Dr. Feldman, you are coming on this trip as well. You are staying with Brand until he is one hundred percent.”
Feldman, who was happy to get out of San Diego, started to say something in protest but was cut off by Jameson.
“Admiral Bridges arranged with Admiral Willson to have you posted TDY and maintain care until Mr. Brand is in top form. Then you will be assigned to Bethesda Naval Hospital and become the assistant to the chief of surgery, which I believe is your true specialty.”
“Thank you, sir,” Feldman said in total shock and disbelief. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Oh, Doc, by the way, this new job requires a full lieutenant, and I am glad to inform you as of next Monday you are promoted to the new rank of lieutenant in the Naval Medical Corps, congratulations.”
Everyone in the room burst out in cheers at the news because the doctor had won not only the appreciation of the team for his medical talent and strength of character in these past days but also for being a hell of a human being.
“Sergeant Laird, open the door and bring in the rest of the team.”
A smiling Laird said, “Aye, aye sir,” and opened the door to Gunnery Sergeant Jones and Corporal Pride. As they entered, the gunny turned to the corporal and asked, “Where was that contraband, Corporal?”
“Gunny, I think it is in my tunic, but I do not know if these gentlemen would be aware of its contents.” Everyone smiled as the corporal pulled out a bottle of whisky from his jacket and gave it to Jones. Jones then turned and gave it to the commander saying, “Sir, I know that this is against regulations, but I think the good doctor has done great things these past few weeks for the naval service. He deserves to be saluted in the proper manner, which, sir, is not against the regulations.”
Commander Jameson smiling and in on the subterfuge having paid for the bottle himself, said, “Thank you, Gunnery Sergeant.” He turned to face the doctor saying, “Gunny do you have any glasses or do we have to do this the marine way?”
The gunnery sergeant pulled his other hand from behind his back and produced the correct number of small paper cups. He held them one at a time to the commander who poured out six glasses, one for each of the team except of course for Brand who was too young to drink, plus knowing the doctor would not approve of mixing booze with the drugs the young ensign was taking. Brand knowing the protocol, for he had attended many parties for the faculty where he was too young to partake, picked up his water glass like the rest of the team in a toast to the doctor’s promotion.
“Gentlemen,” the commander began, “I would like you to raise your glass to Lt. Hiram Feldman, United States Naval Medical Corps. Feldman, congratulations on your promotion. Everyone assembled here salutes you for your skills, professionalism, dedication to duty and above all, friendship.” They raised their glasses and said in unison, “Well done, Dr. Feldman.”
Each of them drank the deep brown liquid with a few of them gasping as the harsh liquor hit their throats, although the three marine non-coms thought this high-end whisky was a bit weak.
After each man took his turn at shaking hands with the new full lieutenant, Commander Jameson said to the team, “Gentlemen, I guess we need to get some train tickets set up so we can go back to Washington.” Everyone smiled at the news. Even Brand, as apprehensive as he was about being stuck in some office for the duration, was happy with the announcement. Anything would be an improvement over being in the hospital.
Jameson smiled, but he also pondered how he would get a Pullman berth in the next few days on a train system that was at overcapacity.
But, then another thought hit him, his orders were from the highest offices in the land, and things could be arranged when you had clout.
9
6 February 1942
Union Train Station
Los Angeles, California
• Naval Coastal Frontiers re-designated Sea Frontiers; Eastern, Gulf, Caribbean, Panama, Hawaiian, Northwest, Western and Philippines.
• United States and Britain established Combined Chiefs of Staff (CCS).
The seven sailors and marines took the train from San Diego to Los Angeles early in the morning and arrived with three hours to kill. Ensign Brand wanted to make a call to a friend in the city, and it was approved by the commander. But, everywhere Brand went, he was accompanied by at least two marines and usually one of the officers. They did not want Brand accosted by the shore patrol or any other individual who wanted to know why this lanky kid was in an officer’s uniform. So armed with a dime and two marines, the entourage waited in line by phone booths that were packed with soldiers, sailors and marines. Gunnery Sergeant Jones, scowled at anyone who came near the young ensign which usually made them move to another line.
