W E B Griffin - Corp 07 - Behind the Lines

by Behind The Lines(Lit)

  "Damn you, Pick!"

  "I really don't know what I'm talking about. But Dad wrote Mom-and she told me-that he was trying to help some guerrillas in the Philippines--"

  "Gorillas? As in King Kong? What are you talking about?"

  "Guerrillas, with a 'u' and an 'e.' Irregular troops operating behind enemy lines. That sounds right down the Killer's line."

  "Oh, my God!"

  "Hey, Ernie. Don't underestimate him. He's one hell of a Marine."

  "Oh, yeah!" she said sarcastically.

  "Ernie, I'd love to chat, but this is an official line, and Little Billy Dunn, my noble squadron commander, is celebrating the joyous Yuletide season by taking our guys up to teach them how to fly in the dark."

  "On Christmas Eve, Christmas Day night?"

  "Some of them shouldn't be trusted with a tricycle, much less a Corsair. He may have to call."

  "Billy has people flying tonight?" she asked incredulously.

  "Write this down, Ernie. There's a war on."

  "And I'm being hysterical, right?"

  "You said it, not me. Ken will be all right, Ernie. And if he isn't, at least you get to marry me."

  "You sonofabitch, you!" she flamed.

  "Now there's my girl, back to normal. Nightie, night, Ernie!"

  The line went dead in her ear.

  She replaced the phone in its cradle.

  "Everything all right, honey?" her father asked.

  He was standing behind one of the couches, wearing his bathrobe. His usu-ally slicked-back hair was askew.

  "How long have you been in here?"

  "I heard the phone," he said.

  "It was from an officer who works for Uncle Fleming. He told me that Ken is safely where he's going, but where that is is a big secret. So I called Pick, and Pick says he's probably in the Philippines. Uncle Fleming wrote Aunt Patricia about helping guerrillas in the Philippines, and she told Pick, and Pick said that's probably where Ken is. That's right down the Killer's line, is the way he put it."

  "Ken'll be all right, honey," Ernest Sage said gently.

  "If one more person says that to me, I'll throw up!" Ernie snapped, and then she ran into her father's arms and wept.

  Chapter Sixteen

  [ONE]

  Headquarters, U.S. Forces in the Philippines

  Davao Oriental Province

  Mindanao, Commonwealth of the Philippines

  0625 Hours 28 December 1942

  The first thing General Fertig noticed about the three officers and a Marine sergeant who had come to see him was that they all looked so well nourished, and that their sturdy-looking black clothing and boots were in such good shape.

  The second thing he noticed, as they approached his house, was that the two officers wearing the double silver bars of captains stood aside at the foot of the stairs to permit the youngest, and slightest-and most junior, to judge from the single silver bar pinned to his soft cap-to climb up the ladder first.

  That has to be Lieutenant "Killer" McCoy, who took it upon himself to order Captain Weston away on the submarine. That young man is about to be put in his place.

  The lieutenant saluted as he walked across the porch to Fertig.

  "Lieutenant McCoy, Sir, USMC," he said.

  Fertig returned the salute.

  "And these gentlemen?"

  "Lieutenant Lewis, Sir, of CINCPAC," McCoy said. "Captain Macklin of the OSS, and Gunnery Sergeant Zimmerman."

  I have no idea what the OSS is, but I'm not going to ask.

  "Welcome to U.S. Forces in the Philippines, gentlemen. My name is Fer-tig." He shook hands with everybody, and motioned for them to sit in the rat-tan chairs.

  "We're a little surprised to find you here, General," McCoy said. "Everly said that you were-on the run?"

  "A precautionary measure," Fertig said. "In case the Japanese captured one of my officers. When I learned that didn't happen, we came back home."

  "Yes, Sir," McCoy said.

  "Just to clear the air, who is in command of this mission?"

  "Lieutenant McCoy is, General," Lewis said. "Captain Macklin and my-self are observers."

  "I understand you took it upon yourself, Lieutenant, to order one of my officers aboard the submarine?"

  "Yes, Sir. Acting on orders, Sir," McCoy said.

  "And what precisely are those orders, Lieutenant? Do I get to see a copy of them?"

  "My orders were verbal, Sir. From General Pickering. They were to find you; to provide you with communications equipment and a Signal Operating Instruction; to bring you a few supplies, including some gold; to evaluate your potential-"

  "You consider yourself qualified to evaluate my forces?" Fertig inter-rupted.

  "-and to send one of your senior officers back on the Sunfish," McCoy went on. "Sir, it doesn't matter what I think of my qualifications. You're sort of stuck with me."

  "Presumably you're on General MacArthur's staff?"

  McCoy smiled.

  "No, Sir. I'm assigned to the USMC Office of Management Analysis, Sir."

  "And you're here to analyze my management, is that what you're say-ing?"

  "General," Lewis said. "If I may?"

  Fertig nodded.

  "Among those officers available to General Pickering, Lieutenant McCoy was determined to be the one most familiar with irregular operations. He's done this sort of thing before."

