When he had finished, Brand said, “I’m sorry, but I have to go back to my cell and do some more work or the commander will have me put in leg irons again.” Again, the smile came out.
The commander shook his head, let out a hearty laugh and said, “James, go back and look up your newest theory, then prove it.”
Brand turned to the commander saying, “Yes sir, I’ll go back and figure out how we can get five pounds of shit in a one-pound bag. Never a problem for a navy man, sir.” With that, he returned to his office.
The commander still smiling turned to the new team members saying, “That, gentleman, is James Brand, an ensign in the United States Navy. He also holds a doctorate degree in physics and advanced degrees in mathematics. I could tell you even more about him but let us leave it at this. You are assigned to make sure that wherever Mr. Brand is sent, no harm comes to him from any source. Do you understand?”
Again, in unison came the reply, “Aye, aye sir.”
“Now, I will let Lieutenant Flannigan and the gunny get you settled. Please feel free to ask any questions about the mission.” With that final comment, Jameson walked out of the large living area, leaving the team alone.
“Listen up,” said Jones. “I have a schedule set up. Sergeant Laird will give you your assignments. He will show you where you will bunk and stow your gear. There is a gun locker on both doors and one upstairs. Laird will show you around, so you know what is where, so to speak. Meals are excellent at this house prepared by our two housekeepers whom you will meet later. As to duty schedules, we will always have two men up and available using standard four-hour watches. When we move out to other locations, we will change up depending on the situation.”
Jones looked around and saw serious faces staring back at him. “Any questions for now?”
Chief Petty Officer Schmidt spoke up. “Gunny, where will I set up my equipment? I have a truckload coming with a permanent installation and some portable radios.”
The gunny responded, “No problem, Chief. We have a room ready for your installation. Plus, and all of you listen up, we have two storage areas that will be set up for grab and go movements. This equipment will include the chief’s radios, the doc’s medical bag, and the usual rations and ammo. Laird will show you where everything is located and will get any extra equipment that you don’t have now. If there is something special you require, let me know. Any other questions?”
No one answered, and so he said, “Laird show them around. Chief, you are with me.”
The new marines and the navy corpsman followed Sergeant Laird and began to tour the house.
As the others left the room, the gunny turned to the chief saying, “Chief, I don’t know if we ever served together, but you look familiar.”
The chief smiled and said, “I think you and I met on the Augusta back in ’33 or ’34. I was in the radio shack, and if I remember, you were a sergeant guarding the captain.”
The gunny smiled, nodding his head up and down, “Yes, I think I remember that. Damn fine ship and some good people on board. The captain was a fine man and that was a happy ship.”
The gunny looked around the room to see if anyone had left gear behind and said, “Chief, you and I are going to be bunk mates on this cruise. I think you’ll find the accommodations much to your liking with our own bath and lots of space. It looks like we’re going to have a good crew on this assignment with only experienced people. No damn rookies to train.”
The chief agreed. “Right on, Gunny, glad to have old hands on this mission. Tell me, though, are we going to be moving about a lot? I will be getting several radios including a portable shortwave radio with a bike generator. That sounds serious to me. Do you know where we are going?”
The gunny looked at his new bunkmate and replied, “I haven’t a clue as to where we are going or even when. I understand that soon we’ll be going to bases on the east coast but that is as far as I’ve been told. The admiral told us we would be kept back from any front-line activity, but I know young Mr. Brand pretty well now, and he wants to get up close and personal to do his work.”
The chief asked, “So what is this work or research he’s doing that’s so damn important it takes a squad to protect him?”
The gunny smiled and in a low voice responded, “Hell if I know. No one is telling us much of anything and the only person who seems to know what is going on is the commander. He is a scientist as well and one smart cookie. He’s very open with us, but when it comes to the ensign, he clams up real fast.”
The chief, in the manner of senior non-coms in all the services, replied, “Well, if they expect us to know something, I guess they’ll tell us, right, Gunny?”
The gunny smiled at his navy counterpart and began showing the chief their new home.
Part 3
15
17 February 1942
Langley Army Air Corps Base
Virginia
• Seabees (1st Construction Battalion) arrive at Bora Bora, Society Islands
The team had been given their orders the day before and left for the Washington National Airport at dawn. They were told to go to the military control desk inside the terminal where they were to be taken to a plane. They did not know a navy R4D, the navy version of the C-47, was waiting for them. The plane was not stripped-down but a recently acquired regular DC-3 passenger plane that was supposed to be sold to Eastern Airlines. The navy had other ideas, and this plane was used to fly senior staff around the country in relative comfort. The pilot was forty-year-old Navy Reserve Lt. Comdr. Walter Shoemaker, who until recently was flying for American Airlines but now was flying VIPs around the country. As he told Commander Jameson, he did the exact same job but now for a lot less money. The co-pilot was young navy Lt. (jg) Arnold Miller who had wanted to fly Wildcats, but was trained on multi-engine aircraft and ended up on the R4D. Again, not what he wanted to do, but he did it well.
