"Why not?" Big Steve asked. "All you'd need is, what? Two, three days to shoot some landings."
"We'd need a carrier to shoot them on," Charley said. "There's no carrier here right now. And even if there was, there's no way we could be qualified, and put aboard, and still steam that far in time to make the invasion."
"Huh!" Big Steve said, disappointed.
"But I tell you what could happen," Charley said thoughtfully. "They are going to need fighters on that island when they take it."
"Why, if we take it?" Jim asked.
"Because all of those islands are within fighter range of each other. They will be within range of land-based Japanese aircraft. And they're not about to leave aircraft carriers in the area; they'd be too vulnerable to the Japs."
"OK," Big Steve said. "So what? What are you driving at?"
"They could load us on one of those escort carriers, and then catapult us off that onto this island when they have captured the airfield."
"I thought you said nobody but you and Dunn was carrier qualified," Flo asked.
"Nobody else is, but that wouldn't matter. If they were to catapult us off one of the escort carriers, we wouldn't go back to it. The hard part of carrier operation is landing-the approach and the arrested landing. Getting catapulted off a carrier is something else. It's scary, especially the first time. You go from zero to ninety knots in a second. But then you're flying."
Big Steve snorted.
Galloway looked at him and shrugged.
"I was just thinking out loud."
"I was just thinking," Big Steve said, "that you may not be so dumb after all-for an officer, that is."
"You have just been complimented," Flo chuckled. "Enjoy it, Charley."
"I'll drink to that," Charley said, and then looked at Jim Ward. "But you will not. You are flying tomorrow. You will be practicing the technique of taking off short. And you will be as baffled as any of your peers when they start wondering out loud what that crap is supposed to be all about-as opposed to mock dogfights, which are a lot more fun."
"Aye, aye, Sir."
"Let's eat," Flo said. "We've having a Hawaiian Luau. Except it's a pork loin. I can't stand the sight of one of those poor baby pigs with apples in their mouths."
(Six)
OFFICER'S CLUB
U.S. NAVY BASE, PEARL HARBOR
OAHU, TERRITORY OF HAWAII
2130 HOURS 7 JULY 1942
Although he was of course delighted to see his sister's son, Rear Admiral Daniel J. Wagam was also a little annoyed at the way the kid popped up unannounced out of nowhere, expecting to be entertained.
The Admiral had been working his ass off since the Eyes Only EXECUTE OPERATIONAL PESTILENCE radio had come in five days before, and it seemed obvious that the work days were going to grow longer rather than shorter as things finally started to mesh.
The truth of the matter was that the Pacific Fleet and attached Marine Forces were not prepared-in any way-to stage an amphibious assault on an island in the Hawaiian chain, much less on three islands a quarter of the world away in the Solomons.
There was not enough of anything that would be needed. About the only thing that was not in short supply was senior officers. A whole flock of commanders and captains and even a dozen or so flag officers had been called back from retirement. They had come back into uniform willingly, even eagerly, and their expertise was most welcome. But at times, Admiral Wagam had reluctantly concluded, they were like a bunch of goddamned old maids.
By his own actual calculation, Admiral Wagam was spending two-thirds of his time establishing shipping priorities and scheduling convoys and the other third settling disputes over Naval protocol between the retreads, who were exquisitely sensitive to the prerogatives of rank and time in grade.
Most often, the disputes had to do with the assignment of creature comforts-who had a permanently assigned staff car with driver, and who didn't, that sort of thing. But the worst fights were over quarters-where the most desirable rooms in the Bachelor Officer's Quarters were assigned, or in cottages, in the case of captains and flag officers. These assignments were ordinarily made on the basis of rank, and within rank, on the basis of time in grade. Now and again, however, some of the retreads came to believe that the assignment they had been given was beneath their dignity and inappropriate to their rank and seniority.
As Admiral Wagam knew only too well, "seniority" was not as simple a concept as it might at first appear to be. For instance, seniority could not be established solely by date of promotion; for this would have made virtually all of the retreads senior to virtually all of the officers in a particular grade who had not retired. Some of the retreads had retired as early as 1935.
Thus it had been necessary to make up a seniority list for the retreads. Clerks had dug into the records to see how much time in grade Captain So-and-so had at the time of his retirement. This would be added to the time he now had on active duty since being recalled. This produced a seniority list based on time in grade, not date of promotion.
It had not been possible, however, to merge this list with a similar list prepared for nonretired officers, and announce that Captain A, who had never retired, and who had five years, nine months, and eleven days of service as a captain, therefore outranked Captain B, a retread, who had five years, nine months and one day of service as a four striper. When this happened, Captain B would very often make it known that the list be damned, when he retired, Captain A was a lowly lieutenant commander, a none-too-bright one, as he recalled; and he had no intention of taking orders from the young pup now.
And it wasn't a question of simply reminding Captain B that he was back in the Navy and expected to take orders, although Dapper Dan Wagam had done just that several times. Even when there was no question of seniority, a good many of the retreads seemed to have an uncontrollable urge to question the orders they had been given. Even when he himself was giving the orders, he'd come to expect from these guys a moment of smug hesitation, then something like, "Well, in my experience, we did... or did not..." Or, "In the Old Navy, they..." When they believed that they were being forced by an unappreciative Navy to take orders from some young pup still wet behind the ears, their obedience ceased being cheerful and willing. "After all," they were quick to point out, "we were asked to return to duty."
It often lent an entirely new meaning, Wagam had concluded, to the word "grudging."
And since he was on the bridge of a desk, rather than at sea, Admiral Wagam had, he believed, more than his fair share of the retreads. Indeed, very few of them were actually being sent to sea, although virtually all of them had volunteered-often two or three times a week-to take a command.
When his sister's son, First Lieutenant David F. Schneider, USMC, showed up, Admiral Wagam was trying to recover from yet another bad day. For one thing, he was frustrated that he'd failed to solve logistical problems there was no satisfactory solution for-there was simply not enough available tonnage for OPERATION PESTILENCE; and consequently, the First Marine Division was going to assault a hostile shore inadequately supplied. And for another, he'd been forced to handle no less than three retreads who truly believed that their professional reputations were being demeaned by the duties he had assigned them.
But Admiral Wagam was as gracious to David Schneider as he could be under the circumstances. He realized his problems were certainly not David's fault; but more to the point, his sister was hell on wheels when she felt one of her children had been slighted....
So he personally showed David around the office, to give the boy some understanding of what he was up to.
He did not, of course, mention OPERATION PESTILENCE, which was classified TOP SECRET.
And then he took him to dinner in the Flag Officer's Mess and introduced him around. It would have been nice if David could have written his mother that he had been introduced to Admiral Nimitz, but Nimitz apparently had elected to eat in his quarters.
Nimitz was probably eating alone, or as alone as the CINC-PAC ever got to be, Admiral Wagam thought, as opposed to having a working dinner. If it had been a working dinner, he probably would have been invited.
And then he sent him on his way:
"David, I'd like to send you back to Ewa in my car, but I'm going to need it."
"I understand."
"There's a bus that runs between here and Ewa. Among other places, it stops at the Main Club."
"I can manage, Uncle Dan."
"I would suppose there will be a number of officers from MAG-11 at the club. Ask around. The odds are you can find a ride back with one of them."
"Thank you."
"Give your mother my love when you write."