W E B Griffin - Corp 10 - Retreat, Hell!
Page 39
"I know the Supreme Commander is expecting you, sir," Huff said. "I'll tell him you're here."
[SIX]
When Colonel Huff opened the door to MacArthur's office and announced, "General Pickering, sir," MacArthur and Major General Charles Willoughby, his intelligence officer, were standing at a table to one side of the room, look-ing down at a map.
"Ah, come on in, Fleming!" MacArthur called heartily. "I've been waiting for you."
"Good morning, sir," Pickering said, and saluted.
Marines and sailors do not salute indoors-unless under arms or "covered" (wearing a hat or cap)-soldiers do. Pickering had decided nine years before, in Australia, that it was wiser to follow the Army custom. His relationships with the officers around MacArthur were bad enough as it was without adding "the arrogant SOB doesn't even salute" to the listings of what was wrong with him.
"The Supreme Commander has just told me about your son, Pickering," General Willoughby said. "What good news!"
"Thank you, General," Pickering said.
"And Huff has you up to speed, right, on what's happened about that this morning?" MacArthur asked.
"Yes, sir, he has."
"Are you going out to the carrier, or to Korea?"
"No, sir. I think I'd just be in the way. I'll go to Sasebo and wait there."
"Probably the wisest thing to do. Huff will arrange whatever is necessary."
"Thank you."
"Willoughby has been bringing me up to speed on what's happening. Would you like to listen, or are you anxious to leave for Sasebo?"
"I'd prefer to hear General Willoughby's briefing, sir, if I may."
"Start from the beginning, Willoughby," MacArthur ordered.
"Yes, sir," Willoughby said. "On the west coast," he began, using his swag-ger stick as a pointer, "I Corps is poised to take Pyongyang...."
The briefing took only ten minutes. It was upbeat and confident. The impli-cation was that the Korea Peace Action was just about over.
MacArthur had asked only two questions of Willoughby.
"And the Wonsan mines, Willoughby?"
"Admiral Struble's Joint Task Force Seven, as of this morning, sir, has nine-teen minesweeping vessels working on the problem."
"And?"
"X Corps will sail today from Inchon, General," Willoughby said. "I have every confidence that by the time the invasion fleet arrives off Wonsan, the mines will no longer pose any problem at all."
"And the Chinese?"
"There has been no reliable intelligence of any movement of Chinese troops toward the border, sir," Willoughby said. "I've personally taken a look at a good deal of the Air Force photography. There's simply nothing there."
Pickering had another unkind thought about Major General Charles Willoughby:
He obviously believes what he's saying, but that is not the same thing as saying that what he believes is true.
What I should do, I suppose, is stand up and say, "General, please remember that Willoughby is the guy who told you guerrilla operations in the Philippines were absolutely impossible, and that there was no indication of hostile inten-tions on the part of North Korea, and his confident statements about no mines and no Chinese should be judged accordingly."
Why don't I? Because I don't know if the mines are gone from the approaches to Wonsan or not, and I don't know if the Chinese are going to come in the war, and absent proof of either, MacArthur's going to go with Willoughby.
And, furthermore, Bedell Smith made the point that the intelligence-gathering function of the CIA ends with passing it on to those charged with making decisions. Making decisions is not our responsibility.
MacArthur interrupted his thoughts. "Have you any questions for Willoughby, Fleming?"
"No, sir."
"In that case, Willoughby, would you give General Pickering and me a moment?"
"Yes, sir, of course."
Willoughby went through the door into Huff's office. "Willoughby tells me that you have sent the CIA Tokyo station chief home," MacArthur said, making it a question.
I can answer that tactfully, which means lie, and say Bedell Smith ordered it. Or I can tell the blunt truth, and probably antagonize him. It's probably time for the blunt truth.
"In my judgment, General, he needed to be replaced. For one thing, he failed to gain intelligence of North Korea's intentions when this war started, and for another-and no disrespect is intended-he was entirely too close to mem-bers of your staff, especially General Willoughby." MacArthur considered that a full fifteen seconds. "Have you decided on a replacement?"
