DEAR ALEX
COMMANDANT AT DIRECTION SECNAV DESIRES IMMEDIATE TRANSFER G/SGT ERNEST ZIMMERMAN VMF-229 TO USMC SPECIAL DETACHMENT 16 ATTACHED TO SUPREME HQ SWPOA. AIR TRAVEL PRIORITY AAAAAA AUTHORIZED.
COMMANDING OFFICER VMF-229 ADVISES G/SGT ZIMMERMAN PRESENTLY SERVING WITH 2ND RAIDER BN. PLEASE TAKE WHATEVER ACTION IS NECESSARY TO PERMIT ME TO ADVISE COMMANDANT THAT G/SGT ZIMMERMAN IS BNROUTE USMC SPECDET 16 AND ADVISE BY MOST EXPEDITIOUS MEANS THAT THIS HAS BEEN ACCOMPLISHED.
BEST PERSONAL REGARDS HORACE
END PERSONAL TO COMMGEN 1ST MARDIV
BY DIRECTION:
FORREST, MAJGEN USMC ACOFS G2 HQ USMC
General Vandegrift knew Gunnery Sergeant Zimmerman slightly, but he knew his type well. In 1939, the total strength of the United States Marine Corps was 1,308 officers and 18,052 enlisted men, fewer men than were in the Police Department of New York City. Just about all the officers knew each other, just about all the enlisted men knew all the officers, and most officers knew most of the enlisted men, at least by sight.
Gunnery Sergeant Zimmerman was one of the Old Breed. Vandegrift re-membered him as a corporal with the 4th Marines in Shanghai before the war. If there hadn't been a war, he thought, Zimmerman would still be in Shanghai and still be a corporal. Now there were more than seven thousand officers, and more than 135,000 enlisted Marines, and Zimmerman was a gunnery sergeant long before he could have expected to be a buck sergeant.
The Old Breed had been the backbone of the 1st Marine Division here. Without them, Vandegrift had often thought, the Division might not have been able to do what it had done.
"And you weren't aware of the Gunny's presence, or absence, of course, until you were behind the enemy's lines, and there was nothing you could do about it?" Vandegrift asked. "You don't have to answer that question, Colo-nel. Marine officers shouldn't lie, and our Constitution prohibits compulsory self-incrimination."
"Thank you, Sir," Carlson said, smiling. "Sir, what's this all about?"
"You know as much as I do," Vandegrift said.
"General, the reason I mentioned Gunny Zimmerman is that I'd like to decorate him."
"Put him in for whatever you think he deserves. Offhand, I'd be inclined to act favorably on any recommendation of yours. What did he do?"
"That's what I wanted to talk to you about, Sir. Nothing in particular, ex-cept kill Japanese."
"I don't think I quite understand."
"It's rather hard to describe, Sir. He takes this war personally."
"I don't follow you."
"He doesn't talk much. He's a hard man to draw out. But the way I have Zimmerman figured out is that he was the happiest man in the 4th Marines in Shanghai. He had a Chinese wife. Wife in quotes, because they weren't mar-ried. But she bore him three children. They had a small apartment, and were buying a house in her village. What he wanted to do with his life was put in his twenty years, probably making sergeant, maybe even staff sergeant, and then retire to their house in her village. He didn't want much from life; what he had was what he wanted. And then the Japanese came along and ruined it all for him."
"A real China Marine, in other words?"
"Yes, Sir. I think in the back of his mind he believes that as soon as every soldier in the Japanese Army is dead, he can go back to the 4th Marines in Shanghai, and his family, and things will be back to normal. So he kills a lot of Japanese soldiers."
Vandegrift chuckled and shook his head.
"No individual act of great courage, Sir," Carlson said. "But he was al-ways willing to take the point on the march-and he's very good on the point-and he was the happiest when he could assume the prone position, get his sling in the proper position on his arm, and then put rounds into the heads of Japanese at three hundred, four hundred, five hundred yards."
"I see."
"I don't mean to paint him as bloodthirsty, and he's not foolhardy. But he's very very good at killing Japanese. I didn't keep score, but in my mind, there's no question that he killed more Japanese than anybody else on this op-eration."
"Could you, in good conscience, recommend Gunnery Sergeant Zimmer-man for the Silver Star?"
Carlson considered the question before replying.
"Yes, Sir. I get back to saying that there was no one act of spectacular courage. But he went willingly into harm's way just about every day we were out there-sometimes two or three times a day. That adds up, Sir, in my judg-ment, to more than one act of spectacular bravery."
"So ordered," Vandegrift said. "Get him bathed and shaved and into a clean set of utilities and bring him back here. We'll pin the Silver Star on him, and then you can put him on the next plane to Espiritu Santo."
"Aye, aye, Sir. Thank you, Sir. By your leave, Sir?"
Carlson, having asked permission to withdraw, raised his hand to his tem-ple in salute.
"One more thing," Vandegrift said. "I forgot you were behind the lines and couldn't have heard."
"Sir?"
"We're about through here. On 9 December, next Wednesday, I'm turning the island over to Patch."
"Who, Sir?"
"Major General Alexander M. Patch, U.S. Army, will assume command of Guadalcanal 9 December. The First Marine Division will be sent to Aus-tralia for rehabilitation and refitting."
"I hadn't heard," Carlson said. "It's about time."
"Seventy-plus percent of the Division has malaria," Vandegrift said. "The average Marine has lost twenty-two pounds of body weight."
"I didn't realize it was that bad," Carlson said.
"It's that bad," Vandegrift said, and finally raised his hand to return Carl-son's salute. "Thank you, Colonel. That will be all."
[SIX]
U.S. Army Air Corps Passenger Terminal '
Queensland Air Field
Brisbane, Australia
1715 Hours 6 December 1942
Four U.S. Army ambulances and a complement of medical personnel were waiting for the Army Air Corps C-47 when it taxied up to the terminal. As soon as the wide cargo was opened and an aluminum ladder dropped in place, a doctor, three nurses, and half a dozen medics clambered up the ladder.
The ambulance drivers started their engines, and one of them backed up close to the airplane and opened its rear doors. The first patient came out the door almost immediately, a nurse holding a bottle of blood hovering over the blanket-wrapped body as the litter was carried into the ambulance.
Four minutes passed before the second litter came through the door and was placed in the ambulance. The doors were closed, and the ambulance moved off, to be immediately replaced by a second. Two litter-borne patients were placed in the second ambulance, and two more into the third.
The last litter load was completely covered by a white sheet. It was loaded into the fourth ambulance, and then the doctor and the remaining nurse got in with the body, the doors were closed, and the ambulance drove off.
A stocky, round-faced, tightly muscled, short, barrel-chested Marine in utilities appeared in the wide cargo door. He looked around the airport, dropped a nearly empty barracks bag from the door, and then, carefully, one hand clasping the leather sling of the 1903 Springfield rifle he had slung from his shoulder, climbed down the aluminum ladder.
Lieutenant Kenneth R. McCoy, USMCR, walked up to the Marine and put out his hand.