As soon as the team was onboard, the plane was first for takeoff. It was a quick hour to Langley. During the flight, the young ensign entered the cockpit. He watched the pilots, but said nothing, observing the instruments instead. He was especially interested in the altitude the plane was flying which was only six thousand feet. He made some notes and after a while went back to his seat. Both the pilot and co-pilot said nothing as they were used to people wanting to see what happened up front.
Only two of the senior non-coms and the chief had flown before. The remaining team members were newbies to the art of flying. It was an exciting experience but somewhat unnerving to people familiar with the sea and land below their feet but not the air above their heads. They were happy to return to solid ground at Langley.
The R4D finished its rollout, and as it slowed onto one of the taxiways, a staff car arrived with a big checkerboard flag and sign with the words “Follow Me” in large letters. It turned onto the adjacent taxiway and the plane duly followed. The car stopped in front of a hanger partially occupied by two B-25 Mitchell bombers. A groundsman waved the plane to a stop and the pilot killed the two engines. As the passengers began collecting their belongings one of them looked out and exclaimed, “Looks like we have a reception committee.”
As the airplane door opened, another groundsman rolled up a small ladder. On the tarmac, two staff cars pulled up with two small trucks. The passengers in the first car got out and approached the plane, standing in a reception line like there was an admiral aboard.
Seeing the fanfare, Commander Jameson spoke to the team, “Listen up. Seems we have a reception committee and it appears to be a full bird colonel and some other officers, so look sharp. Flannigan, you are with me followed by Brand. Gunny, get everyone else set up and in line.”
The answer from the gunny was immediate. “Aye, aye Commander.” Turning to the others in the plane he said, “You heard what the commander said. Look like marines and remember, the Air Corps are our friends.” Smiles went up, and everyone readied to depart the plane as instructed.
The com
mander walked toward the reception committee with Flannigan and Brand a pace behind. Approaching the colonel, he snapped to attention with a smart salute, mimicked by the two officers behind him. The colonel proceeded to give a smart salute back, an uncommon response in the Air Corps.
Jameson, staying at attention, said in a strong voice, “Commander Jameson and Special Research Detachment reporting as directed.”
The colonel replied, “Commander, at ease and welcome to Langley. My name is Colonel Waters and these two gentlemen are Lieutenant Colonel Adams and Major Karnes. They are the squadron commander and executive officer of the 312th Bomber Squadron supporting the Eastern Sea Frontier.”
Each of the officers acknowledged the other with quick nods. The commander said, “This is First Lieutenant Flannigan and Ensign Brand. The rest of the team consists of a detachment of marines and two naval personnel. Thank you for meeting us. I look forward to working with you and hopefully we will not cause you any problems.”
The colonel looked at the commander who was probably five to seven years older and noticed none of them had navy wings, so he was looking at surface navy sailors. But that was not his concern. He decided to go ahead and ask the question that had been burning in his mind for the past forty-eight hours since he received a phone call from Washington.
“Commander, again, welcome to Langley. We are prepared to assist you in any way possible. I received a phone call from General Arnold who told me I was to do whatever you desired and to report to him directly if there was any reason that I could not comply with your request. I have so informed the colonel and the major of this conversation, and we stand by to assist you. If you could help us understand the nature of the mission, perhaps we could be of better assistance. General Arnold told me that you might be able to provide me with some specifics.” As he was saying this, he noticed several of the marines had gotten off the plane. About half of them were armed with Thompson submachine guns which he had only seen in the movies, so his interest spiked even more.
The commander noticed the concern as he looked at the contingent of armed marines and quickly helped resolve the colonel’s dilemma.
“Colonel, I am sorry to say I can only provide a few details on our mission. The high level of security is part of this mission, and I hope it does not cause you or your men too much concern. Perhaps if we could adjourn to a less public location, I could provide you with some mission details.”
The colonel agreed, and he asked the major if his office in the hanger was available. The officers walked over to the small office next to a B-25 which was missing its propellers and had the engine cowlings removed. Three of the armed marines followed the officers. Upon entering the small office, the marine gunnery sergeant asked, “Commander, shall we secure the perimeter?”
“Yes, Gunny, but don’t scare any of these young men who are doing their jobs.” The gunny smiled and closed the door.
“Colonel, thank you again for assisting us in our mission. I am sure that General Arnold is aware of the reason for this mission and your part in it.” The commander looked at the colonel, and he saw a nod, so he continued.
“As you gentlemen are very aware, the Germans are sinking ships off our coast at an alarming rate. You are on the front lines, and your bombers are about the only offensive weapon we have along the entire east coast. There are some old B-18s up in New York, another squadron of B-25s working out of Boston and some navy PBYs ranging up from Florida.” Brand was looking at the B-25, noticing the work on the engines. He was paying attention to what Commander Jameson said, but was always observant of his surroundings.
