A Navy lieutenant commander rose from one of the chairs. His uniform bore the silver aiguillettes signifying a Naval aide to the President, and he carried a.45 ACP pistol in a leather holster suspended from a web belt.
"Good morning," Banning said.
He had seen the lieutenant commander a dozen times before and didn't like him.
"It was my understanding that this facility was to be manned twenty-four hours a day," the lieutenant commander snapped.
Banning looked at him carefully. He reminded himself to control his temper.
"Ordinarily, it is," he said. "In this instance, one of your swabbies got sick to his tummy, and the Marines had to fill in for him."
"It is also my understanding that the officer in charge will be armed," the lieutenant commander said.
"I'm armed. Do you want to see it, or will you take my word as a fellow officer of the Naval establishment?"
The lieutenant commander looked for a moment as if he intended to reply to the comment, but then changed his mind.
"Well, let's have it, Commander," Banning said. "Time is fleeting."
The lieutenant commander unlocked the handcuff that attached his briefcase to his wrist. After he had placed the briefcase on the table, he unlocked the briefcase itself.
He took from it a clipboard and a large manila envelope, unmarked except for a piece of paper affixed to it in such a way that no one could open it without tearing the paper. To facilitate that, the paper was perforated in its center.
He handed Banning the envelope. Banning wrote his name on one half of the paper. Then he sealed the envelope, tore it loose, and handed it to the lieutenant commander. The lieutenant commander handed him the clipboard, and Banning signed the form it contained, acknowledging his receipt of the envelope and the time he had accepted it. Then he picked up one of the black telephones, dialed two digits, and ordered, "Open it up, Chief."
They could hear keys in the locks, followed by the faint whisper of the combination lock.
Banning ripped open the manila envelope. It contained another manila envelope, nearly as large. This one was stamped top secret in red ink four times on each side, and sealed with cellophane tape imprinted top secret.
He didn't open this envelope until the lieutenant commander had left the room and the chief had closed and locked the door after him again. He had to use a pock-etknife to cut through the cellophane tape, very careful not to damage whatever the envelope held. Finally, he held several sheets of paper in his hand. They were typed on White House stationery, and bore the signature of Admiral William Leahy, Chief of Staff to the Commander in Chief.
Each page was stamped, top and bottom:
TOP SECRET COPY 2 OF 2
SPECIAL CHANNEL TRANSMISSION DUPLICATION FORBIDDEN
Banning read the message through, said, "I'll be damned!" and then reached for the telephone and dialed a number from memory.
"Liberty 3-2908," a familiar voice answered.
"Sir, I respectfully suggest you come over here. Right now."
There was a pause, long enough for Banning to consider whether or not Colonel Rickabee was going to accept the suggestion.
"On my way," Colonel Rickabee said finally, and hung up.
Banning laid the message on White House stationery beside the magic encryp-tion device, made the necessary adjustments to the mechanism, and began to type. From the far side of the encryption device, a sheet of teletypewriter paper began to emerge. It was covered with apparently meaningless five-character words, in one block after another. When that process was complete, Banning tore the teletypewriter paper from the device, laid it on top of the original message, threw several switches, and began to type the encoded message back into the machine.
To ensure accuracy, standing operating procedure was to decrypt a Presidential Special Channel after it had been encrypted, so that it could be compared with the original before it was transmitted. It was a time-consuming process, and Banning wasn't quite through when the sounds of keys in the locks and the twirling of the combination device announced the arrival of Colonel Rickabee.
"Almost finished, sir," Banning said.
Rickabee waited more or less patiently for Banning to finish. And then, because it was quicker to do that than for Banning to make the comparison himself, he held the teletypewriter decryption while Banning read the original message aloud.
T O P S E C R E T
THE WHITE HOUSE
WASHINGTON
0900 8 FEBRUARY 1943
VIA SPECIAL CHANNEL
GENERAL DOUGLAS MACARTHUR
SUPREME COMMANDER SWPOA
FOLLOWING PERSONAL FROM THE PRESIDENT TO GENERAL MACARTHUR
MY DEAR DOUGLAS:
I'M SURE THAT YOU WILL AGREE THE FOLLOWING IS SOMETHING AT LEAST ONE OF US SHOULD HAVE THOUGHT OF SOME TIME AGO. I WOULD APPRECIATE YOUR GETTING THIS INTO FLEMING PICKERING'S HANDS AS SOON AS POSSIBLE.
