"We have six, ready to go. We will jump them in one at a time until one becomes operational. And then we'll have other teams standing by to go in when the operating team goes down."
"Jesus Christ!" Dillon said.
"If we're not able to inform CINCPAC and Guadalcanal when the Japanese bombers take off from Rabaul and the bases near it, our fighters on Henderson Field and on carriers will not be in the air in time to deflect them. That would see a lot of dead Marines," Banning said. "Viewed professionally, the mathematics make sense. It is better to suffer a couple of dozen losses to save a couple of hundred, a couple of thousand, lives.
The only trouble is that I-Eric and I-know the kids whose lives we're going to expend for the common good. That makes it a little difficult, personally." Dillon raised his eyes to Banning's.
"So tell Barbara the truth, Jake. Tell her that we continue to hear from Joe at least once a day, and that so far as we know he's all right."
"Speaking of the truth, old sod," Feldt said, "Banning told me a wild tale. He claims you've dipped that miniature wick of yours into most of the famous honey pots in Hollywood." The subject of Buka was closed, and Jake knew that he could not reopen it.
"I cannot tell a lie, Commander Feldt," Dillon said. "The story's true."
[Three]
UNITED STATES NAVAL HOSPITAL
PHILADELPHIA, PENNSYLVANIA
0930 HOURS 6 SEPTEMBER 1942
"May I help you, Lieutenant?" Lieutenant (J.G.) Joanne McConnell, NNC, asked.
"We're looking for Sergeant Moore, John M.," McCoy said.
"They told us he was on this ward."
"He is, but-this isn't my idea-the rule is no visitors on the ward before noon."
"This is official business," McCoy said.
"Nice try," Lieutenant McConnell said. "But I don't think Commander Jensen would buy it. Maybe you, but not the lady.
Commander Jensen runs a tight ship."
"Who's he?"
"She. She's supervisory nurse in this building." McCoy took a wallet-sized leather folder from his pocket, opened it, and held it out for Lieutenant McConnell to see.
It held a badge that incorporated the seal of the Department of the Navy, an identification card with McCoy's picture on it, and the statement that the bearer was a Special Agent of the Office of Naval Intelligence.
"If the Commander shows up, you can tell her I showed you that and asked you where I can find Sergeant Moore, and that you told me."
"I never saw one of those before," Lieutenant McConnell said. "I hope he's not in some kind of trouble?"
"No. As a matter of fact, I'm about to make him an officer and a gentleman."
"He's a really nice kid," the nurse said.
"What shape is he in?"
"He still has to walk with a cane, but he's going to be all right."
"Why isn't he on recuperative leave?"
"He is. He was gone for a couple of days, but then he came back. He has family in Philadelphia, but-I didn't ask why he came back."
"Where is he?"
"Six-sixteen, second door from the end of the corridor on the left." "Is he in there alone?"
"The scuttlebutt is that there was a telephone call from some captain in the office of the Secretary of the Navy ordering him a private room. It is one of the reasons he is not one of Commander Jensen's favorite people."
"Real chickenshit bitch, huh?" McCoy said.
"Ken!" Ernie Sage said.
"You said that, Lieutenant," Lieutenant McConnell said, smiling, "I didn't"
Sergeant John Marston Moore, USMCR, wearing a T-shirt and hospital pajama pants, was in bed when McCoy pushed open the door and walked in.
The top of the bed was raised to a nearly vertical position.
And spread out before him on the food tray was the balsawood framework of a model airplane wing, to which Moore was attaching tissue paper covering.
He looked up with curiosity, then annoyance, and finally surprised recognition as the Marine officer and the girl walked into the room.
"Jesus!" he said.
"And the Virgin Mary," McCoy said. "I thought I told you to remember to duck, asshole."
"Ken!" Ernie said, and then, "Hello, John, how are you?"
"Surprised," Moore said. He looked at McCoy and went on, "I read in the papers about the Makin Island raid. I thought you would have been in on that."
"He was," Ernie said. "And almost got himself killed."
"No, I didn't," McCoy said.
Ernie walked to the bed and handed Moore a package. He removed the covering. It was a box of Fanny Farmer Chocolates; its cover didn't fit very well.
"Well, thanks," Moore said a little uncomfortably.
"I told you he wouldn't want candy," McCoy said.
"Don't be silly. I love chocolate," Moore lied, and quickly opened the box to prove it.