“Admiral, Chief McGuire,” Major Dillon answered for him, “was Errol Flynn’s relief captain of choice when he had to leave his yacht someplace.”
“Really? You’re a real sailor then, Chief?” the Admiral said. “I’ve seen pictures of that yacht. A sloop, as I recall?”
Chief McGuire looked at him without the faintest spark of comprehension.
“How many masts?” Admiral Wagam pursued.
“Two, I think,” McGuire said after a moment’s thought. “No, three. Two in front and one in back. Errol had people who took care of that. I steered and handled the engine.”
“Well, let me say, Chief,” Admiral Wagam said, “that I think the Navy is fortunate to have someone like you.” He immediately regretted saying it. There was a strange look in McGuire’s eyes, as if he had finally realized they were making fun of him.
I don’t want him to think that, although we were all guilty of it.
“Both Major Dillon and Mr. Oblensky have told me, Chief,” Admiral Wagam went on seriously, “that the Sunfish wouldn’t be going to sea tomorrow had it not been for your solving the fuel-transfer problems on the Catalina.”
“I’ve never seen anybody better at welding aluminum,” Big Steve chimed in.
Admiral Wagam was genuinely pleased to see the hurt look disappear from McGuire’s eyes. “So actually, Chief,” he went on. “You’re the reason we can have this party tonight. You’ve given me genuine cause to celebrate.”
“Sir?” McGuire asked.
“Whenever a problem that CINCPAC asks me about twice a day is solved, I feel justified in celebrating.”
“Chief,” Commander Houser heard himself say, “if you want to come with us when we go into the Yellow Sea, we’ll be glad to have you aboard.”
I’ll be damned, he thought, I actually mean that.
“So ordered,” Admiral Wagam said. “Chambers, you’ll see he gets some Momsen lung training?”
“Aye, aye, sir,” Lieutenant Lewis said.
“And this is my contribution, Chief,” Commander Kocharski said, picking up her purse and coming out with two six-inch-tall medicine bottles, one filled with small yellow pills, the other with small white pills.
“What is this stuff?” McGuire asked, taking the bottles, which bore “US NAVAL HOSPITAL Pearl Harbor” prescription labels with his name on them.
“They affect the inner ear,” Commander Kocharski said very seriously. “Take one of each before boarding the Sunfish, one of each every six hours thereafter, and one—or two, if you think it necessary—the moment you start to feel a little queasy.”
“Well, gee, Flo, thank you,” McGuire said, visibly touched. “But it’s really not necessary. I’m not going to get seasick. I have no problem with boats. It’s airplanes that get me.”
“Really?” Admiral Wagam asked.
“All I have to do is look at one of the sonsofbitches, Admiral,” Chief McGuire explained. “And I start getting sick.”
“You take those with you, Chief,” Commander Kocharski said. “That’s an order.”
“Okay, Flo,” Chief McGuire replied. “Whatever you say.”
None of the officers present, all but one of whom were career officers of the Naval Service, felt it necessary to point out to Chief McGuire that the correct response to an order was either “Aye, aye, sir” or “Aye, aye, ma’am.”
[TWO]
Kiangpeh, Chungking, China
0915 11 April 1943
“Who’s there?” Brigadier General Fleming Pickering called in answer to a knock at the door.
“Bell Telephone,” Brigadier General H. A. Albright replied, as he pushed the door open.
He had a battered, French-style telephone in one hand, a leather-cased U.S. Army EE-8 field telephone in the other, and a second EE-8 was hanging around his neck on its strap.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Dazzling my telephone sergeant,” Albright said. “He can now spread the word that the General actually knows how to hook up a field phone, and hasn’t forgotten how to strap on climbers and go up a pole.”
“You really climbed a pole?”
“Three of them,” Albright said. “The one inside your wall, the one just outside your wall, and the one down the street. If the line in here is tapped, they’re doing it someplace else. It may not be tapped at all, but I would not regard this magnificent instrument as anything close to a secure telephone line.”
He held up the ancient French-style telephone.
“I didn’t know generals did this sort of thing,” Pickering said.
“Basic rule of leadership, General,” Albright said, smiling. “Have your subordinates convinced that you can do anything you tell them to do at least as well as they can.”
Pickering sensed that Albright was perfectly serious.
“The second rule of leadership,” Albright went on, “is to start out as a prick and get nice later.”
Pickering laughed. “My first sergeant told me that when I made corporal in France,” he said.