"Colonel Ed Banning, sir. Do you remember him?"
"Of course. He was your deputy in the Second War."
"Yes, sir, he was."
"It's always nice, Fleming, to have old comrades-in-arms in one's inner com-mand circle. You know they can be trusted," MacArthur said, then smiled. "Well, I suppose you're anxious to head for Sasebo, aren't you?"
He meant Willoughby in that philosophical observation, not Ed Banning. Is he asking me to understand his relationship with Willoughby?
"Yes, sir, I am."
Pickering saluted again, then walked out of MacArthur's office into Huff's office, where Captain Hart and Master Sergeant Keller were waiting for him. Willoughby nodded at Pickering, then went back into MacArthur's office.
"This is the most interesting one, General," Keller said, handing him a sheet of paper. "And it was delivered by a Jap on a bicycle."
FROM TRANSGLOBAL HONOLULU TO TRANSGLOBAL TOKYO
PLEASE PASS TO GENERAL PICKERING THAT COLONEL EDWARD BANNING, USMC, IS ABOARD TGF 1022 DUE TO ARRIVE IN TOKYO 12 3 0 TOKYO TIME OCTOBER 16.
WILLIAMSON TG HONOLULU
"Well, I guess we'd better be at Haneda to meet him, hadn't we, Paul?" Pickering said.
Chapter Twelve
[ONE]
The Imperial Hotel
Tokyo, Japan
1115 16 October 19SO
Captain George Hart knocked lightly on the door to Brigadier General Pick-ering's bedroom, and then, as was his custom, without waiting for a reply, opened the door wide enough to look inside.
Pickering's bedroom was actually a suite within a suite. There was a bed-room, a private bath, and a small room holding a desk and chair and a leather-upholstered chair with a footstool.
Pickering was sitting in the chair, holding a cup of coffee. He was not on the telephone, which meant that his conversation with Mrs. Pickering was over.
Hart signaled with a wave of his hand for Master Sergeant Paul Keller to follow him into the small room.
Pickering didn't seem to notice their presence.
"It's about that time, boss," Hart said. "We better get out to Haneda. Trans-Global may surprise us all by arriving on time."
Hart got neither the laugh nor the dirty look he expected from Pickering. Instead, Pickering looked at them thoughtfully.
"Sir?" Hart asked.
"I want a straight answer from you two," Pickering said. "You listening, Paul?"
"Yes, sir?"
"A lot has gone on in Korea that I don't-we don't, and especially Colonel Banning doesn't-know much about. The helicopters, for one thing, and this Army lieutenant colonel who apparently has not only stolen a Beaver from the Eighth Army Commander but seems to have taken over our villa in Seoul," Pickering said. "Right?"
"That's right, sir," Hart said. "Are you worried about Colonel Vandenberg?"
Pickering didn't respond.
"George," he went on, "you and I have never been inside the Seoul villa, and all we know about it is what Bill Dunston has told us about it."
"The Killer seems impressed with this Vandenburg guy," Hart said.
Again, Pickering didn't respond.
"Neither have we been to Socho-Ri," Pickering said.
"No, we haven't," Hart agreed.
"And obviously, Banning should meet Dunston and Vandenburg, and have them and McCoy and Zimmerman bring him up to speed on what's going on. All of the
se things would seem to indicate that we get Banning and ourselves to Seoul as quickly as possible, even if Ed Banning's ass is dragging after hav-ing flown halfway around the world."
"Makes sense to me, boss," Hart said.
"Okay, here's the question, and kindness should not color your answer: Who made that decision, your steel-backed, cold-blooded commander think-ing of nothing but the mission, or a father who desperately wants to see his son?"
There was silence.
"You first, Paul," Pickering said.
"Jesus, General," Keller said. "If it was me, and if my son, if I had one, was just coming back from wherever the hell he's been, I'd be on the next plane to Korea, and I wouldn't even think of Dunston and Socho-Ri and the rest of it."
