W E B Griffin - Corp 03 - Counterattack

by Counterattack(Lit)

  "I've got a VIP flight back and forth to New River in the morning, Sir. Miss Pond and some other people. Oh, excuse me, Sir. General Mclnerney, this is Miss Pond and Mrs. McNamara."

  So it is her. Of course! Now I know who that major is! Jake Dillon, the ex-Hollywood press agent. I met him when Colonel Whatsisnames parachute didn't open.

  "I thought I recognized you, Miss Pond. And of course, you too, Mrs. McNamara. I'm very pleased to meet you."

  "You recognized me?" Mrs. Caroline Ward McNamara asked, surprised. "Have we met?"

  "Well, aren't you an actress, too? Or should I say `the ac-tress'?"

  "No," Caroline McNamara said, laughing throatily. "But thank you. I love your mistake. I'm just a friend of Charley's." She patted Charley's hand fondly, possessively.

  Mclnerney saw on her hand several thousand dollars' worth of rubies set in gold.

  Galloway didn't meet this woman in the staff NCO mess at Quantico.

  "Well, I just wanted to say hello," Mclnerney said. "It's nice to meet you."

  He walked back to his table and sat down.

  Less than a minute later, Galloway and the two women got up and left the lounge. Mclnerney followed them. They walked across the lobby and got into an elevator.

  This is really none of my business, Mclnerney decided, only to amend that decision a moment later: Fuck it! Watching out for the welfare of his Marines is always an officer's responsibility.

  He went to the desk and inquired whether Miss Monique Pond was registered in the Willard. The desk clerk took a mo-ment to decide that a man in the uniform of a brigadier general of the United States Marine Corps was probably not a fan intent on bothering a movie star.

  "I believe that Miss Pond is part of the party staying with Mr. Dillon, Sir."

  "You mean Major Dillon? And the rest of the party being the other Marine and the other lady?"

  "Yes, Sir. They're in the Abraham Lincoln suite."

  "Thank you," Mclnerney said, and walked to the house phones and asked the operator to connect him with the Abra-ham Lincoln suite.

  "Hello?"

  "Major Dillon, please."

  "This is Jake Dillon."

  "Major, this is General Mclnerney. I'm in the lobby, and I'd like a moment of your time."

  There was a perceptible pause before Dillon asked, "Would you like to come up, General?"

  "I think it would better if you came down. I'll wait for you in the bar. The one on the second floor."

  "I'll be right there, Sir."

  A waiter did not appear to serve General Mclnerney until after Major Dillon walked in the room. Then one appeared al-most immediately, carrying on a tray a drink Mclnerney knew

  Dillon hadn't had time to order.

  "They do that," Dillon said. "They know what I like. Should I just let it sit there?"

  He had used neither of the words "Sir" nor "General," Mcln-erney noticed.

  "This is not official," Mclnerney said. "Bring me a Jack Dan-iel's and water, please."

  Dillon pushed his glass across the table to him.

  "Please," he said. "Help yourself."

  "I'll wait."

  "Please take it. I'm trying to be ingratiating."

  "Why would you want to do that?"

  "Because I think this has to do with Charley Galloway, not with me. He told me you'd come up to him in here."

  "It has to do with both of you," Mclnerney said.

  "What's the problem, General?"

  "I don't know if there is one. I am curious what one of my sergeants is doing in here, sharing an expensive suite with a movie star, a field-grade officer, and a woman with rubies on her hand worth more money than he makes in a year."

  "She's good for him. I wouldn't be surprised if she's in love with him. She keeps him on the straight and narrow."

  "What about the field-grade officer?" Mclnerney said.

  "I thought that's what this was about," Dillon said. "I didn't just come into the Corps, General. I just came back in the Corps. I know all about not crossing the line between officers and en-listed men."

  "Then why are you crossing it?"

  "You did say, General, that this conversation isn't official?"

  "Not yet. I'm trying to keep Charley Galloway out of trouble. You too, if that can be arranged."

  "Well, if there's going to be trouble about this, dump it on me. I invited Charley here, and when he said that might cause trouble, I told him we'd be careful, and that if something-like this-happened, I'd take the rap."

  "What's your interest in Galloway?"

  "I like him. We're pals."

  "He's a sergeant and you're an officer,"

  "I'm not really a major, I'm a flack wearing a Marine uni-form."

  "A what?"

  "A press agent. My contribution to the war effort is getting people like Monique Pond to go to New River so she can flash her boobs at the cameramen and get the Marine Corps in the newsreels. Charley, on the other hand, is one hell of a Marine. He told me about flying the Wildcat out to the carrier off Pearl Harbor. But instead of commanding a fighter squadron, the Corps has him flying a bunch of brass hats and feather mer-chants around in a VIP transport airplane. So what we have here is an officer who should be an enlisted man, and a sergeant who should be an officer. So we hang around together. My idea, not his."

  "What you're doing, both of you," General Mclnerney said, "is important."

  Why did I say that? I don't believe it.

  "General, I told Charley I would take the heat if something like this came up. I really would be grateful if you let me do that."

