The Corp - Counterattack Part 35

"Did I say something wrong?" Ernie asked.

Barbara did not trust her voice to speak; she shook her head.

"I'm sorry, really sorry, if this upset you," Ernie said.

Barbara shook her head and made a gesture with her hand meaning that it didn't matter.

"Can I get you a drink?" Ernie asked.

"I got my orders today," Barbara blurted. "I haven't told him yet."

Ken McCoy's head appeared at the rail.

"If you're wearing anything that will melt in water, I respectfully suggest you have ten seconds to take it off."

"Barbara got her orders today," Ernie said evenly. "Joe doesn't know."

"Oh, Christ!" McCoy said. He hoisted himself into the boat. Then he turned and gave his hand to Joe Howard and hauled him aboard.

Joe stood there, dripping water onto the deck.

"Which of these two goes in first?" he asked.

"Barbara got her orders today," Ernie said.

"Oh, Jesus!" Joe said. "When?"

"I start processing Monday," Barbara said softly.

"When did you find out?"

"Just before I met you."

He took a couple of steps toward her, and then, remembering he was soaking wet, stopped.

And then she took several steps to him and threw herself in his arms.

(Four) Pensacola Naval Air Station Pensacola, Florida 1525 Hours 28 February 1942 The pilot of the Army Air Corps twin-engine "Mitch.e.l.l" bomber was slight and balding. There were the silver leaves of a lieutenant colonel on his collar points. He picked up his microphone, then put it back in its hanger, adjusted the frequency of his transceiver, and then picked up the microphone again.

"Pensacola, Army Six-Four-Two, a B-25 aircraft, twenty miles east of your station, for approach and landing."

"Army Six-Four-Two, Pensacola, say again?"

"Six-Four-Two, a B-25 aircraft, twenty miles east of your station, for approach and landing."

"Army Six-Four-Two, be advised that Pensacola is closed to transient traffic without prior approval. Suggest you try Eglin Army Air Corps Field."

"Pensacola, Six-Four-Two has a Navy captain aboard who wishes to deplane at Pensacola. We will require no ground services."

"Army Six-Four-Two, advise Naval officer's name and purpose of his visit to Pensacola."

"Pensacola, the Navy Captain's Pickering. I spell: Peter Item Charley King Easy Roger Item Nan George. Be advised that any questions regarding him are to be directed to the Office of the Secretary of the Navy."

"Army Six-Four-Two, stand by."

There was a ninety-second pause.

"Army Six-Four-Two, Pensacola. You are cleared for a straight-in approach to runway two-seven. The winds are from the west at fifteen. The altimeter is two-nine-niner-eight. The time is two-five past the hour. Report over Pensacola Bay."

"Army Six-Four-Two, Pensacola. Thank you very much."

As the B-25 Mitch.e.l.l, a light bomber, dropped low over Pensacola Bay, a telephone call was placed from the office of Base Commander, Pensacola Naval Air Station, to the office of the Secretary of the Navy: "Office of the Secretary, Captain Haughton."

"Captain, this is Captain Summers. At Pensacola. I'm calling for the Admiral."

"What can I do for you?"

"Does the name Pickering mean anything to you, Captain?"

"Is Captain Pickering at Pensacola?"

"He's about to land here."

"Great! The Secretary's been wondering where he was. Would you ask him to call me just as soon as he can, please, Captain?"

"Yes, of course. Be glad to. Captain, we could probably be of greater usefulness to Captain Pickering if we knew what it is he's after at Pensacola."

Captain Haughton chuckled.

"I have no idea, I'm afraid, but I'm sure he'll tell you when he lands. When did you say that will be?"

"He should be landing right now. I'll relay the message."

Captain Summers first called the Officer of the Day.

"I don't know who this captain the B-2S wants to drop off- Pickering-is, Jack," Captain Summers said, "or what he wants. But pa.s.s the word to him to call Captain Haughton in the Secretary of the Navy's office, as soon as he can. And then ask what we can do for him."

He then called Rear Admiral Richard B. Sayre, who stood third in the chain of command at Pensacola, and was, at the moment, the senior officer aboard. He reported what little he knew about Captain Pickering, and what steps he had taken. Admiral Sayre grunted, and then told Summers to keep him posted.

Less than a minute later, Admiral Sayre called back.

"Pickering, you said? The VIP from Was.h.i.+ngton?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Present my compliments to Captain Pickering, please, and inform him I would be pleased to receive him at my office at his earliest convenience."

"Aye, aye, Sir."

Captain Fleming Pickering was driven directly to Admiral Sayre's office from the airfield. The Admiral's aide was waiting on the sidewalk when the staff car pulled up, and escorted him directly to the Admiral's office.

"Welcome to Pensacola, Captain," Admiral Sayre said. "May I offer you a cup of coffee, or something a little stronger?"

"Admiral, I feel like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar," Fleming Pickering said. "I'm not here officially . . ."

"You did get the message to call Captain Haughton?"

