"I know why it happens, Sir," Mclnerney said evenly. "But that doesn't excuse it."
"Why does it happen? I'm really curious, Doc."
"I think it has to do with movement, Sir. Perspective. Two, or three, or four pilots report, honestly, what they have seen. But because they are looking at what they all see from different places, both in terms of altitude and direction, no two descrip-tions match. For example, one aircraft shot down, or one sea-plane destroyed in the water, becomes three airplanes shot down, or four seaplanes destroyed, because there are four differ-ent reports from people who are, in fact, reporting honestly what they saw. You need a pretty good G-2 debriefing team to sepa-rate the facts. Or consolidate them."
The Commandant grunted. "Bad intelligence is worse than no intelligence."
"I agree, Sir," Mclnerney said.
"We sent a special unit over there to work with the Coastwat-chers," the Commandant said. "Did you know about that?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Is that going to help this, do you think?"
"Sir, I don't think it's possible to overstate the value of the Coastwatchers. They will get us, quickly, valid intelligence from the islands, particularly about Japanese air activity, but also of course about ship movement. If we know as soon as it happens what the Japanese are launching against us, what type of air-craft, and how many, we can launch our own aircraft in time to have them in the air when and where it is to our advantage. As opposed to detecting the enemy with patrolling aircraft, or worse, learning about the attack only when it begins, which catches us on the ground. Or when we're in the air almost out of fuel."
The Commandant grunted.
"I recommended to General Forrest," Mclnerney went on, "that he-we-should do whatever it takes, whatever it costs, to get our people tied in to the Coastwatchers. And I want some of our own people as quickly as possible to get onto the islands as Coastwatchers. I think I was preaching to the convinced, but he said he intended to do just that. But if you were asking, Sir, whether it will do anything about the confusing reports we get from pilots, I don't think so. We're just going to have to work on that. It's inexperience, Sir, rather than dishonesty."
"I didn't mean to insult your people, Doc. You know that."
"Yes, Sir."
"OK, Stew. Pardon the interruption."
"After the attack on Tulagi, Sir, Task Force 17 moved south to join up with Task Forces 11 and 14. They did so at 0930 6 May, and together steamed westward to intercept the Port Moresby invasion force.
"At 1030 hours, 6 May, Army Air Force B-17 aircraft from Australia bombed the carrier Shoho and her covering force, ap-parently without effect.
"The next day, 7 May, at 1135 hours, aircraft from the Lex-ington spotted the Shoho again. They attacked and sank her. Three of Lady Lex's aircraft were lost in the attack."
"But they got the Jap carrier? That wasn't one of these per-ception problems General Mclnerney is talking about?"
"No, Sir. In addition to the pilot's after-action reports, there has been confirmation of the loss via Albatross intercepts."
"OK. Go on."
"At noon, 7 May, Japanese bombers and torpedo bombers fly-ing off Admiral Takagi's carriers, the Zuikaku and Shokaku, found the fleet oiler Neosho, escorted by the destroyer Sims. The Sims was sunk and the Neosho damaged. The last word on that is that she will probably have to be scuttled.
"Just before noon the next day, Japanese aircraft from Admi-ral Tagaki's carriers attacked the combined Task Force. Both Yorktown and Lexington were damaged. Yorktown's damage was minimal, but Lexington was badly damaged, and she was scuttled at 1956 hours 8 May."
"Damn!" the Commandant said.
"At that point, Admiral Nimitz ordered Task Forces 11 and 17 to withdraw to the south. Task Force 44, the cruiser force, steamed westward to intercept the Port Moresby invasion force.
"By that time, Albatross intercepts indicated that Admiral Inouye had called off `Operation Mo,' which was the Port Moresby invasion, but inasmuch as this information could not be made available to Admiral Crace, his Task Force patrolled the Coral Sea south of New Guinea until word from the Coastwatchers confirmed the withdrawal of the Japanese invasion force."
"That's it, then, Stew?" the Commandant asked.
