Subject: Detachment of
Gunnery Sergeant Ernest W. Zimmerman, 66230, USMC.
Staff Sergeant Stephen M. Koffler, 166705, USMC
Previous verbal orders CTNCPAC detaching Gunnery Sergeant Ernest W. Zimmerman from temporary duty with Snd Raider Bn, USMC, and VMF-229 are confirmed and made a matter of record.
Verbal orders of Supreme Commander SWPOA awarding Gunnery Sergeant Zimmerman and Staff Sergeant Koffler the Bronze Star Medal for "Conspicuous valor and intrepidity in the face of the enemy in an extremely hazardous classified operation" are confirmed and made a matter of record. The citations will be forwarded to Hq, USMC when available.
Gunnery Sergeant Ernest W. Zimmerman is detached USMC SpecDetl6, FPO, San Francisco, Cal. effective 10 Feb 1943 and attached USMC Office of Management Analysis, Washington, DC, for further reassignment.
Gunnery Sergeant Ernest W. Zimmerman will proceed from present station to USMC Office of Management Analysis, Washington, DC, by first available US Government or commercial air transportation. Priority AA1 is authorized. Under the provisions of USMC PersReg 42-101 "Recuperative Leave for Personnel Returning to USMC Control After P0W Status or Other Service Behind Enemy lines" 30 days Delay En Route Leave Hot Chargeable As Ordinary Leave is authorized.
Inasmuch as the exigencies of the Naval Service have caused Gunnery Sergeant Zimmerman's service and pay records to become unavailable, Gunnery Sergeant Zimmerman is authorized to draw a partial pay of no more than ninety-percent (90%) of the anticipated pay of a Gunnery Sergeant with eight (8) years service each month until his records can be located or reconstructed.
Staff Sergeant Stephen M. Koffler is detached USMC SpecDet16, FPO, San Francisco, Cal. Effective 10 Feb 1943 and attached USMC Schools, Quantico, Va., for enrollment in Officer Candidate School.
Staff Sergeant Stephen M. Koffler will proceed from present station to USMC Schools, Quantico, Va., by first available US Government or commercial air transportation. Mrs. Daphne F. Koffler (Dependent Wife) is authorized to accompany Staff Sergeant Koffler. Travel will be arranged so that Staff Sergeant and Mrs. Koffler will not be separated during travel. Priority AAA1 is authorized. Under the provisions of USMC PersReg 42-101 "Recuperative Leave for Personnel Returning to USMC Control After P0W Status or Other Service Behind Enemy Lines" 30 days Delay En Route Leave Not Chargeable As Ordinary Leave is authorized.
Authority:
Letter, Office of the Secretary of the Navy, Subject, "Establishment of U.S. Marine Corps Special Detachment 16." 8 Apr 1942.
Verbal Order, BrigGen F.Pickering, USMCR
10 Feb 1943.
BY DIRECTION OF COLONEL WATERSON:
Official:
John Marston Moore st Lt John Marston Moore, USMCR
Adjutant
Staff Sergeant Krantz had seen the orders before. Five days earlier Staff Sergeant Koffler and his wife had passed through San Diego. Koffler looked as if he had left boot camp about that long ago, and his wife was an Aussie girl who looked as if she was going to be a mother in the next five days.
And now the gunny on the same orders had apparently shown up.
"You should have called me, Martino," Sergeant Krantz said.
"It was midnight, Sergeant," Martino said. "I figured you'd be in the sack."
"Anytime you get something out of the ordinary like this, you call me. Understand?"
"You got it, Sarge."
"You got him into the hospital okay?" Krantz asked.
"Hospital? No. He said he was going into 'Diego and see if he could find a poker game."
"What?"
"I told him to check back at 0900 Monday, by then his tickets would probably be ready, and he could draw a partial pay, and I asked him if he wanted a ride to the Staff NCO quarters. And he said no, he was going to catch the bus, go into 'Diego, and see if he could find a poker game."
"Jesus Christ, I don't believe you," Krantz said. "Didn't you read the goddamned orders? This guy is either an escaped POW-which seems likely, since he doesn't have his service records-or he was doing something behind the enemy's lines."
"So?"
Krantz walked to the wall of the office, took down a clipboard, and threw it to Corporal Martino. "You are supposed to read the goddamned thing every day. If you ever did, you would know people like that get special treatment. First, they go to the hospital, then they go to some rest hotel in West Virginia. Jesus, Martino!"
Staff Sergeant Krantz picked up the telephone and dialed a number from memory. "Sir, sorry to bother you at this hour, and on Sunday, but we have a little problem down here. I think you had better come down here, sir."
Captain Roger Marshutz, an enormous man with a temper to match, arrived at the office ten minutes later. After hearing what had happened, he delivered a verbal chastisement to Corporal Martino that Martino would remember for a long time.
Then he set about solving the problem. He personally visited both the officer of the guard and the Shore Patrol Detachment duty officer and explained the predicament. Both officers were sympathetic and promised to do their very best to locate gunny Sergeant Zimmerman. He was not, of course, to be arrested. You don't arrest somebody who just got out of a POW camp, or wherever the hell he had been, and throw him in the back of a jeep. Whoever found him was to politely inform Gunnery Sergeant Zimmerman that a little problem had come up, and would he please come with them and help them to straighten it out?