Pickering met his eyes for a moment, then looked around for Hart. Hart was across the room, on the telephone.
"Whoever that it is, George, it'll have to wait," Pickering said. "I want an answer."
Hart covered the telephone microphone with his hand.
"Where are we going? Pusan or Seoul?" he asked.
"Meaning what?"
"Meaning if we can get on the 1500 courier plane to Seoul, you'll have time to meet Colonel Vandenburg this afternoon and tonight, then fly to Socho-Ri in the morning and see the Killer and Zimmerman, and then be in Pusan prob-ably four, five hours before the tin can can get Pick off the carrier and deliver him there. Which means, your choice, you can have Dunston fly to Seoul from Pusan this afternoon-my suggestion-or have him wait for you in Pusan."
"That's not an answer to my question," Pickering said.
"Yes it is, boss," Hart said softly but firmly. "I kept my mouth shut when you and the Killer were going through that 'we can't use a helicopter that's needed to transport the wounded to look for him' noble Marine Corps bull-shit, but enough's enough. You have valid reasons to go to Korea. Be glad you do. You and Pick are entitled to get together. Now, where are we going, Pusan or Seoul?"
After a long pause, Pickering said, "Seoul."
Hart nodded and returned to the telephone.
"Brigadier General E Pickering, USMC, will require three seats on the 1500 courier to Seoul," he said.
Whoever he was talking to said something.
"Hey, Captain!" Hart barked into the phone, interrupting the person on the other end. "Whoa! Save your breath! I don't give a good goddamn if you have seats available or not. We have a priority that'll bump anybody but Douglas MacArthur, and we intend to use it. Am I getting through to you?"
Hart turned to Pickering, intending to smile at him. He saw that Pickering had stood up and was looking out the window. As Hart watched, Pickering blew his nose loudly.
"We're on the 1500, boss," Hart said.
General Pickering nodded his understanding, but he didn't trust his voice to speak.
[TWO]
USS Mansfield (DD 728)
37.54 Degrees North Latitude
13O.O5 Degrees East Longitude
The Sea of Japan
15O5 16 October 195O
Lieutenant Commander C. Lewis Matthews III, USN, a very large, open-faced thirty-nine-year-old, took a final look out the spray-soaked window of his bridge, then walked to the rear of the bridge and pressed the announce lever on the public-address system control panel mounted on the bulkhead.
"Attention all hands. This is the captain speaking," he announced. He knew that within seconds he would have the attention of every man aboard.
On being given command of the Mansfield, he had received advice from both his father and grandfather. In addition to a good deal else, they had both told him to stay the hell off the PA system unless he had something important to say.
"Don't fall in love with the sound of your own voice," Vice Admiral Charles L. Matthews, USN, Ret., his grandfather, had told him. "Remember the little kid who kept crying 'wolf.' "
Rear Admiral C. L. Matthews, Jr., his father, had put much the same thought this way: "Stay off the squawk box, Lew, unless you have something really important to say. When you say 'This is the captain speaking,' you want everybody to pay attention, not groan and say, 'Jesus Christ, again?' "
Lew Matthews had taken that advice, and right now was glad he had.
"We're about to pull alongside the Badoeng Strait" Captain Lew Matthews announced. "We are going to make an underway transfer of two officers from Badoeng Strait. One of them is a physician. The other is a Marine pilot who was shot down right after this war started, and has been behind the enemy's lines until his rescue yesterday. Once we have them aboard, we will make for Pusan at best speed, where a hospital plane will be waiting to fly the Marine to the hospital at Sasebo. Do this right. The one thing this Marine doesn't need after all he's gone through is to take a bath in the Sea of Japan."
He let go of the announce lever and walked to the spray-soaked window of the bridge, took a look at the seas and the gray bulk of the Badoeng Strait dead ahead, and shook his head.
He turned and caught the attention of the officer of the deck, then pointed to himself.
"The captain has the conn!" the officer of the deck announced.
