“About what?”
“You know very well what I mean,” she said.
She moved her hand to his stirring erection and felt it stiffen to her touch.
“I don’t know,” he said, and blushing again, which pleased her very much, he added: “I could get dressed and go look for a chemist’s.”
“We don’t know if chemists even sell them,” she said.
“That’s right.”
“There is one thing I could do,” she said. “But I’m afraid you’d think I was terrible.”
“I would never think that.”
“Oh, you’re just saying that. You probably already think I’m really terrible.”
“No.”
“Close your eyes, then,” she ordered.
He closed his eyes.
A moment later, she said, “Open them.”
He opened them.
“Did you like that?”
“Oh, yes.”
“You want to watch me do it?”
“Yes.”
After a moment she stopped.
“Some women like to do that,” she said. “I love it.”
“I love it when you do it.”
“And some men like to do it to women.”
“Do they?”
“Do you want to do it to me?”
“Do you want me to?”
“Oh, yes, Baby.”
“Then, OK.”
“Close your eyes again.”
He felt her shifting around on the bed.
What the hell, guys are always talking about it. It probably won’t kill me.
(Two)
THE OFFICE OF THE SECRETARY OF THE NAVY
WASHINGTON, D.C.
1605 HOURS 15 AUGUST 1942
Captain David Haughton, USN, signed the receipt for the Top SECRET Eyes Only SecNav radio, smiled at the messenger, said “Thank you,” and waited until the messenger had left before lifting the cover sheet and reading the document.
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, frowning and shaking his head.
Then he stood up, went to the door to the Secretary’s office, opened it, and stood there until the Secretary of the Navy sensed his presence and raised his eyes to him.
“Something important, David?”
“Guadalcanal has been heard from, Mr. Secretary.”
“Do you mean Pickering’s received the ‘come home, all is more or less forgiven’ radio? Or something else?”
Haughton handed him the Eyes Only.
Knox’s face tightened as he read it. He looked up at Haughton.
“What is this, David, do you think? A blatant defiance of the radio? Who the hell does he think he is? ‘The undersigned has temporarily assumed duties of First Marine Division G-2.’ By what authority?”
“Sir, I don’t know. But I would be inclined to give Captain Pickering the benefit of the doubt. The second paragraph caught my eye.”
Knox read the Eyes Only again.
“Good Christ, do think he’s trying to tell us that Goettge or one of the other officers had a MAGIC clearance?”
“Mr. Secretary, he didn’t say ‘Killed in Action,’ he said ‘lost in combat.’ That suggests the possibility that they may have been captured. If you go with that line of reasoning, paragraph two makes some sense.”
“How quickly can you find out if any of these people had access to MAGIC?”
“They’re not on the list I’m familiar with. Maybe Naval Intelligence has added some others—cryptographers—that sort of thing. And I think, Sir, that we may have to consider the possibility that Captain Pickering brought Colonel Goettge, officially or otherwise, in on it.”
It was a moment before Knox replied.
“That’s one of your ‘worst possible scenarios,’ David, right?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Well, I thank you for it. I appreciate why you had to bring that up. I am unable to believe that he would do that. He knows what’s at stake.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Find out from Naval Intelligence ... you had better check with the Army, too, while you’re at it. And in person. Stay off the phone. See if any of these names ring a bell.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Let me know the minute you find out, one way or the other.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“I just thought of another worst possible case scenario, David,” Knox said. “Pickering gets himself captured.”
“I think we have to consider that possibility, Sir.”
“Send an urgent radio to Admiral Nimitz. Tell him to get Pickering off Guadalcanal now. I don’t care if he has to send a PT boat for him. I want him off of Guadalcanal as soon as possible.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Sir,” Captain David Haughton, USN, reported to the Secretary of the Navy not quite two hours later, “I think I’ve come up with something.”
“Let’s have it. I’m due at the White House in fifteen minutes.”