  "Major Dillon," General Mclnerney said, after a long mo-ment during which a few connections went click in his mind, "I really have no idea what you're talking about. The reason I asked to have a word with you, when I saw you come in here alone, was that I know you are in charge of the public-relations activities marking the bringing of the 1st Marine Division to wartime strength at New River tomorrow. I want to know if there is anything, anything at all, that Marine Corps Aviation can do to insure that the ceremonies are a rousing public-relations success."

  Dillon's eyebrows rose thoughtfully.

  "I can't think of a thing, Sir," he said.

  "And to make sure there is absolutely no problem at all flying the VIPs back and forth to New River, I wanted to tell you that I have personally assigned one of our finest enlisted pilots, Tech-nical Sergeant Galloway, to the mission. If he has not reported to you yet, I am sure he will do so momentarily. I remind you that, as an officer, you are responsible for seeing that the Ser-geant is properly quartered and rationed. If there are questions regarding how and where, in the necessarily extraordinary cir-cumstances, you elect to do that, refer whoever raises them to me."

  "Aye, aye, Sir."

  "That will be all, Major Dillon. Thank you."

  "Yes, Sir."

  Dillon stood up and started to leave. He had taken three steps when Mclnerney called his name.

  "Yes, Sir?"

  "Just between a couple of old Marines, Dillon, I don't like flying my goddamned desk, either."

  (Two)

  The Commandant's House

  United States Marine Corps Barracks

  Eighth and "I" Streets, S.E.

  Washington, D.C.

  2230 Hours 9 May 1942

  A glistening black 1939 Packard 180 automobile pulled into the driveway and stopped before the Victorian mansion. Mounted above its front and rear bumpers it had the three silver stars on a red plate identifying the occupant as a lieutenant gen-eral of the United States Marine Corps.

  The driver, a lean, impeccably turned-out Marine staff ser-geant, got quickly out from behind the wheel, but he was not quick enough to open the rear door before Thomas Holcomb, the first Marine ever promoted to lieutenant general, opened it himself. The Commandant was home.

  "Early tomorrow, Chet," General Holcomb said to his driver. "Five o'clock."

  "Aye, aye, Sir."

  The general's seni
or aide-de-camp, a very thin lieutenant colo-nel, slid across the seat and got out.

  "Goodnight, Chet," General Holcomb said.

  "Goodnight, Sir."

  "I don't see any need for you to come in, Bob," General Hol-comb said to his aide. "I'm for bed."

  The porch lights came on. General Holcomb's orderlies had seen the headlights.

  "General," the aide said, "I took the liberty of telling Captain Steward to be prepared to brief you on the Coral Sea battle. He's probably inside, Sir."

  "OK," Holcomb said wearily. He was tired. It had been a long day, ending with a long and tiring automobile ride back to Washington from Norfolk, where there had been an interservice conference at Fortress Monroe. Whatever had happened in the Coral Sea had already happened; he didn't have to learn all the details tonight. But young Captain Steward had apparently worked long and hard preparing the briefing, and it would not do right now to tell him it wasn't considered important.

  Besides, I'll have to take the briefing sooner or later anyway, why not now and get it over with?

  The Commandant raised his eyes to the porch, intending to order, as cheerfully as he could manage, that the orderly put on the coffeepot. There was someone on the porch he didn't ex-pect to see, and really would rather not have seen.

  "Hello, Doc," he called to Brigadier General D. G. Mclnerney. "Did I send for you?"

  "No, Sir. I took the chance that you might have a minute to spare for me."

  Good God, a long day of the problems of Navy Ordnance and the Army's Coast Artillery Corps is enough. And here comes Ma-rine Aviation wanting something!

  "Sure. Come on in the house. I was about to order up some coffee, but now that you're here, I expect Tommy had better break out the bourbon."

  "Coffee would be fine, Sir."

  "Don't be noble, Doc. God hates a hypocrite."

  "A little bourbon would go down very nicely, Sir."

  "I'm about to be briefed on a battle in the Coral Sea. You fa-miliar with it?"

  "Only that we lost the Lexington, Sir."

  "Yeah. Well, you can sit in on the briefing," Holcomb said. He led the small procession into the house, handed his uniform cap to an orderly, and then went into the parlor.

  "Good evening, Sir," Captain Steward said. Holcomb saw that Steward had come with all the trappings: an easel, covered now with a sheet of oilcloth bearing the Marine Corps insignia; a large round leather map case containing a detailed map; and a dozen folders covered with top secret cover sheets-proba-bly the immediate, radioed after-action reports themselves.

  "Hello, Stew," he said. "Sorry to keep you up this late. You know General Mclnerney."

  "Yes, Sir. Good evening, General."

  "Is there anything in there General Mclnerney is not sup-posed to hear?"

  "No, Sir. General Mclnerney is on the Albatross list."

  The Albatross list was a short list of those officers who were privy to the fact that the Navy codebreakers at Pearl had broken several of the most important Japanese naval codes.

