W E B Griffin - Corp 06 - Close Combat

by Close Combat(Lit)

  He turned back to the bottle and put his hand on it.

  "I was talking with the Colonel before you came back," Hart said. "He used to be a homicide captain in Chicago."

  "Ls that so?"

  "Yeah, cops can spot each other. He was surprised that I hadn't gone in the Army, and the MPs."

  "Well, now that you have learned what a sterling fellow and four-star hypocrite I am, Hart, would you like me to see if I can use my influence and have you transferred to the CIC?"

  Hart didn't reply. He walked up to the bar, freed the bottle from Pickering's grip, and poured an inch in the glass.

  "No, Sir," he said. "I'd like to stick around, if that's all right with you."

  He put the glass in Pickering's hand.

  "You know what my father told me when I joined the force?" he asked. "He said that I should never forget that women are twice as dangerous as men."

  Pickering drained the glass.

  "I'll try to remember that, George," Pickering said. "Thank you very much."

  "What you should remember, General, is that she was really dangerous. I was hoping that the Colonel could talk you out of sending her home. She didn't give a good goddamn how many people she got killed."

  Brigadier General Fleming Pickering, USMCR, looked at Second Lieutenant George Hart, USMCR, for a moment.

  I'll be a sonofabitch, he means it! He thinks I should have gone along with that bastard's recommendation that I let them "remove" her.

  At least I didn't do that.

  So what does that make me, the Good Samaritan?

  "Would you like a drink, George? And can we please change the subject?"

  "Yes, Sir," Hart said, and reached for the bottle. "Except for one thing."

  "Which is?"

  "I don't think Lieut-Major Pluto or Moore could handle knowing about this. I don't think we should tell them. Let him think she got sick and they flew her home."

  "Whatever you think, George. You're probably right."

  "Can I ask, Sir, for a favor?"

  "What?"

  "I'd really like to have a couple copies of those pictures of me with General MacArthur to send to my folks. And my girl. Could I get some, do you think?"

  "I'm sure we can," Pickering said. "The next time you're in the Palace, go to the Signal Section and tell them I sent you."

  "Yes, Sir."

  I wonder what El Supremo would think if he knew what just happened. Will he find out? Or is that something else not worthy of the Supreme Commander's attention, and from which he will be spared by his loyal staff?

  If the decision was Mac Arthur's, would he have done what I did? Or would he have gone along with the Colonel and George and "removed" her?

  The telephone rang. Hart picked it up and answered it. '

  "General Pickering's quarters, Lieutenant Hart speaking."

  Pickering looked at him.

  "General," Hart reported, covering the microphone with his hand, "this is Colonel Huff. General MacArthur's compliments, and are you and Major Hon free for supper and bridge?"

  "Tell Colonel Huff," Pickering said, "that Major Hon and I will be delighted."

  Maybe if I let him win, I could bring up the subject of Donovan's people again.

  Pickering had a flash in his mind of Ellen Feller with her skirt hiked high, a needle in her thigh. And then he replaced it with an image of Jack Stecker's boy, wrapped up like a mummy in the hospital at Pearl Harbor.

  He reached for the scotch bottle and then stopped himself. He would have to be absolutely sober if he expected to find the tiny chink in El Supremo's armor he would need to bring up the subject of Donovan yet again.

  Chapter Ten

  [ONE]

  =SECRET=

  FROM: COM GEN 1ST MAR DIV 2355 23OCT42

  SUBJECT: AFTER-ACTION REPORT

  TO: COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF, PACIFIC, PEARL HARBOR

  INFO: SUPREME COMMANDER SWPOA, BRISBANE COMMANDANT, USMC, WASH, DC

  1. AT APPROXIMATELY 1800 23OCT42 HEAVY JAPANESE ARTILLERY BARRAGE WITH PRIMARY IMPACT

  IN VICINITY US LINES ON MATANIKAU RIVER, SECONDARY IMPACT HENDERSON FIELD, AND HARASSING

  AND INTERMITTED FIRE STRIKING OTHER US EMPLACEMENTS. IT IS BELIEVED THAT WEAPONRY INVOLVED

  WAS 150-MM REPEAT 150-MM AND SMALLER, AUGMENTED BY MORTAR FIRE.

