VIA SPECIAL CHANNEL
SUPREME COMMANDER SWPOA
ATTENTION: BRIG GEN F. W. PICKERING, USMCR
0905 2 JANUARY 1943
NEXT OP KIN, MRS DOUGLAS WILLIAMS (AUNT) CEDAR RAPIDS IOWA WAS BEEN NOTIFIED OF RETURN TO ACTIVE DUTY OF FIRST LIEUTENANT JAMES B. WESTON, USMC BY THE UNDERSIGNED 26 DEC 1942. THERE MAY BE SOME ADMINISTRATIVE PROBLEMS IN THIS REGARD AS WESTON WAS PREVIOUSLY DECLARED MISSING AND PRESUMED DEAD IN ACTION AND DEATH BENEFITS ETCETERA HAVE BEEN PAID. WILL ADVISE.
FOLLOWING QUOTED FOR YOUR INFORMATION:
EXTRACT, GENERAL ORDER 1 HQ USMC WASH DC DATED 1 JAN 1943
PARA 13.1/LT JAMES B. WESTON, USMC, DETACHED FROM HQ USFIP AND ASSIGNED USMC SPECIAL DETACHMENT 16 WITH DUTY STATION BRISBANE AUSTRALIA.
PARA 14. FOLLOWING OFFICERS PROMOTED TO GRADE OF CAPTAIN, USMCR, WITH DATE OF RANK 25 DECEMBER 1942
MCCOY, KENNETH R USMC OFFICE OF MANAGEMENT ANALYSIS
WESTON, JAMES B USMC SPECIAL DETACHMENT 16
FOR YOUR INFORMATION, CAPT WESTON IS AUTHORIZED THIRTY (30) DAY RECUPERATIVE LEAVE, NOT CHARGEABLE AS LEAVE, AT LOCATION OF HIS CHOICE IN CONTINENTAL US AS SOON AS HIS MEDICAL CONDITION PERMITS. SECNAV HAS AUTHORIZED AAA AIR PRIORITY FOR RETURN TO US VIA PEARL HARBOR.
BY DIRECTION:
BANNING, MAJ USMC
All four engines of the Coronado began to roar as the pilot shoved the throttles to takeoff power. In less than a minute, they were airborne.
The Navy doctor came aft as the Coronado was still climbing out. General Pickering left his chair and walked forward.
"Good morning, Captain," the doctor said, and then put a stethoscope to Weston's chest, took his pulse, pinched his skin, looked into his eyes, told him to open his mouth, pulled at his teeth, and then patted him encouragingly on his shoulder.
Then he stood up and walked to General Pickering.
Weston considered this a moment, then unstrapped himself and got out of his seat and walked forward.
The doctor stopped whatever he was saying in midsentence.
"If you're talking about me, I'd like to hear it," Weston said.
"Tell him, Doctor."
"You are malnourished," the doctor said. "But you don't have malaria, which is surprising. We'll do some tests, of course, when we reach Brisbane, but I can't see any indications of parasitic infestation, or other illness. And once we get some balanced nutrition into you, I think your gums will firm up quickly; you won't lose any teeth, in my opinion."
"Is that where we're going, Brisbane?"
"Right," General Pickering said. "The fighters will give us cover, these and some others from Henderson Field, until we're out of range of Japanese aircraft."
"Where is Henderson Field?"
"On Guadalcanal, an island in the Solomons," Pickering said, and then added, "My son used to fly Wildcats off Henderson."
"I never saw these before," Weston said, gesturing out the window, where a Corsair flew three hundred feet away.
"They just got here. Corsairs. My son-he's now an IP in the States in them-wrote me that they have the most powerful engine ever put in a fighter."
"I used to be a fighter pilot," Weston said.
"Used to be?" Pickering said. "An old friend of mine named Mclnerney told me that flying is like riding a bicycle: Once you learn how, you never forget."
"I hope that's true," Weston said. "General, do you think it would be all right if I went to the cockpit?"
"I'm sure it would," Pickering said.
Weston started forward, toward a ladder on a bulkhead.
"Captain," Pickering called after him.
"Sir?"
"Do you happen to play bridge?"
"Yes, Sir, I do."
"Fine," Pickering said.
Wondering what that was all about, Weston climbed the ladder and made his way to the cockpit. The pilot-a lieutenant commander-the copilot, and a chief petty officer Weston presumed was the flight engineer, looked at him curiously.
"I like your beard," the pilot said finally.
"I was ordered to keep it," Weston said.
"You ever been up here before?" the pilot asked.
"No, Sir. First time. A million years ago, I flew Catalinas, and before that Buffaloes."
The pilot turned to the copilot and jerked his thumb upward. The copilot unstrapped himself and lifted himself out of his seat.
"Sit down," the pilot said. "It's supposed to be like sex."
"Sir?" Weston asked, wondering if he had heard correctly.
"Once you learn how to do it, you never forget," the pilot said.
[FIVE]
Quarters of the Supreme Commander
South West Pacific Ocean Area
Brisbane, Australia
1730 Hours 6 January 1943
It is entirely possible that I am dreaming, Captain James B. Weston, USMCR, thought, absolutely seriously, as he examined himself in the mirrored walls of the elevator.
There were four splendidly uniformed Marine officers in the elevator, each wearing crisp, high-collared white summer uniforms. One of them was a brigadier general, whose breast bore an impressive array of ribbons representing his decorations for valor and places of overseas service in two world wars. A sec-ond was a full bull colonel, whose breast was similarly adorned, and around whose neck hung the blue-starred ribbon of the highest award for valor awarded by the United States, the Medal of Honor. The third was a second lieutenant of Marines, wearing only five colored ribbons, but also the red and gold aiguillette of an aide-de-camp to a general officer.
The fourth officer was a Marine captain, on whose breast were only two ribbons. One of these was yellow with two narrow red, white, and blue stripes representing the American Defense Service Medal, awarded to all military per-sonnel who had been on active duty before 7 December 1941. A second yellow ribbon, this one with two white-red-white stripes and one red, white, and blue stripe, represented the Asiatic Pacific Campaign Medal, which was awarded to anyone who had served anywhere in the Pacific between 7 December and a date to be announced later.
The fourth officer also wore the gold wings of a Naval Aviator and a full, blond beard.
The elevator door whooshed open.
A master sergeant with olive-colored skin, in stiffly starched khakis, either standing at attention or incapable of slouching, stood outside.
"Good evening, gentlemen," he said in impeccable English. "The Su-preme Commander and Mrs. MacArthur are in the study. I believe you know the way, General?"
"Yes, I do, thank you," Brigadier General Fleming Pickering said.
"Esta muy acepta aqui, mi Capitan," the master sergeant added to Cap-tain James B. Weston. (You are especially welcome here, my Captain.)
"Gracias, Sargento," Weston replied.
The exchange sort of shattered the dreamlike feeling.
First, he must know that I've been in the Philippines. Second, he spoke Spanish to me. And I understood him, and replied in Spanish without thinking about it. Which means that all the time I spent in the dark with Sergeant LaMadrid, as I tried to perfect his English and he tried to teach me Spanish, was worth it. That makes everything real. Maybe I really am going to meet General Douglas MacArthur.
He followed General Pickering and Colonel Stecker for twenty-five yards down a carpeted corridor. The right half of a double door was open. A white-jacketed orderly, also obviously a Filipino, bowed them inside.