“Neither Colonel Goettge nor Captain Ringer was cleared for MAGIC. And it is my opinion, and that of the Chief of Naval Intelligence, Sir, that it is unlikely that either of them ever heard more than the name.”
“Unless, of course, Pickering talked too much to Goettge.”
“I think we can discount that, too, Sir. Colonel Goettge visited Captain Pickering in Australia. While he was there, he apparently picked up on the word. MAGIC, I mean. He sent a back channel communication to General Forrest—the Marine Corps G-2—”
“I know who he is,” Knox said impatiently.
“Yes, Sir. He said that he had heard the word MAGIC and wanted to know what it was. He and General Forrest are old friends, Sir.”
“I know how it works. Get on with it.”
“Forrest is MAGIC cleared. He replied to Goettge that he had never heard of MAGIC, and then reported the message to the Chief of Naval Intelligence.”
“What you’re suggesting is that if Pickering had told Goettge, there would have been no back channel message to General Forrest?”
“Yes, Sir.”
Knox considered that a moment.
“OK,” he said finally. “But what the hell was Pickering driving at? If, indeed, he was suggesting anything at all?”
“Lieutenant Cory, Sir, was a civilian employee of Naval Communications Intelligence, here in Washington.”
“So I am going to have to tell the President that MAGIC has been compromised?”
“I don’t think so, Sir. What’s happened, Sir, I think, is that if anything Naval Intelligence erred on the side of caution to preserve the integrity of MAGIC.”
“I don’t understand a thing you just said.”
“Lieutenant Cory did not have a MAGIC clearance.”
“Thank God!”
“But the crypto people, the intelligence people, the intelligence community, I guess is what I’m trying to say, being the way they are, it occurred to somebody that he might have heard the name at least, and possibly had guessed what it was all about.”
“So?”
“So a special radio was sent to General Vandergrift directing him to make sure that Lieutenant Cory did not fall into enemy hands.”
“How was he supposed to do that?” Knox asked.
“I didn’t get into that, Sir.”
“Well, he didn’t, did he? Cory may well indeed be a prisoner of the Japanese?”
“I think we have to consider that possibility, Sir.”
Knox snorted.
“You’re suggesting that Vandergrift told Pickering about the message vis-à-vis Cory? And that’s what Pickering was driving at?”
“Yes, Sir, that’s what I think.”
“This is not enough to take to the President,” Knox decided aloud. “But I want Nimitz radioed tonight, Dave, telling him to get Pickering off Guadalcanal.”
“I took care of that, Sir,” Haughton said, and handed him an onion skin.
URGENT
WASHINGTON DC 1710 15AUG42
SECRET
TO: CINCPAC PEARL HARBOR TH
FOR THE PERSONAL, IMMEDIATE ATTENTION OF ADMIRAL
NIMITZ
INASMUCH AS THE PRESENCE OF CAPTAIN FLEMING PICKERING USNR, PRESENTLY ATTACHED TO HEADQUARTERS 1ST MARINE DIVISION, IS URGENTLY REQUIRED IN WASHINGTON, THE SECRETARY OF THE NAVY DIRECTS THAT EXTRAORDINARY EFFORT CONSISTENT WITH CAPTAIN PICKERING PERSONAL SAFETY BE MADE TO WITHDRAW THIS OFFICER FROM GUADALCANAL BY AIR OR SEA, AND THAT HE BE ADVISED OF PROGRESS MADE IN COMPLIANCE WITH THIS ORDER.
DAVID HAUGHTON, CAPT USN, ADMIN ASST TO SECNAV
(Three)
TEMPORARY BUILDING T-2032
THE MALL
WASHINGTON, D.C.
1750 HOURS 15 AUGUST 1942
Lieutenant Colonel F.L. Rickabee, USMC, was in his shirt-sleeves, his tie was pulled down, and he was visibly feeling the heat and humidity, when Brigadier General Horace W. T. Forrest, Assistant Chief of Staff, Intelligence, Headquarters, USMC, walked into his office.
“Good evening, Sir,” he said, standing up. “I hope the General will pardon my appearance, Sir.”
