"Is that what you're going to tell Secretary Knox?"
"I'm going to tell him what Vandegrift thinks."
"Which is?"
"That unless he gets reinforced, and unless they can somehow keep the Japs from reinforcing, we're going to get pushed back into the sea."
"Jesus."
Captain Sessions unlocked the door, removed the key, and then handed it to Banning. After that, he pushed open the door and motioned him to go in.
"I realize that this isn't what you're accustomed to, but I understand roughing it once in a while is good for the soul."
"I just hope there's hot water," Banning said, and then, suddenly formal: "Good evening, Sir."
"Hello, Banning, how are you?" a slight, pale-skinned man in an ill-fitting suit said. He was Colonel F. L. Rickabee, of the Office of Management Analysis.
Rickabee was standing in a corridor that led to a large sitting room furnished with what looked like museum-quality antiques. Rickabee waved him toward it. Banning saw a Navy captain and wondered who he was.
"Gentlemen," Rickabee announced, "Major Edward F. Banning."
Banning nodded at the Navy captain. A stocky man in a superbly tailored blue pin-stripe suit walked up, removing his pince-nez as he did, and offered his hand.
"I'm Frank Knox, Major. How do you do?"
"Mr. Secretary."
"Do you know Captain Haughton, my assistant?" Knox asked.
No. But I've seen the name enough. "By Direction of the Secretary of the Navy. David Haughton, Captain, USN, Administrative Assistant. "
"No, Sir."
"How are you, Major?" Haughton said. "I'm glad to finally meet you."
"My name is Fowler, Major," another superbly tailored older man said. "Welcome home."
"Senator," Banning said. "How do you do, Sir?"
"Right now, not very well, and from what Fleming Pickering said on the phone, what you have to tell us isn't going to make us feel any better."
"Major, you look like you could use a drink," Frank Knox said. "What'll you have?"
"No, thank you, Sir."
"Don't argue with me, I'm the Secretary of the Navy."
"Then scotch, Sir, a weak one."
"Make him a stiff scotch, Rickabee," Knox ordered, "while your captain loads the projector."
"Yes, Sir, Mr. Secretary," Colonel Rickabee said, smiling.
"Sir, I had hoped to have a little time to organize my thoughts," Banning said.
"Fleming Pickering told me I should tell you to deliver the same briefing you gave him in Hawaii," Senator Fowler said. "And I thought the best place to do that would be here, rather than in Mr. Knox's office or mine."
Banning looked uncomfortable.
"You're worried about classified material?" Captain Haughton asked. "Specifically, about MAGIC?"
"Yes, Sir."
Haughton looked significantly at Secretary Knox, very obviously putting the question to him.
"Senator Fowler does not have a MAGIC clearance," Knox said. "That's so the President and I can look any senator in the eye and tell him that no senator has a MAGIC clearance. But I can't think of a secret this country has I wouldn't trust Senator Fowler with. Do you take my meaning, Major?"
"Yes, Sir."
Rickabee handed Banning a drink.
Banning set it down and took the photographs and the two cans of 16mm film from his bag. He handed the film cans to Sessions and the envelope of photographs to Secretary Knox.
"We brought these with us when we left Guadalcanal. The photographer handed them to Major Dillon literally at the last minute, as we were preparing to take off."
"My God!" Frank Knox said after examining the first two photographs. "This is Henderson Field?"
"Yes, Sir."
"It looks like no-man's-land in France in 1917."
"General Vandegrift believes the fire came from fourteen-inch Naval cannon. Battleships, Sir."
"I saw the After-Action Report," Knox said. It was not a reprimand.
Banning took a sip of his drink. He looked across the room to where Sessions was threading the motion picture film into a projector. A screen on a tripod was already in place.
"Anytime you're ready, Sir," Sessions reported.
"OK, Major," Frank Knox said. "Let's have it."
"Just one or two questions, Major, if I may," Frank Knox said after Banning's briefing was finished.
"Yes, Sir."
"You're pretty sure of these Japanese unit designations, I gather? And the identities of the Jap commanders?"
"Yes, Sir."
"They conform to what we've been getting from the MAGIC people in Hawaii. But there is a difference between your analyses of Japanese intercepts and theirs. Subtle sometimes, but significant, I think. Why is that?"
"Sir, I don't think two analysts ever completely agree...."
"Just who are your analysts?"
"Primarily two, Sir. Both junior officers, but rather unusual junior officers. One of them is a Korean-American from Hawaii. He holds a Ph.D. in Mathematics from MIT, and was first involved as a cryptographer-a code-breaker, not an analyst. He placed... a different interpretation... on certain intercepts than did Hawaii; and more often than not, time proved him correct. So he was made an analyst. The second spent most of his life in Japan. His parents are missionaries. He speaks the language as well as he speaks English, and studied at the University of Tokyo. You understand, Sir, the importance of understanding the Japanese culture, the Japanese mind-set..."