Captain Marshutz waited around the office until 1330, in the vain hope that Gunnery Sergeant Zimmerman would be located and delivered to him. Then he went to his quarters, with orders to summon him immediately when anything came up.
Staff Sergeant Krantz waited around the office until 1630, in the same vain hope. Then he went to his quarters. Before he left, he informed Corporal Martino that he didn't give a good goddamn that he had previously promised Corporal Martino the day off, he would stay there for fucking ever, if necessary, until Gunnery Zimmerman was located.
Both Captain Marshutz and Staff Sergeant Krantz were back at the office at
Monday morning. With a little bit of luck, they told themselves, Gunnery Sergeant Zimmerman, in compliance with that idiot Martino's instructions, just might show up at 0900 to pick up his tickets and partial pay.
Oh nine hundred came and passed. And so did 0930 and 1000. At 1025, just as Captain Marshutz was about to pick up the telephone and inform Lieutenant Colonel Oswald that they were having a little problem, and he thought he had better discuss it personally with the Colonel, Gunnery Sergeant Zimmerman walked into the office, looked at Staff Sergeant Krantz, burped, and announced he had been told that by now he could pick up his tickets and draw a partial pay.
"Your name is Zimmerman, Gunny?" Captain Marshutz asked.
"Yes, sir."
"Would you mind telling me where you've been?"
"No, sir."
"You don't want to tell me?"
"Sir, the Captain asked if I would mind telling him."
"So tell me."
"Sir, I went downtown for a while, sir, and then I tried to get a hotel, but they wanted two dollars and fifty cents, so I told myself fuck that, sir, and come back out here and got a bunk in the transient Staff NCO quarters."
"You've been in the Staff NCO quarters all this time?"
"Yes, sir. I told that fucking feather merchant charge of quarters to wake me up so's I could be here at 0900, and the fucker didn't do it. If the Captain is pissed because I'm late. I respectfully ask the Captain to get that little shit in here and ask him didn't I tell him to wake me up so's I could be here on time."
"I'll take your word for it, Gunny," Captain Marshutz said. "But there is a little problem."
"Yes, sir?"
"There's a special program for men like yourself, recently escaped POW's."
"Begging the Captain's pardon, sir. I was never no POW."
"But you were behind the enemy's lines?"
"Yes, sir. Twicet. First, on the 'Canal, with the Second Raid
ers, and the last time we was on Mindanao."
"In the Philippines?"
"Yes, sir."
"So you escaped from the Philippines?"
"Begging the Captain's pardon, sir. Not escaped. They sent us in on a submarine, and then they sent the submarine back and it brung us out. What was the name of that fucking pigboat? The Sunfish. That's what it was, the Sunfish."
"Well, welcome home, Gunny."
"Thank you, sir."
"As I was saying before, Gunny, there's a special program for men like yourself."
"Yes, sir."
"First, we run you through the hospital, to make sure you're shipshape, physically, and then you go to a hotel in West Virginia-all expenses paid, of course- for a month."
"No, sir."
" 'No, sir'?"
"Sir, begging the Captain's pardon, the General told me the first thing I do is go to Washington and check in with Major Banning."
"Well, perhaps 'the General' wasn't aware of this program, Gunny. It's relatively recent."
"With all respect, sir, 'An order received will be obeyed unless countermanded by an officer of senior grade.' The General told me to go to Washington and check in with Major Banning. Them's my orders, sir. With all respect, sir."
Christ, he memorized that.
"Sir, I got Major Banning's number, if the Captain would like to check with him," Gunny Zimmerman offered.
"Perhaps that would be a good idea," Captain Marshutz said.
"Sir, Liberty Three, twenty-nine zero eight," Zimmerman said. "That's in Washington, D.C."
He memorized that, too.
A minute later, Staff Sergeant Krantz handed Captain Marshutz the telephone. "It's ringing, sir," he said.
The telephone was answered on the second ring.
"Liberty 3-2908."
"With whom am I speaking, please?"
"Will you tell me who you wish to speak to, please?"
"Major Banning," Captain Marshutz said, a hint of exasperation in his voice. He added "please" as a late-coming afterthought.
"Sir, there is no one of that name at this number."
"Gunny, they say they don't have a Major Banning."
"Bullshit!" Gunny Zimmerman said. "I never forget no numbers. With respect, sir, you got the right number?"
"What is it again, Gunny?"
"Sir, Liberty Three, twenty-nine zero eight," Zimmerman said
"Is this Liberty 3-2908?"
"Yes, it is. Who's calling, please?"
"There is no Major Banning at this number?"
"That is correct."
Captain Marshutz looked at Zimmerman and shook his head.
"Sir, tell them the call is from me," Zimmerman said.
"Would Major Banning be there if he knew it was Gunnery Sergeant Zimmerman calling?" Captain Marshutz asked very politely, which was his manner when his temper was on the verge of eruption.