“When I get these hooked up,” Albright said, dropping to his knees by the wall, “the magnificent instrument will connect you to the Chungking telephone service. There’s an extension downstairs and another in Banning’s room. One of the EE-8s—on the case of which I wrote the number one—is tied into the USMMCHI switchboard. Your number is 606, which I also wrote on the case. The other EE-8—marked number two—is connected to the OSS house switchboard. I put one of these in Banning’s room, and there’s another downstairs.”
“Hugh, what’s the rule of leadership if a commander comes to believe a subordinate knows more about what he’s doing than he does?”
Albright sensed that Pickering was asking the question seriously, and turned from the wall, still holding a telephone wire in needle-nose pliers. “Banning?”
“Oh, no. It’s a given that Banning knows more than I do about the intelligence business. I was thinking of Platt.”
“Is there a specific problem?”
“I’ve spent most of the last two days reading Platt’s after-action reports, and taking a look at his ongoing operations.”
“And?”
“He obviously not only knows what he’s doing, but is a fine commander as well.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“Banning doesn’t like him. McCoy doesn’t like him. And neither do I.”
“Then get rid of him,” Albright said simply.
“I also think he’s wrong—which makes McCoy right—about how to get the weather station into the Gobi, even if it means we don’t make a real effort to find the Marines—and other escapees—out there.”
Albright grunted.
“I’m just not sure whether that is a judgment based on the facts, or because I don’t like him—and whether I don’t like him because Banning and McCoy don’t.”
Albright cocked his head to one side and nodded, but didn’t speak.
“This is the third operation like this I’ve run,” Pickering said. “The first time, I sent McCoy onto Buka Island, to make sure a Coastwatcher station stayed on the air, and to take a couple of Marines who were there—in very bad shape—out. The second time, I sent McCoy into the Philippines to establish contact with our guerrillas there.”
“And you pulled those operations off, as I recall,” Albright said.
“In neither case was there someone around who knew more than I did about how to do what had to be done. Or to tell me I was wrong. In this case, I know very little about China, and Platt knows a hell of a lot.”
“When do you have to make up your mind?”
“Soon. McCoy and Zimmerman went to Yümen to try to arrange to travel with one of the convoys the Chinese send out with supplies for their patrols in the desert. When they come back—”
“If you go along with Platt, what are you going to do about the meteorologists and their equipment?”
“The equipment, other equipment, could be sent from the States,” Pick
ering said. “And I suppose we could also recruit some more meteorologists.” He paused thoughtfully. “And I wonder if my ego isn’t somehow involved. Bill Donovan would love to be able to report to the President that when I saw the situation here, I came to the conclusion that his people were better able to do this than I was.”
“I have one comment to make,” Albright said, “and pay attention, because it’s the only comment I am going to make.”
“Okay,” Pickering said.
“Whatever you decide, you’ll decide as a soldier—excuse me, a Marine—because you think it’s the right thing to do, not because of your ego, or because you don’t like Platt, or some other personal reason.”
“You don’t think—”
“You weren’t paying attention, General. I said one comment, and you have had it.”
“Okay, Hugh,” Pickering said. “Thank you.”
“For what?” Albright said, and turned back to the wall.
A moment later, he reached for one of the EE-8 field telephones and cranked the folding handle of the small generator on its side. “Unless someone has already stolen my brand-new wire, this should work,” he said. And then, his voice changing, “Ring niner zero one, please.”
“It works?” Pickering asked.
“So far,” Albright said, and then spoke into the telephone: “General Albright, Lieutenant,” he said. “Checking your boss’s new telephone. How do we sound to you?” He paused, listening for a moment. “In that case, you better have somebody bring it over. He’s here with me.”
He cranked the generator again, said, “Break it down, please,” and then turned to Pickering. “You have mail,” he said. “You may be sorry you spent so much effort to get the Special Channel up and running.”
Second Lieutenant George F. Hart announced the arrival of Master Gunner Harry Rutterman twenty minutes later, five minutes after General Albright had left. Rutterman had a World War I-vintage Winchester pump-action Model 97 12-gauge trench gun cradled in his arm like a bird hunter.
“Where’d you get the trench gun, Harry?” Pickering asked.
“Captain McCoy got it for me, sir,” Rutterman said, as he took a sealed envelope from an inside pocket and handed it to Pickering.
Probably from the same Chinese who sold him the ambulance and the truck, Pickering thought.
“Stick around a minute, Harry, ’til I see what this says.”
“Aye, aye, sir. There’s two of them, sir,” Rutterman said.
