"Would the captain be pleased to see me immediately, or more pleased after I've had a shower?"
"I think the captain would prefer the latter, sir," the j.g. said, smiling.
"My compliments to the captain, Lieutenant."
"Aye, aye, sir."
Dunn went to the pilot's ready room and listened as Captain Jack Derwinski and Lieutenant Sam Williams, the two pilots who had flown the sortie with him, were debriefed by an air intelligence officer.
Finally, the AIO turned to him.
"Colonel?"
"I have nothing to add," Dunn said.
That was true. They had flown an observation/interdiction mission, seen nothing of interest, and engaged targets of opportunity—small units of North Korean ground troops—and then come home. Then he remembered, and added: "There was some antiaircraft fire from the ground, probably .50-caliber machine gun."
"How do you know that, Colonel? For the record."
"Because there are seven half-inch holes in my fuselage and vertical stabilizer," Dunn said, "that I know weren't there when I took off."
"No shit, Colonel?" Jack Derwinski said, obviously surprised. "I didn't see any tracers."
"Either did I, Captain Derwinski," Dunn said with a smile, "which, as a devout believer in the adage that the one that gets you is the one you don't see, I find just a wee bit disconcerting."
"You didn't feel anything?" Derwinski pursued.
Dunn shook his head no.
"They must have just gone through the skin without hitting anything else," Dunn said, then turned to the AIO. "You better make that fourteen holes in my airplane. Seven in and seven, thank the good Lord, out."
"Yes, sir," the AIO said, smiling. "Fourteen holes."
Dunn filled a china mug with coffee from the machine and carried it with him to his cabin.
He showered, shaved, put on fresh khakis, and made his way to the bridge.
The captain waved him onto the bridge.
"I understand the bad guys have been shooting back at you, Colonel," he said.
"Worse than that, sir," Dunn said. "Somebody has apparently been teaching them how to shoot."
"Ready for a little lunch?"
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."
The captain pushed himself out of his chair and led Dunn off the bridge to his cabin, where a white-jacketed steward and a table set for two were waiting for them.
"We can serve ourselves, Danny. Thank you," the captain said to the steward as he waved Dunn into a chair.
He waited for the steward to leave them, then said, "You went pretty far north today, did you?"
"Yes, sir."
"See anything interesting? Of the sort your friend in the black pajamas was talking about?"
"No, sir."
"He stared me with that talk of six hundred thousand Chinese," the captain said. "You think he was right?"
"Killer McCoy, over the years, has been right most of the time," Dunn said.
The captain lifted a dome off one serving plate and then another, and lowered this domes to the table. Lunch was pork chops, mashed potatoes, and green beans.
"Help yourself," the captain said as he forked a pork chop to his plate.
Dunn, filling his plate, said: "I was thinking—today, as a matter of fact, on our way back to the ship, when I didn't see a sign of a Chinese platoon, much less a field army—that if I had to bet, I'd bet on McCoy. He doesn't say something unless he believes it."
"I hope he's wrong now," the captain said. "This part of the world is a lousy place to have to fight a war in the winter."
"The troops seem to think they'll be home for Christmas," Dunn said.
"Let's hope they're right," the captain said, then: "Changing the subject, you have a message straight from CNO."
"I have a message from CNO?"
"Yeah," the captain said, then took it from his pocket and handed it to him.
"I thought you were pulling my chain, sir," Dunn said as he unfolded the single sheet of teletypewriter paper.