  That's a pretty short list, General Holcomb remembered now, a goddamned short list, and for very good reason. If the Japanese don't find out we're reading their mail, it's hard to overestimate the importance of the broken codes. But the more people who know a secret, the greater the risk it won't stay a secret long.

  "How is that, Doc?" Holcomb asked evenly. "Why are you cleared for Albatross?"

  "General Forrest brought me in on that, Sir."

  The Commandant considered that for a moment, and decided to give Brigadier General Horace W. T. Forrest, Assistant Chief of Staff for Intelligence, the benefit of the doubt.

  If Forrest told Doc, he must have had his reasons.

  The Commandant turned to one of the orderlies. "Coffee ready?"

  "Yes, Sir."

  "Well, bring it in, please. And a bottle of bourbon. And then see that we're not disturbed."

  "Aye, aye, Sir."

  "While we're waiting, Stew, why don't you pass around those after-actions. That's what they are, right?"

  "Yes, Sir."

  Captain Steward divided the half-dozen documents with the TOP SECRET cover sheets between Generals Holcomb and Mcln-erney. Before they had a chance to read more than a few lines, the orderly pushed in a cart with a coffee service, a bottle of bourbon, glasses, and a silver ice bucket. It had obviously been set up beforehand.

  "Tommy must have been a Boy Scout," Holcomb said.

  "He's always prepared. We'll take care of ourselves, Tommy. Thank you."

  The orderly left the room, closing the sliding doors from out-side.

  Holcomb closed his folder.

  "Let's have it, Stew. I can probably get by without reading all that." "Yes, Sir."

  Captain Steward went to the easel and raised the oilskin cover. Beneath it was a simple map of the Coral Sea area. A slim strip of northern Australia was visible, as was the southern tip of New Guinea. Above New Guinea lay the southern tip of New Ireland and all of New Britain. Rabaul, which was situated at the north-ern tip of New Britain, was prominently labeled; it had fallen to the Japanese and was being rapidly built up as a major port for them.

  To the east were the Solomon Islands. The major ones were labeled: Bougainville was the most northerly; then they went south through Choiseul, New Georgia, Santa Isabel, Tulagi, Guadalcanal, Florida, and Malaita, to San Cristobal, the most southerly.

  "Keep it simple, Stew, but start at the beginning," the Com-mandant ordered.

  "Aye, aye, Sir," Captain Steward said. "In late April, Sir, we learned, from Albatross intercepts, details of Japanese plans to take Midway Island, and from there to threaten Hawaii, with the ultimate ambition of taking Hawaii, which would both deny us that forward port and logistic facility and permit them to threaten the West Coast of the United States and the Aleutian Islands.

  "Secondly, they planned to invest Port Moresby, on the tip of Eastern New Guinea. From Port Moresby they could threaten the Australian continent and extend their area of influ-ence into the Solomon Islands. If they succeed in this intention, land-based aircraft in the Solomons could effectively interdict our supply lines to Australia and New Zealand."

  I've heard all this before, and I'm tired. But I'm not going to jump on this hardworking kid because I'm grouchy when I'm tired.

  "Via Albatross intercepts we learned that there would be two Japanese naval forces. Vice-Admiral Takeo Takagi sailed from the Japanese naval base at Truk in command of the carrier striking force, the carriers Zuikaku and Shokaku, which represented a total of 125 aircraft, and its screening force.

  "The second Japanese force, under the overall command of Vice-Admiral Shigeyoshi Inouye, and sailing from their base at Rabaul on New Britain, included the carrier Shoho and several cruisers, transports, and oilers.

  "On 3 May, elements of this second force, which had appar-ently sailed from Rabaul several days earlier, landed on Tulagi, a small island here in the Solomons"-Steward pointed with what looked like an orchestra leader's baton-"approximately equidistant between the three larger islands of Santa Isabel, Malaita, and Guadalcanal. They immediately began to construct a seaplane base.

  "Based on the Albatross intercepts, Admiral Nimitz ordered Task Force 17, with Admiral Fletcher flying his flag aboard the carrier Yorktown, into the area. At the same time, Admiral Nim-itz ordered Task Force 11, with Admiral Fitch flying his flag aboard the carrier Lexington, and Task Force 44, a mixed force of U.S. and Australian cruisers, under Admiral Crace, to join up with Task Force 11.

  "Admiral Fletcher ordered a strike on the Japanese invasion force on Tulagi, which was carried out at 0630 hours 6 May. The after-action reports on the success of that attack, which are in the folder marked `Tulagi,' have had to be revised."

  "What the hell does that mean?" the Commandant asked sharply.

  "Sir, there are Australian Coastwatchers on Tulagi. Their ra-dioed reports of the damage inflicted differed from that of the personnel involved in the attack. Admiral Nimitz feel
s that inas-much as the Coastwatchers are on Tulagi, theirs are the more credible reports."

  "In other words," the Commandant said angrily, "the flyboys let their imaginations run wild again, but the Coastwatchers pro-duced the facts."

  "Yes, Sir," Captain Steward said uncomfortably.

  "Nothing personal, Doc," the Commandant said.