"I know. And I also know that the first principle of good leadership is to give your subordinates their mission, and then get out of their way."
"I'm talking about guidance, Mr. President, not an order. I myself am always pleased to know what you want of me...."
Roosevelt looked at the two of them again.
"Admiral, you're right. I can't afford to lose the good will of either Admiral Nimitz or General MacArthur; but on the other hand, the country cannot afford to lose Guadalcanal."
He spun around in his wheelchair and picked up a telephone from a chair-side table.
"Who's this?" he asked, surprised and annoyed when a strange voice answered. "Good God, is it after midnight already? Well, would you bring your pad in please, Sergeant?"
He hung up and turned back to Knox and Leahy.
"Alice has gone home. There's an Army sergeant on standby."
There was a discreet knock at an interior door, and without waiting for permission, a scholarly-looking master sergeant carrying a stenographer's pad came in.
"Yes, Mr. President?
"I want you to take a note to the Joint Chiefs of Staff," the President said. "I want it delivered tonight."
"Yes, Mr. President."
"And make an extra copy, and have that delivered to Senator Richardson Fowler. Across the street. At his hotel. Have him awakened if necessary."
"Yes, Mr. President."
The President looked at Admiral Leahy and Secretary Knox.
"I don't think Richardson liked being sent home," he said, smiling wickedly. "Maybe this will make it up to him." He turned back to the Army stenographer. "Ready, Sergeant?"
"Yes, Mr. President."
Ten minutes before, room service delivered hamburgers and two wine coolers full of iced beer.
After Banning wolfed his down, he was embarrassed to see that no one else was so ravenous. Captain Haughton, he saw, had hardly touched his.
"There's another under the cover," Senator Fowler said. "I ordered it for you. I didn't think you'd have a hell of a lot to eat on the way from San Francisco."
"I'm a little embarrassed," Banning said, but lifted the silver cover and took the extra hamburger.
"Don't be silly," Fowler said.
There was a rap at the door.
"Come in," Senator Fowler called. "It's unlocked."
The door opened. A neatly dressed man in his early thirties stepped inside.
"Senator Fowler?"
"Right."
"I'm from the White House, Senator. I have a Presidential document for you."
"Let's have it," the Senator said.
"Sir, may I see some identification?"
"Christ!" Fowler said, but went to the chair where he had tossed his suit jacket and came up with an identification card.
"Thank you, Sir," the man said, and handed him a large manila envelope.
"Do I have to sign for it?"
"That won't be necessary, Sir," the courier said, nodded, and walked out.
Fowler ripped open the envelope, took out a single sheet of paper, read it, and grunted. Then he handed it to Captain Haughton, who was holding an almost untouched glass of beer.
"Pass it around when you're through," Fowler said.
THE WHITE HOUSE
Washington, D.C.
17 October 1942
To The Joint Chiefs of Staff:
My anxiety about the Southwest Pacific is to make sure that every possible weapon gets into that area to hold Guadalcanal.
Franklin D. Roosevelt
"I don't know what this means," Banning said, a little thickly, when he'd read it and passed it to Sessions.
"It means that if either Nimitz or MacArthur is holding anything back for their own agendas, if they are smart, they will now send it to Guadalcanal," Fowler said.
Banning grunted.
"Major, if you were God, what would you send to Guadalcanal?"
"Everything," Banning said.
"In what priority?"
"I don't really know," Banning said. "I suppose the most important thing would be to keep the Japanese from building up their forces on the island. And I suppose that means reinforcing the Cactus Air Force."
"I think they can do that," Fowler said. "God, I hope they can."
He poured a little more beer in his glass, then smiled. "Another question?"
"Yes, Sir?"
"What was Jake Dillon doing on that hush-hush mission Pickering set up?"
"I don't think I understand the question, Sir."
"I've known Jake a long time," Fowler said. "Don't misunderstand me. I like him. But Jake is a press agent. A two-fisted drinker. And one hell of a ladies' man. But I'm having trouble picturing him doing anything serious."
"I think you underestimate him, Senator," Banning said, aware that Fowler's question angered him. "That mission wouldn't have gone off as well as it did, if it hadn't been for Dillon. Perhaps it wouldn't have gone off at all."
"Really?" Captain Haughton asked, surprised.
"Yes, Sir," Banning said.
"You want to explain that?" Fowler asked.
How the hell did I get involved in this?
"Major Dillon can get people to do things they would rather not do," Banning said.
"With Dillon on orders signed by Admiral Leahy, it wasn't a question of whether anyone wanted to do what he asked them to do, was it?" Captain Haughton argued.
"Even though Commander Feldt of the Coastwatchers is, kindly, often difficult to deal with," Banning said quietly, "Dillon got Feldt to send his best native into Buka. Even though they were understandably reluctant to have one of their very few submarines hang around Buka a moment longer than necessary, he got the Australian Navy to let that sub lie offshore for three days in case they had to try to get our people off the beach. He got MAG-21, the Cactus Air Force, to loan the best R4D pilot around to fly the R4D that made the landing, even though he was one of their fighter squadron commanders."
"As opposed to what?" Senator Fowler asked.