  2. AT APPROXIMATELY 1900 23OCT42, JAPANESE FORCES IN ESTIMATED REINFORCED REGIMENTAL

  STRENGTH ACCOMPANIED BY SEVEN (7) TYPE 97 LIGHT TANKS ATTACKED ACROSS SANDBAR (PRIMARILY)

  3RD BN, 7TH MARINES 500 YARDS FROM MOUTH OF MATANIKAU RIVER AND (SECONDARILY) 3RD BN, 5TH

  MARINES 1000 YARDS FROM MOUTH OF RIVER.

  3. FORTY (40) 105-MM HOWITZERS OF 2ND, 3RD AND 5TH BATTALIONS 11TH MARINES PLUS ATTACHED

  I BATTERY 10TH MARINES (COL. DELVALLE) WHICH HAD PREVIOUSLY BEEN REGISTERED ON ATTACK AREA

  IMMEDIATELY OPENED FIRE. APPROXIMATELY 6,000 ROUNDS 105-MM AND HEAVY MORTAR EXPENDED

  DURING PERIOD 1900-2200.

  4. WEATHER AND MOONLIGHT CONDITIONS PERMITTED SUPPORT BY NAVY, MARINE AND USAAC AIRCRAFT

  FROM HENDERSON FIELD. NUMBER OF SORTIES NOT YET AVAILABLE, BUT EFFECT OF WELL AIMED BOMBARDMENT AND STRAFING WAS APPARENT TO ALL HANDS.

  5. AT APPROXIMATELY 2100 23OCT42 ATTACK HAD BEEN TURNED. INITIAL MARINE PATROL ACTIVITY

  INDICATES JAPANESE LOSS OF AT LEAST THREE (3) TYPE 97 LIGHT TANKS, AND IT IS RELIABLY

  ESTIMATED THAT JAPANESE INFANTRY LOSSES WILL EXCEED SIX HUNDRED (600) KIA.

  6. US LOSSES:

  A. FIELD GRADE OFFICER KIA ZERO (0)

  B. FIELD GRADE OFFICER WIA ZERO (0)

  C. COMPANY GRADE OFFICER KIA ZERO (0)

  D. COMPANY GRADE OFFICER WIA ONE (1)

  E. ENLISTED KIA TWO (2)

  F. ENLISTED WIA ELEVEN (11)

  G. MISSING IN ACTION: ZERO (0)

  H. MINIMAL DAMAGE TO HENDERSON FIELD AND AIRCRAFT. HENDERSON FIELD IS OPERABLE.

  VANDEGRIFT MAJ GEN USMC COMMANDING

  =SECRET=

  [TWO]

  Radio City Music Hall

  New York City, N.Y.

  1825 Hours 24 October 1942

  "Did you like the show?" Mrs. Carolyn Spencer Howell asked Major Edward F. Banning, USMC, as they left the world's largest theater. Mrs. Howell was tall, willowy, chic, black haired, and exquisitely dressed. Her clothes were seriously expensive, but tastefully understated. "When my husband turned me in for a new model," as she liked to put it, "his new tail cost him his ears and his nose."

  Her annual salary-for her labor in the research department of the New York Public Library-would not have paid for the ankle-length silver fox coat she was now wearing.

  "Great legs," Ed Banning said.

  "We can come back tomorrow," Carolyn said as she put her hand on his arm. "The Christmas Show starts tomorrow. Great legs in Santa Claus costumes. I thought you would like the Rockettes."

  "Once is enough, thank you," Banning said.

  "What would you like to do now?"

  "That's supposed to be my line," Banning said.

  "This is my town. I'm trying to do my bit for the boys in service."

  "Well, if you really feel that way, three guesses what I would like to do."

  She squeezed his arm.

  "Aside from that," Carolyn said. "Are you hungry, Ed?"

