"As opposed to having sacrificial lambs sent in. Nobody thought the operation was going to work. Dillon convinced them it would. There are ways to get around orders, even orders signed by Admiral Leahy."
"I'm surprised," Senator Fowler said. "I'd never thought of Jake as a heavyweight."
"He's a heavyweight, Senator," Banning said flatly. "I was going to-I got busy at Pearl, and didn't get around to it-to recommend to General Pickering that he be assigned to Management Analysis."
"We've already returned him to Public Affairs," Sessions said. "Effective on his arrival in the States."
"If something comes up, Banning," Colonel Rickabee said. "We can get him back."
Then Rickabee stood up.
"I've got some orders for you, Banning. Take a week off. At General Pickering's orders, you will stay here. That doesn't mean you can't leave town, but I don't want it to get back to General Pickering that you've moved into a BOQ. A week from tomorrow morning, not a second sooner, I'll see you in the office." He paused. "Now get some sleep. And a haircut. You look like hell."
[ONE]
Naval Air Transport Service Terminal
Brisbane, Australia
0815 Hours 17 October 1942
The bay was choppy. Landing was a series of more or less controlled crashes against the water. Brigadier General Fleming Pickering was almost surprised these didn't jar parts-large parts, such as engines-off the Mariner.
Maneuvering from the Mariner into the powerboat sent out to meet it was difficult, and the ride to shore was not pleasant.
The tide was out, which explained to Pickering the chop (a function of shallow water). It also made climbing from the powerboat onto the ladder up the side of the wharf a little dicey. Halfway up the ladder, behind a rear admiral who was obviously a very cautious man, it occurred to Pickering that he had failed to send a message ahead that he was arriving.
Not only would he have to find wheels someplace, but he didn't really know where to go. It was probable that Ellen Feller would be in Water Lily Cottage. And he did not want to deal with her just yet.
The admiral finally made it onto the wharf, and Pickering raised his head above it.
"Ten-hut," an Army Signal Corps lieutenant called out. "Pre-sent, H-arms!"
Two Marine lieutenants and a Marine sergeant, forming a small line, saluted. The rear admiral, looking a little confused, returned the salute.
That's not for you, you jackass.
Pickering climbed onto the wharf and returned the salute.
"How are you, Pluto?" he said to First Lieutenant Hon Song Do, Signal Corps, U.S. Army, and put out his hand.
"Welcome home, General," Pluto said, smiling broadly.
Pickering turned to a tall, thin, pale Marine second lieutenant, and touched his shoulder.
"Hello, John," he said. And then, turning to the other lieutenant and the sergeant standing beside him, he added, "And look who that is! You two all right?" Pickering asked as he shook their hands.
"They let us out of the hospital yesterday, Sir," Sergeant Stephen M. Koffler, USMCR, said. Koffler's eyes were sunken... and extraordinarily bright. His face was blotched with sores. His uniform hung loosely on a skeletal frame.
That was obviously a mistake. You look like death warmed over.
"We're fine, Sir," First Lieutenant Joseph L. Howard, USMCR, said.
Like hell you are. You look as bad as Koffler.
"I'm going to have a baby," Sergeant Koffler said.
"Damn it," Lieutenant Howard said. "I told you to wait with that!"
"Funny, you don't look pregnant," Pickering said.
"I mean, my girl. My fianc‚e," Koffler said, and blushed.
"Koffler, damn it!" Lieutenant Howard said.
Pickering looked back at Second Lieutenant John Marston Moore, USMCR, and asked, "What's that rope hanging from your shoulder, John?"
"That's what we general officer's aides wear, General," Moore said.
You don't look as bad as these two, but you look like hell, too, John. God, what have I done to these kids?
"And you will note the suitably adorned automobile," Hon said.
Not far away was a Studebaker President, with USMC lettered on the hood. A red flag with a silver star was hanging from a small pole mounted on the right fender.
"I'm impressed," Pickering said. "How'd you know I was coming?"
"McCoy sent a radio," Hon said.
"Have you got any luggage, Sir?" Koffler asked.
"Yes, I do, and you keep your hands off it. Hart'll bring it." He looked at Hon. "Where are we going, Pluto?"
"Water Lily Cottage, Sir," Hon replied, as if the question surprised him. "I thought..."
"Who's living there now?"
"Moore, Howard, and me. We found Koffler an apartment, so called, a couple of blocks away."
"And Mrs. Feller?"
"She's in a BOQ," Pluto Hon said uncomfortably. "General, when we have a minute, there's something I've got to talk to you about-"
"Major Banning already has," Pickering said, cutting him off, then changed the subject. "We're all not going to fit in the Studebaker."
"We have a little truck, Sir," Moore said, pointing.
"OK. Koffler: You wait until Sergeant Hart comes ashore with the luggage and then show him how to find the cottage."
"Aye, aye, Sir."
"I'll see you there. I want to hear all about Buka."
Pluto Hon slipped behind the wheel, and Howard moved in beside him. Moore got in the back beside Pickering-somewhat awkwardly, Pickering noticed, as if the movement were painful.
Howard turned. "General, I'm sorry about Koffler. I told him not to say anything...."
"Well, if I was going to have a baby, I think I'd want to tell people. What was that all about, anyway?"
"It'll keep, Sir," Moore said. "We have it under control."
"I want to hear about it."
"You remember the last night, Sir, in the big house? Before we went to Buka?" Howard said.