“Admiral Andrews who oversees the Eastern Sea Frontier has some one hundred aircraft and a few sub chasers, Coast Guard cutters and smaller patrol craft to safeguard some twelve hundred miles of coastline. Until we get more planes and ships to support this effort, more ships will be sunk and more men will die.” He let this somber information sink in even though they had seen some of the carnage from the air but never one submarine sighting.
“Our mission is to better understand how you are operating and to come up with ways to improve not only your capabilities but those of all the other sea and air units on the coast.”
The commander looked at Lieutenant Colonel Adams as he spoke, watching for his reaction. The only response was a somber face staring back at him, but the young Major Karnes wanted to defend his boss.
“Major,” Jameson said, “I am not saying anyone in this command is not doing their job. We are looking for ways to kill the enemy and safeguard the ships plying our coast. Is this understood?”
The major looked at Adams first and then at Colonel Waters to see if he was in trouble, then he replied, “Yes, Commander. We are very frustrated doing this job. We all wanted to go and kill some Japs or at least bomb some Germans in France. Doing this job, which we were never trained for and looking at empty seas each day is, well, sir, damn frustrating. Sorry, sir, I did not mean . . .”
Commander Jameson saw the distress in the young major and knew what he said was more than right. It was an indictment on the entire war effort to date. No training, no resources, not enough people, no strategy, no nothing but lots of paperwork and brass hats who did not have a clue as to what was going on or how to defend against this menace.
Two days before, Jameson had a phone conversation with Admiral Andrews set up by Admiral King. Both admirals had been classmates at Annapolis and “Dolly,” his nickname, had bristled when he was told to talk to a mere commander about what was happening in his command. It took only a few minutes for Andrews to realize the commander was the man of science and the academy man which King had assured him was true. This calmed down the admiral who was being second-guessed by everyone from FDR down. The commander’s calm assessment of what they were looking at and how they would come up with recommendations based on science, mathematics, and logic instead of politics assured the admiral of the correctness of this mission. He sent top secret messages to all his commands instructing them in no uncertain terms that Commander Jameson and his team were to receive total access and openness.
Jameson sympathized with the young Air Corps major, “Major, I know how you feel. There are lots of men in every branch of the service that want to get at the enemy. You are on the front lines without a lot of support doing a job that few have been trained to do. You are all excellent flyers and you want to kill a U-boat. We do too, and by working with you perhaps we can come up with some new strategies, tactics, and weapons to sink those sons of bitches. We are not here to tell you how to do your job. We are here to learn about your mission, understand your flight profiles, search patterns, attack plans, and weapons. By analyzing what everyone is doing, perhaps we can build a model of what we call best practices and share these among all navy and Air Corps units. How does that sound?”
The major sought visual support from his superior officers and replied, “Sounds like a good plan, Commander. Again, I am sorry if I stuck my foot in my mouth, sir. We just want to get this war over as soon as possible and if we can do this by killing U-boats, well, sir, that is what we will do.”
The commander smiled. “Good, now let me tell you what you can do to help us learn about your mission.”
Thirty minutes later Colonel Adams expressed his understanding, “Commander, what you have laid out for us is basically a routine mission except for two planes flying in tandem at differing altitudes. And you want us to take three members of your team along with us in each plane. Is that correct?”
“Yes, Colonel, it is basically a routine mission with two planes in the same search quadrant. As we have shown you on the map, you will fly a shorter mission lasting three and one-half hours, and this will be in the shape of a long rectangle working no more than sixty miles offshore to less than ten miles offshore. I will be in one plane with the gunnery sergeant and one corporal. Lieutenant Flannigan and Ensign Brand will be in the other plane along with Sergeant Laird. We will keep visual contact on one another even
though I will fly with you, Colonel, at between eight thousand and ten thousand feet with Lieutenant Flannigan and Mr. Brand in the other plane two thousand feet lower. Our orders are to attack any U-boat sighted using your current attack profile. Are we all in agreement on this?”
The colonel and the major nodded in agreement. “What time do we start?”
Commander Jameson thought for a moment and Brand jumped in saying, “Sir, I would like to begin this mission like any other flight so I guess we should have a flight profile leaving at 0730 hours with a return ETA of 1100 hours. Will that work?”
Jameson waited for an answer from Colonel Adams who did not think too long on this saying, “Okay by me. Major, is your plane ready to fly tomorrow morning?”
“Colonel Adams, my plane is always set to fly. We will be fueled, armed, and ready to go before the sun rises.”
Everyone smiled in agreement. The squadron commander and his executive officer turned to the base commander and asked, “Sir, if you can let flight ops know about our plan for the morning I will alert the ground crew about arming and fueling.”
Colonel Waters replied, “No problem, Adams. I will get everything in motion and tell the base operations manager to get meteorology on the phone plus intelligence set for a 0500 briefing.”
As the two pilots headed out the door, Colonel Waters spoke, “Commander, would join me for a drink at the officer’s club before dinner?”
Commander Jameson quickly replied, “I think that would be a good plan but only one drink, sir. I may need to see clearly in the morning.”
U-Boat Scourge Page 13