  "You're speaking of food," he said.

  "Yes, I'm speaking of food. The word was 'hungry.' "

  "Oh," he said. "Could I ply you with spirits?"

  "Jack and Charlie's," she said.

  "What's that?"

  "A saloon," she said. "A real saloon. It was a speakeasy during prohibition. Not far, we can walk."

  "Fine," he said.

  "My mother told me that Jack's boy has just joined the Marines."

  "Sounds like my kind of place."

  "I think you'll like it."

  She leaned her head against his shoulder as they waited for the light to change.

  "I thought New Yorkers didn't
pay attention to red lights," Banning said.

  "They do when they're with boys from the country they want to keep from getting run over."

  The light changed and they crossed the street. A few minutes later they came to what looked to Banning like a typical New York City brownstone house... except for a rank of neatly painted cast-iron jockeys surveying a line of cold-looking people waiting to move down a shallow flight of stairs to a basement entrance.

  "Is this it?" Banning asked.

  "This is Jack and Charlie's."

  "We can't get in here," Banning said. "Look at the line."

  "I think we can," she said. "I used to spend a lot of time in here in the olden days."

  "With your husband?"

  "Yes, with my husband. Does that bother you, Ed?"

  "What if he's in there?"

  "I don't mind being seen with a handsome Marine," Carolyn said. "As a matter of fact, now that you've brought that up, I'm determined to get in."

  She let go of his arm, then elbowed her way past the people on the stairs and disappeared from sight. Banning was left feeling distinctly uncomfortable.

  She was gone a long time, long enough for Banning to conclude that her onetime clout at this place had dissolved with her divorce.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he became aware that he was being saluted. He returned the salute without taking a good look at the saluter, except to notice idly that he was a Marine.

  "Excuse me, Sir," a familiar voice said; there was a touch of amusement in it. "Is this where I catch the streetcar to the Bund?"

  The Bund was in Shanghai, and the voice was very familiar. Banning turned and saw First Lieutenant Kenneth R. McCoy, USMCR.

  Goddamn it, of all people!

  He smiled, and held out his hand.

  "Hello, Ken," he said. "What clich‚ should I use? 'Fancy meeting you here'? Or 'small world, isn't it'?"

  "Are you waiting to go in?"

  "My.'.. lady friend... is trying to buck the line."

  "Come on," McCoy said, starting to shoulder his way through the People by the stair;]. He turned and motioned Banning to follow him.

  If I were these people, and somebody tried to move ahead of me, I'd be annoyed.

  Halfway down the stairs, he met Carolyn coming up.

  "Come on," she said. As she spoke, her eyes fell on McCoy; and then she swung her gaze back to Banning. "I got us a table."

  A large man in a dinner jacket was standing next to a headwaiter's table. He stepped aside as Carolyn reached him. Banning moved after her, followed by McCoy.

  If he stops McCoy, Banning decided graciously, I'll tell him he's with us.

  The headwaiter spotted McCoy and gave him a smile of recognition.

  "Miss Sage called, Lieutenant. She'll be a few minutes late."

  "I'm a few minutes late, myself," McCoy said. "Thank you, Gregory."

  Another man in a dinner jacket appeared, this one looking a little confused.

  "Are you together?" he asked.

  "Why not?" McCoy said, smiling at Banning.

  The sonofabitch looks like he swallowed the goddamn cat. He's curious. Why not? I would be, in his shoes.

  "This way, please," the man in the dinner jacket said. He led them to a table near the bar, snatched from it a brass RESERVED sign, and moved the table so that Carolyn could slide into the banquette seat against the wall. McCoy waved Banning in beside her, then sat down.

  "Where did you come from?" Carolyn asked with a smile.

  "The rock turned over," Banning said, "and there he was."

  "Ed!" Carolyn said, shocked.

  "Would you like a menu right away?" the man in the dinner jacket asked. "Or would you like something from the bar?"

  "I'd like a drink," Carolyn said. "Martini, please, olive."

