The Corps 03 - Counterattack

by W. E. B Griffin

  "Yes, Sir. When I got to The Elms, I saw Koffler had set up one of the radios and an antenna and some batteries and was listening to KYW in Honolulu. I had them check out the others as they came in to make sure they worked. I figured if they didn’t, it would be easier to get them fixed in Melbourne than here. A couple of them needed a little work, but they’re all working now."

  "Haley fixed them?"

  "No. Koffler. Haley had never seen one of them before."

  "And Koffler had?".

  "No. But ... it took me a while to figure this out, Major. Haley went to Radio School. He knows about Marine and Navy radios. Koffler was a radio amateur, what they call a ham."

  "He told me," Banning interrupted. "So what?"

  "So he can apparently make a radio from parts. He understands what makes them work. Even Haley was impressed. There’s more to Koffler than meets the eye."

  "That wouldn’t be hard," Banning said dryly, then asked, "How many radio sets are there?"

  "Eight, Sir. I brought seven of them up here. Koffler rigged one of them so we can talk to Melbourne as soon as we get one set up here."

  Another sergeant, whose name, after a moment, Banning remembered was Solinski, marched happily up and saluted.

  "Sir, the convoy is formed. If the Major would care to enter his staff car?"

  "Thank you, Sergeant," Banning said. "Nice work, getting this all organized so quickly."

  "Thank you, Sir," Sergeant Solinski said, pleased.

  Lieutenant Commander Feldt had arranged for USMC Special Detachment 14 to take over a two-story, tin-roofed frame building that had belonged to the now-defunct Townesville Young Men’s Christian Association. In addition to a small suite of offices, there was a room with a billiards table, as well as six small bedrooms, a small gymnasium with a rusty collection of weightlifting machines, and a reception room with a soft-drink bar that Banning suspected was about to be converted to a saloon.

  Banning had prepared notes for the little speech he intended to deliver to his men, but he decided that would have to wait until he got the full story of the cars and trucks. The speech mostly dealt with the importance of getting along with the Aussies, and included the details of their rationing (with the Aussies) and other housekeeping information. The story of the cars and trucks was obviously more important.

  He called Lieutenant Howard and Staff Sergeant Richardson into what would serve as the detachment office and told Howard to close the door.

  "I want to know about the trucks and cars," he said. "And I want the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth."

  "Yes, Sir," Staff Sergeant Richardson said. "Well, Sir, Lieutenant Howard sent me and Sergeant Jenkins on the next plane. After yours and Koffler’s. Koffler met us on the dock, with the Studebaker, and drove us out to The Elms. I asked him where he got the car. He said he didn’t know where it had come from."

  "Captain Pickering arranged for it. He got it from a Navy depot."

  "Yes, Sir. But Koffler didn’t know that. So I told him to ask somebody. He asked an Aussie lady sailor he’d met, and she told him there was a Navy depot. A U.S. Navy depot. So I went down there. It’s not a regular depot. What I found out is that it’s a place they store stuff that was supposed to go China, but didn’t make it."

  "Go over that again?"

  "Well, Sir. There was a lot of stuff being shipped to China. What they call Lend-Lease. When they couldn’t get in there, they went on to Australia and just unloaded the stuff. The only Americans around was a small Corps of Civil Engineers depot, and they suddenly had all this stuffed dumped in their laps. They didn’t know what the hell to do with it all. One of the ships was full of Studebakers, cars and trucks."

  "I see. And you stole the ones you brought with you?"

  "No, Sir. I didn’t have to. I just had Koffler drive me down there, and I told an officer I found that I had come for the rest of our vehicles. He said he couldn’t issue any of what he had without authority, and I told him we had the authority, and there was our Studebaker, to prove it. He asked me who we worked for, and since you weren’t in Melbourne, I told him this Captain Pickering. Lieutenant Howard gave me his name in Hawaii, in case we needed it."

  "And this officer called Captain Pickering?"

  "Yes, Sir. And Captain Pickering, I guess, told him it was all right. He asked me how many trucks I wanted, and how many cars, and I said two, and he said, ‘All right, but you’re going to have to get them running yourself, I don’t have anybody to help you.’ I think I could have gotten a dozen of each, if I had been smart enough to ask for them."

  "I think you’ve done very well, Sergeant Richardson," Banning said. "Thank you."

  (Four)

  Air Transport Office

  Royal Naval Station, Melbourne

  1 June 1942

  Lieutenant Vincent F. Donnelly, RAN, said, "Yes, Sir. Right away," and put the telephone handset back in its cradle.

  He looked across the crowded office to where Yeoman Third Class Daphne Farnsworth, her lower lip clipped under her teeth in concentration, was filling out one more sodding form on her typewriter.

  "Daphne!" he called. He had to call again before he broke through her concentration.

  "Yes, Sir?"

  "We’ve been summoned to the Captain’s office," Donnelly said.

