Moore exhaled audibly.
"You want some time to think this over?" Banning said.
If I was this kid, I would think, "Fuck you, Major. Send me to the 1st Marine Division and give me that gold bar I was promised."
"No, Sir," Moore said. "If you think I could do what you want me to do, I'll try. I think I can keep my mouth shut."
"So does Captain Pickering," Banning said. "Don't disappoint him. He told me that you remind him of his son, who's a Marine officer. He wouldn't like to have you shot. But he would, and I'd probably have to do it."
"I understand, Sir."
"The mission of Special Detachment 14 is classified TOP SECRET," Banning said. "What we do is support the Australian Navy's Coastwatcher Operation. What they do is have people on Japanese occupied islands. What they do is furnish intelligence information, generally about Japanese air and sea activity, but also about Japanese troop installations, and that sort of thing."
"Am I going to be working with the Coastwatchers, Sir?"
"No. I don't need you. I need radio operators and radio technicians. Who are parachutists. You're none of those things. But having you assigned to Special Detachment 14 will be what is known as a good cover assignment. People who think you're already assigned to a highly classified activity won't be prone to ask questions, or even wonder, about what you're really doing."
"I think I understand, Sir."
"We're in Townesville, Queensland, up North. You will stay here, ostensibly to function as our rear area. Meet courier planes, receive and transship equipment, that sort of thing."
"Yes, Sir."
"There is a headquarters company at Supreme Headquarters, but if we put you in there, questions will obviously be asked as to what exactly you would be doing. So, for the time being, you will live at The Elms."
"Yes, Sir."
"You're not going to ask what 'The Elms' is?"
Moore looked at Banning and smiled, "Sir, you just told me not to ask questions."
Banning chuckled.
"OK, Sergeant, one point for you. 'The Elms' is an estate Captain Pickering has leased, not far from here. He has more money than God, and he was not prepared to share the Spartan quarters provided for Navy captains with an Army colonel who snores. It's equipped with a housekeeper and some other servants, and it's enormous. You'll have no problems making yourself invisible there."
"My God!" Moore said.
"And living there will get you out of the clutches of the headquarters company commander, who would, I'm sure, love to have a Marine sergeant for his guard details. MacArthur is about to move his headquarters to Brisbane-that move is classified SECRET, by the way-so other arrangements will have to made for you when that happens."
"Yes, Sir."
"The officer you will be working for is Lieutenant Hon. He's in the Army Signal Corps and is a cryptographic-classified documents officer at Supreme Headquarters, South West Pacific. He also has Other duties he performs for Captain Pickering. You spoke with him on the telephone last night."
"He speaks perfect Japanese," Moore thought aloud.
Banning chuckled again. "He said the same thing about you, which is why you're not on your way to the First Marine Division."
Banning turned the ignition key and started the engine, and then turned and looked at Moore.
"One question, Moore."
"Yes, Sir?"
"Do you believe me when I say we'll have you shot if you breach security? Or do you think this is some sort of bullshit line I'm handing you?"
Moore met Banning's eyes.
"I believe you, Sir."
"Good," Banning said.
He put the gearshift in reverse and turned the Studebaker around.
(Four)
HEADQUARTERS, 1ST MARINE DIVISION
WELLINGTON, NEW ZEALAND
1605 HOURS 29 JUNE 1942
"General," Harris's sergeant said, putting his head in Harris's office door, "Major Dillon is here and wants to know if you can see him for a minute."
I want to see that sonofabitch about as much as I want to break both my legs.
"Ask him to come in, please, Sergeant," Harris said.
Major Dillon, to Harris's surprise, was wearing utilities. Both the utilities and his boots were muddy.
It actually looks like the sonofabitch has been out in the boondocks.
"Hello, Dillon," Harris asked. "What can I do for you?"
"Good morning, Sir," Dillon said, assuming the position of Parade Rest.
"Pull up a chair," Harris said. "But don't get too comfortable. I've got people coming to see me right about now."
Jake Dillon was no fool. He had not been a fool when he was a staff sergeant in Shanghai, and he'd learned a good deal more about people during his time in Hollywood. He was fully aware that General Harris didn't like him personally and regarded his official function as that of a parasite on the body of the First Marine Division specifically and the Corps generally.
"May I get right to the point, Sir?" Dillon asked.
"You'd better," Harris said, tempering it with a faint smile.
"Sir, I've got a pretty good friend in MacArthur's headquarters."
"Why doesn't that surprise me, Major Dillon?" Harris said and immediately regretted it. He saw in Dillon's eyes the hurt the sarcasm had caused.