Which means, of course, that he first told this to Macklin. Which means that Macklin knew McCoy had done something he wasn't supposed to do, and which Macklin should have reported to me. But if Macklin did report him, his own failure would be even more conspicuous. Sonofabitch!
"And did your lady friends tell you when all this is going to happen?"
McCoy nodded.
"By the time the next convoy goes through Sьchow, one or the other of the regiments will probably be gone," McCoy said. "Maybe on the way back, one of them will already be back, and you could count the trucks."
"If you were on the next convoy, do you suppose you could count the trucks?" Banning asked.
"Yes, sir."
"I'm going to rephrase the question," Banning said. "Being fully aware of the risks involved-which means that if the Japanese catch you, they will more than likely break every bone in your body with clubs, and then behead you-would you be willing to try to get some photographs of the trucks, of their motorpool, photographs close enough up so that the bumper markings could be read?"
"I don't have a camera, Captain."
"I'll get you a camera, McCoy," Banning said.
"Then, yes, sir," McCoy said.
The cold- blooded decision, Banning realized, was whether or not it was worth it to determine if the Japanese were motorizing one of their divisions. It would be more than embarrassing if the Japanese caught this corporal. What he'd told McCoy would happen to him if he were caught was not hyperbole.
"Take the rest of the day off, McCoy," Banning said. "I want to have another talk with Lieutenant Macklin, and I want to think about this."
"He's liable to be pissed I went over his head," McCoy said.
"Don't worry about that," Banning said. "You're assigned to S-2. You work for me."
"Thank you, sir," McCoy said.
The moment McCoy walked out of his office, Banning had further thoughts about what he had just said. There was no question in his mind that the Japanese knew his name, as well as the names of everybody who worked closely with S-2. If it came to their attention that a corporal of his was making another trip on the Tientsin-Peking run, they were liable to drag him out of a truck on general principles.
But, he realized, they'd believe they had an officer in a corporal's uniform. Japanese corporals were not dispatched on missions of espionage, and therefore they could not imagine that Americans would do it either.
He realized he had already decided to send McCoy back to Peking on the next convoy.
Very early the next morning, Banning was summoned to the colonel's office. The colonel was in a near-rage.
"Are you aware, Banning, that there was a 'Welcome Home, Killer McCoy' party at the club last night? Complete with a banner saying exactly that?"
The club was called the "Million-Dollar Club," because it had allegedly cost that much to build fourteen years earlier, before the 4th Marines had come to China. It was on Bubbling Well Road, on the way to Shanghai's elegant race track.
"No, sir," Banning said. "I was not."
"What it looks like to the Italians is that we promoted him for stabbing those people," the colonel said. "If they haven't heard about it yet, the Italians soon will. We're going to have to get that kid out of Shanghai again, and quickly."
"I'd planned to send him back to Peking with the next convoy, sir," Banning said.
"When does it go?"
"On Thursday, sir."
"Is there any way it can leave sooner, say tomorrow?"
"I'll have to check with the S-4, sir, to be absolutely sure, but offhand I can't think of any reason it can't."
"Check with him. If there's any problem, let me know."
"Aye, aye, sir."
"What about the last trip?" the colonel asked. "Anything interesting?"
"I have some fairly reliable information, sir, say seven on a scale of one to ten, that the 22nd Infantry at Sьchow is being motorized."
"That is interesting," the colonel said. "Wonder what the hell that's all about? Do they have that many trucks?"
"I'll be able to make a better guess when I have more information, sir. I'm going to try to get some photographs."
"Make sure whoever you send is a good man," the colonel said.
"Aye, aye, sir," Banning said. "I think he is."
"And get that damned Killer McCoy out of here as soon as possible. I don't want him waved like a red flag in front of the Italians."
"Aye, aye, sir."