  "I don’t suppose we could ask him to wait thirty minutes, could we?" Daphne asked, smiling. "I’m finally almost finished with this."

  "He wants us right away."

  "Should I bring my pad?"

  "No, I don’t think so."

  Lieutenant Junior Grade Eleanor McKee, Royal Australian Navy Women’s Volunteer Reserve, commanding officer of all the women aboard RA Naval Station, Melbourne, was in the Captain’s office when they got there.

  She looks as if she’s been sucking a lemon again,Daphne thought. I wonder what the hell this is all about. I haven’t done a damned thing, so far as I know.

  The Captain stood up.

  "Yeoman Farnsworth," he said, "it is my sad duty to inform you that your husband, Sergeant John Andrew Farnsworth, Royal Australian Signals, has been killed in action in North Africa."

  "Oh, God!"

  "You will, I am sure, be able to find some solace in knowing he died for king and country," the Captain said.

  "Oh, shit!" Daphne said.

  "I’m very sorry, my dear," the Captain said.

  (Five)

  Townesville, Queensland

  5 June 1942

  "I’m only saying this, you two must understand, because I have been drinking," Lieutenant Commander Eric A. Feldt, RAN, said to Major Edward J. Banning, USMC, and Lieutenant Joe Howard, USMCR, "but I am far more impressed with your band of innocents than I ever thought would be the case."

  They were in Commander Feldt’s quarters, sitting on folding steel chairs, facing one another across a rickety wooden table on which sat a half-filled bottle of Dewar’s Scotch and the empty hulk of another. A rusting bucket on the floor held a half-dozen bottles of beer and a soda siphon in a pool of melting ice.

  "You’re only saying that," Major Banning responded, "because you found out I outrank you."

  "That’s beneath you, Banning," Feldt said, "bringing up a sodding six days’ difference in the dates of our promotions."

  "And we gave you a truck," Joe Howard said, somewhat thickly. "We have a saying in America, ‘Never look a gift truck in the mouth.’"

  "You didn’t give me the truck, you only loaned it to me. And anyway, the steering wheel is on the wrong side."

  "The steering wheel is in the right place," Howard said. "You people insist on driving on the wrong side of the road."

  Feldt stood up and walked, not too steadily, to a chest of drawers. He returned with a box of cigars, which he displayed with an elaborate gesture.

  "I mean it," he said. "Have a cigar."

  "Thank you, I don’t mind if I do," Banning said. He took one and passed the box to Howard.

  "I got them fr
om a Dutchman, master of an inter-island tramp," Feldt said, sitting down again, and helping himself to a little more of the Dewar’s. "He swore they were rolled between the thighs of fourteen-year-old Cuban virgins."

  Banning raised his glass. "Here’s to fourteen-year-old Cuban virgins."

  "Here, here," Howard said.

  "And here’s to Captain Vandenhooven," Feldt said. "He gave me those cigars just in time."

  "Just in time?" Banning asked.

  "The next time he went out for me, the Japs got him. One of their sodding destroyers. They caught him off Wuvulu Island."

  "Shit," Howard said.

  Banning raised his glass again. "To the Captain," he said.

  He lit the cigar and exhaled slowly through pursed lips.

  "That’s all right," he said approvingly.

  "Virginal thighs’ll do it every time," Feldt pronounced solemnly.

  There was a polite knock at the door.

  "Come," Feldt called.

  A young, thick-spectacled man in the uniform of a Leading Aircraftsman, Royal Australian Air Force, came into the room and, in the British manner, quick-marched to the rickety table and saluted with the palm outward as he stamped his foot.

  "Sir!" he barked.

  Feldt made a vague gesture with his right hand in the direction of his forehead; it could only charitably be called a salute.

  "What have you there, son?"

  "Group Captain Deane’s compliments, Sir. He said he thought you should see these straight off."

  He handed Feldt a large manila envelope. Feldt tore it open. It contained a slightly smaller envelope, this one stampedmost secret. Feldt opened this one and took out a half-dozen eight-inch-square photographs. Banning guessed they were aerials.

  "These are from where?" Feldt asked after a moment. Banning heard no suggestion in his voice now that Feldt had been drinking.

  "Buka Island, Sir," the RAAF man said.

  "That will be all, thank you. Please convey to Group Captain Deane my deep appreciation."

  "Sir!" the RAAF man barked again, saluted and stamped his foot, and quick-marched out of the room.

  Feldt shoved the thin stack of photographs across the table to Banning and then stood up.

  Banning saw a man in a field, holding his arms above his head. There were three views of this, each differing slightly, as if they had been taken within seconds of each other. Matching each view were blow-ups, showing just the man and a small area around him.

  Feldt reappeared with a large magnifying glass with a handle. He dropped to his knees and examined each of the photographs with great care.

  "Well, at least he was still alive when these were taken," Feldt said.

  "What am I looking at?" Banning asked. He enunciated the words very carefully; for he now very much regretted helping himself so liberally to the Scotch, and he wanted at least to sound as sober as possible.