Finally, a booth emptied. Brand got in and shut the door with the marines standing guard outside. Brand, knowing the number by heart dialed but the phone didn’t ring. He dialed again and got the same dead reply. He dialed the operator, asking her to call the number. In the usual gruff manner of overworked operators, she said it was not a working number and probably had been disconnected. He thanked her, retrieved his dime, and walked out of the booth. Jones saw the stern look on Brand’s face and asked if he had gotten a busy signal or no answer.
“No, absolutely nothing.” Brand continued, “The operator tried calling for me, and she said the number was no longer in service and had been disconnected. Izzy has had this number since I was a student at Cal Tech. We talked last November. I wonder what happened.”
When he returned to the coffee shop where the others were waiting, he sat down next to the commander and saw the waitress had brought him another Coca-Cola. He looked at the commander and said, “Thank you, sir, for the Coca-Cola. I seem to be getting hooked on these things.”
The newly minted full lieutenant, Dr. Feldman, spoke first. “The reason you like those things is they are full of caffeine, just like coffee. Then you add a big hit of sugar, and you’re juiced up like two cups of coffee. Don’t drink too many of those things, James, or you will stay up all night.”
James nodded his understanding. The commander inquired about his phone call. “Did you get to talk to your friend?”
“No sir. Seems his phone was not working and the operator said it was probably disconnected. I should see if he moved or took on some new work associated with the war. He is a top mathematician, and I’m sure he’s in high demand.”
The commander nodded at Brand’s logical assessment saying, “Well, you are probably right on that. Every top scientist in the country is being rounded up and asked to do their part, especially anyone with heavy math skills. I am certain he will turn up soon. Once we get to Washington, we can put out some feelers to see where he is.”
“Great, sir. I will get you his information once we get to Washington.” Brand looked to his left and then to his right and moved closer to Jameson. “Sir,” he whispered, “my friend’s name is Isuro Tomaguchi. Do you think he’s in trouble?”
Jameson flinched when he heard the Japanese name but quickly replied, “James, your friend is Japanese?”
Brand nodded his head. “Izzy, actually Dr. Tomaguchi, is a brilliant mathematician and taught me a lot about surviving my years at Cal Tech. He is from Okinawa and dislikes the Japanese a great deal.”
Jameson thought about the last comment and wondered if being from Okinawa would help his situation. He had been informed about the Custodial Detention List the FBI used to detain thousands of enemy aliens and wondered if James’ friend was caught up in their web.
“James, do not say anything about your friend to anyone else but me. People are paranoid right now about anything that looks or sounds Japanese and your friend, even though he has been in America for many years may be considered a threat.” He looked at the face of the young Ensign and saw the sadness expressed in his eyes. “Let me look into this once we are back in Washington.
I will see if my friends in Naval Intelligence can help.”
James seemed to be all right with the answer and knew all too well about the hate against all things Japanese. “Sir, thank you for your help and I will keep this to myself.”
Commander Jameson smiled back and then he turned to see the gunny holding two bottles of Coca-Cola and knew he was coming to the rescue. “Gunny, are those both for you or does the ensign get one?”
The gunny smiled and looking at the commander said, “Sir, both bottles are for the ensign. This stuff is too sweet for me unless you add something to it, but then it would not be good for the ensign.”
Both Jameson and Brand laughed at the comment and the young ensign gratefully accepted both bottles.
Three hours later, they boarded their train. Brand had never been in a Pullman car before and was amazed to see the nice size room with upper and lower berths and a private toilet. Very swank, he thought for a kid from Flagstaff. He would be rooming with Dr. Feldman, who always hovered and carried his medical bag wherever he went. The commander and Lieutenant Flannigan were next door. The three marine non-coms were not so lucky but were given separate seats in the car next to the Pullman. Once every few minutes, night and day, one of the marines walked through the car to make sure all was in order. The commander had a word with the porter and chief conductor to explain the situation to make sure no one else asked questions.
