"Then he said because he had such high-class enlisted men, it would be possible to treat them differently."
"How differently?" Rickabee asked softly.
"I want to say 'better,'" McCoy said. "But that's not quite it. He said they can be given greater responsibility.... Colonel, what I think he was saying is that he thinks you can get more out of the then if they're making the decisions. Or some of the decisions. Or if they think they're making the decisions."
"You sound as if you're a convert," Rickabee said, dryly.
"When Colonel Carlson says it, it doesn't sound so nutty as when I try to tell you about it," McCoy said.
"Anything specific?" Rickabee asked.
"He said that he's been both an enlisted man and an officer, and that what really pissed him off as an enlisted man was when the officers had special privileges and rubbed them in the enlisted men's faces, and that he wasn't going to let that happen in the Raiders."
"Interesting," Rickabee said.
"I think I know what he means, Colonel," McCoy said. "He doesn't want to burn down the officers' club. All he's saying is that if you're in the field, and the then are sleeping on the ground, the officers should not have bunks and sheets."
"Neither do I," Rickabee said. "That doesn't sound like the revolution."
"I'm beginning to think, Colonel, that if Roosevelt hadn't written that nutty 'fighters' and 'leaders' letter-"
"But he did," Rickabee interrupted. "And if he hadn't, there probably would be no Raider battalions."
"Yes, sir."
"Did Colonel Carlson say anything else out of the ordinary? Anything unusual?"
"No, sir."
"How long were you with him?"
"About fifteen minutes, sir. Then he sent me down to the company."
"Baker Company, you said?"
"Yes, sir. Captain Coyte, Ralph H."
"What about him?"
"Looked like a real Marine to me. Seemed to know what he was doing. And like a nice guy."
"And he gave you a platoon?"
"Yes, sir, but I never got mere. He was still feeling me out. I hadn't been there ten minutes, when Captain Roosevelt showed up."
"What did he want?"
"He told Captain Coyte that he was going to borrow me. He told him I used to be in a heavy-weapons company in the Fourth Marines and knew about weapons, so he was going to send me up to some Army ordnance depot near San Francisco to make sure the Army didn't give us all junk when we drew weapons."
"Okay," Colonel Rickabee said. "That makes sense."
"And then he gave me the rest of the day off."
"What did you think of Roosevelt?"
"I liked him, too," McCoy said. "He acts like a Marine."
"And he wasn't walking around with a copy of the Communist Manifesto in his pocket?"
"No, sir." McCoy chuckled.
"Well, it looks like you're in, and nobody's suspicious," Rickabee said. "So all you have to do is keep your mouth shut and your eyes open."
"Yes, sir."
"I want to make the point, McCoy, that we want to hear about anything unusual, anything unusual."
"Yes, sir," McCoy replied. "The weapons are a little unusual, sir."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Well, what I'm going to draw-try to draw-from the Army, are shotguns and carbines."
The U.S. Carbine, Caliber.30, Ml was an autoloading shoulder arm with a fifteen-round magazine. It fired a pistol-sized cartridge, and was intended to replace the.45 Colt automatic pistol. The later M2 version was fully automatic, and there was later a thirty-round magazine.
"That's just the sort of thing I mean," Rickabee said. "By shotguns, I presume you mean twelve-gauge trench guns?"
"Yes, sir. From the First World War. And carbines. I've never even seen a carbine."
"Well, then, if you're the weapons expert, it will be a case of the blind leading the blind, won't it?" Rickabee said.
"I guess so," McCoy said.
"Anything else?"
"Roosevelt told me that they're going to give everyone a knife and a pistol," McCoy said.
"I heard about that," Rickabee said. "Anything else?"
"I ran into Gunnery Sergeant Zimmerman."
"You knew he was being sent out there, didn't you?"
"Yes, sir. Captain Sessions told me."
"Sessions felt," Colonel Rickabee said, "and I agreed, that it might be handy for you to have somebody out there you could trust. Another set of eyes."
"Zimmerman thinks that the Raiders are a great idea," McCoy said.
"You didn't tell him what you're doing out there, did you?"
"No, sir, of course not."
"Then leave it that way, McCoy. Zimmerman can be an extra set of eyes and ears in the ranks for you."
"I understand, sir," McCoy said. "He wouldn't understand that. I'm not so sure I do."
"And that's all?"
"Yes, sir."
"I relay herewith the best wishes of Captain Ed Banning," Rickabee said.
"Thank you, sir," McCoy said. "He's with you in Washington?"
"Actually, he's in the Naval hospital in Brooklyn," Rickabee said.
"What's wrong with him?" McCoy asked quickly.
"He was blind for a while," Rickabee said. "You didn't know that?"
"No, sir," McCoy said, shocked.
"Well, it was apparently psychosomatic," Rickabee said. "Which means no evident physical damage. He can see now, but the medics want to check him out carefully."
"Yes, sir."
