«The precise nature of the mission will be made known to you in due course, Mr. Schneider,» Commander Innis had said.
Lieutenant Commander Innis, in fact, had no idea himself about the nature of the mission. But he was naturally reluctant to admit this to a twenty-year-old newly promoted j.g. who still believed his skipper knew everything.
When Innis picked up his telephone half an hour before, he was somewhat astonished to find himself talking to an admiral.
«This is Admiral Wagam, Commander.»
While Commander Innis was not familiar with all the senior officers of CINCPAC, he did know who Admiral Wagam was. Admiral Wagam was not only close to Admiral Nimitz, he had the reputation of relieving, on the spot, officers who did not measure up to his standards. Being in command of a PT boat squadron was infinitely better than being, for example, a morale officer, or a VD control officer, which is usually what happened to officers who incurred Admiral Wagam's displeasure.
What the hell does he want with me?
«Yes, sir?»
«If I told you you were going to lose one of your boats and its crew, for up to a month, which of your boats could you best spare?»
I
suspect that no matter how I answer the question, it will be wrong
.
When in doubt, tell the truth.
«That would be PT-197, sir.»
«Why?»
«It has a new skipper, sir. And some new crewmen. There hasn't been time to bring him and the boat up to speed.»
The next question will be, «Why not, Commander? What are you doing all day, lying around on your tail?»
«But the skipper can handle the boat?»
«Yes, sir.»
«You sound very sure, Commander.»
That's both a statement and a question.
«Sir, Lieutenant Schneider has more experience handling boats than any of my other boat commanders.»
Or, for that matter, me. The problem is he doesn't know diddley-shit about anything else in the Navy.
«How is that?»
«Sir, his family operates a fleet of tuna boats out of San Francisco. He was the master of an eighty-footer when he was sixteen.»
«He's my man,» Admiral Wagam said. «It always pays to ask questions, Commander.»
«Yes, sir, I'm sure it does.»
«Has this officer got a big mouth? Rephrased: can he be trusted to keep his mouth shut?»
I
have absolutely no idea
.
«He's a good young officer, sir.»
«Impress upon him, and have him impress upon his crew, that they are not to discuss this mission with anyone.»
«Aye, aye, sir. Sir, may I inquire as to the nature of the mission?»
«Not over a nonsecure landline, Commander,» Admiral Wagam said. «You will be contacted shortly by either Lieutenant Chambers D. Lewis, who is my aide-de-camp, or Major Homer C. Dillon, a Marine. They will tell you what they feel you should know. From this moment, you will consider PT-197 attached to me until relieved.»
«Aye, aye, sir.»
The line went dead, and Commander Innis sent for Lieutenant (j.g.) Max Schneider.
Major Homer C. Dillon, USMCR, driving a Ford station wagon bearing the logotype of the Pacific & Far East Shipping Corporation, showed up as darkness was falling. He was followed by a Marine Corps General Motors six-by-six. The truck was driven by a chief carpenter's mate who had apparently lost his cap somewhere.
Lieutenant (j.g.) Schneider quickly descended the ladder from PT-197 to the wharf. «Major Dillon, sir?» he asked, saluting.
«Right,» Jake Dillon replied, returning the salute. «Lieutenant Schneider?»
«Yes, sir.»
«Where's the captain?» the chief carpenter's mate asked.
«I command PT-197, Chief,» Lieutenant (j.g.) Schneider replied coldly.
«No shit? You don't look old enough,» the chief carpenter's mate said.
«You'll have to excuse the chief, Mr. Schneider,» Major Dillon said. «He's only been in the Navy nine months.»
«Before I came in the Navy, Chief, I ran tuna boats out of San Francisco,» Lieutenant (j.g.) Schneider said. «What did you do?»
«No shit?» Chief Carpenter's Mate Peter T. McGuire, USNR, replied. «I spent some time on boats like that. Remember
They Go Down to the Sea
, Jake?»
Dillon nodded. «It laid an enormous egg,» he said.
«That was a movie,» Lieutenant (j.g.) Schneider said. «They rented some boats from my father. I was ten, eleven years old.»
«They were your father's boats?» Chief McGuire said. «I'll be damned.»
«Can you muster a labor detail, Mr. Schneider?» Major Dillon asked. «The truck is loaded with boxes we need aboard your boat. And two rubber boats.»
«It would be best if you could lash this stuff outside,» Chief McGuire said. «Rather than put it inside, I mean.»
«To the vessel's
superstructure
, you mean, Chief?» Lieutenant (j.g.) Schneider asked. «Rather than
below
?»
«Right,» Chief McGuire agreed with a smile.
«Sir,» Lieutenant (j.g.) Schneider said, looking at Dillon. «May I ask what the crates contain?»
Jake Dillon smiled at him. «Sand,» he said.
«There's twenty-seven of them,» Chief McGuire amplified. «Average weight, fifty pounds. Total weight, thirteen hundred and fifty pounds.»
«And as soon as Lieutenant Lewis can get here,» Major Dillon said, «there will also be two hundred and fifty gallons of avgas, in five-gallon jerry cans. Fifty cans.»
«Total weight seventeen hundred fifty pounds, give or take,» Chief McGuire added.
«And when we come back in the morning,» Dillon said, «in addition to myself, Lieutenant Lewis, and Chief McGuire, there will be five other men with us.»
«Aye, aye, sir,» Lieutenant (j.g.) Schneider said. He was nearly consumed with curiosity, but he had been ordered to ask no questions, and didn't. Even when he saw Major Dillon's boxes. They were of various odd sizes and constructed of what looked like aircraft aluminum. Each bore a number, (1) through (27).
The crew of PT-197 had just about finished moving the boxes and rubber boats from the truck to the boat when another GM 6 X 6—this one painted Navy gray—drove up.
Lieutenant Chambers D. Lewis III, USN, climbed down from the cab. He was wearing the aiguillette of an aide-de-camp.
He and Major Dillon and Lieutenant (j.g.) Schneider exchanged salutes. Chief McGuire did not.
«I was told the skipper would be here,» Lieutenant Lewis said to Lieutenant (j.g.) Schneider.
«You're looking at him,» Chief McGuire informed him. «And we lucked out. He used to run a tuna boat out of 'Frisco. He probably knows more about boats than you do.»
«I'm sure he does,» Lieutenant Lewis said with a strained smile.
Major Dillon coughed into his balled fist. Or laughed.
«My name is Lewis,» Lewis said to Schneider, offering his hand.
«Lieutenant (j.g.) Schneider, sir.»
«Has the chief explained what we need, Mr. Schneider?»
«Yes, sir.»