"Just the man I'm looking for," Dillon said, and took an insulated Human Blood container from the back of his Jeep. A failed attempt to cross off HUMAN BLOOD with what appeared to be grease pencil had been made.
When he looked closer, Dailey saw that the grease pencil had also been used to write, EXPOSED PHOTOGRAPHIC FILM. FOR PUBLIC RELATIONS SECTION, HQ USMC, WASHINGTON DC on several sides of the container. "Hello, Major," the pilot said.
"You don't have any film for me, by any chance, do you?" "There's four boxes for you at Espiritu, but I didn't have the weight left."
"Christ, I'm running low."
"I had the medic and those two to carry. They had the priority. Next time, I hope."
"If you can't bring all of it, bring at least one. Or open one. Bring what you can. I'm really running low. And film doesn't weigh that much."
"I'll do what I can, Jake."
"Thank you," Dillon said, and walked back to Dailey and Moore.
"I think I know where Sergeant Moore is going," Dillon said. "Is there any place I can carry you, Colonel?"
"I'm reporting for duty as Division G-2," Dailey said.
"I thought that might be it," Dillon said. "Hop in, I'll give you a ride."
"Thank you," Dailey said. "What's your function around here, Major?"
"I'm your friendly neighborhood Hollywood press agent," Dillon said, as he got behind the wheel.
"I'm afraid I don't understand?"
"I've got a crew of combat correspondents recording this operation for posterity," Dillon said.
"How is it you know Sergeant Moore?"
"I was in Melbourne-with Frank Goettge, the man you're replacing-a while back. At Fleming Pickering's place. Moore worked for him." He turned to look at Moore in the back seat. "You knew he was gone from here, didn't you?"
"I knew he was going, Sir," Moore said. "I didn't know he was gone."
"Well, don't worry, they'll find a lot for you to do here. You heard what happened to Colonel Goettge and the others?"
"No, Sir."
Dillon told them.
When they reached the G-2 Section, Dillon got out of the Jeep.
"Major Jack NMI Stecker is acting G-2," he said. "I'll introduce you. He'll be damned glad to see you."
"Why do you say that?"
"Because they took him away from his battalion to put him in G-2 when Goettge got himself killed, and he's very unhappy about that."
Dillon entered the G-2 section. It was dark inside, and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust. Before they did, before he could make out more than shadowy bodies, he called out: "Christmas present, Jack. Your replacement."
There was silence for a moment, and then a dry voice said, "At least he didn't go 'Ho, Ho, Ho.' I suppose we should be grateful for that."
Major Dillon's eyes had by then become acclimated to the lower light. He could now make out a familiar face.
"I beg your pardon, General. I didn't know you were in here."
"I wonder if that would have made any difference?" General Vandergrift asked, and then advanced on Dailey.
"I'm General Vandergrift, Colonel," he said offering his hand. "I hope that wasn't more of Major Dillon's Hollywood hyperbole, and you are indeed the intelligence officer we've been promised."
"Sir," Dailey said, coming to attention, "Lieutenant Colonel Dailey, Sir. Reporting for duty as G-2."
"I'm very pleased to meet you, Colonel," Vandergrift said.
"Welcome aboard. This is Major Stecker, who has been filling in."
Stecker offered his hand. Vandergrift spotted Moore, and offered him his hand.
"You came in with Colonel Dailey, Sergeant?"
"Yes, Sir."
"He was Flem Pickering's-I don't know what, orderly, I guess-in Australia," Dillon volunteered.
"Is that what you've been doing, Son?" Vandergrift asked. "Orderly?"
"No, Sir. I'm a Japanese-language linguist, Sir."
"In that case, I'm sure Major Stecker is even more glad to see you than he is to see Colonel Dailey," Vandergrift said. He looked at Major Jake Dillon and shook his head.
"Think about it, Jake," he said. "Did you really think they would airship an orderly in here?"
Stecker walked over to Moore and examined him closely.
"Give me a straight answer, Sergeant. How well do you speak-more important, how well do you read-Japanese?"
"Fluently, Sir."
"Sergeant!" Stecker said, raising his voice. A head appeared from behind the canvas that separated the outer "office" from "the map room."
"Sir?"
"Take the sergeant here up to the First Marines. He's a Japanese-language linguist."
"Belay that, Sergeant," General Vandergrift said. "I'm sure you have more important things to do, and Major Dillon has just kindly offered to take the sergeant, haven't you, Major?"
"Yes, Sir," Dillon said. "I'd be happy to."
"Sergeant," Jack Stecker said, "there's several boxes of stuff at the First, taken from the bodies of Japanese. We haven't had anybody who can read it. I want anything that looks official, anything that can help us identify enemy units, anything that would be useful to know about those units. Do you understand what I'm talking about?"
"Yes, Sir. I think I do."
"If you come across something, give it to Captain Feincamp. He's the S-2. I'll get on the horn and tell him you're coming."
"Aye, aye, Sir."
"Anything that looks to you like it might be interesting. Don't bother with actually translating it. Just make a note of what it is. I'll decide whether or not you should make a translation."
"Aye, aye, Sir."
"Have you got a weapon?"
If I tell him about the.45, he's probably going to take it away from me.
Sergeant John Marston Moore, surprised with how easily it came, lied.
"No, Sir."
"Sergeant!" Stecker raised his voice again, and again the head appeared at the canvas flap.
"Sir?"
"Give the sergeant that extra Thompson."
"Aye, aye, Sir."
"You can use a Thompson?" Stecker asked Moore.
"Yes, Sir."
"I think that probably I'll have you-Colonel Dailey will have you-work here. But right now, we need to go through the stuff the First has collected."
"Yes, Sir."
The sergeant appeared and handed Moore a Thompson submachine gun and two extra magazines.
"Thank you."
"Drive slow, Jake," Stecker said. "Sergeant Moore is a very valuable man. We can't afford to lose him."
"Right," Dillon said. "OK, Sergeant. Let's go."
An alarm went off in the back of General Vandergrift's head. Something was wrong, but he couldn't put a handle on it.
Stecker's words, he finally realized. "We can't afford to lose him."
It was that, and the reference to Flem Pickering. And what Flem had said about Lieutenant Cory, whose place this young sergeant was taking.
The morning he left, Pickering had told him about MAGIC, and about his concern that Cory might have known about it. If Cory had that knowledge, he should never have been sent to Guadalcanal.
The sergeant, obviously, does not know about MAGIC. For one thing, that sort of secret is not made known to junior enlisted men. For another, he worked for Fleming Pickering. Therefore, if he knew, Pickering would have made sure he would not be sent to Guadalcanal