"Sir, the radio messages are in the folders, and I have precise maps-"
"No, thank you. That was first-class, Stew. I know how hard you had to work to get that up in the time you had. I appreciate it."
Captain Steward beamed.
"My pleasure, Sir," he said.
"Now go get some sleep," the Commandant said. "And you too, Bob," he added to his aide. "I'm going to have a quick drink with General Mclnerney and then hit the sheets myself."
The Commandant waited until Captain Steward and his aide had gathered up all the briefing material before speaking.
"Was it worth it, Doc? One of our carriers for one of theirs?"
"Probably not," Mclnerney said, after a moment's thought. "They have more carriers to lose than we do. But if it-and it looks like it did-if it called off, or even delayed for any appre-ciable time, their invasion of Port Moresby, then it was. If they had taken Moresby, I don't think we could have held Australia."
"You don't think they'll be back?"
"I think they will. But we've bought some time. What worries me is that seaplane base on that island-what was it?-Tulagi. If they get a decent air base going in that area, we're in deep trouble as far as our shipping lanes are concerned. We're going to have to do something about that."
"Such as?"
"Maybe take one of the other islands and put a dirt-strip fighter base on it."
"With what? We don't have anything over there. My God, we couldn't even hang on to Corregidor."
Three days earlier, on May 6, Lieutenant General Jonathan M. Wainwright, USA, had surrendered the fortress of Corregi-dor, in Manila Bay, to the Japanese.
"I know."
"That's the first time a Marine regiment ever had to surren-der," the Commandant said. "Ever!"
"They were ordered to surrender, Sir, by the Army."
"That's a lot of consolation, isn't it?"
The Commandant walked to the whiskey tray and poured himself a drink. He held up the bottle to Mclnerney, who shook his head no and said, "No, thank you, Sir."
"What's on your mind, Doc?" the Commandant asked.
"General, I'm really desperate for qualified fighter squadron commanders."
"I'll bet if Al Vandergrift was here, he would say, `I'm really desperate for qualified company commanders.'"
Major General Alexander Vandergrift commanded the 1st Marine Division, which consisted of the 1st and 5th Marines, plus the 11th Marines, Artillery, and which had just been brought up to war strength on May 1 at New River, North Caro-lina.
"Sir, I have one Naval Aviation Pilot, Technical Sergeant Galloway, who is qualified by both experience and temperament to command a fighter squadron. I would like to commission him and give him one."
The Commandant flashed him an icy stare. "Galloway? That's the young buck who flew the Wildcat onto the carrier of Pearl and enraged the Navy? I'm still hearing about that. Whenever the Navy wants an example of irrational Marine behavior, they bring up Sergeant Galloway's flight onto the Saratoga."
"Yes, Sir."
"You ever hear the story, Doc, of General Jubal T. Early in the Civil War? Somebody sent him a plan he turned down. So this staff officer sent it back, respectfully requesting that the commanding general reconsider his previous decision. Early sent that back, too, after he wrote on it, `Goddammit, I already told you "no." I ain't gonna tell you again.'"
"Yes, Sir."
The Commandant looked at him thoughtfully, even disbelievingly.
"That's the only reason you came here tonight? You sat out there on the porch for hours, waiting for me to come home just to ask me to do something you knew damned well I wouldn't do?"
"Sergeant Galloway got a raw deal, Sir. And I need squadron commanders.
"
"Loyalty to your men is commendable, General," the Com-mandant said, "but there is a point beyond which it becomes counterproductive." "Yes, Sir."
"And goddammit, Doc," the Commandant said, warming to his subject, "I'm disappointed that you don't know what that point is."
Well, I tried, Mclnerney thought. And really pissed him off. I wonder what that's going to cost Marine Aviation somewhere down the pike?
He set his glass on the table. "With your permission, Sir, I'll take my leave." The Commandant glowered at him.
"Keep your seat, and finish your drink, you hard-headed Scotchman," he said. "I can't afford to lose any more old friends."