  "Can I look?" Joe Howard asked.

  "Sure," Feldt said, and then went on, "Sub-Lieutenant Jacob Reeves. From whom we haven’t heard in the last ten days or so. He’s on Buka. Important spot. I was afraid the Nips had nipped him. But it’s just that his wireless is out."

  Banning looked at him. There had been no intent on Feldt’s part, he saw, to play with words. Feldt was perfectly serious when he said nipped by the Nips. He was now icily serious. "How do you know his radio is out?" Howard asked. "What the bloody hell else do you think ‘RA’ could mean?" Feldt asked impatiently, almost contemptuously. He pointed, and Banning saw what he had missed. The tall grass, or what ever the hell it was, in the field had been cut down so it spelled out, in letters twenty-five or thirty feet tall, the letters RA.

  More gently now, as if he regretted his abruptness, Feldt said, "Interesting man, Jacob Reeves. He’s the far side of forty. Been in the islands since he was a boy. Been on Buka for fifteen years. Never married. Has a harem of native girls. I don’t think he’s been off the island more than three times since he’s been there. We had a hell of a time teaching him Morse code, at first. And of course, he doesn’t know a sodding thing about how a wireless works."

  Banning raised his eyebrows at that.

  "It could be anything from a loose wire," Feldt explained, "through a complete failure. Or his generator has gone out-he has a small gasoline-powered generator . . . God only knows."

  "Where does he get gas for the generator?" Howard asked.

  "There were supplies of it on Buka," Feldt said. "He took a truckload of supplies, presumably including fuel, when he went up into the hills. If he was out of petrol, I think he would have cut PET in the grass."

  "Where did the pictures come from?" Banning asked.

  "I asked Group Captain Deane to send an aircraft over there. He has a couple of Lockheed Hudsons."

  Banning nodded. The twin-engine, low-winged monoplane with a twin tail obviously traced its heritage to the famous airplane in which Amelia Earhart had been lost trying to set an around-the-world speed record.

  "I think we had better send Sub-Lieutenant Reeves one of your Hallicrafters sets, Major Banning," Feldt said. "I’m glad you mentioned the petrol. I have no idea how much he has left. If any. That bicycle generator is what he needs."

  "They’re yours," Banning said immediately.

  "That poses several questions. First, how we get it to him. He’s in the hills, so that eliminates either a submarine-even if I could get the use of one-or a ship."

  "By parachute, then," Banning said. "Would your Group Captain Deane be able to do that?"

  Feldt nodded, meaning that he could get an aircraft. "The question then becomes, can a Hallicrafters set be dropped by parachute?"

  "I’m sure our Corporal Koffler could answer that," Banning said. "Off the top of my head, I can’t think of a reason why not."

  "The question then becomes, would your Corporal Koffler be willing to go in with it?"

  "Why would that be necessary?" Banning asked.

  He immediately saw on Feldt’s face that his simple question had been misinterpreted; Feldt suspected that Banning was reluctant to send one of his men behind the Japanese lines.

  "I’m afraid it really would be necessary, Banning," Feldt said. "Otherwise dropping the Hallicrafters would be useless; Reeves would have no idea how to operate it. And I don’t think he could work from a set of directions; his mind doesn’t work that way."

  "How soon would you like Koffler to jump in?" Banning asked.

  "Today’s Friday. How long would it take your man to prepare the Hallicrafters to be rigged for a parachute drop?"

  "Again, I’ll have to ask him. But again, off the top of my head, I can’t imagine why it would take more than a couple of hours. I presume we can get parachutes from the RAAF7"

  Feldt nodded. "I’ll ring Deane and ask him to arrange for your man to be flown up here tomorrow."

  "Am I allowed to say something?" Howard asked.

  Banning looked at him curiously, even impatiently.

  "Sure," Feldt said.

  "If I understand this correctly," Howard said, "what we have here is a very important Coastwatcher station-"

  "Arguably, the most important station," Feldt agreed. "Certainly one of the most important."

  "Staffed by one man who apparently knows very little or nothing about radios."

  "That’s why we’re going to jump Koffler in to join him."

  "Koffler doesn’t know a Zero from a Packard," Howard said. "If something happens to your man Reeves, Commander, what you’re going to have is a perfectly functioning radio station from which we’ll get no intelligence because Koffler won’t know what to send."

  "Granted," Feldt said. "So what?"

  "So what you need is a team. Send two people in. The other one should be someone who can identify Japanese aircraft and ships as well as your man Reeves. If something should happen to Reeves, that man could possibly keep the station operating. At least better than someone who was in high school this time last year."

  "I don’t h
ave anybody to spare at the moment," Feldt said.

  "I grant your point. Reeves should have a replacement. I’ll work on it."

  "The time to send him in is now," Howard argued. "You said that getting planes is difficult. You might not be able to get another; and even if you could, it seems to me the Japanese would sense that something important was going on in that area."