"Bring us alongside the Badoeng Strait," Matthews ordered the helmsman, describing with his finger how he wanted the Mansfield to move and where.
He turned to the officer of the deck and nodded.
The officer of the deck went to the control panel, depressed the announce lever, and said, "Attention all hands. Make all preparations for underway per-sonnel transfer."
[THREE]
USS Badoeng Strait (CVE 116)
37.54 Degrees North Latitude
13O.O5 Degrees East Longitude
The Sea of Japan
1515 16 October 195O
Lieutenant Bruce D. Patterson, MC, USNR, wearing foul-weather gear and an inflated life jacket, was sitting in a bosun's chair. The chair-an item of Navy gear evolved from a sort of canvas seat that hauled sailors aloft to work on masts and sails, and thus was probably as old as the anchor-was suspended under a cable that had been rigged between one of the higher decks of the USS Mansfield and an interior strong point in the USS Badoeng Strait that was ac-cessible through a square port in her side.
"All things considered, Major Pickering," Lieutenant Patterson said, "I very much regret ever having met you."
Major Malcolm S. Pickering, USMCR, who was also wearing foul-weather gear and an inflated life jacket, and was strapped into a second bosun's chair, smiled, shrugged, held out both hands in front of him, and said, "Jeez, Doc, I thought you liked me."
There was laughter from the dozen Marine aviators who were on hand to watch Good Ol' Pick get transferred to the destroyer.
Another Marine aviator in a flight suit walked up to them.
"I don't suppose it occurred to any of you guys that you might be in the way down here," Lieutenant Colonel William C. Dunn, USMC, said.
Lieutenant Colonel Dunn was not in a very good mood. He had just fin-ished what he considered the most unpleasant duty laid upon a commanding officer.
And it was still painfully fresh in his mind:
USS BADOENG STRAIT (CVE-116)
MARINE AIR GROUP 33
AT SEA
16 OCTOBER 1950
MRS. BARBARA C. MITCHELL
APARTMENT 12-D, "OCEANVIEW"
1005 OCEAN DRIVE
SAN DIEGO, CALIFORNIA
DEAR BABS:
BY NOW, I'M SURE THAT YOU HAVE BEEN OFFICIALLY NOTIFIED OF DICK'S DEATH.
I THOUGHT THAT YOU WOULD BE INTERESTED IN WHAT I CAN TELL YOU OF WHAT HAPPENED.
WE WERE IN A SIX-CORSAIR FLIGHT OVER NORTH KOREA, NEAR HUNGNAM, ON THE EAST COAST OF THE KOREAN PENIN-SULA. OUR MISSION WAS IN SUPPORT OF THE I REPUBLIC OF KOREA CORPS, WHICH IS IN PURSUIT OF RETREATING NORTH KOREAN ARMY FORCES.
WHAT WE WERE CHARGED WITH DOING WAS INTERDICTING NORTH KOREA TROOPS TO BOTH SLOW THEIR RETREAT AND HIT THEM AS HARD AS WE CAN. WHEN THE SOUTH KOREANS DID NOT HAVE A TARGET FOR US, WE MADE SWEEPS OVER THE AREA, LOOKING FOR SUITABLE TARGETS O
URSELVES.
ON THE AFTERNOON OF 14 OCTOBER, I DIVIDED THE FLIGHT INTO THREE TWO-CORSAIR ELEMENTS, WITH MYSELF AND MY WINGMAN, LIEUTENANT STAN SUPROWSKI, IN THE LEAD AND FIVE HUNDRED FEET ABOVE THE SECOND ELEMENT, WHICH WAS CAPTAIN JACK DERWINSKI, WHOM I KNOW YOU KNOW, AND WHO WAS A CLOSE FRIEND OF DICK'S. LIEUTENANT SAM WILLIAMS WAS FLYING AS JACK'S WINGMAN. THEY WERE FIVE HUNDRED FEET ABOVE THE THIRD ELEMENT, WHICH WAS DICK, WITH CAPTAIN LESTER STEPPES FLYING ON HIS WING.