"Yes, yes," Knox said impatiently. "So your position is that the Hawaiian analysts are wrong more often than not, and your two are right more often than not?"
"No, Sir. There's rarely a disagreement. The relationship between Hon-"
"What?"
"The Korean-American, Sir. His name is Hon. His relationship with Hawaii-and Lieutenant Moore's-is not at all competitive. When they see things differently, they talk about it, not argue."
"I wonder if we can make that contagious," Senator Fowler said. "From what I hear, most of our people in the Pacific don't even talk to each other."
"I wanted to get that straight before we go across the street," Knox said.
"Sir?" Banning asked.
"We're going across the street?" Senator Fowler asked.
"Don't you think we should?" Knox replied.
"Yes, as a matter of fact, I think we should. Can we?"
What the hell are they talking about, "going across the street"? Banning wondered. The only thing across the street from here is another hotel, an office building, and the White House.
"There's one way to find out," Knox said. He walked to one of the two telephones on the coffee table and dialed a number from memory.
"Alice, this is Frank Knox. May I speak to him, please?" There was a brief pause, and then Knox continued. "Sorry to disturb you at this hour, but there is something I think you should see, and hear. And now."
Who the hell is Alice? Who the hell is "him"?
Frank Knox put the telephone in its cradle and turned to face them.
"Gentlemen, the President will receive us in fifteen minutes," he said. "Us meaning the Senator, Major Banning, and me. Plus someone to set up and run the projector."
"Sessions," Colonel Rickabee said.
"Aye, aye, Sir," Captain Sessions said.
"Thank you very much, Major... Banning, is it?" Franklin Delano Roosevelt said.
"Yes, Sir."
"... Major Banning. That was very edifying. Or should I say alarming? In any event, thank you very much. I think that will be all... unless you have any questions for the Major, Admiral Leahy?"
"I have no questions, Sir," Admiral Leahy said.
"Frank, I'd like to see you for a moment," the President said.
"With your permission, Mr. President?" Senator Fowler said.
"Richardson, thank you for coming," Roosevelt said, flashing him a dazzling smile and dismissing him.
"Captain, you can just leave the projector
and the screen," Knox ordered. "Would you like to have the film and photographs, Mr. President?"
"I don't think I have to look at it again," Roosevelt said. "I certainly don't want to. Admiral?"
Leahy shook his head, no.
Sessions took the film from the projector. Banning collected the photographs and put them back into their envelope. A very large black steward in a white jacket opened the door to the upstairs corridor and held it while Banning and Sessions passed through.
Roosevelt waited to speak until the steward was himself out of the room and the door was closed behind him.
"Well, question one," he said. "Are things as bad as Major Banning paints them?"
"It's not only the Major," Admiral Leahy said. "This came in as I was leaving my office."
He handed the President a sheet of Teletype paper.
"What is that?" Knox asked.
"A radio from Admiral Ghormley to Admiral Nimitz," Admiral Leahy said.
"I'm the Secretary of the Navy, Admiral. You can tell me what Admiral Ghormley said," Knox said, smiling, but with a perceptible sharpness in his tone.
Roosevelt looked up from the paper in his hands, and his eyes took in the two of them.
"Admiral Ghormley has learned of a Japanese aircraft carrier, and its supporting vessels, off the Santa Cruz Islands," Roosevelt said, and then dropped his eyes again to the paper. "He says, 'This appears to be all-out enemy effort against Guadalcanal. My forces totally inadequate to meet situation. Urgently request all aviation reinforcements possible.' End quote."
"That's a little redundant, isn't it?" Knox asked. 'Totally inadequate'? Is there such a thing as 'partially inadequate'?"
"I think the Admiral made his point, Frank," the President said. "Which brings us to question two, what do we do about it?"
"I'm confident, Mr. President, and I'm sure Secretary Knox agrees with me, that Admiral Nimitz is doing everything that can be done."
"And General MacArthur?" the President asked.
"And General MacArthur," Admiral Leahy said. "The loss of Guadalcanal would be catastrophic for him. The rest of New Guinea would certainly fall, and then quite possibly Australia. MacArthur knows that."
"There is always something else that can be done," Roosevelt said. "Isn't there?"
"Not by the people on Guadalcanal," Knox said. "They are doing all they can do."
"You're suggesting Nimitz can do more?" Admiral Leahy said.
"Nimitz and MacArthur," Knox said.
