Edge of Valor

by JOHN J. GOBBELL

  Neidemeier’s face grew red. “This is no time for trifling.”

  DeWitt waved him down. “It’s okay, Clive. Commander Ingram is just joking. Right, Commander?” He blew another smoke ring.

  Ingram said, “Yes, Clive, I was joking. Dezhnev stabbed him in the chest.”

  Neidemeier sat back and rolled his eyes. “All right, have your fun. But please keep in mind this is an official inquiry.” He nodded to a staff sergeant taking notes in a corner. “You should be more—”

  “Actually, Todd,” DeWitt broke in, “I’m wondering why you keep mentioning Captain Dezhnev. Do we speak of our old friend?”

  Ingram nodded. “One and the same. Eduard Dezhnev. Our San Francisco buddy.”

  “Small world,” said DeWitt.

  “Bullshit,” said Ingram, looking at Blinde.

  Blinde’s eyes popped open. “Ahh, yes. We knew about Commander Ingram’s friendship with Dezhnev. That’s why we asked for him.” DeWitt gave a broad grin, a rarity. “Friendship?”

  Blinde replied, “Well, that’s what it sounded like to us. But the FBI wouldn’t let us have Dezhnev’s file. We weren’t aware of difficulties following your initial meetings.”

  Radcliff mumbled, “I wouldn’t trust the son of a bitch as far as I could throw him.”

  Neidemeier said, “Major, could you stay with us long enough to make sense out of what happened?”

  “Doing my best, Major Fingermeier,” said Radcliff.

  “Neidemeier.”

  “Ummmm.”

  Again DeWitt had to wave Neidemeier down. “How is Ed?” he asked Ingram. “Same old regular guy?”

  The tent flap rustled and a man walked in. He was Navy, a full commander’s oak leaves on his collar. Tall, lanky, and tow-headed, he was—

  “Ollie!” Ingram jumped up to greet his old friend Oliver Toliver III.

  They shook hands and then hugged, slapping backs. “What the hell are you doing here?” asked Ingram.

  “Plane was late.” Toliver reached over to Otis DeWitt. “General? Good to see you again.”

  DeWitt rose and likewise bear-hugged Toliver. “You’re a sight, sonny boy. You look great. Heard you got yourself shot up, but I sure as hell can’t tell.”

  Toliver gave a wan smile. “It still grabs me once in a while. And the trip out here! That damned plane bounced and jumped all over the Pacific.” He nodded toward Radcliff. “I don’t see how you guys do it.” He pulled out a chair and sat heavily.

  DeWitt introduced the others to Toliver and sketched out their past connection. In May 1942 the Yale-educated Toliver had served as Ingram’s gunnery officer in the minesweeper USS Pelican (AM 49) at Corregidor. Without fuel and unable to move, the Pelican was sunk from under them in Manila Bay. With ten of the Pelican’s crew, Ingram, DeWitt, and Toliver managed to escape Corregidor in a 36-foot launch the night the Japanese invaded the island. They made it through the Philippine archipelago and all the way to Darwin, Australia, a remarkable voyage of 1,900 miles.

  The following October, Toliver was back in action as gunnery officer on the destroyer USS Riley (DD 542). But the Riley was blown out from under him by a Japanese type 93 torpedo at the Battle of Cape Esperance. Toliver’s hip was broken in the explosion, and he was shipped back to San Francisco. A specialist at the Stanford Lane Hospital nailed it back together. But Toliver was still cursed with frequent pain and a distinct limp. The doctors recommended Toliver be placed on limited duty and not return to combat. He’d served on the Twelfth Naval District staff in San Francisco as a gunnery liaison officer before signing up for the regular Navy and joining the Office of Naval Intelligence.

  Which was ironic. Toliver was wealthy. His father was Conrad Toliver, a founding partner in the Manhattan law firm of McNeil, Lawton, and Toliver, which served as corporate counsel to six of the thirty firms constituting the Dow Jones Industrial Average. Conrad fully expected his son to finish law school and join him in the firm. He dreamed of showing off his young son as a World War II poster boy who would strut around the firm’s richly appointed offices in full uniform, his medals clanking. And beautiful medals they were. Ollie had been awarded the Distinguished Service Medal, a Purple Heart, an Asia-Pacific Campaign medal with three stars, and a Navy unit commendation. It would have been so good for business. Conrad was very unhappy when he discovered his son had shipped over to the regular Navy.

