"I have a project for Colonel Rickabee, General," Haughton said. "One which we will fund from the Secretary’s Confidential Fund."
General Forrest, who had just popped a large shrimp in his mouth, gestured for Haughton to continue.
"Do you know Captain Fleming Pickering, Sir?" Haughton asked.
"I don’t know him. I know who he is. I don’t know what he’s doing."
"He’s in Australia, Sir, as the Secretary’s personal liaison officer to General MacArthur."
"The admirals must love that," Forrest said dryly.
"Captain Pickering has learned from the Australians of a special force they have. Coastwatchers. They have arranged for people who lived on the islands in that area-plantation managers, civil servants, even some missionaries-to remain behind when the islands were lost to the Japanese-"
"I’ve heard about that," Forrest cut him off.
"Captain Pickering feels that these people have an enormous intelligence potential," Haughton went on. "His opinion is apparently not shared by senior Navy officers in the area."
"I can understand that," Forrest said. "I mean, hell, everybody knows that if you didn’t go to Annapolis, you’re stupid, right?"
Haughton smiled at General Forrest, but did not rise to the challenge. "The Secretary feels that Captain Pickering is right, and that these people could be of great use to us," he said. "He is, however, understandably reluctant to intervene personally and override the officers in question."
Forrest grunted.
"What I wanted to discuss with Colonel Rickabee was the formation of a special Marine unit to establish contact with the Coastwatcher organization, see what, if anything, we can do to assist them, and ensure that their intelligence is readily available to us when we commence operations in that area. In the interests of efficiency, and considering the time element, the Secretary feels that setting up such an organization under Colonel Rickabee is the way to go."
"And with a little bit of luck, maybe the admirals won’t find out what’s going on, right, until it’s too late to do anything about it?"
"That’s just about it, Sir."
"Now drop the other shoe, Haughton," Forrest said. "You couldn’t hide an operation like that from the admirals, and both you and I know it."
Did I handle that badly? Or is he that clever? You don’t get to be head of Marine Corps intelligence by being dull, and it’s a sure thing he and Rickabee played "What’s Haughton up to?" for an hour, as they drove over here from Washington.
"In addition to his liaison duties with General MacArthur’s headquarters, Captain Fleming is performing other, classified, duties for the Secretary," Haughton said.
"Spying on the admirals, you mean," Forrest said. "And, of course, MacArthur."
"I don’t think I’d use those words, Sir."
"I’ll bet those are the words the admirals are using."
"If they are, Sir, they’re wrong," Haughton said.
Forrest met his eyes. "They are?" he asked softly.
"The Secretary feels that he needs a set of eyes on the scene. Expert eyes. Dispassionate. Perhaps nonparochial would be a better word. Captain Pickering has been charged with reporting to the Secretary on matters he feels will be of interest to the Secretary. If the Secretary feels that’s necessary, I don’t think it appropriate for me to categorize it as ‘spying.’"
"You don’t?"
"I think Captain Pickering’s role is analogous to that of an aide-de-camp in the nineteenth century. Or the eighteenth. He has no command function. All he is, as aides on horseback were, is an extra set of eyes for the commander."
Captain David Haughton had originally been offended both by the way Fleming Pickering had entered the Navy-commissioned from civilian life as a captain, a rank Haughton had taken eighteen years to reach-and by the role intended for him. It had taken him a long time and a lot of thought to come up with the aide-de-camp analogy. But once he had reached it, he knew it to be the truth.
"You dropped the other shoe, Haughton," General Forrest said, "but so far I haven’t heard it."
"The Secretary feels that Captain Pickering can better perform his duties if he has some help," Haughton said carefully. "What I had hoped to get from Colonel Rickabee is an officer who could, covertly, provide that help, in addition to his intelligence duties. With the Coastwatchers, I mean."
"A junioraide-de-camp on a horse, huh?" Forrest said dryly. He looked at Colonel Rickabee.
"Banning," Rickabee said.
Forrest grunted.
"Excuse me?" Haughton asked.
"We have an officer," Forrest said, "who just might fit the ticket. He used to be the 4thMarines’ intelligence officer in Shanghai. In the Philippines, too. He went blind over there- temporarily, apparently some sort of concussion from a Japanese artillery round-and they evacuated him by submarine. He regained his sight. Just made major. Bright, tough officer. His name is Ed Banning."
"There would be few raised eyebrows in the Corps," Rickabee said, "or in the Navy, if Banning was sent to Australia with an intelligence detachment."
"You seem pretty willing to go along with Haughton," Forrest said.
"I want to get in with the Coastwatchers," Rickabee said. "I think that’s important. And this way, we get the Confidential Fund to pay for it."
"And, just incidentally, you’d like to know what Pickering is reporting to the Secretary, right?" Haughton said.
"You’re a pretty bright fellow, Haughton," General Rickabee said. "Why aren’t you a Marine?"
Haughton laughed.
"You seem rather unconcerned about the possibility that Banning would report to me what your man Pickering is up to, and that I would promptly tell the Navy," General Forrest said.
"I’ve always thought you were a pretty bright fellow yourself, General," Haughton said. "Certainly bright enough to know that would not be in your best interests."
General Forrest glared icily at Haughton for a long moment. Finally he looked at Rickabee. "You’re right, Rickabee," he said. "He is a Machiavellian sonofabitch. I like him."
The door banged open, and the waiter returned with an enormous tray heaped high with steaming lobsters.
Chapter Ten
(One)
Headquarters
U.S. Marine Corps Parachute School
Lakehurst Naval Air Station
Lakehurst, New Jersey
8 April 1942
First Lieutenant R. B. Macklin, USMC, (Acting) Commanding Officer, USMC Parachute School, had a problem. He had been directed by TWX from Headquarters USMC to furnish by TWX the names of volunteers for a special mission. The volunteers must be enlisted men of his command who met certain criteria. He was to furnish these names within twenty-four hours.
That special mission was officially described as "immediate foreign service of undetermined length; of a classified nature; and involving extraordinary hazards. Volunteers will be advised that the risk of loss of life will be high."
The criteria set forth in the TWX directed that "volunteers should be at least corporals but not higher in rank than staff sergeants; and have no physical limitations whatever.
"The ideal volunteer for this mission will be an unmarried sergeant with at least three years of service who has, in addition to demonstrated small-arms and other infantry skills, experience in a special skill such as radio communications, demolitions, rubber-boat handling, and parachuting.