"There's no way you could have. That's why I have decided to forget this conversation. That's all, Dawkins."
[Four]
THE OFFICE OF THE SUPREME COMMANDER
SOUTH WEST PACIFIC OCEAN AREA
BRISBANE, AUSTRALIA
1625 HOURS 5 OCTOBER 1942
Double doors led into the Supreme Commander's office. Master Sergeant Manuel Donat, of the Philippine Scouts; pushed open the left-hand one of these, waited until the Supreme Commander looked up, and then announced: "Lieutenant Hon is here to see you, General
"Ask the Lieutenant to come in, Manuel," General Douglas MacArthur said. He was slouched down in his chair, reading a typewritten document.
"Good afternoon, Sir," Pluto Hon said, saluting. He had a large manila envelope tucked under his arm.
MacArthur touched his forehead with his hand, returning the salute.
"That looks formidable," he said, pointing at the envelope Hon now extended to him.
"It's rather long, Sir."
"Manuel, get the Lieutenant a cup of coffee. Get us both one, as a matter of fact. Have a seat, Pluto. I'll be with you in just a moment."
"Thank you, Sir," Pluto said, sitting down on the edge of a nice, possibly genuine, Louis XIV chair. He was convinced the chair had been placed where it was because it was delicate and tiny by comparison to MacArthur's massive desk and high-backed leather swivel chair. Anyone sitting in it could not help but feel inadequate.
Holding a stub that was once a large black Philippine cigar between his thumb and index finger, MacArthur rested his elbow on the leather-bound desk pad and carefully read a document before him.
Finally, as Master Sergeant Donat appeared with a silver coffee service on a tray, he pulled himself out of his slouch, closed the TOP SECRET cover sheet on the document, and tossed it in his out basket. Then he looked at the cigar butt between his fingers.
"It offends Mrs. MacArthur that I smoke them so short," he said. "But of course, for a while, there will be no more of these.
I have to smoke them all the way down."
"Yes, Sir," Pluto said.
"Captain... General Pickering found these for me, as a matter of fact, in Melbourne. Did you know that?"
"Yes, Sir. I actually went and picked them up, Sir."
"Well, when they're gone, that's it. There will be no more." He looked at Hon and smiled. "How are you, Pluto? I understand you were out of town."
"Yes, Sir. I'm fine, thank you, Sir."
"Townsville, was it?"
"Yes, Sir." MacArthur pulled the MAGIC from the manila envelope. It had two parts. One was an analysis of intercepted Japanese messages; the other was the messages themselves, and their translations. He pushed the messages and translations to one side and began to read the analyses.
He read carefully. There was a good deal to read and consider.
Finally he looked at Hon.
"Very interesting," he said. "I see again-how shall I phrase this? that there are subtle differences of shading, how's that?- between your analyses and those of the people in Hawaii?"
" `Subtle differences of shading' does very well, Sir. We are in general agreement with Pearl Harbor."
"We? Does that mean this is not your analysis? Mrs. Feller's perhaps?"
"Actually, Sir, those analyses were done by Lieutenant Moore. I'm in complete agreement with them, Sir."
"Fascinating, don't you think, that I picked up on that?" MacArthur said. "That I could tell it wasn't you?"
"You're used to my style, I suppose, Sir."
"Yes, literary style, one could say, right? I seem to be able to recognize yours, don't I?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Actually, a day or two ago, I paid Mrs. Feller something of a left-handed compliment," MacArthur said. "Willoughby was in here, impressed with an analysis Mrs. Feller had prepared; and I said, yes, it's quite good, it sounds like Pluto."
He knows! Why am I surprised? He's a goddamned genius!
"Yes, Sir."
"If we are to accept this analysis," MacArthur said, "plural, these analyses, we are forced to the conclusion that a reason-a major reason, perhaps even the major reason-why the Japanese have not thrown the Marines back into the sea at Guadalcanal is that there's a breakdown in communication between the Japanese Army and Navy. I find it difficult to accept that."
"Sir, why the analyses, Pearl Harbor's and ours-"
"Yours and the other lieutenant's, what's his name?"
"Moore, Sir."
"What's the condition of his health? When he was in here, he looked terrible."
"There has been a recurrence of his malaria, Sir. They have it back under control."
"He was walking with obvious discomfort, using a cane," MacArthur said. "I wonder if Pickering did the right thing sending him back over here in that condition."
"He's getting physical therapy, General."
"Good. We were talking about a breakdown in communication between the Japanese Army and Navy."
"Yes, Sir. I was saying that Pearl Harbor, Moore, and I all agree that Japanese pride got in the way of efficient operation. Neither the Navy nor the Army was willing to ask each other -or the Imperial General Staff, for that matter-for help. If they did, that would admit to some kind of inability to deal with the situation. The honor of the Army and Navy and of the individual commanders would then be open to question."
"That's what I said," MacArthur said somewhat coldly. "A breakdown in communication."