The train pulled out at 4:30 p.m. right on schedule and headed east. Around 6:30 p.m., the commander knocked on the door of Brand’s cabin, asking if they were ready for dinner. The four officers then went to the dining car for first-class passengers while the marine non-coms used the other dining car, which was still better than normal marine chow. Brand had been on trains since he was young, traveling about freely since he was sixteen, going to meetings up and down the east coast but this was his first trans-continental trip in a private sleeping car.
During dinner, no discussion of navy business was permitted, and nothing was to be said of any scientific concepts or ideas. Jameson didn’t want people wondering who these officers were and what they were up to. Most of the conversation was about baseball, the scenery, post-war plans, and finding girlfriends for Feldman and Flannigan. Each of the older officers told Brand they would also find a suitable girl for him, but that would have to wait until he got older, which always riled Brand but in a humorous way.
As they finished their meal, Commander Jameson noticed a navy captain sitting with an army colonel waving for him to come over to their table. Jameson knew he was in for a challenge as to what a commander was doing with junior officers in a first-class dining car or some other sort of senior officer swagger. He told the young officers to proceed to the cabin and turned to meet the captain.
“Good evening, sir, may I be of some assistance to the Captain and the Colonel?” Jameson asked in his most professional manner, showing respect to the senior officers.
The captain replied, “My name is Boswell, and this is Colonel Stone. We were wondering what you were doing with the three young men in this car.”
“Beg the Captain’s pardon, but they are all traveling with me back to Washington.”
“No, Commander,” the navy captain said, “I want to know why are those young officers in this car. It is customary that they are in the next car and eat dinner in their respective dining car.”
Jameson knew he would use a hammer if needed but started out slowly.
“Sir, the young gentlemen are assigned to cabins in the first-class Pullman and this is where they have been assigned for their meals. The marine lieutenant is in my cabin and the other two are next door.”
The colonel now butted in, “Highly unusual that junior officers are being set up this way. Totally out of line with good military conduct. There were several other full colonels and lieutenant colonels who could not get berths on this train with orders to Washington.”
The colonel turned to the captain saying, “Captain Boswell, is this the way the navy is running this war? Where are the priorities in the naval service?”
Captain Boswell, like the good colonel had also been drinking but neither were drunk, just getting tipsy. “Colonel, the navy knows its priorities. I will find out what is going on.”
Commander Jameson decided to cut the argument short before it got out of hand.
“Sir, if I may show you my orders, I think you will understand the situation better.”
“I don’t need to look at your orders, Commander. I know when I see things not being done by regulation and this is one of them.” The captain was now becoming indignant and pulling rank to impress his army compatriot.
Again, Commander Jameson said with a stern voice, “Sir, I must insist that you review my orders to clarify this situation.”
The captain was getting a bit peeved. He noticed Colonel Stone was watching to see how the navy handled a situation like this and said in a perturbed voice, “Let me see these orders, and if they do not satisfy me, I will make sure you are sent somewhere to count spoons for the duration.”
The colonel smiled at the threat, thinking to himself he could use that line on some of his people.
The commander handed a brown envelope to the captain who pulled out a single piece of paper and read:
Office of the Commander in Chief, United States Fleet
January 23, 1942
Notice to All Commands: Special Orders
The bearer of this document, Commander Fredrick L. Jameson, USNR, is on an assignment classified top secret. No questions shall be asked of the commander or any individual reporting to him concerning his mission.
All commands are to provide whatever assistance is deemed necessary by the commander in the fulfillment of his mission.
If for any reason, a command is unable to comply with a request made by Commander Jameson or if there are any questions regarding this mission, the command should contact the undersigned immediately providing reasons for not supporting the commander and his team.