  Neidemeier asked, “General, is he cleared for this meeting?”

  DeWitt shot back, “Cleared? He’s supposed to be running this damn meeting, but it looks like he’s spent too much time in Pearl chasing women.”

  Toliver toasted DeWitt with a water glass and drank deeply. Then he turned to Neidemeier. “Major, the Office of Naval Intelligence is as interested in this as you are. Plus, I know Eduard Dezhnev, and as you heard, Commander Ingram and I are old shipmates and friends. In fact, Dezhnev, Commander Ingram, and General DeWitt all spent a lot of time together. Right?” He looked at Ingram.

  Ingram couldn’t help it. “Wong Lee’s café.” He grinned. Wong Lee’s had been a favorite hangout when they were all in San Francisco. “How is Suzy?” Suzy Lee, Wong Lee’s daughter, had co-managed the café along with her mother while her father was trapped on Mindanao with Helen. At the time, she had been a junior at Stanford.

  Toliver grinned, “She graduated . . .”

  “Hot damn!” exclaimed DeWitt.

  “And she’s running Wong Lee’s down in Los Angeles.”

  “Waste of a good education,” said DeWitt.

  “Well, yes and no,” said Toliver.

  “What?” said Ingram.

  “We, uh, we’re getting kind of serious,” said Toliver.

  “Ollie, that’s great,” said Ingram. “What now?”

  Toliver raised his eyes to the rest of the group, who looked on open-mouthed. “Maybe we should move on.”

  “I agree. We’re wasting time,” growled DeWitt. “I was asking Todd if Dezhnev has changed much.”

  Ingram said, “Still the same old blabbermouth. You’d think he was Bob Hope. Thanks to his Bykovo training, he’s fully Americanized.”

  “Bykovo? What’s Bykovo?” asked Neidemeier.

  Ingram said, “If I told you, Major, you would crap in your pants.”

  “Commander, please! This is a—”

  Once more, DeWitt had to reel in Neidemeier. “What he means, Major, is that you’re not cleared for that area. It’s strictly ‘need to know.’”

  Blinde said dryly, “Clive, Bykovo is a Soviet training camp near Moscow where, over a period of nine months, top-grade military officers are immersed in language and cultural training so they can be inserted into the United States without fear of detection. That’s all you need to know.”

  “Oh.”

  Toliver looked at Neidemeier and then over to Ingram. Who is this guy?

  Ingram grinned and said, “Well, Captain Dezhnev must have taken some postgraduate courses because he’s in the NKVD now. How’s that for being a regular guy?”

  “Impressive,” said DeWitt.

  “We knew this,” said Blinde.

  Ingram said, “Otis, I’m tired. I’d barely hit the pillow when your guys woke me up.”

  “I’m sorry, but General Sutherland is anxious for a report,” said DeWitt.

  Ingram drew a long breath then looked around the room. “Tell you what, Otis. Just you and I talk. Okay? I’ll blab like I was vaccinated with a phonograph needle. Let everyone else go get some shuteye.”

  Radcliff groaned and buried his head in his arms.

  DeWitt said, “Guess we’d better.”

  “I’ll stay,” said Blinde.

  “Absolutely not,” said Ingram.

  “I think we should let him,” said DeWitt. He nodded to the stenographer and Neidemeier. “You’re excused. But please stay close by for the next twenty-four hours in case we need you.” Then he said, “Major Radcliff!”

  Radcliff raised his head. “Huh?”

  “You’re e
xcused for now, too.”

  “Huh?”

  Ingram leaned over and patted Radcliff’s elbow. “Go, Bucky. Hit the sack.”

  “Oh, man. What’d you do that for? I was dreaming about this sweet little—”

  “Go, Bucky.”

  “Yeah.” Radcliff shuffled to his feet and walked off like a zombie. The others followed, and the stenographer drew the tent flap behind them.

  DeWitt looked at Ingram and said, “Todd, I have no doubt that you all exhibited unparalleled acts of heroism in carrying out your mission. That landing, Sergeant Harper and his men—”

  “Should get medals,” said Ingram.

  “Your rescue of Boring. And then that amazing takeoff. Major Radcliff has real guts.”