ELEANOR JOINS ME IN EXTENDING THE MOST CORDIAL GREETINGS TO YOU AND JEAN.
AS EVER,
FRANKLIN
END PERSONAL FROM THE PRESIDENT TO GENERAL MACARTHUR
FOLLOWING PERSONAL FROM THE PRESIDENT TO BRIG GEN PICKERING
MY DEAR FLEMING:
FIRST LET ME EXPRESS MY GREAT ADMIRATION FOR THE MANNER IN WHICH YOUR PEOPLE CONDUCTED THE OPERATION TO ESTABLISH CONTACT WITH WENDELL FERTIG IN THE PHILIPPINES AND MY PERSONAL DELIGHT THAT JIMMY'S COMRADE-IN-ARMS CAPTAIN MCCOY AND HIS BRAVE TEAM HAVE BEEN SAFELY EVACUATED. PLEASE RELAY TO EVERYONE CONCERNED MY VERY BEST WISHES AND GRATITUDE FOR A JOB WELL DONE.
SECOND, LET ME EXPRESS MY CHAGRIN AT NOT SEEING THE OBVIOUS SOLUTION TO OUR PROBLEM VIS A VIS OSS OPERATIONS IN THE PACIFIC UNTIL, LITERALLY, LAST NIGHT. I WOULD NOT HAVE DREAMED OF COURSE OF OVER-RIDING THE WHOLLY UNDERSTANDABLE CONCERNS OF GENERAL MACARTHUR AND ADMIRAL NIMITZ THAT HAVTNG THE OSS OPERATE IN THEIR AREAS OF COMMAND WOULD MEAN THE INTRUSION OF STRANGERS WHICH MIGHT INTERFERE WITH THEIR OPERATIONS. IN THEIR SHOES, I WOULD HAVE BEEN SIMILARLY CONCERNED.
WHAT IS NEEDED OF COURSE IS SOMEONE WHO ENJOYS THE COMPLETE TRUST OF BOTH ADMIRAL NIMITZ, GENERAL MACARTHUR AND DIRECTOR DONOVAN. I HAD FRANKLY DESPAIRED OF FINDING SUCH A PERSON UNTIL LAST NIGHT WHEN I WAS STRUCK BY SOMETHING CLOSE TO A DIVINE REVELATION WHILE HAVING DINNER WITH OUR GOOD FRIEND SENATOR RICHARDSON FOWLER AND REALIZED THAT HE. YOU. HAD BEEN STANDING IN FRONT OF ALL OF US ALL THE TIME.
I HAVE TODAY ISSUED AN EXECUTIVE ORDER APPOINTING YOU DEPUTY DIRECTOR OF THE OFFICE OF STRATEGIC SERVICES FOR PACIFIC OPERATIONS. I AM SURE THAT GENERAL MACARTHUR AND ADMIRAL NIMITZ WILL BE AS ENTHUSIASTIC ABOUT THIS APPOINTMENT AS WAS DIRECTOR DONOVAN. I HAVE FURTHER INSTRUCTED ADMIRAL LEAHY TO TRANSFER ALL PERSONNEL AND EQUIPMENT OF USMC SPECIAL DETACHMENT SIXTEEN TO YOU, AND TO ARRANGE FOR THE TRANSFER OF ANY OTHER PERSONNEL YOU MAY FEEL ARE NECESSARY.
WHILE YOU WILL BE REPORTING DIRECTLY TO DIRECTOR DONOVAN, LET ME ASSURE YOU THAT MY DOOR WILL ALWAYS BE OPEN TO YOU AT ALL TIMES. I LOOK FORWARD TO DISCUSSING FUTURE OPERATIONS WITH YOU JUST AS SOON AS YOU FEEL YOU CAN LEAVE BRISBANE.
WITH MY WARMEST REGARDS
FRANKLIN
END PERSONAL MESSAGE FROM THE PRESIDENT TO BRIG GEN PICKERING
BY DIRECTION OF THE PRESIDENT
LEAHY, ADMIRAL, USN
CHIEF OF STAFF TO THE PRESIDENT
TOP SECRET
In what was for him was an extraordinary emotional reaction, Colonel F. L. Rickabee blurted, "I will be damned!"