* * *
TOPSECRET
FROM ACTING STACHIEF OSS HAWAII
1005 GREENWICH 10 APRIL 1943
VIA SPECIAL CHANNEL
DUPLICATION FORBIDDEN
TO BRIGGEN FLEMING PICKERING USMCR
OSS DEPUTY DIRECTOR FOR PACIFIC
OPERATIONS
THRU: US MILITARY MISSION TO CHINA
CHUNGKING
SUBJECT: PROGRESS REPORT NO. 2
1. RENDEZVOUS AND REFUELING DRY RUN USING SUNFISH AND TWO PBY-5A AIRCRAFT SUCCESSFULLY COMPLETED 0900 LOCAL TIME THIS DATE.
2. SUNFISH WILL DEPART PEARL HARBOR 0600 LOCAL TIME 11 APR 43. LT C. D. LEWIS AND CHIEF MCGUIRE WILL BE ABOARD.
3. BOTH PILOTS-IN-COMMAND OF DRY RUN PBY
5A AIRCRAFT HAVE VOLUNTEERED TO FLY MISSION, AND VOLUNTEER PILOTS FROM MAINLAND WILL ARRIVE HERE WITHIN TWENTY FOUR HOURS AFTER UNEXPLAINED DELAY IN TRANSIT.
4. FIRST TWO PBY-5A AIRCRAFT ARE PREPARED TO COMMENCE MISSION ON THREE (3) HOURS NOTICE, AND CAN PROBABLY DO SO IN LESS TIME.
5. CONVERSION OF TWO BACKUP PBY-5A AIRCRAFT AT EWA WILL BE COMPLETED WITHIN SEVENTY-TWO (72) HOURS.
6. INASMUCH AS UNDERSIGNED CAN MAKE NO FURTHER CONTRIBUTION TO PREPARATION OF MISSION HERE, AND BELIEVE MY SKILLS WILL BE USEFUL DURING REFUELING OPERATION, UNDERSIGNED WILL BE ABOARD FIRST FLIGHT.
RESPECTFULLY SUBMITTED
HOMER C. DILLON
MAJOR, USMCR
TOPSECRET
* * *
“Goddamn him!” Brigadier General Pickering said.
“Sir?” Rutterman asked.
“Send Major Dillon a Special Channel, Rutterman,” Pickering said. “Quote. Not only no, but hell no.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” Rutterman smiled. “I saw the Major wants in on this. I was thinking I’d sort of like to go myself.”
“Then you’re as crazy as Dillon,” Pickering said. “Belay the ‘hell no,’ Harry. Send him…” He paused to frame his thoughts. “…send him: ‘In absence of Lieutenant Lewis, your liaison function between—’”
“I think I’d better write that down, General,” Rutterman interrupted him. He took a notebook and a pencil from his pocket. “Go ahead, sir.”
“In the absence of Lieutenant Lewis, your liaison function between CINCPAC and the widely scattered elements of this mission is critical to success of mission, and cannot be performed by someone else,” Pickering dictated. “And therefore your request, while deeply appreciated, to accompany the flight element is denied.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And add, Harry, ‘in other words, Jake, not only no, but hell no.’”
Rutterman chuckled. “Aye, aye, sir.”
Pickering turned to the second Special Channel message.
* * *
TOPSECRET
OFFICE OF THE DIRECTOR
OFFICE OF STRATEGIC SERVICES WASHINGTON
VIA SPECIAL CHANNEL
DUPLICATION FORBIDDEN
0905 GREENWICH 10 APRIL 1943
USMILMISSION TO CHINA CHUNGKING
EYES ONLY BRIGGEN FLEMING PICKERING
USMCR
BEGIN PERSONAL MESSAGE FROM DIROSS TO
OSSDEPDIR PACIFIC OPERATIONS
DEAR FLEMING:
IT SHOULD GO WITHOUT SAYING THAT EVERYONE CONCERNED IS DELIGHTED THAT THE POTENTIAL SECURITY PROBLEM WAS NIPPED IN THE BUD BEFORE ANY REAL DAMAGE TRANSPIRED, AND THAT EVERYONE APPRECIATES YOUR CONTRIBUTION.
IT SHOULD ALSO GO WITHOUT SAYING THAT I HAVE NO INTENTION WHATEVER OF SECOND GUESSING YOU ON THE EXECUTION OF OPERATION GOBI AND THAT YOU ENJOY THE COMPLETE CONFIDENCE OF ADMIRAL LEAHY, GENERAL MARSHALL AND MYSELF TO CARRY IT OFF SUCCESSFULLY.