"Yes, Sir. I did. Thank you. Sir, I was about to say that I'm not here officially, and that what I hoped to do was get off and back on the base with no one noticing."

"Oh?"

"Sir, I've been over at Eglin Field on duty. I've got a seat on the courier plane to Was.h.i.+ngton from here tomorrow morning. I have some personal business in Pensacola."

"I thought that might be it," Admiral Sayre said.

"Sir?" Pickering asked, surprised.

"He's a nice boy, according to both my wife and Doc Mclnerney," the Admiral said. "And actually, he's the reason I asked you to come to see me."

Pickering's surprise was evident on his face.

"Doc and I went through flight school here together," Admiral Sayre said. "We're still pretty close. When your boy was sent here, Doc called me and told me about him. And you. I frankly found it comforting."

"Sir?"

"He spoke highly of your boy-Pick, they call him, don't they?"

"Yes, Sir."

"And he said that the only favor you asked of him was that the Marine Corps didn't make him a club officer. I thought that spoke well of you, Captain. And, as I said, I found that rather comforting."

"Comforting, Sir?"

"Your son is in hot pursuit of my daughter," Admiral Sayre said. "I'm not supposed to know that, but I do."

Pickering didn't reply.

"You don't seem surprised to hear that," the Admiral said. Pickering knew more than his son thought he knew about the boy's romantic affairs. There had been an astonis.h.i.+ng number of them, and they could more accurately be described as "carnal" than "romantic."

"Pick is attracted to the ladies, Admiral," Pickering replied. "And vice versa. Actually, from what I've seen, more the latter than the former. I can only presume your daughter is not only extraordinarily good looking, but something special. Pick is seldom reported 'in pursuit'; usually the phrase is 'in flight from.'" The Admiral chuckled.

"I have seen him," he said. "Good-looking young Marine officers driving Cadillac convertible automobiles do seem to attract the ladies, don't they?"

"I've noticed," Pickering said, chuckling.

"Once Martha told him, rather forcefully, that she's not interested, I would have thought that he would have looked elsewhere."

What is this? Did he call me in here to tell me to keep my son away from his precious daughter?

"Pick's not her type? Has he been making an a.s.s of himself?"

"No. He's been a perfect gentleman," Admiral Sayre said. "And I have the feeling that Martha is more attracted to him than she's willing to admit to herself or anyone else."

"Admiral-"

"My daughter's a widow," Admiral Sayre interrupted. "Her husband, Admiral Culhane's boy, an aviator, was killed at Wake Island."

"Oh," Fleming Pickering said, and then added, "I'm sorry to hear that."

"He was a really nice kid," Admiral Sayre said. "It's a d.a.m.ned shame."

"Are you saying this . . . relations.h.i.+p . . . between Pick and your daughter is serious?" Pickering asked.

h.e.l.l, of course it's serious. Chasing after a widow, especially a widow whose husband has been dead only a couple of months, and especially after she told him to get lost, is simply not Pick's style.

"I don't know," Admiral Sayre said. "But since Colonel Doolittle was kind enough to drop you in my lap, I thought I should introduce myself and mention it."

"Colonel Doolittle?" Pickering asked, trying to sound confused.

"Oh, come on, Pickering. Doc and Jimmy and I used to race airplanes together. And I thought that, doing what you're doing, you would have learned by now that whenever two people know something, it's no longer a secret. I know what's going on at Eglin, and my Officer of the Day recognizes Jimmy Doolittle when he sees him in a c.o.c.kpit window."

"I think, Admiral, if that invitation is still open, I will have a drink."

(Five) The San Carlos Hotel Pensacola, Florida 1725 Hours 28 February 1942 "Good afternoon, Sir," Second Lieutenant Richard J. Stecker, USMC, said to the Navy Captain. "May I help you, Sir?" The Captain was in the act of hanging up the telephone in the penthouse suite of the San Carlos Hotel.

d.i.c.k Stecker, a good-looking, trim young man wearing a fur-collared leather jacket over a flight suit, was torn between surprise, anger, and alarm at finding a f.u.c.king four-striper nosing around the suite. But he was a graduate of the United States Military Academy at West Point and a regular officer of the United States Marine Corps, and West Pointers and regular Marine officers do not demand of U.S. Navy captains, Who the f.u.c.k are you, and what are you doing in my hotel room?

"You must be Lieutenant Stecker," Captain Pickering said.

"Yes, Sir."

"It has been reported to me that these quarters are not only infested with females of notorious reputation, but awash, as well, in cheap whiskey," Pickering said sternly.

Lieutenant Stecker looked stunned.

Another Marine second lieutenant, similarly dressed, stepped around Lieutenant Stecker to see what the h.e.l.l was going on, and then yelped in delight: "Dad! G.o.d, am I glad to see you! What are you doing here?"

He ran across the room and wrapped his father in a bear hug.

"I'm catching a plane out of here in the morning," Pickering said.

"You've been on the base?" Pick asked uneasily.

He does not want anyone to know that his father is a Navy captain. Good boy!