(Three)
Headquarters, 4th Regiment, USMC
Shanghai, China
11 May 1941
When his sergeant opened the office door to tell him that Lieutenant Sessions had arrived, Captain Edward J. Banning, USMC, was looking out the window of his office at the trees just coming into bloom. He had been thinking about Milla. If it wasn't for this character Sessions he was waiting for, he could be with her in the apartment. He had forced the image of Milla in her underwear out of his mind by reminding himself that the price they were going to have to pay for the beauty of spring would be the smell that would shortly come from Shanghai's infamous sewers.
"Ask him to come in, please, Sergeant," Banning said.
He turned and hoisted himself onto the window ledge. He was high enough off the floor for his feet to dangle.
Lieutenant Edward Sessions, USMC, marched into the office. He was wearing civilian clothing, a seersucker suit and a straw hat with a stiff brim. He looked, Banning decided, like another Macklin, another handsome sonofabitch with a full head of hair and nice white teeth.
And Lieutenant Sessions was clearly a little surprised to find, on this momentous occasion, the Intelligence Staff Officer of the 4th Marines sitting with his feet dangling like a small boy rather than solemnly behind a desk.
Sessions was not only fresh off the boat from the States, but he was fresh from Headquarters, USMC, and he was on a secret mission. All of these, Banning decided, had perhaps naturally made him just a little bit impressed with his own role in the scheme of things.
Fuck him!
Captain Banning was not awed by Lieutenant Sessions (whom he now remembered having once met years ago at Quantico), nor by the fact that he was fresh from Hq, USMC, nor by his secret mission. And he believed, in fact, that the secret mission itself was a little insulting to him, personally. Not only had he been in China four years and earned, he thought, a reputation for doing his duty the way it should be done, but his own man had been the reason why this whole secret-mission business had started.
Killer McCoy not only returned undetected from his second trip by motor convoy to Peking, but he came back with six rolls of 35-mm film. The Japanese 22nd Division had then been in the process of exchanging its horse-drawn transport for three kinds of trucks-a small truck, smaller even than an American pickup truck; a Japanese copy of a Ford ton-and-a-half stake-body truck; and a larger Mitsubishi two-ton, which was capable of towing both field pieces and ammunition trailers.
Banning had had the film processed, and then sent the negatives and a set of prints by the fastest means available (via the President Wilson of U.S. Lines to Manila, where it had been loaded aboard one of Pan American Airways' Sikorsky seaplanes bound for Hawaii and San Francisco) to Headquarters, USMC.
The first response to that had been a cryptic radio message:
HQ USMC WASHINGTON DC VIA MACKAY RADIO FOR COMMANDING OFFICER 4TH MARINES SHANGHAI FOR BANNING REFERENCE PHOTOS WELL DONE STOP THE MORE THE MERRIER STOP MORE FOLLOWS COURIER STOP FORREST BRIG GEN USMC
Brigadier General Horace W. T. Forrest, Assistant Chief of Staff, Intelligence, Headquarters, USMC, was not only so pleased with Killer McCoy's photographs that he wanted more, but he was sending additional information (which he was reluctant to send via Mackay Radio) by courier.
That communication had taken nine days to arrive:
There are several possible ramifications to the Japanese motorization of divisional-strength units which should be self-evident to you. Amon
g these is the possibility that, considering the road network of China, it is the intention of the Japanese to employ these units elsewhere. It is therefore considered of the greatest importance that you continue to furnish this headquarters with the latest information available concerning actual, or projected, motorization of Japanese formations.
Additionally, intelligence gathered in this area will serve to reflect the Japanese industrial capability.
It has been learned from other sources that Germany will furnish to the Japanese an unknown quantity of so far unidentified field artillery. It is considered of the highest importance that information regarding the specific type of such German field artillery, the quantity of such artillery and ammunition stocks, and the identity of troop units to which such German artillery has been assigned be developed as soon as possible.
Lieutenant Edward Sessions has been detached from Hq, USMC to assist in the gathering of this intelligence. He will be traveling to, and within, China, bearing a passport identifying him as a missionary of the Christian Missionary Alliance. He will bring with him an encryption code, which, after the intelligence he develops concerning German artillery in Japanese hands is compiled with information you will have generated concerning Japanese motorization of tactical and logistical units, you will use to transmit refined intelligence data to this headquarters. This encryption code will be used for no other purpose, and you will continue to transmit data you generate as in the past.