"Are you Gunnery Sergeant Zimmerman?"
"Sir, if that don't work, ask for Captain McCoy," Zimmerman said.
"Have you a Captain McCoy?" Marshutz asked.
"Captain Kenneth R. McCoy," Zimmerman amplified.
"Captain Kenneth R. McCoy," Marshutz parroted.
"Gunnery Sergeant Zimmerman is calling for either Major Banning or Captain McCoy. Is that correct?"
"That is absolutely correct."
"Hold on, please."
There was the sound of another telephone ringing, just once, and then another voice came on the line.
"Yes?"
"With whom am I speaking, please?" Captain Marshutz asked politely.
"Whom do you wish to speak to?"
"Either a Major Banning or a Captain McCoy."
"With regard to what? Who are you, please?"
"My name is Captain Roger Marshutz, USMC," Marshutz said, as he sensed his temper going from simmer to boil. "I'm calling with regard to a goddamned gunnery sergeant named Zimmerman. Does that satisfy your goddamned curiosity?"
"It helps a great deal, as a matter of fact. I'm always happy to chat on the telephone with a fellow Marine, even one who uses language unbecoming an officer and a gentleman. But, pray tell me, how can I help you, Captain?"
"With whom am I speaking?"
"My name is Rickabee, Captain. Brigadier General Rickabee, USMC."
Oh, shit!
"Sir, I was asked to call this number, by Gunnery Sergeant Zimmerman, Ernest W."
"Is there some sort of problem with the gunny? Where are you?"
"Marine Barracks, San Diego, sir."
"And he's there, with you?"
"Yes, sir."
"Put him on the phone, please. I want his side of the story first."
"Aye, aye, sir."
Marshutz handed the phone to Zimmerman. "General Rickabee wishes to speak to you."
"I'll be goddamned! General!" Zimmerman said to himself, then spoke into the telephone. '"Sir, the General told me to call Major Banning if I ran into trouble. Sorry to bother you, sir."
"What sort of trouble are you in, Gunny?"
"Sir, they want to put me in the fucking hospital and then send me to some fucking hotel someplace. I told them I couldn't do that."
"Welcome home, Zimmerman. When did you get in?"
"Sir, about 2300 Saturday."
"Put the Captain back on, will you, please?"
"Aye, aye, sir."
Zimmerman handed the telephone back to Captain Marshutz.
"Yes, sir, General?"
"It is my desire, Captain, that you (a) have Gunnery Sergeant Zimmerman on the next available airplane to Washington; (b) telephone the number he gave you after he has actually taken off, prepared to give me his ETA in Washington."
"Aye, aye, sir."
"As far as this rest hotel business is concerned, Gunny Zimmerman considers himself to be taking a rest whenever no one is actually shooting at him. He's one hell of Marine, and we'll take care of entertaining him here."
"Yes, sir."
The line went dead.
Marshutz looked at Zimmerman. "Curiosity overwhelms me, Gunny," he said. "Just who is General Rickabee?"
"Sir, with respect, I don't think the Captain has the fucking need to know."
"You're probably fucking right," Captain Marshutz said, and turned to Staff Sergeant Krantz. "Karl, get the gunny on the next flight out of here. I don't care who gets bumped to get him a seat."
"Aye, aye, sir."
"And the minute he's airborne, call that number he gave."
"Sir, Liberty Three, twenty-nine zero eight," Zimmerman said.
". and give them the ETA."
[TWO]
Main Gate
U.S. Naval Air Station
Pensacola, Florida
1215 6 March 1943
The galling thing about this chickenshit little sonofabitch, Captain James B. Weston, USMCR, thought as he sat fuming in the Buick waiting for the duty offi-cer to show up after he was summoned by the main gate guard, is that he's a Marine, not a sailor. You'd think a Marine would cut a fellow Marine a little slack. The whole trip had not gone well, beginning with the reason he was making it in the first place: Lieutenant (j.g.) Janice Hardison, NC, USNR, had told him, firmly, that she had the duty, midnight to eight, Friday and Saturday, and that he should not come up to Philadelphia because there wouldn't be time for them to do anything if he did.
So he had driven down, leaving the Greenbrier as early as he could on Friday afternoon, and driving through the night. During the journey, he had been stopped twice for speeding. One of these, early that morning in Georgia, had seen him forking over fifty-five dollars to a justice of the peace roused from his bed by the deputy sheriff who had arrested him.
He had arrived in Pensacola a few minutes before seven, and had decided the smart thing to do would be to get a room at the San Carlos Hotel before driving out to the air station. There would, of course, be a telephone in the room, over which he could conveniently contact Major Avery R. Williamson, USMCR.
H
e had to practically beg the manager to give him a room, and the only thing left was a two-room suite at $32.50 a night, a luxury he needed like a hole in the head. And then, a little later when he got on the telephone, the air station operator refused to put him through to Major Williamson's quarters, saying that he would have to telephone Major Williamson's office, which, since it was Saturday, might be open after 0800.
W E B Griffin - Corp 08 - In Dangers Path Page 25