“Don’t be silly, Rickabee,” Forrest said. “Christ, I hate Washington in the summer.”
“I don’t put any modifiers on the basic sentiment, Sir,” Rickabee said dryly.
Forrest looked at him and chuckled.
“There’s ice tea, Sir, and lemonade, and I wouldn’t be at all surprised if someone defied my strict orders and hid a bottle of spirits or two in one of these filing cabinets.”
“I’d like a beer, if that’s possible.”
“Aye, aye, Sir,” Rickabee said. “Excuse me.”
He went through a wooden door and came back in a moment with two bottles of beer and a glass.
“Keep the glass, thank you,” General Forrest said. He raised the beer bottle.
“Frank Goettge,” he said and took a pull.
“Frank Goettge,” Rickabee parroted and took a sip. “Was there any special reason for that, Sir?”
“Frank’s dead. Or at least missing and presumed dead.”
“Jesus Christ! What happened, Sir?”
“I don’t know. I know only that. I got it from the Commandant thirty minutes ago. He got it from the Secretary of the Navy. There have been no after-action reports, casualty reports, anything else. I can only presume that Frank Knox got it directly from that commissioned civilian he sent over there ... what’s his name?”
“Pickering, Sir.”
“... as his personal snoop. Pickering is on Guadalcanal. Did you know that?”
“No, Sir. I did not.”
“The Secretary of the Navy has directed the Commandant to replace Colonel Goettge immediately with a suitably qualified officer. Don’t waste our time suggesting yourself. You’re cleared for MAGIC. You can’t go.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“What about Major Ed Banning? He was S-2 of the Fourth Marines. He could handle it, and he’s in Australia.”
“Banning’s cleared for MAGIC, too, Sir.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Captain Pickering had him added to the list.”
“Damn that man!”
“I don’t think the Secretary would want us to send Banning in any event, Sir. He sent him over there.”
“That’s right, isn’t it? I’d forgotten.”
“Sir, isn’t there someone in the First Division who could take over?”
“I asked the same question. Do you know Captain Ringer, Bill Ringer?”
“Yes. That’s right. He’s there, too, isn’t he? S-2 of the 5th.”
“He’s dead, or missing, too. And a Lieutenant named Cory. You know Cory?”
“He was a civilian here. Navy communications. He was commissioned only a couple of months ago.”
“Knox’s aide—Haughton. He’s not his aide. What do they call him?”
“Administrative Assistant, Sir.”
“Haughton was all exercised that Cory might have had access to MAGIC.”
“Did he?”
“No. What I would really like to know is what the hell went on over there to take out the Division Two, the 5th Marines Two, and a Japanese linguist all at once. The last after-action report I saw didn’t show a hell of a lot going on over there.”
“And the Commandant didn’t know?”
“You mean did he know and wouldn’t say? I don’t think he knew a thing more than he told me. We were talking about Major Banning.”
“Banning is out, Sir.”
“Yes, of course,” Forrest said. “I must be getting senile. Suggestions, Rickabee?”
“We have a man in Brisbane. His name is Dailey. Lieutenant Colonel. Ex-aviator. He was in Berlin before the war as an assistant Naval attache.”
“What’s he doing in Brisbane?”
“He’s liaison officer between MacArthur and Nimitz.”
“How do you know about him?” Forrest asked, and when Rickabee hesitated, snapped, “Come on. I’ve got to get back to the Commandant tonight with a name.”
“Sir, I sort of stashed him over there.”
“Stashed?”
“As a replacement, Sir, a supernumerary, in place. In case anything happened to Ed Banning. Or some other people. He has gone through the FBI background check.”
“MAGIC?”
“No, Sir. I would be surprised if he ever heard the term. But, if it came to that, I would feel easy about clearing him for access to MAGIC.”
“Could he handle being a division two?”
“I think so, Sir. He wouldn’t be a Frank Goettge ...”