  “I’d add ‘command presence’ to Radcliff’s citation. When the chips were down, it was all his show.” Ingram leaned forward, “I have to tell you, Otis. I wasn’t that scared even during our escape from Corregidor. Bucky Radcliff was really something to watch.”

  DeWitt butt-lit another cigarette and said, “I have no doubts as to Major Radcliff’s capabilities. Nor do I have any doubts of yours, Todd. Do you know the difference?”

  “Speak English, Otis.”

  “The difference is that Radcliff, like you in the 51 boat, had something to do. Aboard the C-54 you were just strapped to a seat, awaiting your fate.”

  “Damn near crapped in my pants.”

  Toliver said, “Todd, quit being so damned modest. Otis is right. It was me, not you, who damn near crapped my pants back then.”

  “Okay, okay,” said Ingram.

  “All that said, I really must know two things. One, did you speak with Walter Boring? And two, do you have any idea how he died?”

  Blinde added, “There’s a third question, General. Did Commander Ingram examine any of the cargo brought back with us?”

  “I’ve already told you, no, no, and no.”

  DeWitt stubbed out his cigarette, sat back, and turned to Blinde. “Colin, I thought we were getting plans for some new Jap secret process for titanium production or something like that. Isn’t that the information Boring had?”

  Blinde looked at Ingram. “No, it’s not, General.”

  “Well, what the hell is it?” demanded DeWitt.

  “Commander Ingram knows.”

  “Go shit in your hat, Colin,” said Ingram.

  Blinde sighed. “We’re a bit compromised here with cards on the table. So I guess you should know, General.”

  “Yes?”

  “The Japanese were involved in human experimentation.”

  “Holy cow. Like the Germans?”

  “Worse; far worse,” said Blinde. “They started in the early 1930s and over the years expanded to several experimentation units throughout China and Mongolia. But Harbin, known as Unit 731, was the headquarters. Walter Boring’s timing was unfortunate. The Red Cross decided to send him in at the same time the Russians invaded. It was a mess.”

  DeWitt was aghast. “Are you telling me they experimented on live people?”

  Blinde said, “All the time. Everything from germ and biological warfare to excessive-cold experiments to high-altitude experiments to small-caliber ballistics experiments. They did everything. But they couldn’t afford to have any of it become public knowledge, so they tried to burn everything when the Russians came. Walter Boring recovered partial records of what went on in these camps.”

  “Whom did they experiment on?” asked DeWitt.

  “Chinese, mostly,” said Blinde.

  “Americans, too,” said Ingram.

  “Nonsense,” said DeWitt.

  “Americans, Australians, Brits, New Zealanders,” said Ingram. Blinde nodded, “They hated B-29 crews especially. The ones they were able to shoot down. Many were sent to the camps for ‘work.’”

  The image of the headless USAAF sergeant popped into Ingram’s mind.

  “They’ll stand to justice with the rest of those butchers,” said DeWitt.

  Blinde said, “I don’t think so.”

  “What?” demanded Ingram and DeWitt.

  “A bargain was struck. A month ago. Through back channels,” said Blinde.

  “What sort of bargain?” asked DeWitt.

  Blinde drummed his fingers. “The Japs would give us all their research and data . . .”

  “In return for?” asked DeWitt.

  “In return for total amnesty and no prosecution whatsoever,” said Blinde.

  “You sick sons of bitches,” said DeWitt.

  Blinde spread his hands. “General, I’m sorry. This was not my decision. I just do what they tell me. But I am convinced that this stuff is so hot that it will not only advance our war-fighting capabilities but will also give us a huge advantage over the Soviets if we can keep it from them. That explains the desperate NKVD measure with Dezhnev and his people.”

  “He did try to kill us,” said Ingram.

  DeWitt steepled his fingers. “Manila. I was out of the room for a couple of hours. Maybe that’s when they discussed it.”

  “General, it went much higher than that. This was discussed weeks ago. Certainly not at Manila.”

  DeWitt looked up. “So that’s it?”

  “I’m afraid so,” said Blinde. “This got messy because of Mr. Boring’s condition and the Russian interference. You weren’t supposed to know any of this.”

  “Ummm,” DeWitt mused. “Okay, we still don’t know how Walter Boring died. I guess we’ll have to wait for the autopsy report.”

  “They’ll do a toxicology examination?” asked Blinde.

  “Of course.”

  “Save them the trouble.”

  “Why?”

  “He died from potassium cyanide poisoning.”

