The sergeant, who had been monitoring his radio, waiting for traffic, looked at the lieutenant for guidance. The lieutenant nodded. The sergeant got up, and Pickering sat down at the typewriter. There was a blank sheet of paper in it.
Pickering looked at the lieutenant.
"The priority immediately below 'Operational Immediate' is 'Urgent,' right?"
"Yes, Sir."
Pickering tapped the balls of his fingers together impatiently as he mentally composed the message, and then he began to type. He typed with skill. He had taken up typing to pass time as a junior officer at sea. It wasn't too much later than that when he learned that doing the typing himself was much faster than dictating to a secretary.
URGENT
FROM: HQ FIRST MARINE DIVISION
TO: CINCPAC
0045 13AUG42
FOLLOWING CLASSIFIED TOP SECRET FROM CAPTAIN FLEMING PICKERING USNR FOR EYES ONLY SECNAVY
WASHINGTON DC
1. LOSS IN COMBAT OF COLONEL FRANK GOETTGE 1ST MARDIV G2, CAPTAIN WILLIAM RINGER 5TH
MARINES S2 AND 1ST LT RALPH CORY 5TH MARINES LANGUAGE OFFICER REQUIRES IMMEDIATE ACTION TO AIRSHIP QUALIFIED REPLACEMENT PERSONNEL.
2. DESPITE URGENT NECESSITY TO FURNISH 1ST MARDIV WITH QUALIFIED PERSONNEL I URGE IN
STRONGEST POSSIBLE TERMS THAT EXISTING POLICIES PROHIBITING ASSIGNMENT OF PERSONNEL WHO HAVE HAD ACCESS TO HIGHLY CLASSIFIED INFORMATION TO DUTIES WHERE THEY MAY FALL INTO ENEMY HANDS BE STRICTLY OBSERVED.
3. PENDING ARRIVAL OF QUALIFIED REPLACEMENT, THE UNDERSIGNED HAS TEMPORARILY ASSUMED
DUTIES OF 1ST MARDIV G2.
SIGNED FLEMING PICKERING CAPTAIN USNR
END TOP SECRET EYES ONLY SECNAV FROM PICKERING CAPT USN G2 1ST MARDIV
He tore the paper from the typewriter and read it.
If that second paragraph doesn't tell Haughton that some damned fool assigned Cory, who almost certainly knew about MAGIC, to an infantry battalion, he's not as smart as I think he is.
He handed the sheet of paper to the lieutenant.
"Encrypt it and get it out as soon as you can," he said.
"Yes, Sir," the lieutenant said. He read the message.
"My God, they're all dead? What the hell happened?"
"It's a long, sad story, Lieutenant," Pickering said and walked out of the commo bunker.
(Three)
SUPREME HEADQUARTERS SOUTHWEST PACIFIC AREA
BRISBANE, AUSTRALIA 13 AUGUST 1942
On the plane from Pearl Harbor, Lieutenant Colonel George F. Dailey, USMC, seriously considered doing something about the pristine newness of his silver oak leaves. The problem was that he didn't know what would do the job... He didn't think that rubbing them-on a carpet, say-would effectively dim their gloss. And working on them with, say, a nail file, would probably produce a silver lieutenant colonel's leaf that looked like somebody had worked it over with a nail file.
Before he fell asleep, he thought that when he got to his new billet in Australia, before he actually reported in, he would find some sand and rub it into his insignia with his Blitz cloth. The idea was amusing. After eight years in the Corps, he'd worn out probably twenty Blitz cloths in practically daily use putting a high shine on his insignia. He would now use one to dull it.
Lieutenant Colonel Dailey's concern was based less on personal vanity than on his belief that he could function better in new duties if it was not immediately apparent that he had been promoted so recently. After all, he reasoned, he had been a lieutenant colonel only thirteen days. And he wanted to do well in his new billet.
When he actually reached Brisbane, so many things happened so quickly that he forgot about taking the shine off his new silver oak leaves.
For one thing, there was a general's aide-de-camp, a lieutenant, waiting for him at the airport, with a 1940 Packard Clipper staff car, a driver, and an orderly.
"Colonel," the lieutenant said, "on behalf of Supreme Headquarters, SWPA, and General Willoughby specifically, welcome to Australia. The General asked me to express his regret that he couldn't meet you here himself, but he's tied up with the Supreme Commander at the moment."
The Supreme Commander, of course, was General Douglas MacArthur. General MacArthur was a full, four-star general. Dailey had never seen a four-star general. There were no four-star generals in the Marine Corps. The Commandant of the Corps was only a three-star lieutenant general. And until recently, his title had been Major General Commandant, and he had had but two stars.
"It's very good of you to meet me," Dailey said.
"I'll have the sergeant get your luggage, Sir," the aide said, "and then we'll try to get you settled. General Willoughby hopes we can do that by sixteen hundred, so there will be a chance for him to have a quick word with you before you see the Supreme Commander-he'll take you to see him- which we have penciled in for sixteen forty-five."
My God, I'm going to meet MacArthur!
"If I'm to see the General," Dailey said, "either general, I really am going to have to have a uniform pressed."
"No problem, Sir," the aide said. "There's a valet service in Lennon's. I'll have a word with the manager and explain the situation."
"Lennon's?"
"Lennon's Hotel, Sir. Sometimes irreverently known as 'The Lemon.' It's the senior staff officer's quarters, Sir."
"Splendid," Dailey said. He was human. He was not yet really accustomed to being addressed as "colonel," and liked the sound of it; and the phrase "senior staff officer" had a nice ring to it, too, especially since it had been made clear that he was regarded as such by at least one general officer of General Douglas MacArthur's general staff.
Lennon's Hotel turned out to be very nice. It was a rambling, turn-of-the-century structure with high ceilings and a good deal of polished brass and gleaming wood. As General Willoughby's aide led him across the lobby, Dailey saw a bar, and then smiled when he saw the brass sign above its door: GENTLEMEN'S SALOON.
It was well patronized in the middle of the afternoon, Dailey saw, by men wearing a wide variety of uniforms. He did not see a Marine uniform, however, and wondered how many-if any-other Marines were assigned here. The subject had not been mentioned in the briefings he had been given in Washington and at CINCPAC in Pearl Harbor.
At 1555 hours, General Willoughby's Packard Clipper deposited Lieutenant Colonel Dailey at the main entrance to Supreme Headquarters, South West Pacific. It was a modern office building. Dailey wondered what it had originally been, but a new sign, reading SUPREME HEADQUARTERS, SOUTH WEST PACIFIC AREA, had been placed on the building wall over the spot where he was sure the building's name had been chiseled into the marble.
General Willoughby's aide read his mind: "It used to be an insurance company, Colonel. The Aussie military does things right. When they need a building, they just tell the occupants to get out." "I see," Dailey said.
He saw one more thing of interest before an Army Military Policeman in a white cap cover pushed open the door for them. He saw a Studebaker President pull into a parking spot marked RESERVED FOR SENIOR OFFICERS. A Marine Corps emblem was on its door, and the letters USMC were painted on the hood. A Marine sergeant, carrying a briefcase, got but and headed for the entrance. Obviously, there was at least one other Marine officer assigned here, one senior enough to have his own staff car and driver.