  "Conducted guerrilla operations, you mean?"

  "Operated behind the enemy's lines, Sir."

  "And who is General Pickering? He, presumably, is on General MacArthur's staff?"

  "No, Sir. He's Chief of the Office of Management Analysis," McCoy said.

  "So you're not here representing General MacArthur and SWPOA?"

  "No, Sir," McCoy said.

  "General," Lewis said. "I'm on the staff of CINCPAC. CINCPAC was directed by Admiral Leahy, the President's Chief of Staff, to provide whatever assistance General Pickering required to mount this mission."

  And that assistance is three junior officers and a sergeant, apparently.

  "I had hoped that what we're trying to do here had finally attracted Gen-eral MacArthur's interest and concern," Fertig said. "Apparently, that is not the case."

  "El Supremo went on record, General," McCoy said, "saying 'guerrilla operations in the Philippines are impossible.' "

  Is that what you call him, Lieutenant? El Supremo?

  "I presume you are referring to General MacArthur?"

  "And you made it worse when you promoted yourself, General," McCoy went on, unabashed.

  "I considered that necessary," Fertig said. "I didn't think anyone would pay attention to a lieutenant colonel."

  "I believe both General Pickering and Admiral Nimitz understand that, General," Lewis said. "I believe Lieutenant McCoy is trying, Sir, to make you aware of certain problems we all have to deal with."

  "I am here, with several hundred courageous men, American and Filipino, living on the edge of starvation, like hunted animals in the jungle, attempting to wage war against the Japanese, and I find myself a humble supplicant, on my knees, begging for the tools to do that," Fertig said. "I confess that from time to time I find myself growing a little bitter."

  "May I suggest, Sir," Lewis said, "that first, what you have been doing here has not gone unappreciated, and second, that your supply situation has already begun to change? We've brought some supplies with us-at least a token shipment-and more will very likely follow."

  "Depending on a lieutenant's analysis of my management? Is that what you're saying?"

  "Sir, I have reason to believe," Lewis said, "that whatever Lieutenant McCoy's report happens to be, it will be accepted at face value at the highest levels."

  "Is that so? What are your reasons for believing that?"

  "Sir," Lewis said, "I don't think you have been in a position to know that early on, the President ordered the formation of a special unit within the Ma-rine Corps, the Marine Raiders, something like the British Commando
s, with the mission of attacking the Japanese in an irregular manner. In August, ten days after the First Marine Division landed at Guadalcanal, elements of the 2nd Raider Battalion, operating off a submarine, successfully attacked Makin Island."

  "Very interesting," Fertig said. "If they could send a submarine to-what did you say?-Makin Island in August, why couldn't they send one here?"

  "Sir, with respect," Lewis said. "The first indication anyone had that you had established a guerrilla operation here was in early October."

  Goddammit! I'm making a fool of myself. What the hell is the matter with me ? Why am I being such a horse's ass to these people ? Possibly because I am losing my mind. Or because, in some perverted manner, these well-fed, well-shod, self-confident-especially that damned Killer McCoy-young officers anger me.

  "As I was saying, Sir," Lewis said, "the Marine Raiders successfully at-tacked Japanese positions on Makin Island. Lieutenant McCoy and Sergeant Zimmerman were on that operation, General."

  "Lieutenant, please don't get the idea that my anger at the powers that be is in any way directed at you," Fertig said. "I am overjoyed to see you here, and fully appreciative of the enormous risks you all took to come here."

  "I'm a Marine, General," McCoy said, visibly embarrassed. "I go where they send me."

  "If I may continue, General," Lewis said. "Captain James Roosevelt, USMC, the President's son, was also on the Makin Island raid. Captain Roose-velt is known to be another of Lieutenant McCoy's admirers. I submit, Sir, that whatever Lieutenant McCoy has to say about your operation here and its po-tential will receive a very sympathetic ear from the President."

  "I take your point," Fertig said. "I hope to convince you, then, Lieuten-ant, that what we have here is potentially a very valuable force with which to wage war, and that we are not a motley crew of insubordinate lunatics headed by a self-promoted egomaniac."

  "I'm ready to be convinced, Sir," McCoy said with a smile.

  "You haven't said anything, Captain," Fertig said to Macklin. "What's your role in this operation? Starting at the beginning, what is the OSS?"

  "It's the Office of Strategic Services," Macklin said. "Headed by Colo-nel William Donovan. It is directly under the President. It is charged with intel-ligence gathering, sabotage, and guerrilla operations worldwide. I was sent on this mission as an observer. It-"

  "MacArthur, and the people around him, don't want anything to do with the OSS," McCoy interrupted. "General Pickering thinks that Colonel Dono-van thinks that MacArthur can be forced to accept OSS if somebody from the OSS is in on this operation. Anyway, he was ordered to send Captain Macklin along with us."

  And you don't like that at all, do you, Killer McCoy ? And from your tone of voice, you don't like Captain Macklin either. I wonder what's behind that?