HOWEVER, GENERAL MARSHALL AND I SEE IN THE OPPLAN SUBMITTED BY LTCOL PLATT SOME VERY INTERESTING POSSIBILITIES FOR THE EXECUTION OF OPERATION GOBI IN CASE THE PICKERING OPPLAN PROVES TO BE ULTIMATELY UNFEASIBLE OR FAILS. GENERAL MARSHALL AND ADMIRAL LEAHY ARE BOTH CONCERNED WITH THE GREAT POTENTIAL FOR DISASTER THAT AN AIRCRAFT/SUBMARINE RENDEZVOUS ON THE HIGH SEAS AT THIS TIME OF YEAR POSES.
THEREFORE TAKING INTO CONSIDERATION THE NECESSITY TO GET THE WEATHER STATION UP AND RUNNING AS SOON AS POSSIBLE, GENERAL MARSHALL SUGGESTS AND I AGREE THAT YOU CONSIDER PROCEEDING WITH THE PLATT OPPLAN AS A BACKUP OPERATION TO THE ONE YOU PRESENTLY PLAN.
TO THAT END, THE FOLLOWING STEPS HAVE BEEN TAKEN:
(1) TWO COMPLETE SETS OF METEOROLOGICAL EQUIPMENT ARE BEING ACQUIRED AND WILL BE PRIORITY AIRLIFTED TO CHUNGKING AS SOON AS AVAILABLE. THEY SHOULD BE AVAILABLE TO YOU IN CHUNGKING WITHIN THREE WEEKS.
(2) AN URGENT CALL FOR VOLUNTEER METEOROLOGISTS HAS BEEN DISTRIBUTED WITHIN THE NAVY AND ARMY AIR CORPS. ADDITIONALLY, JCS HAS DIRECTED THE ADJUTANT GENERAL AND BUPERS TO IMMEDIATELY PREPARE A LIST OF FULLY QUALIFIED METEOROLOGISTS, FROM WHICH, IN THE EVENT THERE ARE INSUFFICIENT VOLUNTEERS WITHIN THE NEXT SEVEN DAYS, TWO TEAMS OF FULLY QUALIFIED METEOROLOGISTS WILL BE SELECTED AND AIRLIFTED TO CHUNGKING IN TIME TO COINCIDE WITH THE ARRIVAL OF THE METEOROLOGICAL EQUIPMENT.
(3) GENERAL STILLWELL IS BEING REQUESTED IN A PERSONAL FROM GENERAL MARSHALL TO PROVIDE WHATEVER TROOP AND LOGISTICAL SUPPORT YOU CONSIDER NECESSARY.
WITH BEST PERSONAL REGARDS,
BILL
END PERSONAL MESSAGE FROM DIROSS TO
OSSDEPDIR PACIFIC OPERATIONS
TOPSECRET
* * *
“In a pig’s ass,” Brigadier General Fleming Pickering said furiously.
“Sir?” Rutterman asked.
“You decrypt this, Harry?”
“Yes,
sir.”
“Then you read what Donovan said about ‘having no intention whatever of second-guessing’ me?”
“If I may speak freely, General, in a pig’s ass he doesn’t,” Rutterman said.
“I’ll tell you what he did do,” Pickering said. “He made up my mind for me.”
“Sir?”
“George, pick up the field phone—the one with number one painted on it. It’s connected to the USMMCHI switchboard. Present my compliments to General Stillwell and ask him when he can find time to see me.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” Hart said and went to the telephones—which were still sitting on the floor—and cranked the one marked “#1.”
“General Stillwell’s office, please,” he said when the operator answered, and then a moment later surprise—maybe shock—became visible on his face. He went on: “General, I’m Lieutenant Hart, aide-de-camp to General Pickering. Sir, the General presents his compliments…” He stopped, said, “One moment, sir,” and extended the telephone to Pickering.
“General Stillwell, sir,” Hart said.
Pickering went quickly to the telephone.
“Good morning, sir.”
“I don’t know about your aide, Pickering, but mine has more important things to do than make manners on the telephone.”
“So does George, sir,” Pickering blurted. “I was trying to play the game by the rules, General.”
Stillwell snorted.
“Every time you play the game by the rules, somebody changes the rules,” Stillwell said. “I’m surprised you haven’t learned that. What’s on your mind, Pickering?”
“Sir, could you spare me a few minutes? It’s important.”
“As a matter of fact, I was about to try to find you. I just got a personal about you I don’t like much. You want to come right now?”
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