"Why didn't they pursue the attack," Stecker asked, "since Baker was pulling back?"
"Because the people who couldn't make it back were-are still fighting. In small groups, as individuals." Stecker grunted again.
"I have the feeling, Jack," Edson said softly, "that the Japanese didn't quite expect the resistance they got." Stecker looked at him with a question in his eyes.
"There was no second attack," Edson explained. "There've been skirmishes all night... in other words, they have not only the means-though God knows we have killed a lot of them but the will. But no planned, coordinated, second attack. And they stopped their naval artillery, I thought, before I would have stopped it."
"That means they thought they were going to go right through your lines. The artillery was lifted because they believed they would be holding the positions by then."
"That's how I read it."
"They'll be back, Colonel," Stecker said.
"And so I hope, Jack, will you. I've got about four hundred-maybe four hundred and twenty-effectives, and an 1800-yard line to hold."
"What about the Parachute Battalion?"
"They're even more understrength than we are."
"We're all understrength," Stecker said.
"What shape are you in, Jack?"
"I've lost more men to sickness than to the enemy," Stecker said. "But, Jesus Christ, for some reason their morale is higher than I have any reason to think it should be. They'll do all right."
That obviously has something to do with the quality of the officers leading them, Edson thought.
He said: "They're Marines, Jack."
"Yes, Sir. Thank you for your time, Sir. I better go back and try to make myself useful."
[Two]
VMF-229
HENDERSON FIELD
GUADALCANAL, SOLOMON ISLANDS
0605 HOURS 13 SEPTEMBER 1942
Compared with the pilots of VMF-229, the half-dozen Naval Aviators gathered in the sandbag wall tent that served as the squadron office of VMF-229 looked neat and clean enough to march in a parade at Pensacola. This was so despite their recent takeoff from a carrier at sea, a flight of approximately two hundred miles in a tightly packed cockpit, and the faint coating of oil mist that often settled on F4F Wildcat pilots.
They were freshly shaven. Their hair was neatly trimmed.
Their khaki flight suits, although sweat-stained under the arms and down the back, had recently passed through a washing machine. The undershirts that showed through the lowered zippers of their flight suits were as blinding white as any dress uniform. The shoulder holsters which held their Smith and Wesson.38 Special revolvers looked as if they had been issued that morning. Even their shoes were shined.
The Commanding Officer of VMF-229, by contrast, needed a haircut. He had obviously not shaved in twenty-four hours.
The skin of his nose was sunburned raw. There were deep rings under his eyes. And his hands were dirty. His flight suit (no underwear of any kind was beneath it) was soiled with grease and sweat, and his feet were in battered boondockers. The leather holster that carried his.45 Colt automatic was green with mold.
Two of the office's three chairs were occupied by Captain Charles Galloway and his squadron clerk. The third held a stainless steel pot containing a green-colored liquid that tasted as foul as it looked. Captain Galloway had developed a theory that mixing lime-flavored powder with their water would kill the taste of the chlorine. His theory had proved to be wishful thinking.
The Navy pilots were from the carrier USS Hornet; they'd come to transfer to VMF-229 six F4F Wildcats, As Captain Galloway carefully examined the documentation accompanying the aircraft, they stood around uneasily; for he had a number of pointed questions about reported malfunctions that had been ostensibly repaired.
But he was a happy man. As of that morning, VMF-229 was down to three operational aircraft. And six nearly brand-new aircraft, splendidly set up by skilled mechanics in the well equipped shops aboard Hornet, had just arrived.
"You checked the guns?" he asked finally, looking at the full Lieutenant, the most senior of the Navy pilots.
"Our SOP is to check weapons just before entering a threatening, or combat, situation."
"In other words, you haven't checked the guns?"
"No."
"I nevertheless thank you from the bottom of my heart," said Galloway.
"We were just about out of airplanes."
"You're welcome," the Lieutenant said somewhat awkwardly.
A small, thin, blond-haired First Lieutenant of Marines, attired in a flight suit quite as filthy as Captain Galloway's, staggered into the tent. He was loaded down with three Springfield rifles, three steel helmets, and three sets of web equipment, each consisting of a cartridge belt, a canteen, a first-aid pouch, and a bayonet in a scabbard. He was trailed by his crew chief, similarly loaded down.
"Sir!" he said.
"Gentlemen, my executive officer, Lieutenant Dunn," Captain Galloway said.
"Sir, the skipper said there's some question of the R4D being able to make it in to take these gentlemen out," Bill Dunn said.
"Really?" Galloway said.
"Yes, Sir," Dunn said seriously. "And in view of the ground situation, he thought these gentlemen should be equipped so they can fight as infantry, if that should be required. I personally don't think that will be necessary."
"But apparently the skipper does?"
"Yes, Sir, but maybe he's just being careful." Dunn began to pass out the rifles to the Navy pilots. There was little question in Galloway's mind that the last time any of them had touched a rifle was before they'd gone to flight school.
"And are they supposed to wait here until we know whether they'll be needed or not?"
"No, Sir. The skipper seems concerned that Japanese infiltrators may sneak through the lines and attempt to damage our aircraft in their revetments. Unless the situation gets worse, he wants these officers to be placed in the revetments."
"Lieutenant," the Navy pilot said, "what exactly was the word about the R4D?"
"Essentially, Sir, that they don't wish to risk the loss of the aircraft if the Japanese break through our lines, and/or damage the runway with artillery. The aircraft will not be sent until they see how the ground situation develops."
"I see," the Navy Lieutenant said solemnly.