  "Let's get down to business," Fertig said. "In this 'token shipment' of supplies, what exactly have you brought us?"

  McCoy reached in the billowing pocket on the side of his camouflage utili-ties and came out with an oilskin envelope.

  "There's a list in there," he said, and chuckled. "You're supposed to sign for them, General. Otherwise, I suppose, they'll start taking them out of my pay."

  "The gold will be the most valuable," Fertig said when he'd read the list. "I've been signing IOUs for the supplies, food mostly, we've been able to get from the Filipinos. Money, as someone wise once said, talks."

  "El Supremo thinks that matchbooks talk, too," McCoy said, chuckling, and handed Fertig a book of matches. On it was printed, "I SHALL RETURN! MacArthur."

  Fertig examined the matches.

  "I'll be damned," he said. "Oddly enough, I think these will be very ef-fective."

  "We have a case of those," McCoy said, "and we also brought you type-writer ribbons, some uniforms-General Pickering got your sizes from your wife-and a case of scotch. These aren't on the list of stuff you have to sign for."

  "Lieutenant," Fertig said, "I am beginning to like you. In time, I may even forgive you for sending Captain Weston off on the submarine."

  "I had to do that, General," McCoy said. "And it was a choice between him and Everly. The last time I saw Everly, he was a PFC. PFCs don't rate too high with El Supremo."

  "Weston will see General MacArthur?"

  "That was the idea, Sir."

  "And presumably, after you have analyzed my management of USFIP, you will report to General MacArthur?"

  "I will report to General Pickering, Sir. And then he'll report to General MacArthur. And probably the President."

  "You will, then, be evacuated from here?"

  "The Sunfish is supposed to return for us-and to deliver some more sup-plies-on 14 January, Sir. There may be a little delay in that. Obviously, she can't surface in the same place again. That's one of the things that will have to be worked out."

  "General, I brought charts with me," Lewis said. "Places we feel might be good for a submarine infiltration. We of course don't know what the situa-tion is with the Japanese, but..."

  "There's a lot of shoreline here. The Japanese can't patrol all of it, all the time. But on the other hand, now they know you're here, I'm sure they'll in-crease patrol activity, both on the ground and by aircraft. Getting you out of here may be more difficult than getting you in. We have lost the element of surprise."

  Fertig waited for this to sink in, then went on.

  "The reason I'm curious is that we have some people here-some of my men who are wounded, and whom we can't care for properly, and some Ameri-can civilians, including some missionary nurses-that I would like to send out with you when you go."

  "I think that could be arranged, Sir," Lewis said. "If we succeed in un-loading the cargo, there would be room for, say, twenty people. It would be crowded, but..."

  "I'll make up a list," Fertig said, and then asked, "You mentioned a case of scotch?"

  "Yes, Sir."

  "Would you gentlemen care to join me in a small libation? I realize the inappropriate hour, but it's been a long time...."

  "That would be very nice, General," Lewis said. "Thank you very much. Macklin, would you please go get the General his scotch?"

  Without a word, Macklin stood up and went to fetch the scotch.

  [TWO]

  Office of the Military Governor of Mindanao

  Cagayan de Oro, Misamis-Oriental Province Mindanao,

  Commonwealth of the Philippines

  1450 Hours 29 December 1942

  "Let me be sure, Colonel Himasatsu," Brigadier General Kurokawa Kenzo said to the Commanding Officer of the 203rd Infantry Regiment, "that I under-stand what you're telling me. Your regiment, some twenty-five hundred men, took five days to find your missing patrol's truck?"

  "Sir, the General must understand what the terrain is like in that area. It is heavy jungle, there is no-"

  Kurokawa held up his hand to shut him off.

  "And that when you found the truck," Kurokawa went on, "and the patrol sergeant and the truck driver-with their throats cut-you saw no sign of the missing patrol itself?"

  "No, Sir. We have not yet been able to locate the patrol itself."

  "How many incidents of guerrilla activity does this outrage make this month in your area of responsibility, Colonel?"

  "Twenty-two, Sir."

  "And how many Japanese soldiers have been murdered by these ban-dits?"

  "Seven officers and one hundred and sixteen other ranks, Sir."

  "Counting the dead sergeant and the truck driver?"

  "No, Sir."

  "Counting the missing four members of the patrol?"

  "No, Sir."

  "That would bring the total to one hundred twenty-two other ranks, wouldn't it?"

  "We don't know that the members of the missing patrol are actually dead, Sir."

  "I suppose it is possible that they are off cavorting in a brothel some-where, but I don't think that's likely, Colonel, do you?"

  "No, Sir."

  "And how many bandits have you caught, Colonel Himasats
u?"

  "None, Sir."

  "Let me state this as clearly as I can, Colonel. The performance of your regiment is not satisfactory."

  "Yes, Sir."

  "You have two weeks, Colonel, to bring me some results. Otherwise, I will recommend that you be relieved."