(Three)
Headquarters, U.S. Marine Corps Parachute School
Lakehurst Naval Air Station
Lakehurst, New Jersey
15 May 1942
First Lieutenant Richard B. Macklin, USMC, heard the knock at the jamb of his open office door, and then his peripheral vision picked up First Sergeant George J. Hammersmith stand-ing there with a sheet of teletype paper in his hand.
Macklin did not raise his eyes from the papers on his desk. First Things First made sense. If you interrupted your work every time someone appeared at your door, you never got anything done. And he certainly didn't want Sergeant Hammer-smith to form the opinion, as so many old Marines did, that a commanding officer had nothing to do but sit behind a desk and wait for payday while the sergeants ran the Corps.
He finished what he was doing, which was to consider a re-quest from the Navy Commander of Lakehurst that he perma-nently detail two enlisted men a day to work with the Base Engineer on roads and grounds. He decided against it; Para-Marines had more important things to do than pick up trash and cut weeds. Then he raised his head.
"You wish something, First Sergeant?"
"Got a TWX here, Sir, I thought you'd want to see right away."
Macklin made an impatient gesture for Hammersmith to give him the sheet of teletype paper. He judged in advance that the message would probably be of little genuine importance and could just as easily have been sent by mail. In his view, ninety-five percent of TWXs were a waste of time.
He was wrong.
HEADQUARTERS USMC
WASHDC 0755 15MAY42
ROUTINE
COMMANDING OFFICER
USMC PARACHUTE SCHOOL
LAKEHURST NAVAL AIR STATION
LAKEHURST NJ
ON RECEIPT, ISSUE NECESSARY ORDERS DETACHING 1ST LT RICHARD B. MACKLIN, USMC, FROM HEADQUARTERS AND HEADQUAR-TERS COMPANY USMC PARASCHOOL LAKEHURST NAS NJ FOR TRANSFER TO HQ & HQ COMPANY 1ST USMC PARA BN, FLEET MARINE FORCE PACIFIC.
LT MACKLIN WILL REPORT TO US NAVAL BASE SAN DIEGO CAL NOT LATER THAN 2400 HOURS 30 MAY 1942 FOR FURTHER SHIPMENT TO FINAL DESTINATION. TRAVEL BY FIRST AVAILABLE MIL AND/OR CIV RAIL, AIR, OR MOTOR TRANSPORTATION TO SAN DIEGO IS AUTHORIZED. TRAVEL BEYOND SAN DIEGO WILL BE BY US GOVT SEA OR AIR TRANSPORT, PRIORITY BBBB2B.
3. TIME PERMITTING LT MACKLIN IS AU-THORIZED NO MORE THAN SEVEN (7) DAYS DELAY EN ROUTE OVERSEAS LEAVE.
4. LT MACKLIN WILL COMPLY WITH ALL APPLICABLE REGULATIONS CONCERNING OVERSEAS TRANSFER BEFORE DEPARTING LAKEHURST. STORAGE OF PERSONAL AND HOUSEHOLD GOODS AND ONE (1) PRIVATELY
OWNED AUTOMOBILE AT GOVT EXPENSE IS AU-THORIZED.
5. HEADQUARTERS USMC (ATTN: PERS/23/A/11) WILL BE NOTIFIED BY TWX OF DATE OF LT MACKLIN'S
DEPARTURE.
BY DIRECTION:
FRANK J. BOEHM, CAPT, USMCR
The first thing that occurred to Lieutenant Macklin was that it was sort of funny that as the Commanding Officer of the Para-chute School, he would be ordering himself overseas.
Then it no longer seemed amusing at all.
His promotion had not come through.
He was supposed to be in San Diego two weeks from tomor-row, and from there he was going to the Pacific-in other words, to war.
It didn't seem fair. Just as he was getting the Parachute School shipshape, they were taking it away from him.
It seemed to him that he could make a far greater contribution to the Marine Corps where he was-as an expert in place, so to speak-than in a routine assignment in the 1st Parachute Bat-talion.