“You just lost your supernumerary, Rickabee. Now, what about a regimental two to replace Captain Ringer?”
“Sir, I have no idea what to do about that.”
“Don’t try to tell me you don’t have any linguists you can spare.”
“I don’t have any linguists I can spare, General,” Rickabee said. “Wait a minute ...”
“Well?”
“I found a kid at Parris Island. He was supposed to go to Quantico for a commission. But Banning wanted a linguist, so we put sergeant’s stripes on him and sent him to Australia.”
“He’s a linguist?”
“Yes, Sir. Fluent Japanese. Reads and writes.”
“How critically does Banning need a linguist?”
“I’m sure he would say he needs one desperately, Sir.”
“I’m asking you.”
“I think if Banning doesn’t have this kid, General, and needs a linguist, he will either do it himself or he’ll find someone in Australia. Secretary Knox sent Pickering’s secretary over there, now that I think about it. She’s a Japanese-language linguist. She’s cleared for MAGIC, too.”
“I presume the sergeant has had no access to MAGIC?”
“I’m sure he hasn’t, Sir.”
“I want his name and serial number, and the supernumerary’s name and serial number. You have them, I presume?”
“Yes, Sir. Sir, the order to appoint a liaison officer between CINCPAC and MacArthur came from the Secretary. He might not like having him reassigned.”
“Let him make that decision. I’ll make a note of what this officer is doing on the buck slip I give to the Commandant. Is there someone around here who can type it up for me? It would save me a trip to Eighth and ‘I.’ ”
“Yes, Sir. That’ll be no problem.”
(Four)
HEADQUARTERS, FIRST MARINE DIVISION
GUADALCANAL, SOLOMON ISLANDS
17 AUGUST 1942
Both Major General Alexander Archer Vandergrift, the division commander, and Captain Fleming Pickering, USNR (acting) Division G-2, went down to the beach when the destroyers appeared on the horizon.
Vandergrift was wearing sweat-streaked, soiled khakis and a steel helmet; and he was armed with a .45 Colt automatic pistol suspended from a web pistol belt. Pickering was wearing utilities, a utility cap, and carried a Springfield rifle in the crook of his arm.
The
re were four destroyers.
“They’re older than most of the boys, Fleming, do you realize that?” Vandergrift said to Pickering.
“I thought they looked familiar,” Pickering said. “I remember seeing them.”
“In France?”
“No. They had some tied up in Washington state. And somewhere on the East Coast. Virginia. I remember thinking that it was a stupid idea, they’d never get them ready for sea again after tying them up for twenty years. I’m glad to see I was wrong.”
Vandergrift snorted.
The destroyers came in in a line. The first in line slowed; water was churning at its stern as the engines were put in reverse.
One, and then another, and finally a line of landing craft from the Lunga Boat Pool headed away from the beach toward the destroyers.
Pickering handed a pair of binoculars to General Vandergrift.
The General examined them before he put them to his eyes.
“Leitz 8 × 50s,” he said. “Why do I suspect these aren’t issue?”
“My father gave those to me when I got my first officer’s license. They don’t wear out. I thought they might come in useful.”
Vandergrift took the binoculars from his eyes and handed them back to Pickering.
“If the Japanese know about those destroyers, they’re in trouble,” he said.
Pickering looked through them at the landing craft. Each carried a half dozen Marines, most of them wearing only their undershirts. They were a work party, men taken from their units to function as stevedores.
During the planning process for this operation, the Marines had asked for sailors to manhandle supplies; but the Navy had refused. That question, he thought, would have to be resolved before the next Marine amphibious landing.
As they handed the binoculars back and forth, Pickering and Vandergrift watched sailors on the deck of the nearest destroyer unlashing 55-gallon barrels and then manhandling them to the rail. Life boat davits had been jury-rigged to lower the barrels into the landing craft.
Five minutes later, the first landing barge started for the beach.
“There’s an officer standing next to the coxswain,” Vandergrift said, handing the binoculars back to Pickering.
Battleground Page 45
