"K-l, Marine Double Zero Four," the pilot of the F4-U called.
"Double Zero Four, go ahead."
"I have a fuel warning light blinking at me. Could you get those elephants to let me in ahead of them?"
"Double Zero Four, are you declaring an emergency?"
"Negative at this time. Ask me again in sixty seconds."
"Air Force Four Oh Nine, you are clear to land on One Six," the K-l tower operator ordered. "Navy Six Six Six, you are number two after the C-54. Acknowledge."
"Four Oh Nine, understand Number One. Turning on fi-nal at this time."
"Six Sixty-six understands Number Two behind the Air Force."
"Navy Five Niner Four."
"Niner Four."
"Five Niner Four, turn ninety degrees right, climb to five thousand, and reenter the landing pattern after an Air Force C-47. I have a Marine F4-U with low fuel. Acknowledge."
"Shit," Lieutenant Commander McDavit said, then pushed the button on his microphone. "Niner Four making a right ninety-degree at this time. Understand climb to five thou-sand to reenter pattern after an Air Force Gooney-Bird."
"Marine Double Zero Four, you are number three on One Six after the two transports."
"Thank you kindly, K-l. And sorry about this, Navy Niner Four."
"Fuck you, jarhead," Lieutenant Commander McDavit said, without pressing his microphone button.
Goddamn hotshot jarheads do this all the goddamn time-linger so long looking for something to shoot at that they don't have the fuel to make it back to the carrier.
It was another fifteen minutes before Lieutenant Com-mander McDavit was able to land.
Which will make me fifteen fucking minutes late getting back to the Badoeng Strait. Which means that I will proba-bly get back to her just in time to have the sun right in my fucking eyes when I line up on final.
Ground control directed Navy Five Niner Four to the tarmac in front of Base Operations.
Lieutenant Commander McDavit shut the aircraft down and then he and Aviation Motor Machinist's Mate 2nd Class Richard Orwell climbed down to the ground.
"You start unloading the mail," Commander McDavit ordered. "And I'll see about getting us a Jeep or some-thing."
"Right," Orwell said.
The proper response to an order was "Aye, aye, sir," but Orwell was a good kid, and meant no disrespect, so Mc-Davit decided to let it pass.
Somewhere on K-l was a small Navy detachment charged with dealing with the mail. It came from San Diego-sometimes San Francisco-on a Navy R5D. R5Ds could not land on "Jeep" carriers such as the Sicily and the Badoeng Strait, so a COD Avenger had to fly to K-l and pick it up.
Commander McDavit was directed to the fleet post of-fice detachment, told "sorry, no Jeep," and walked to it, wondering how the hell he was supposed to get the Bado-eng Strait's outgoing mailbags from the Avenger to the FPO, and the incoming mailbags from the FPO to the Avenger, without a Jeep.
There was a Marine captain, in utilities, leaning on an Army Jeep in front of the FPO. A Garand rifle was hanging from its strap, hooked on the corner of the windshield.
The Marine captain stood straight and saluted.
"You're the COD from the Badoeng Strait?" the Marine captain asked.
"Right."
"I need a ride out to her, Commander," the Marine said.
"You're reporting aboard?"
"Not exactly," the Marine captain said, and showed Mc-Davit a set of orders from SCAP, signed by some Army three-star general, saying he was authorized to go just about any place he wanted to go.
"I'll tell you what I'll do, Captain," McDavit said. "You help me get the mailbags I brought from the Badoeng Strait here, and the mailbags that are going to the Badoeng Strait out to my airplane, and if I have the weight left, I'll take you out."
"I'll help you with the mail," the Marine captain said, as he produced another set of orders, this one-Jesus Christ!- signed by the Commander-in-Chief himself, "but if it's a question of me or the mail going, the mail will have to wait."
[THREE]
THE USS BADOENG STRAIT
35 DEGREES 60 MINUTES NORTH LATITUDE,
130 DEGREES 52 MINUTES EAST LONGITUDE
THE SEA OF JAPAN
1945 4 AUGUST 1950
"Badoeng, Badoeng, Niner Four at 5,000, five miles east. I have Badoeng in sight."
"Niner Four, Recovery operations under way. You are number two to land after an F4-U on final approach."
"Roger, I have him in sight. Badoeng, be advised I have aboard a passenger traveling on Presidential orders."
"Say again, Niner Four?"
"Be advised I have aboard a passenger traveling on Presidential orders."
Commander McDavit set his Avenger down on Badoeng Strait's deck more or less smoothly, and the hook caught the second cable, which caused the aircraft to decelerate very rapidly.
Which caused Captain Kenneth R. McCoy, USMCR, to utter a vulgarity instantly followed by an obscenity, and then a blasphemy.
There were no windows in the passenger/cargo area of the Avenger, and very little light. The seat faced the rear, which had produced a certain feeling of unease in Captain McCoy, especially during the last few moments of Com-mander McDavit's landing approach, during which he had abruptly moved the aircraft to the right, and then even more abruptly to the left, and then raised the nose sharply in the second before he touched down.
Captain McCoy was recovering from this traumatic ex-perience when the hatch in the fuselage suddenly opened, filling the interior with brilliant light from the setting sun. It took Captain McCoy's eyes a long moment to adjust to the change in light intensity, but when they had, he saw a Marine corporal, in dress blue trousers, khaki shirt, and brimmed cap with white cover, standing at attention by the door, his right arm raised in a rigid salute.
Captain McCoy unstrapped his harness and started to go through the hatch, then remembered the National Match Garand and backed into the passenger/cargo compartment to unstrap it.
When he finally passed through the door and stood in the bright sunlight of the deck, he saw that he was being met by a welcoming party. There was a Navy lieutenant, in the prescribed regalia identifying him as the officer of the deck. There was also a commander, a lieutenant com-mander, a Marine lieutenant colonel-wearing aviator's wings-and a Marine staff sergeant.
What's going on? Who the hell are all these people?
The Badoeng Strait's captain, having been advised that an officer traveling on Presidential orders was about to come aboard, and not knowing that it was a lowly jarhead captain, had ordered that the distinguished guest be greeted with appropriate ceremony, and sent the Badoeng Strait's executive officer, the senior Marine officer aboard, and the two Marine orderlies on duty to do so.
Captain McCoy remembered the protocol.
He saluted the officer of the deck.
"Permission to come aboard, sir?"
"Granted."