"And it will be our luck to get one, right?"
"Right. And I won't be the exec, either. Just one more airplane jockey. So, until we find out how much of a prick our new squadron commander is going to be, be smart, keep your mouth shut, and your eyes and ears open."
"OK. Now can I ask if my car is here?"
"Yes, you may," Dunn said grandly.
The car had been delivered; it would be at the front door in five minutes.
"I have just had another unpleasant, if realistic, thought," Dunn said. "Our new skipper maybe won't permit us to live here."
"Fuck him," Pick said. "Wave your Navy Cross in his face."
"Pick, you weren't listening. You're going to have to change your whole attitude, or you're going to get us both in trouble. Maybe you don't give a damn, but I don't want to get sent back to P'Cola to fly Yellow Perils."
"I surrender. I am now on my good behavior. Note the glow of my halo."
"Just make sure it keeps glowing," Dunn said. "Let's go."
There was a staff sergeant on duty at the headquarters of Marine Air Group 59. He told them that the Major was out inspecting the flight line.
"What for?" Pick asked.
"Sir," the sergeant replied, looking askance at the question from the young, new pilot, obviously fresh from P'Cola, "the SOP says the Officer of the Day will inspect the flight line every two hours during off-duty hours, Sir."
"Right," Pickering said.
"Your name is Dunn, you said, Lieutenant?" the sergeant asked. And then, before Dunn could reply, he asked another question. "Sir, isn't that the Navy Cross? Are you that Mr. Dunn, Sir?"
"That's him, Sergeant. We call him 'Modest Bill.' He always wears his medals-"
"Shut up, Pick," Dunn said, and it was in the voice of command.
"-when trying to make a favorable first impression on his new squadron commander," Pick finished.
"I told you to shut up, Mr. Pickering."
Pick shrugged, but said nothing else.
"This is for you, Mr. Dunn," the sergeant said, and handed him a large manila envelope.
Dunn tore it open and read the single sheet of Teletype paper it contained.
"Well," he said, "I'm all right with the new skipper, but your ass, Mr. Pickering, is in a crack."
"What are you talking about?"
"What are you talking about, Sir? if you please, Mr. Pickering."
"What do you mean, Sir?"
"Stick this in your ear, Mr. Pickering," Dunn said, handing him the Teletype. "And then call me 'Sir.' Get in the habit of calling me Sir, as a matter of fact.
ROUTINE CONFIDENTIAL
HEADQUARTERS USMC WASH DC 1535 13 NOV 42
COMMANDING OFFICER MAG-59
MEMPHIS NAVAL AIR STATION TENN
1. FOLLOWING EXTRACTS GENERAL ORDER 205 HQ USMC DATED 10 NOV 42 QUOTED FOR INFORMATION AND APPROPRIATE ACTION.
*******
17. 1/LT WILLIAM C. DUNN, USMCR, HQ MAG-59 IS PROMOTED CAPTAIN, USMCR, WITH DATE OF RANK 1 NOV 42.
18. CAPT WILLIAM C. DUNN, USMCR, DETACHED HQ MAG-59 ATTACHED VMF-262, MAG-59, MEMPHIS NAVAL AIR STATION, TENN, FOR DUTY AS COMMANDING OFFICER.
*******
171. 1/LT MALCOM S. PICKERING, USMCR, DETACHED HQ MAG-59 ATTACHED VMF-262, MAG-59, MEMPHIS AIR STATION, TENN, FOR DUTY.
BY DIRECTION OF THE COMMANDANT
VORHEES, LT COL. USMC
"I'll be goddamned, Sir," Lieutenant Pickering said. "Better, Mr. Pickering, better," Captain Dunn said.
[SIX]
Water Lily Cottage
Brisbane, Australia
1015 Hours 19 November 1942
When Brigadier General Fleming Pickering, USMCR, entered the house, he had to look for Lieutenant Colonel Jack (NMI) Stecker, USMCR; Lieutenant Kenneth R. McCoy, USMCR; and Staff Sergeant Stephen M. Koffler, USMCR. He found them in the bathroom.
The bathtub was full. In it was floating a black object, about a foot square.
"Hold it under again, Koffler," Colonel Stecker ordered.
Sergeant Koffler knelt by the tub and with some effort submerged the black object. From the evidence on the floor, as well as Koffler's rolled-up sleeves and water-soaked shirt, it was clear to General Pickering that this was not the first time they had done whatever they were doing.
Lieutenant McCoy looked at his wristwatch.
"Two minutes this time," McCoy ordered, and Koffler nodded.
"What is that?" Pickering asked.
Stecker and McCoy, in a reflex action, came almost to attention.
"Actually, this is aspirin," McCoy said. "The other stuff is in short supply. We have a buoyancy problem. So we filled the pack with aspirin. If this stuff leaks, all we lose is aspirin."
"What is that stuff?"
"Something new; they're packing radios in it. Plastic is what they call it. Koffler found out you can reseal it-sort of remelt it together. So far it's working like a Swiss watch."
"I've had a number of Swiss watches that leaked," Pickering said, and then smiled at Koffler. "Good work, Koffler."
"Thank you, Sir," Koffler said, and then blurted, "General, can I ask you something?"
"Ask away."
"Can I go with the Colonel and Mr. McCoy?"
"What makes you think the the Colonel and Mr. McCoy are going anywhere?" Pickering replied.
Staff Sergeant Koffler didn't even acknowledge General Pickering's evasive reply.
"General, they're going to need a radio operator," Koffler said. "And I'm pretty good in a rubber boat."
My God, you haven't fully recovered from Buka, and you just got married, and you're volunteering to do something like that again?
"You just got married, Steve."
"If they can't get ashore in the rubber boat..." Koffler went on.
"McCoy, have you been running off at the mouth to Sergeant Koffler?"
"I think the sergeant has been getting information the way I've been getting mine," Colonel Stecker said. "Putting two and two together. The only difference between him and me is that I'm pretty sure I know where we're going-although no one has come out and said so-and that all he knows is that it's a beach somewhere."