"Yes, sir," Banning said.
"You better take it to Radio, Ed," Rickabee said. "I'll see that this stuff is shredded and burned."
"Aye, aye, sir," Major Banning said, and reached for the phone to tell the chief to open it up.
[TWO]
Office of the Supreme Commander
Supreme Headquarters
South West Pacific Ocean Area
Brisbane, Australia
OS 8 February
When the Military Police staff sergeant on duty in the corridor saw the Signal Corps officer approaching, he smi
led at him and gave him permission to enter the outer office of the Supreme Commander with a wave of his hand.
By and large, the enlisted men of Supreme Headquarters, South West Pacific Ocean Area, liked Major Hon Song Do, Signal Corps, USAR. Not only was he a pleasant officer, who treated the troops like human beings, but he was known to be a thorn in the sides of a number of officers whom the troops by and large did not like.
"How goes it, Sergeant?" Major Hon Song Do greeted him, smiling.
He was carrying a battered, Army issue leather briefcase. It was held to his left wrist with a chain and a pair of handcuffs. The right lower pocket of his tunic sagged with the weight of a.1911 Al Colt automatic pistol.
"Can't complain, sir."
Major Hon was a very large man, heavy set and muscular, with 210 pounds distributed over six feet two inches. His thick Boston accent was a consequence of his before-the-war years at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, where he had been a professor of theoretical mathematics.
Major Hon pushed open the door to the outer office of the Supreme Commander and walked across the room to a large desk. Behind the desk sat a tall, rather good-looking officer whose collar insignia identified him as a lieutenant colonel serving as aide-de-camp to a full (four-star) general.
"Good afternoon, sir," the Major said. "I have a Special Channel for General MacArthur."
Lieutenant Colonel Sidney Huff raised his eyes briefly from the typewritten document he was working on, then returned his attention to it. His actions were a hairsbreadth away from being insulting.
Finally, he raised his eyes to the Major. "I'll see if the Supreme Commander will see you, Major."
Now that's bullshit, Huff, and you know it. You and I both know that the arrival of a Special Channel gets El Supremo's immediate attention, ahead of anything else.
Except perhaps if he is occupying the throne in the Supreme Crapper when it gets delivered, in which case it will have to wait until he's finished taking his regal dump.
"Thank you, sir."
Major Hon was not sure why Lieutenant Colonel Huff disliked him.
One possibility was that Huff disliked Orientals, and it didn't matter whether an Oriental was the Emperor of Japan or-as he was-a Korean-American born to second-generation American-citizen parents in Hawaii, and a duly commissioned officer and gentleman by Act of Congress.
A second possibility was that it was dislike by association. Major Hon-as were the others associated with magic-was assigned to the Office of Management Analysis, and were not members of MacArthur's staff. Hon's immediate superior officer was Brigadier General Fleming Pickering, USMCR,
Director of the Office of Management Analysis, who didn't think much of Colonel Huff, and did not try very hard to conceal his opinion.
A third possibility-and Major Hon was growing more and more convinced this was the real reason-was that he played bridge at least once a week with the Supreme Commander and Mrs. MacArthur, and they both called him by his nickname, "Pluto." This really offended Huff's sense of propriety. A reserve officer- maybe even worse, an academic-who had not been in the Philippines with El Supremo getting close to MacArthur violated all that Huff held dear.
Colonel Huff knocked at the Supreme Commander's closed door, opened it, stepped inside, and closed the door.
A moment later, a sonorous but pleasant voice called cheerfully through the door, "Come on in, Pluto!"
Pluto Hon pushed open the door and stepped inside.
"Good afternoon, sir," he said.
General Douglas MacArthur, wearing his usual washed-thin-and-soft khakis, was at a large, map-covered table. A thick document stamped top secret that was almost certainly an Operations Order also lay on the table. "Set it on the table, Pluto," MacArthur ordered, pointing at the briefcase with a thin, black, six-inch-long, freshly lit cigar. "I suppose it would be too much to hope that it's good news for a change?"