"Okay, that seems to be it. Check in with me when you come back from San Francisco. Let me know how you made out with the Army. And anything else that comes to mind."
"Aye, aye, sir."
"So long, McCoy," Colonel Rickabee said. "Keep up the good work."
The line went dead.
McCoy put the handset back in its cradle, and then looked at Ernie.
"Any questions?" he asked.
"Sergeant Zimmerman's here?" Ernie asked.
"Uh-huh."
"Why don't you have him to dinner?" Ernie said.
"It doesn't work that way," McCoy said. "Officers don't socialize with enlisted men."
"You're a snob," she said. "Who would ever know?"
"What would Marty Burnes think?" McCoy said, teasingly.
"Fuck him, it's our boat," Ernie said.
McCoy chuckled. "Fuck him?" he parroted. "When I met you, you didn't use words like that."
"When I met you, I was a virgin," Ernie said. "Cussing like a Marine is not the only bad habit I learned from you."
She lowered her head to his chest and nipped his nipple, and then she jumped out of bed and went into the bathroom.
McCoy picked up the telephone again and called Camp Elliott and spoke with the sergeant major of the Second Raider Battalion. He told him that if it were possible, he would like to have Gunnery Sergeant Zimmerman go with him to Northern California.
"We were in the Fourth Marines together, Sergeant Major, and he knows about weapons," McCoy said.
"And, with respect, sir," the sergeant major said, chuckling, "you old China Marines stick together, don't you?"
"Let me tell you, sometime, Sergeant Major, how it was in the Old Corps."
"Do that," the sergeant major, who was twice McCoy's age, said, laughing. "I'll have Zimmerman at the motor pool when you get there, Lieutenant."
(Two)
U.S. Navy Hospital Brooklyn Navy Yard 2 March 1942
The headshrinker was wearing a white medical smock with an embroidered medical insignia on the breast, but there was no name tag with his rank on it. And since the Navy did not wear rank insignia on the collar points of their white shirts, Banning could not tell what rank he was. He could have been anything, to go by his age, from a junior grade lieutenant to a lieutenant commander.
"Come in, Captain Banning," the headshrinker said, when he saw Banning in the outer office.
Banning was in pajamas and a blue
bathrobe, his bare feet in cloth hospital slippers.
"Good morning, sir," Banning said. "I was told to report to you."
"I'm Dr. Toland," the headshrinker said. "I've been looking forward to this."
"Why?" Banning challenged. It sounded like a bullshit remark.
The headshrinker looked at him intently for a moment, and then smiled.
"Actually, because I thought you would be more interesting than my general run of patients. These go from bed-wetting sailors trying to get out of the service to full commanders experiencing what we call the 'midlife crisis.' You're my first battle-scarred veteran."
Banning had to chuckle. "And you're the one who decides whether or not I'm crazy, right?"
"If I were in your shoes, Captain, that would annoy me too," Dr. Toland said. "So let me get that out of the way. I find you to be remarkably stable, psychologically speaking, considering what you've gone through."
"I just walked in here," Banning said. "Can you decide that quickly?"
"Sit down, Banning," Dr. Toland said. "I'll get us some coffee, and we can go through the motions."
Banning expected a corpsman, or a clerk, to bring coffee, but instead Toland walked out of the office and returned with two china mugs.
"You take cream and sugar?" he asked.
"No, black's fine," Banning said, taking the cup. "Thank you."
"The way it works," Toland said, "unless somebody walks in here wild-eyed and talking to God, is that I consider the reason an examination was requested; the aberrations, if any, that the patient has manifested; and the stress to which he has been subjected. Taking those one at a time, I'm a little surprised that you're surprised that they wanted you examined."
"I don't quite follow that," Banning said.
"According to General Forrest," Dr. Toland said, "the duties they have in mind for you are such that they just can't take the chance that you will either get sick, physically as opposed to mentally; or that you will suddenly decide you're Napoleon."
Banning looked at him sharply. He had not expected to hear General Forrest's name. He wondered if Toland was telling him the truth or whether this was some kind of a headshrinker's game. After a moment he concluded that Toland was telling the truth and that he had been discussed by this headshrinker and the Deputy Chief of Staff for Intelligence, USMC. Then he wondered why that had happened. Why was he important enough for Forrest to spend time talking about him to a headshrinker?
"That seems to surprise you," Toland said, and Banning knew that was a headshrinker's question.
"I'm just a captain," Banning said.
"Not for long," Toland said. "One of the questions on General Forrest's mind was whether or not it was safe to make you a major."