You will furnish to Lieutenant Sessions such support as is within your capability. Disbursal of confidential funds in this connection is authorized. Although Lieutenant Sessions will be functioning as a staff officer of this headquarters, he will be under your orders while in China.
Why it was considered necessary for them to send an officer to China to see if any German artillery pieces were in Japanese hands was interesting. Finding out what equipment the Japanese had was something that Banning had been doing all along. So Sessions's arrival meant one of two things: Either they didn't like the way he was handling things, or Lieutenant Sessions had friends in high places, and a secret mission to China would look good on his record when the next promotion board sat.
When Lieutenant Sessions walked into the office, Captain Banning was not surprised to see on his finger the ring signifying graduation from the United States Naval Academy at Annapolis. The conclusion to be drawn was that Sessions indeed was well connected politically.
"Lieutenant Sessions, sir," Sessions said, standing to attention.
Banning pushed himself off the windowsill and offered his hand.
"We met, I think, at Quantico in 'thirty-five," he said. "Nice to see you again, Sessions. Nice voyage?"
"Yes, sir," Sessions said, "I remember meeting the captain. And the trip was first class, long, but with first-class food and service to make it bearable."
"I came out here on the Shaumont," Banning said. "And I have good reason to believe that she'll be back here just in time to take me home."
Sessions was sure there was more to that statement than was on the surface. It was a dig at him for being ordered to China on a passenger ship rather than on the Shaumont, one of the two Navy Transports (the other was the Henderson) that cruised around the world, stopping at every Naval base or port with a sizable Navy or Marine detachment from Portsmouth, New Hampshire, to Shanghai.
If I were in his shoes, Sessions thought, I would be more than a little pissed-off myself. If I were the S-2, and they sent a major to "help" do what I am supposed to, it would be insulting. And I'm a lieutenant.
"The President Madison was part of the plan, sir," Sessions said, "so that no questions would be raised if I suddenly joined the Christian Missionary Alliance people here."
"I thought it might be something like that," Banning said dryly.
"There are seven Christian Missionary Alliance missions in China," Sessions explained. "Six of them are located between here and Peking. They are regularly resupplied twice a year with both stores and personnel. That will be the cover for this operation. We will visit each of the six missions on the route. We'll drop off supplies and replacement personnel and pick up some missionaries who are due for a vacation in the United States. It is believed that I can simply blend in with the other missionaries and not attract Japanese attention."
"Well, you could pass for a missionary, I'll say that," Banning said.
"Sir, do I detect some sarcasm?"
The people in Washington who dreamed up this operation, Banning thought, have apparently spent a lot of time watching Humphrey Bogart and Robert Taylor spy movies.
"The people who dreamed up this idea, Sessions," Banning said, "left one important factor out of the equation."
"Sir?"
"With your passport and in civilian clothing, I have no doubt that the Japanese will indeed believe you are an American missionary," Banning said. "The trouble with that is that so far as the Japanese are concerned, all Americans, including missionaries, are spies."
"I don't know what to say, sir," Sessions said.
"In my judgment, Lieutenant Sessions," Banning went on, "this brilliant Washington scheme is tantamount to hanging a sign from both sides of the missionaries' trucks, 'CAUTION!!
SPIES AT WORK!' "
He gave Sessions a moment to let that sink in, and then went on.
"But you and I are Marine officers, Lieutenant," he said. "And when we are given an order, we carry it out."
"Aye, aye, sir," Sessions said, uncomfortably.
"There is one small loophole in the Japanese perception of Americans," Banning said, "that I have had some success in exploiting. The Japanese believe-and I'm not sure if this is their code of Bushido or whether they picked it up from the British-that enlisted men come from the peasant class, and therefore can be presumed to be too stupid to have anything to do with intelligence."
