"And anyway," MacArthur said, tapping his foot on the floor-mounted button again, and smiling at Pickering. "When they see you at the conference, they won't say anything they don't want me to hear. They know how close we are."
[FOUR]
Office of the Director of Public Affairs
Headquarters, U.S. Marine Corps
Eighth and I Streets, N.W.
Washington, D.C.
0945 Hours 20 October 1942
Brigadier General J. J. Stewart, USMC, a ruddy-faced, stocky, pleasant-looking officer of not-quite-fifty, had received by hand the square envelope he was now holding. In theory, every item delivered into the Navy Department message center system was treated like every other: It would gradually wend its way through the system until it ultimately arrived at its destination.
There were exceptions to every standard operating procedure, however, and the item General Stewart held in his hand headed the list of exceptions. The return address read: "The Secretary of the Navy, Washington, D.C."
General Stewart carefully opened the envelope by lifting the flap. His usual custom was to stab the envelope with his letter opener, a miniature Marine Officer's Sword given to him by his wife. But such an act felt too much like a-well, minor desecration. He extracted the single sheet of paper and read it carefully.
The Secretary of the Navy
Washington, D.C.
October 19, 1942
Brigadier General J. J. Stewart
Director, Public Affairs
Headquarters, U.S. Marine Corps
Washington, D.C.
The Secretary wishes it known, upon the release of Major Homer C. Dillon, USMCR from temporary duty with the Office of Management Analysis, that he is cognizant of, and deeply appreciative of, the extraordinary performance of duty by Major Dillon in the conduct of a classified mission of great importance.
The Secretary additionally wishes to express his appreciation of the professional skill and extraordinary devotion to duty, at what was obviously great personal risk, of Corporal Robert F. Easterbrook, USMC. Corporal Easterbrook's still and motion picture photography, when viewed by the President, the Secretary and certain members of the U.S. Senate, provided an insight into activities on Guadalcanal which would not have otherwise been available.
By Direction:
DAVID W. HAUGHTON
Captain, U.S. Navy
Administrative Assistant to the Secretary
General Stewart's first thought was that what he was reading had been written the day before. Probably late in the afternoon, or even at night. Otherwise it would have been delivered before this.
Then he began to try to understand what the words meant.
Though he could not be considered an actual thorn in General Stewart's side, Major Homer C. Dillon was the sort of officer who made General Stewart uncomfortable. He didn't fit into the system. He knew too many important people.
As for the "classified mission of great importance" Dillon had been involved in, General Stewart had no idea what it was all about. He'd been told at the time, and rather bluntly, that Major Dillon was being placed on temporary duty for an indefinite period with the Office of Management Analysis. He'd never previously heard of that organization. Yet when he quite naturally asked about it, he'd even more bluntly been told that his curiosity was unwelcome.
He'd made additional, very discreet inquiries, and learned that the Office of Management Analysis had virtually nothing to do with either management or analysis. That information did not surprise him; for he also learned that the number-two man at the Office of Management Analysis was Colonel F. L. Rickabee, whom General Stewart knew by reputation-the reputation being that he'd been involved in intelligence matters since he was a first lieutenant. The number-one man at Management Analysis was Brigadier General Fleming Pickering, a reservist. The Washington Post had described Pickering as a close personal friend of the President, and scuttlebutt had it that he was Secretary of the Navy Frank Knox's personal spy in the Pacific.
Dillon had obviously been doing something for the Office of Management Analysis.... Exactly what he was doing there, General Stewart suspected he would never know. But he'd done it well, witness the letter. And so now he was being returned to Public Affairs for duty, with the official thanks of the Secretary of the Navy.
But who the hell is this corporal?
"Sergeant Sawyer!" General Stewart called; and in a moment, Technical Sergeant Richard Sawyer, USMC, a lean, crisp Marine in his middle thirties, put his head in the door. General Stewart motioned him inside and Sergeant Sawyer closed the door behind him.
"Sawyer, were you aware that Major Dillon is being returned to us?"
"Yes, Sir. There was a call yesterday afternoon. The Major is apparently on his way here-by now, he's probably arrived-from the West Coast. I arranged for a BOQ for him."
"Good man," General Stewart said. "Does the name Easterbrook, Corporal Robert F., ring a bell with you?"
Sergeant Sawyer considered the question a moment, and then shook his head, no.
"No, Sir."
"See if you can find out who he is, will you?"
"Aye, aye, Sir," Sergeant Sawyer said, and then an idea came to him. "General, he may be one of the combat correspondents Major Dillon took with him when he went over there the first time, for the Guadalcanal invasion. I'll check."
"When he 'went over for the first time'? Sawyer," Stewart asked, picking up on that. "Are you saying that Major Dillon went overseas more than once? Has he been over there again?"
"Yes, Sir. I presume so. The call I had-"
"Who was that from?"
"Sir, from a Captain Sessions in the Office of Management Analysis. The Captain said, Sir, that Major Dillon had just arrived from Pearl Harbor."
"Thank you, Sergeant. See what you can turn up about the Corporal, will you?"
"Aye, aye, Sir. There's a copy of their orders around here someplace."
Five minutes later, Sergeant Sawyer returned to confirm that Corporal Robert F. Easterbrook was indeed a member of the team of combat correspondents Major Homer C. Dillon had taken to the Pacific for the invasion of Guadalcanal.
At 1015 Major Jake Dillon walked into the Public Affairs Division office and went up to the sergeant's desk just inside the door. Dillon was wearing an impeccably tailored uniform, and still smelling faintly of the after-shave applied by the barber in the Willard Hotel.