All commands are to provide access to all communications as required and transportation requests by the commander are to be handled on a 5A basis.
Admiral E. J. King
Commander in Chief, United States Fleet
Captain Boswell looked at the letter again, saw the signature, then looked up at the commander in a state of semi-shock. He had never seen an order from Admiral King nor did he ever expect to meet him. The commander took the orders from the captain, handed them to Colonel Stone and told the colonel, “Please read this, sir.”
The captain was still thinking about what to say to the commander as he looked over to see the colonel turning pale as well. The colonel returned the orders to Commander Jameson who put them back in the envelope and placed it inside his coat pocket.
“Captain, do you have any questions for me?” He looked at the colonel, “Sir, any questions?”
The colonel shook his head no. The captain followed, “No Commander, I have no questions. I apologize for any misunderstanding.” The captain now wondered if he would be the one counting spoons somewhere in the Canal Zone for the duration.
The commander looked at the captain and spoke very softly, “Sir, I did not mean to compromise you or the good colonel,” looking quickly at the colonel. “However, our mission is, as you have seen, of an essential nature and I apologize for causing the incident in the first place. I can tell you the young marine lieutenant was wounded in the Philippines and has returned by order of Admiral Hart to report directly to Admiral King on the situation in the Far East. I cannot go any further than that. Rest assured, we will be maintaining a low profile on our passage to Chicago and on to Washington. I have three marine non-coms who are providing additional security. They are prowling the train day and night to ensure the integrity of our mission. That is all I can tell you and I would appreciate your discretion on what I have told you and especially on my orders.”
The captain said, “Commander, you have my word, and I am sure the colo
nel’s. There will be absolute silence on what we have seen and what you have told us.”
The colonel, still flustered, shook his head in agreement.
“Thank you, Captain, for your understanding. With your permission, I will take your leave.”
The commander came to attention in the most formal way, turned, and left the car.
Captain Boswell and Colonel Stone looked at each other. Then the captain spoke, “I don’t know about you, but I need another drink, and I don’t ever want to run into that commander again.”
The colonel slowly replied, “I agree with you, and I think I need two drinks so I can forget seeing those orders.
Jameson walked back to the Pullman car and saw the gunnery sergeant waiting outside his cabin. “Sir, seems you had a discussion with the captain and colonel.”
Jameson nodded but before he could say anything Sergeant Jones continued, “I guess there are a lot of nosy people in our navy and army, so we need to maintain a low profile as long as Ensign Brand is in our charge.”
The commander smiled, stating the obvious, “Yes, Gunny, there are a lot of nosy and self-important people who are full of themselves. I agree, we are going to have to keep Brand under wraps. I appreciate your keen observations on the current situation within the navy and army. If you will make sure Laird and Pride are on their best behavior, perhaps we can get to Washington without further incidents.”
10
8 February 1942
Chicago, Illinois
• Japanese submarine shells Midway Island.
• Japanese naval vessel sunk: Destroyer Natsushio, by submarine S-37, Makassar Strait, Netherlands East Indies area.
It took two days to get to Chicago. On arrival they had to change trains for the overnight leg to Washington, D.C. Again, the navy had them in first-class Pullmans with the marines in the adjacent car. They had to wait five hours before the train boarded and Jameson did not want to stray too far from the station. There were hundreds of sailors, soldiers, airmen and marines walking about all looking for their next train. There was also a large group of Shore Patrol and Military Police to augment Chicago’s finest. Jameson wanted to hide Brand for the next few hours before he could board the train so they looked around to find the restaurant and were lucky enough to find two tables next to each other that would accommodate all seven men. He had been chuckling about this for the past week, ever since San Diego, thinking about how a full commander was leading a ragtag group of sailors and marines about the country to safely deposit one eighteen-year-old boy wonder.
U-Boat Scourge Page 8