After some thought, he picked up the telephone and called Captain Boehm, who had signed the TWX and had presumably made the decision to send him overseas. He outlined to Boehm the reasons it would be to the greater benefit of the Marine Corps if the TWX was rescinded.
Captain Boehm was not at all receptive. He was, in fact, downright insulting:
"I heard you were a scumbag, Macklin. But I never thought I would personally hear a Marine officer trying to weasel out of going overseas."
(Four)
The Officers' Club
U.S. Marine Corps Base
Quantico, Virginia
1730 Hours 17 May 1942
When he entered the club, First Lieutenant David F. Schnei-der, USMC, was not exactly pleased to bump into First Lieuten-ant James G. Ward, USMCR, and Lieutenant Ward's aunt, Mrs. Caroline Ward McNamara. But neither was he exactly un-happy. He reacted like a man for whom fate has made a decision he would rather not have made himself.
Now that he had accidentally bumped into them, so to speak, as opposed to having gone looking for them, he could now begin to rectify an unpleasant situation that it was his duty, as a regu-lar Marine officer, to rectify for the good of the Corps.
Schneider had learned of Mrs. McNamara's presence on the base the day before: He was looking for Lieutenant Ward; so he walked into the squadron office and asked the sergeant on duty if he had seen him.
"He took the lady over to the Officers' Guest House, Lieuten-ant."
The Guest House was a facility provided to temporarily house (there was a seventy-two-hour limit) dependents and friends of Quantico officers.
"What lady?"
"Didn't get her name. Nice looking. First, she asked for Ser-geant Galloway; and when I told her he wasn't back yet, she asked for Lieutenant Ward, so I got him on the phone, and he came over and fetched her and told me he was taking her over to the Guest House." There was a perceptible pause before the sergeant added, "Sir."
There was little question that the lady was Mrs. Caroline Ward McNamara, but Schneider was a careful, methodical man. He called the Guest House later that day to inquire if there was a Mrs. McNamara registered. And, of course, there was.
Technical Sergeant Charles M. Galloway had gone to Wash-ington in response to a telephone call from General McInerney's office. But Washington was to be only his first stop. Schneider suspected that Major Jake Dillon, the Public Affairs Officer, was behind the mysterious call from General McInerney's office. If that was the case, there was no telling where Galloway had gone after he left Washington.
"Hey, Dave," Ward called to him. "I thought you would show up here."
"Good evening," Schneider said.
"You remember my Aunt Caroline, don't you?"
"Of course. How nice to see you again, Mrs. McNamara."
"Oh, call me Caroline!"
Dave Schneider smiled at her, but did not respond.
"Let's go in the bar," Jim Ward suggested. Schneider smiled again, and again did not reply.
The bar was crowded with young officers. With varying de-grees of discretion, they all made it clear that they considered Mrs. Caroline Ward McNamara one of the better specimens of the gentle gender.
Dave Schneider wondered if they would register so much ap-proval of the "lady" if they were aware that Mrs. McNamara was not only shacked up with an enlisted man but apparently didn't much care who knew about it.
They found a small table across from the bar.
"Dave, do you have any idea where Charley Galloway is?" Jim Ward asked, as soon as the waiter had taken their order.
"I believe he's in Washington," Schneider said. "Specifically, with Major Dillon."
"No, he's not," Caroline said. "We just called Jake. Jake said he hadn't heard from him since Tuesday morning, when
he left the Willard. He spent Monday night there with Jake."
Reserve officer or not, Mustang or not, Lieutenant Schneider thought angrily, Major Jake Dillon should know better than to offer an enlisted man the freedom of his hotel suite.
"He called Caroline from Pensacola-" Jim Ward said.
"Pensacola?" Schneider interrupted.
"Pensacola. He called on Wednesday. He told Caroline he was going to the West Coast," Jim Ward said.
W E B Griffin - Corp 03 - Counterattack Page 43