  “Holy cow,” exclaimed Ingram.

  “Did you . . . ?” asked DeWitt.

  “Yes, of course I did it,” said Blinde. “I crushed a cyanide capsule between his teeth. Death was near instantaneous, and painless. He was so far gone he would have died on his own, but I couldn’t take the risk. Those Marines were trying to help him. Giving him water and setting up an IV.”

  Ingram and DeWitt sat back, dumbfounded.

  “He was a blabbermouth,” Blinde said. “He blabbed to you, Commander. In the airplane cabin he told me that you had talked in Major Fujimoto’s bunker, that he told you what he’d seen in Harbin. Before that, he blabbed to Major Fujimoto; he blabbed to a Russian negotiator in Harbin before he was whisked off by the Japs. That’s how Captain Dezhnev and his people got wind of him. Think of it. The NKVD doesn’t just rush around the countryside for nothing. They play for keeps. They wanted Walter Boring and all the information in his possession. That was Eduard Dezhnev’s assignment.”

  DeWitt said, “Maybe it’s just as well we keep it quiet. If it ever goes public it will create a furor the world has never seen.”

  “Ummmm.”

  Ingram asked, “Do you suppose General MacArthur and Sutherland are aware of all this?”

  “Ummmm.”

  Ingram said, “Are you sure that’s not so bad, Mr. Blinde? Maybe the world should know about Unit 731.”

  “Never,” Blinde said. “At least not now. We have it, the Soviets don’t, and that’s the way it has to be. Had Boring been allowed to return to the Red Cross he would have blabbed to them. Like you, Commander Ingram, I have my instructions. We had to put a stop to that. And now, I have to know what he said to you and what you saw in that crate.”

  “You’re putting the screws on me?” demanded Ingram.

  “No, nothing like that. What I mean is—”

  “Who in the hell do you work for, Mr. Blinde?”

  After a moment, he said, “For my country.”

  Ingram barked, “No. I mean who? Army? Navy? Coast Guard? ONI? Who do you represent?”

  Blinde shrugged. “General DeWitt has a copy of my orders.”

  DeWitt said, “Like I told you, Todd. OSS.”

  “Whatever that means,” said Ingram. “I gu
ess it means he has a license to go around killing people.”

  DeWitt said, “Todd, now don’t go getting—”

  “Tell me, Mr. Blinde, where are the boxes and crate now?”

  “On their way to Alexandria, Virginia, for analysis.”

  “Okay,” said Ingram. “Mission accomplished. So what else is there?”

  Blinde sighed. “It sounds like the cat’s out of the bag as far as you’re concerned. But I need your sworn word to keep your mouths shut.”

  Ingram was tired and it took little effort for him to say, “You have mine.” He glared and added, “I want to put Major Radcliff and his crew in for DFCs. Also, I want to recommend Bronze Stars for Sergeant Harper and each of his men.”

  Blinde said, “I’m sorry. That isn’t possible.”

  “What the hell? Do you mean to tell me that—”

  DeWitt said, “I think he’s right, Todd. This stuff is too hot.”

  Ingram doubled a fist. “Look, you little backwater—”

  DeWitt barked, “Hold it, Commander. That’s enough!”

  Toliver doodled on a notepad.

  Ingram had overstepped, and he knew it. “Okay.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Blinde.

  DeWitt picked it up with, “There’s no doubt you all did an outstanding job, and you have the thanks and gratitude of General MacArthur and his staff. If there was a way, he would gladly endorse your recommendations, which would include a Silver Star and maybe even another Navy Cross for you.”

  “Otis, it wasn’t me. Those guys put their lives on the line.”

  “I know they did. And they deserve recognition. It sounds harsh, but that’s the way it has to be. I wish I could say more, but you’re done here, right, Colin?”

  “Done,” said Blinde. He looked at Ingram, “You’ll sign a security statement?”

  “I said I would,” said Ingram. He didn’t like the sound of it.

  Blinde said, “Good. And you too, Commander Toliver?”

  Toliver said, “Not on your life, cheese ball.”

  Blinde said, “But—”

  “What do you expect, Mr. Blinde?” said DeWitt. “He’s with the Office of Naval Intelligence. His rank is full commander.”

  Ingram piped up. “Yeah, congratulations, Ollie. When did that happen?”

  “Six months ago. Washington, D.C.”