  "For me, too, please," Banning said.

  The man in the dinner jacket started to move away.

  "You didn't ask what this gentleman is having," Carolyn protested.

  "I know what the Lieutenant drinks," the man in the dinner jacket said, somewhat smugly.

  McCoy smiled at Banning, even more smugly.

  You're enjoying this, aren't you, McCoy?

  "Ken, may I present Mrs. Carolyn Howell?" Banning said. "Carolyn, this is Lieutenant Ken McCoy."

  Carolyn smiled and offered McCoy her hand; then the bell rang in her head.

  "You're Killer McCoy?" she asked incredulously.

  "Thanks a lot, Sir," McCoy said angrily.

  A young woman who wore her jet-black hair in a pageboy suddenly appeared at the table and leaned over to kiss McCoy on the top of his head. "You're not supposed to call him that," she said. "It really pisses him off."

  What did she say? Carolyn wondered, shocked. Did she really say what I think she did?

  "Hi," the young woman said. "I'm Ernie Sage."

  Banning rose to his feet.

  "How do you do?" he said politely. "I'm Ed Banning. This is Carolyn Howell."

  "Oh, I know who you are," Ernie Sage said. "Ken's told me all about you."

  All about me? That I'm married? And that my stateless wife is somewhere in China... if she's managed to survive at all?

  A waiter delivered the drinks. Ernie Sage grabbed McCoy's and took a swallow.

  "I need this more than you do," she said. "Today has been a real bitch!"

  The waiter smiled. "Shall I bring you one of your own, Miss Sage?"

  "Please," Ernie said. She turned to Carolyn. "I guess you know these two go back a long way together. But I never met him before. I admire your taste."

  Carolyn was uncomfortable.

  "Are you a New Yorker, Miss Sage?"

  "Please call me 'Ernie,' " Ernie said. "I was raised in New Jersey. I've got an apartment here. When I'm not being a camp follower, I'm a copywriter for BBD & O."

  "Excuse me, what did you say?" Carolyn blurted.

  "When Ken has a camp I can follow him to, I'm there," said Ernie Sage. "So far I've failed to persuade him to make an honest woman of me."

  "Jesus, Ernie," McCoy said.

  "I even have a red T-shirt with MARINES in gold letters across the bosom," Ernie said, demonstrating with her hand across the front of her dress.

  After a long moment, Carolyn said, "You don't happen to know where I can find one like it, do you?"

  "I'm sure we can get one for you, can't we, honey?" Ernie asked, grabbing McCoy's hand.

  The waiter delivered another drink.

  "I'd like to wash my hands," Carolyn said. "Ed and I just came out of Radio City Music Hall."

  "That made your hands dirty?" Ernie asked. She rose to her feet. "I'll go with you."

  The men waited until the women had disappeared around the end of the bar.

  "Very pretty, that girl," Banning said.

  "Pickering introduced us, when we were in OCS at Quantico," McCoy said. "His mother went to college with her mother. Her family is somewhat less than thrilled about us."

  "Carolyn knows about my wife, Ken," Banning said.

  "I figured you would probably tell her," McCoy said. "You know that Rickabee has people checking on her in Shanghai?"

  "No, I didn't."

  "He probably didn't want to raise your hopes," McCoy said. "There's been word that some of the Peking Marines didn't surrender; that they're running loose with the warlords. Maybe she got in contact with them."

  "That sounds pretty unlikely," Banning said.

  "She's a White Russian. She's been through this sort of thing before. I'll bet she's all right."

  What the White Russians did to survive when their money gave out, and they had nothing left to sell, was to sell themselves. Preferably to an American or a European. But when that wasn't possible, to a Chinese. Now that the Japanese are running things in China...

  Banning had a very sharp, very clear picture of Milla, sweet goddamned Milla, who'd already survived so goddamned much... desperately hanging on to his hand as they were married in the Anglican Cathedral in Sha
nghai... seven hours before the goddamned Corps ordered him out of Shanghai for the Philippines, with no goddamned way to get her out.