SECRET
URGENT
WASHINGTON DC 0945 16 OCTOBER 1950
FROM: CHIEF OF NAVAL OPERATIONS
SUBJECT: CITATION FOR DECORATION FOR MAJOR M.S. PICKERING, USMCR
TO: COMMANDING OFFICER MAG 33 ABOARD BADOENG STRAIT
INFO: CHAIRMAN JOINT CHIEFS OF STAFF
NAVAL LIAISON OFFICER TO THE PRESIDENT
SUPREME COMMANDER UNITED NATIONS COMMAND TOKYO
COMMANDANT USMC COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF PACIFIC
1. IT IS THE DESIRE OF THE PRESIDENT THAT MAJOR MALCOLM S. PICKERING, USMCR, BE AWARDED THE NAVY CROSS FOR HIS HEROISM AND VALOR ABOVE AND BEYOND THE CALL OF DUTY DURING THE PERIOD HE SPENT BEHIND ENEMY LINES BETWEEN HIS BEING SHOT DOWN AND HIS RESCUE.
2 . IT IS DIRECTED THAT YOU
A. ACKNOWLEDGE RECEIPT OF THIS MESSAGE BY URGENT MESSAGE.
B. IMMEDIATELY PREPARE A SUITABLE CITATION FOR THIS AWARD AND FORWARD IT BY THE MOST EXPEDITIOUS MEANS THROUGH APPROPRIATE CHANNELS TO CHIEF OF NAVAL OPERATIONS, ATTN: CHIEF, AWARDS BRANCH.
C. FURNISH CNO A COPY OF THE PROPOSED CITATION BY URGENT MESSAGE AT THE TIME YOU BEGIN TO FORWARD IT THROUGH APPROPRIATE CHANNELS. (SEE 2.A. ABOVE)
FOR THE CHIEF OF NAVAL OPERATIONS
WALLACE T. GERARD
VICE ADMIRAL
DEPUTY CNO
SECRET
"No," Dunn blurted. "I won't do it."
"Excuse me?"
"I won't do it," Dunn repeated.
"What are you talking about, Billy?" the captain asked.
"Pickering did nothing that merits the award of the Navy Cross," Dunn said.
"The President seems to think he does," the captain said.
"Pickering did what he was expected to do," Dunn said. "He evaded capture until he was able to get back. That's all."
"Colonel," the captain said formally, then reached over and took the message from Dunn's hand and read from it: " 'It is the desire of the President that Major Malcolm S. Pickering, USMCR, be awarded the Navy Cross.' That seems to/settle the question, wouldn't you agree?"
"Let the President write the citation. I won't."
The captain dropped his eyes to the message and read from it again: " 'You will immediately prepare a suitable citation for this award. ..." That sounds pretty clear to me."
“Not only was Pickering not doing anything more than any shot-down pilot is expected to do, but it was his fault—and mine—that he got shot down in the first place."
"You want to explain that to me, Colonel?" the captain asked somewhat coldly.
"What he was doing when he was shot down was trying to become the first locomotive ace in the Marine Corps," Dunn said. "I knew what he was doing, and I didn't stop him."
"What do you mean, 'locomotive ace'?"
"He wanted credit for shooting up five locomotives; in his mind that would make him a locomotive ace. He'd already checked with the Air Force to see if any Air Force pilot was credited with more locomotives in World War Two."
The captain looked at him, shook his head, but said nothing.
"It was a joke to him," Dunn said. "The whole war is a joke to him. And I knew what he was doing and didn't stop him."
"I thought you were old pals."
"He was my wingman at Guadalcanal," Dunn said. "I love the sonofabitch, but I am not going to go through with this nonsense of giving him the Navy Cross. What he did was cause a lot of good people to put their dicks on the chopping block to save his sorry ass, and I am not going to help him get a medal like that for being a three-star horse's ass and, for that matter, a lousy Marine officer."
"Calm down, Colonel," the captain said.
"I beg your pardon for my language, sir," Dunn said. "But I am not going to go along with this bullshit."
The captain raised his hand in a gesture that meant take it easy. "Jesus!" Dunn said disgustedly. The captain said nothing.
"There was a standing order at Fighter One on the 'Canal," Dunn said. "No buzzing the field, period. We couldn't risk the airplanes. Pick used to do full-emergency-power barrel rolls over the field every time he shot down an airplane," Dunn said. "And sometimes just whenever the hell he felt like it. That's when I should have pulled the wiseass bastard up short."