"Very professional," Pickering said.
"We practice our briefings here," Pluto said seriously. "It's a waste of time, but General Willoughby's big on briefing the Supreme Commander with maps and charts."
"You don't work for Willoughby," Pickering said. "And you don't have time to waste."
Pluto didn't reply. Pickering knew that his silence was an answer in itself.
"How bad has it been, Pluto? Let's have it."
"I don't want to sound like I'm whining, Sir."
"Let's have it, Pluto."
"The point has been made to me, Sir, by various senior officers, that I am a first lieutenant, and that first lieutenants do what they're told."
"You're talking about MAGIC intercept briefings, right?" Pickering asked.
"Yes, Sir. I believe it is General Willoughby's rationale that since he has no one on his staff cleared for MAGIC, he can't have them prepare MAGIC briefings for the Supreme Commander. That leaves us."
"Left you. Past tense," Pickering said. "For one thing, MacArthur doesn't need kindergarten-level briefings; he has an encyclopedic memory. For another, I can't afford to have either of you wasting your time playing brass-hat games. The next time Willoughby calls, your reply is, quote, 'Sir, General Pickering doesn't believe that a formal briefing is necessary.' Unquote. If he has any questions, tell him to call me."
"General, as I said on the wharf, General, Sir, welcome home!" Pluto said.
"But since you've already gone to all this trouble, Pluto, brief me." "Yes, Sir," Pluto said. Moore walked to the map board-limped, Pickering thought; limped painfully; his legs are nowhere near healed-and flipped the oilcloth cover off, revealing a map of the Solomon Islands. There was something out of the ordinary about it. After a moment, he knew what it was.
"Don't tell me that map's not classified?"
"Sir, that's another decision I took on my own," Pluto said. "We start with MacArthur's situation map. Maps. Actually three. MacArthur had one; Willoughby had a second; and G-3 had a third. All classified TOP SECRET. For our purposes, before Willoughby started the briefing business, we used to just go to G-3 with an overlay. Nothing on the overlay but MAGIC information. No problem, in other words. We just locked the door, did our thing on the overlay with our MAGIC intelligence, and then took the overlay back to the dungeon with us. But when we started having to take a map with us to brief MacArthur..."
"What I'm looking at is a TOP SECRET situation map, to which MAGIC intelligence has been added?"
"Yes, Sir. General Willoughby said the Supreme Commander doesn't like overlays."
"And," Pickering said, "because you thought there was a possibility that this map might get out of your hands-with MAGIC intelligence on it-you decided not to stamp it TOP SECRET...."
"Yes, Sir. We don't let this map out of our hands. It's been chemically treated, so it practically explodes when you put a match to it-"
"Finish your briefing," Pickering interrupted. "Take the MAGIC data off onto an overlay, and burn the map."
"Yes, Sir," Pluto said. "Sir, how much of a briefing did you get from Major Banning in Hawaii?"
"A damned good one. I presume you know what he told me? How much of it is still valid?"
"Would you mind, Sir?"
Good for you, Son. Don't leave anything to chance.
"General Hyakutaka is ashore," Pickering summarized. "As soon as he believes he has an adequate force, he will start an attack on three fronts, counting the combined fleet as a front. I forget the names of the Japanese generals-"
"Major Generals Maruyama and Tadashu," Pluto interrupted him. "Did he have a date?"
"No."
"We have new intercepts indicating 18 October. Tomorrow."
Pickering grunted.
"Did Major Banning get into Japanese naval strength?"
"He did, but let's have it again."
"On 11 October," Moore began, "Admiral Yamamoto sent from Truk a force consisting of five battleships, five aircraft carriers, four cruisers, forty-four destroyers, and a flock of support vessels." He paused for a moment. "We don't know if Yamamoto himself is aboard; they're not quite under radio silence, but nearly."
"My God!"
"The Japanese do not commit their entire available force at one time," Pluto said. "Or so far haven't done that. It is reasonable to assume that they will commit this force piecemeal, as well."
"Even a piece of that size force is more than we have," Pickering thought aloud.
" 'My forces totally inadequate to meet situation,' " Moore said, obviously quoting.
"Who said that?" Pickering asked.
"Admiral Ghormley, in a radio yesterday to Nimitz," Pluto said.
"And there was a follow-up about an hour ago," Moore said, and started to read from a sheet of paper. "Ghormley wants all of MacArthur's submarines; all the cruisers and destroyers now in the Aleutians Islands/Alaska area; all the PT boats in the Pacific, except those at Midway; and he wants the assignment of destroyers in the Atlantic 'reviewed.' "
"They're not going to give him that," Pickering said. "And there wouldn't be time to send destroyers from the Atlantic, if they wanted to. Or cruisers from Alaska, for that matter."
Pluto shrugged, but said nothing.
"He also wants ninety heavy bombers; eighty medium bombers; sixty dive-bombers; and two fighter groups, preferably P38s."
"In other words," Hon said. "Essentially all of MacArthur's air power, plus a large chunk of what the Navy hasn't already sent to the area."
Pickering opened his mouth to speak, then changed his mind, stopping himself from saying, He sounds pretty goddamn desperate.
Why did I stop myself? Am I starting to believe that I'm really a general? And generals do not say anything derogatory about other generals or admirals in the presence of people who are not generals or admirals. Like two young lieutenants, for example.
"He sounds pretty goddamn desperate," Pickering said. "Is he justified?"
"I don't think so, Sir," Pluto said. "My thought when I read that-in particular, the phrase 'totally inadequate,' and his obviously unrealistic requests for air support (I don't think there are ninety operational B17s over here, for example)-is that it's going to raise some unpleasant questions in the minds of Admiral Nimitz and his staff."
"Yeah," Pickering said.
"That's all I have, Sir, unless you've got some questions. Would you like to take a look at the map?"
"No. I've sailed those waters," Pickering said. "And I was on the 'Canal. Burn it."
"Yes, Sir."
The telephone rang. Moore limped quickly across the room to pick it up.
Instead of "hello," he recited the number. Then he smiled. "One moment, please," he said, and covered the mouthpiece with his hand. "Colonel Huff for General Pickering," he said. "Is the General available?"
Colonel Sidney Huff was aide-de-camp to the Supreme Commander, South West Pacific Ocean Area.
Pickering pushed himself out of the chair, went to Moore, and took the telephone from him.
"Hello, Sid," he said. "How are you?"
"The Supreme Commander's compliments, General Pickering," Huff said very formally.
"My compliments to the General," Pickering said, smiling at Moore.