"At first glance, sir, it strikes me as lousy news," Pluto said.
That earned him a dirty look from Colonel Huff.
Pluto set the briefcase on the table, unlocked a small padlock, removed the padlock, delved inside, and came out with a sealed manila envelope, stamped top secret in red letters. He handed it to MacArthur, who nodded his thanks, tore it open, took out two sheets of typewriter paper, and read them.
"I see what you mean, Pluto," the Supreme Commander said. "I will, pardon the French, be damned."
"Yes, sir," Pluto replied. "My sentiments exactly." He glanced at Colonel Huff, whose frustrated curiosity was evident on his face.
Another reason good ol' Sid doesn't like me. I get to know a number of things he doesn't get to know. And will not get to know unless El Supremo decides he has a reason to know.
There were only two officers in Supreme Headquarters, SWPOA, authorized access to Special Channel communications: MacArthur and his G-2 (Intelligence Officer) Brigadier General Charles A. Willoughby.
Plus, of course, the people at SWPOA who handled the actual encryption and decryption of Special Channel messages (by means of codes used for no other purpose). There were only three of them: Major Hon Song Do, USAR; First Lieutenant John Marston Moore, USMCR; and Second Lieutenant George F. Hart, USMCR.
Major Hon had been recruited from MIT to apply his knowledge of theoretical mathematics to code breaking. Cryptography and mathematics were not, however, his only talents. He was also a linguist-fluent in Korean, Japanese, and several Chinese languages. And equally important, he was an analyst of intercepted Japanese messages. He had been sent from Hawaii to Australia not only to encrypt and decrypt magic messages to and from MacArthur, but also to lend his knowledge of the Japanese to the analysis of intercepted Japanese messages.
Lieutenant John Marston Moore was primarily an analyst. Because he had lived for years in Japan with his missionary parents, studied at Tokyo University, and was completely fluent in Japanese, he was deeply familiar with Japanese culture, which meant he also knew something about the Japanese mind. On the other hand, though he had learned the mechanics of cryptography, he did not, like Pluto Hon, understand the theories and mathematics behind it.
The third of Pickering's men authorized access to magic, and thus the Special Channel, was Lieutenant George F. Hart. Hart spoke only English, and had a mechanical knowledge-only-of the magic cryptographic device. Officially General Pickering's aide-de-camp, he was really a former St. Louis police detective who had been recruited from Marine Boot Camp at Parris Island, South Carolina, to serve as Pickering's bodyguard. As Hart thought of it, he had been taught to "operate the machine" because there was just too much work for Pluto and Moore.
Pickering himself, who was Secretary of the Navy Frank Knox's Personal Representative to both SWPOA (MacArthur) and CINCPAC (Nimitz), also had magic clearance.
"Do you suppose, Pluto?" MacArthur asked thoughtfully, waving the Special Channel, "that General Pickering had any inkling of this?"
"I don't think so, General," Pluto replied. "I don't think the possibility ever entered his mind."
MacArthur grunted. "No," he said, almost to himself. "Neither do I. One generally knows precisely what Pickering is thinking."
"Yes, sir," Pluto said, chuckling.
Lieutenant Colonel Huff's curiosity was nearly out of control.
MacArthur either saw this and took pity on him, or perhaps simply decided that this was a magic Special Channel message that his aide-de-camp should be familiar with. He handed it to him.
"Take a look at this, Huff," he said.
Huff took the two sheets of teletypewriter paper containing President Roosevelt's Special Channel Personal to General Douglas MacArthur and Brigadier General Fleming Pickering.
Pluto watched Huff's face as he read the message. It was a study of surprise and displeasure.
"Where is General Pickering, Pluto?" MacArthur asked. "Still on Espiritu Santo?"
"So far as I know, sir. I've had no word from him."
"You had best get the President's m
essage to him as soon as possible," MacArthur ordered.
"I've already had Radio do that, sir."
"You didn't think, Major," Huff snapped, "that you should have waited for the Supreme Commander's authority to do so?"
Pluto's temper flared, although it did not show on his face.
"What I thought, Colonel," he said coldly, "was that General MacArthur would expect me to immediately carry out the wishes of the President."
W E B Griffin - Corp 08 - In Dangers Path Page 4