"I'm not sure I follow you, sir," Sessions said.
"Bear with me," Banning replied. "What I'm going to do is inform Major Akkaido, who is the Japanese liaison officer, that I have been directed by higher authority to provide an escort for the Christian Missionary Alliance vehicles. I am going to try very hard to convince Major Akkaido, as one soldier to another, that I am annoyed by this, and that, whether or not it is convenient for the missionaries, I am going to send the missionaries along with one of our regular Peking truck convoys."
"I think I'm beginning to see," Sessions said.
"The regular supply convoy consists of four Studebaker trucks and a GMC pickup that we've rigged up as sort of a half-assed wrecker. It can drag a broken-down truck, presuming it hasn't lost a wheel or broken an axle. If the motor officer can spare another Studebaker, we'll send that too, empty, to take the load if one of the other trucks breaks down."
"Presumably, there will be mechanics along?" Sessions asked.
"Each truck carries two people," Banning said, "one of whom is allegedly a mechanic. They give the trucks a pretty good going-over before they leave. But most of the difficulty we experience is with tires. There's nothing that can be done about them until they go flat or blow out. We carry spare tires and wheels, as well as an air pump, on the pickup and hope they will cover whatever trouble we have on the road."
"You're thinking the Japanese will pay less attention to the missionary vehicles and me, if we are part of a regular convoy?" Sessions asked.
"The picture I hope to paint for the Japanese," Banning said, "one I devoutly hope they buy, is that the regular, routine, no-longer-very-auspicious supply convoy is carrying with it this time a handful of missionaries and their supplies."
"I think that's a good idea," Sessions said.
"The convoy is under the command of an officer. These we rotate, both to give them a chance to see the landscape between here and Peking and to keep the Japanese from becoming suspicious of any particular man."
"I understand," Sessions said. "And whoever this officer is, you intend to make him aware of the mission?"
"No, I don't th
ink that will be necessary," Banning said. "But I will tell him what I'm now going to tell you. There will be a Corporal McCoy along on the convoy. They call him 'Killer.' And Killer McCoy works for me. And when Killer McCoy makes a suggestion about what route the convoy is to take or not to take, or what the personnel on the convoy are or are not to do, that suggestion is to be interpreted as being an order from me."
" 'Killer' McCoy? Why do they call him 'Killer'?"
"They call him 'Killer,' " Banning said, matter-of-factly, "because four Italian marines attacked him. He killed two of them with a Baby Fairbairn."
"Excuse me? With a what?"
"There's a rather interesting Englishman, Captain Bruce Fairbairn, on the Shanghai Municipal Police," Banning explained. "He knows more about hand-to-hand combat, ju-jitsu, and the other martial disciplines than anybody else. He invented a knife, a long, narrow, sharp-as-a-razor dagger- which incidentally General Butler tried to get the Corps to buy and issue. Anyway, there is a smaller, more concealable version. The big knife is called the 'Fairbairn,' and the smaller one the 'Baby Fairbairn.' "
"And your noncom killed two people with it?"
"Two Italian marines," Banning said.
"And there was no court-martial?" Sessions asked. Banning shook his head no. "He knifed two people to death, and that's it?"
"It was self-defense," Banning said. "There were witnesses, two plainclothes Chinese policemen. That was the end of it. The Italians are still-this happened right after the New Year- pretty upset about it. And McCoy is something of a celebrity among the troops. Including the Japanese, who admire that sort of thing. The Japanese don't know that he works for me, of course. Only a few people do. On paper, he's assigned to the motor pool."
"I can hardly wait to meet this man," Sessions said.
"I think, Lieutenant Sessions, that you will find Corporal McCoy very interesting, and perhaps even educational," Banning said. "He speaks Chinese and Japanese, and even reads a little bit of it. And he's been making this run twice a month for six months. He's a good man. He uncovered the whole motorization business; and he took the photographs I presume you've seen."
The Corps I - Semper Fi Page 5