Pick's first thought when he saw the brand-new flight suits was to wonder if there were any more around here, and if so, how he could steal them. His fellow pilots of VMF-221 had been almost pathetically grateful when he returned with the boxes of RAAF flight suits he stole at Port Moresby, New Guinea; theirs were literally in tatters.
But then he realized that VMF-221 was no longer operating out of Henderson Field, and that he was at NAS Pensacola, where there were more than adequate supplies of flight suits and everything else. And after that, he recalled that VMF-221 was no longer his squadron... and that for all practical purposes it no longer existed.
Colonel Porter already had the script for the aerial melodrama firmly set in his mind: First he and O'Fallon would fly off somewhere out of sight. And then they'd attack Corey Field (representing Henderson Field) in a strafing maneuver. Dunn and Pickering, on patrol, would defend Corey/Henderson.
Since it would be impossible to actually shoot down Colonel Porter and Captain O'Fallon, they would next climb to 5,000 feet and get in a dogfight. (Pickering realized that he and Dunn would be allowed to win. How would it look to the student pilots if two heroic aces lost?)
In order to make this bit of theater possible, the Wildcats had been equipped with "gun cameras." These were 16mm motion picture cameras mounted in the wings. When the gun trigger was pulled, the camera operated. Colonel Porter's intention was to have the gun camera film developed immediately so that it could be shown to everybody after lunch.
Between the time they finished playing war and started lunch, Lieutenants Pickering and Dunn would be debriefed on the platform by an intelligence officer. Captain Mustache Carstairs would play that role.
While they changed into the flight suits, the students were permitted to leave the bleachers and examine the Wildcats.
But when it came time for him to examine it up close, Pickering was nearly as impressed with his Wildcat as any of them. As he went through the preflight and then climbed into the cockpit, he could find nothing at all wrong with it. The aircraft was perfect in every respect: There wasn't a trace of dirt anywhere. The Plexiglas of the canopy and windscreen was clear and without cracks. Even the leather on the seat and headrest looked new. And, of course, everything worked the way it was designed to work; and there were no patched bullet holes on the skin of the wings or fuselage.
After a time, the student pilots were ordered away from the aircraft. Then sailors in pressed and starched blue work uniforms appeared with fire extinguishers. Porter and Captain O'Fallon started their engines, warmed them up, and moved to the threshold of the active runway. One after the other they took off and disappeared from sight in the direction of Alabama.
Ten minutes later, Bill Dunn looked over at Pickering and gave the wind-'em-up signal. Pickering followed him to the threshold of the active runway and stopped, to permit Dunn to take off first.
"Do you ever remember taking off one at a time?" Dunn's voice came metallically over the radio. "Come on."
Pick released the brakes and moved onto the runway beside him. Dunn looked over at him, smiled, and gave him a thumbs-up.
"Corey, Cactus rolling," Dunn told the tower, and shoved the throttle to TAKEOFF POWER. Pickering followed suit. They started down the runway together.
Something is wrong! Something's missing! Pick thought, and for a moment he felt fear.
Shit, goddamn it, you goddamn fool! This is a paved runway. Paved runways don't cause the goddamned gear to complain the way pierced steel planking and large rocks do.
Life came into the controls. Twenty feet apart, the two Wildcats lifted off the ground.
"Colonel," Dunn's voice came over the radio ten minutes later. "Sir, I'm sorry, I forgot your call sign."
"Cactus Leader," Colonel Porter replied, "this is Red Leader. Over."
"Red Leader," Dunn replied, "this is Cactus Leader. Colonel, I'm out of bullets. Or at least a red light comes on when I pull the trigger."
Pickering laughed and touched his mike button.
"Cactus Leader, this is Cactus Two. I'm out of bullets, too."
"Cactus Leader, Red Leader," Colonel Porter replied. "Break this off, and return to field."
"Roger, Red Leader."
"Cactus Leader, we will go first. Cactus Leader, there will be no, repeat no, unauthorized aerobatic maneuvers at any altitude in the vicinity of Corey Field. Acknowledge."
What the hell does that mean? Oh, Christ, he thinks we were planning on doing a victory barrel roll over the field. Why not? We really whipped their ass. I expected to win, but not that easily.
"Red Leader, say again?"
"Cactus Leader, you will land at Corey and you will not, repeat not, perform any aerobatic maneuvers of any kind. Acknowledge."
"Aye, aye, Sir," Dunn said. "Cactus Leader, out."
Dunn suddenly made a sharp, steep, diving turn to his right. This confused Pickering for a moment. He'd been flying on Dunn's wing since they formed up again after what must have been the third or fourth time they shot Porter and O'Fallon down; and, confused or not, he followed him instinctively. Dunn straightened out heading west. Pickering could see Mobile Bay near the horizon.
Now what, Billy Boy? Are you going to do a barrel roll over Ye Olde Family Manse?
Lieutenant Dunn did precisely that, with Lieutenant Pickering repeating the maneuver on his tail.
Then Dunn did more than confuse Pickering; he astonished him. After putting his Wildcat into a steep turn (permitting him to lower his gear utilizing centrifugal force, rather than having to crank it down), he lined himself up with an auxiliary field and landed.
What the hell is that all about? Did he get a warning light?
"Billy?"
There was no reply.
Pickering overflew the auxiliary field.
It's not in use. Otherwise, there'd be an ambulance and some other ground crew, in case a student pranged his Yellow Peril.
Billy, you just about managed to run out of runway! What the hell is going on?
Pickering picked up a little altitude and flew around the field. Then he put his Wildcat in a steep turn in order to release his gear in the usual (but specifically proscribed) manner. And then he made an approach and landing that he considered to be much safer than the one executed by Lieutenant Dunn.
Christ, you're not supposed to put a Wildcat down on one of these auxiliary fields at all!
He stood on the brakes and pulled up beside Dunn's Wildcat. The engine was still running. Dunn was a hundred yards away, walking toward an enormous live oak tree.
Pickering unstrapped himself, climbed out of the cockpit, and trotted after Dunn. He had to wait to speak to him, however; for as he caught up with him, Dunn was having a hell of a time trying to close the zipper of his new flight suit after having urinated on the live oak.
"You want to tell me what you're doing?"
"Officially, I had a hydraulic system failure warning light and made a precautionary landing. When you were unable to contact me by radio, you very courageously landed your aircraft to see what assistance you might be able to render. All in keeping with the honorable traditions of The Marine Corps. Semper Fi. "