"For the President to suggest that... to order it... would suggest he has less than full confidence in them," Leahy said.
"Yes," Roosevelt said, thoughtfully.
"I don't agree with that," Knox said. "Not a whit of it. Mr. President, you're the Commander-in-Chief."
"I know. And I also know that the first principle of good leadership is to give your subordinates their mission, and then get out of their way."
"I'm talking about guidance, Mr. President, not an order. I myself am always pleased to know what you want of me...."
Roosevelt looked at the two of them again.
"Admiral, you're right. I can't afford to lose the good will of either Admiral Nimitz or General MacArthur; but on the other hand, the country cannot afford to lose Guadalcanal."
He spun around in his wheelchair and picked up a telephone from a chair-side table.
"Who's this?" he asked, surprised and annoyed when a strange voice answered. "Good God, is it after midnight already? Well, would you bring your pad in please, Sergeant?"
He hung up and turned back to Knox and Leahy.
"Alice has gone home. There's an Army sergeant on standby."
There was a discreet knock at an interior door, and without waiting for permission, a scholarly-looking master sergeant carrying a stenographer's pad came in.
"Yes, Mr. President?
"I want you to take a note to the Joint Chiefs of Staff," the President said. "I want it delivered tonight."
"Yes, Mr. President."
"And make an extra copy, and have that delivered to Senator Richardson Fowler. Across the street. At his hotel. Have him awakened if necessary."
"Yes, Mr. President."
The President looked at Admiral Leahy and Secretary Knox.
"I don't think Richardson liked being sent home," he said, smiling wickedly. "Maybe this will make it up to him." He turned back to the Army stenographer. "Ready, Sergeant?"
"Yes, Mr. President."
Ten minutes before, room service delivered hamburgers and two wine coolers full of iced beer.
After Banning wolfed his down, he was embarrassed to see that no one else was so ravenous. Captain Haughton, he saw, had hardly touched his.
"There's another under the cover," Senator Fowler said. "I ordered it for you. I didn't think you'd have a hell of a lot to eat on the way from San Francisco."
"I'm a little embarrassed," Banning said, but lifted the silver cover and took the extra hamburger.
"Don't be silly," Fowler said.
There was a rap at the door.
"Come in," Senator Fowler called. "It's unlocked."
The door opened. A neatly dressed man in his early thirties stepped inside.
"Senator Fowler?"
"Right."
"I'm from the White House, Senator. I have a Presidential document for you."
"Let's have it," the Senator said.
"Sir, may I see some identification?"
"Christ!" Fowler said, but went to the chair where he had tossed his suit jacket and came up with an identification card.
"Thank you, Sir," the man said, and handed him a large manila envelope.
"Do I have to sign for it?"
"That won't be necessary, Sir," the courier said, nodded, and walked out.
Fowler ripped open the envelope, took out a single sheet of paper, read it, and grunted. Then he handed it to Captain Haughton, who was holding an almost untouched glass of beer.
"Pass it around when you're through," Fowler said.
THE WHITE HOUSE
Washington, D.C.
17 October 1942
To The Joint Chiefs of Staff:
My anxiety about the Southwest Pacific is to make sure that every possible weapon gets into that area to hold Guadalcanal.
Franklin D. Roosevelt
"I don't know what this means," Banning said, a little thickly, when he'd read it and passed it to Sessions.
"It means that if either Nimitz or MacArthur is holding anything back for their own agendas, if they are smart, they will now send it to Guadalcanal," Fowler said.
Banning grunted.
"Major, if you were God, what would you send to Guadalcanal?"
"Everything," Banning said.
"In what priority?"
"I don't really know," Banning said. "I suppose the most important thing would be to keep the Japanese from building up their forces on the island. And I suppose that means reinforcing the Cactus Air Force."
"I think they can do that," Fowler said. "God, I hope they can."
He poured a little more beer in his glass, then smiled. "Another question?"
"Yes, Sir?"
"What was Jake Dillon doing on that hush-hush mission Pickering set up?"
"I don't think I understand the question, Sir."
"I've known Jake a long time," Fowler said. "Don't misunderstand me. I like him. But Jake is a press agent. A two-fisted drinker. And one hell of a ladies' man. But I'm having trouble picturing him doing anything serious."
"I think you underestimate him, Senator," Banning said, aware that Fowler's question angered him. "That mission wouldn't have gone off as well as it did, if it hadn't been for Dillon. Perhaps it wouldn't have gone off at all."
"Really?" Captain Haughton asked, surprised.
"Yes, Sir," Banning said.
"You want to explain that?" Fowler asked.
How the hell did I get involved in this?
THE CORPS VI - CLOSE COMBAT Page 14