Banning was surprised at that, too, but when he looked at Dr. Toland for an explanation, Toland was going through a stack of papers on his desk. He found what he was looking for, took a pen from a holder, and signed his name on each of four copies. Then he handed one to Banning. "The significant part is on the back side," Toland said. It was a Report of Physical Examination. In the "Comments" block on the reverse side mere was a single typewritten line and a signature block:
"Captain Edward J. Banning, USMC, is physically qualified without exception to perform the duties of the office (Major, USMC) to which he has been selected for promotion. "Jack B. Toland, Captain, Medical Corps, USNR" Banning looked at Toland with mixed surprise and relief. Toland didn't look old enough to be a captain. (A Naval captain is equivalent to a colonel, USMC.) And he was surprised to learn-in this way-that he was being promoted. But mostly, he was enormously relieved to read the words physically qualified without exception. Toland smiled at him.
"We watched you while we were running you through the examinations," Toland said. "What I was afraid we might find was a tumor. That's sometimes the case when there is an unexplained loss of sight." "What was it, then?"
"I think it falls into the general medical category we refer to as, 'we don't know what the hell it is,'" Toland said. "If I had to make a guess, I'd say it was probably either a brain concussion or that the nerves to the eyes were somehow bruised, so to speak, by concussion. I understand you were shelled twice, and pretty badly." "Yes, sir," Banning said.
"Well, whatever it was, Major Banning, I think you can stop worrying about it."
"I'm astonished at my relief," Banning blurted. "I suddenly feel-hell, I don't know-like a wet towel."
"That's to be expected," Toland said. "What's unusual is that someone like you would admit it." Banning looked at him, but didn't reply.
"You could do me a service, Banning, if you would," Toland said.
"Sir?"
"Other then are going to be blinded," Toland said. "Some of them are already coming back. It would help me if you could tell me what it's like."
"Frightening," Banning said. "Very frightening."
Toland made a gesture, asking him to go on.
"And then I got mad," Banning said. "Furious. Why me? Why hadn't I been killed?"
Toland nodded, and then when Banning said nothing else, he asked, "Suicide? Any thoughts of suicide?"
Banning met Toland's eyes for a long moment before he replied. "Yes," he said.
"Why didn't you?" Toland asked.
"I had a cocked pistol in my belt when I took the bandages off," Banning asked.
"And do you think you would have-could have-gone through with it?"
"Yes," Banning said, simply.
"Because you didn't want to face life without sight?"
"Because I was useless," Banning said. "I'm a Marine officer."
"And didn't want to be a burden to your family?"
"The only family I have, aside from the Corps, is a wife. And I left her on the wharf in Shanghai. God knows where she is now."
"I knew you were married," Dr. Toland said. "I didn't know the circumstances. That makes it a little awkward."
"Sir?"
"My next line was going to be 'Well, now that we're through with you, you're entitled to a thirty-day convalescent leave. A second honeymoon at government expense.'"
"Christ!" Banning said.
"What's worse is that it's not 'do you want a convalescent leave?', but 'you will take a thirty-day convalescent leave,'" Toland said. "That's out of my hands. No family anywhere? Cousin, uncle... ?"
"None that I want to see," Banning said. "I'd really rather go back to duty."
Toland shook his head, meaning "that's out of the question."
"The BOQ rooms here are supposed to be the cheapest hotel rooms in New York City," Toland said. "Dollar and a half a day. Be a tourist for a month."
Banning looked at him doubtfully.
"You'd be able to get a lot of the paperwork out of the way," Toland pursued. "And get yourself some new uniforms."
"Sir?"
"Our benevolent government, Major Banning," Dr. Toland said dryly, "is not only going to finally pay you, once they get your service records up to date, but is going to compensate you for the loss of whatever you were forced to leave behind in the Far East. Household goods, car, everything. And I understand the only uniform you have is the one you were wearing when you came in here. You'll have to make up a list of what you lost, and swear to it."
"I hadn't thought about that," Banning admitted.
"You'll have a good deal of money coming to you," Toland said. "And a newly promoted major should have some decent uniforms. Hell, you'll be able to afford going to Brooks Brothers for them."
"Brooks Brothers?" Banning parroted, and then laughed.
"Is that funny?"
Banning cocked his head and chuckled.
"The day the Japanese came ashore in the Philippines," he said, "I was on a bluff overlooking the beach. There's a couple of companies of Marines, Fourth Marines, on the beach, with nothing but machine guns. The artillery we were supposed to have, and the bombers, just didn't show up. There's half a dozen Japanese destroyers and as many troop ships offshore. And just befo
re the invasion started, a mustang second lieutenant, a kid named McCoy, joined me. He worked for me as a corporal in China, and he was in the Philippines as a courier. So he came running, like the cavalry, with a BAR and loaded down with magazines." (The Browning Automatic Rifle is a fully automatic, caliber-.30-06 weapon, utilizing 20-round magazines.) "The Japanese started their landing barges for the beach, and the destroyers started to fire ranging rounds. And then McCoy, absolute horror in his voice, says 'Oh, my God!' and I looked at him to see what else could possibly be wrong. And he says, 'My pants! My pants! They're going to be ruined, and you wouldn't believe what I paid for them. I bought them in Brooks Brothers!'"
W E B Griffin - Corp 02 - Call to Arms Page 29
