Call to Arms

PRIORITY

YOU WILL ON RECEIPT ISSUE APPROPRIATE ORDERS DETACHING SECOND LIEUTENANT KENNETH J. MCCOY USMCR FROM COMPANY B 2ND RAIDER BN AND TRANSFERRING HIM TO HEADQUARTERS USMC.

TRAVEL FROM HAWAII TO WASHINGTON BY AIR IS DIRECTED PRIORTTY AA2. BY DIRECTION

STANLEY F. WATT COLONEL USMC OFFICE OF THE ASSISTANT CHIEF OF STAFF FOR PERSONNEL

McCoy looked at Carlson.

"Well, you'll be in here for forty-eight hours," Carlson said. "That'll give us time to get your gear from Catlin to you."

"I guess they really need linguists, sir," McCoy said.

"Certainly, they do. Linguists are valuable people, McCoy. There's far too few of them-you did notice that TWX was dated 8 August-for the Corps to risk losing one of them storming some unimportant beach."

Their eyes met.

"When you get to Washington, McCoy, say hello to Colonel Rickabee for me."

McCoy saw that Carlson was smiling.

"You've known all along, then, sir?"

"Not everyone in the Corps thinks I'm a crazy Communist, McCoy," Carlson said. "I've still got a few friends left who try to let me know what's going on."

"Oh, shit!" McCoy said.

"Nothing for you to be embarrassed about, McCoy,"

Carlson said. "You're a Marine officer. A good Marine officer. And good Marine officers do what they're told to do, to the best of their ability."

He stepped to the bed and put out his hand.

"Take care of yourself, son," he said. "I was glad you were along on this operation."

And then be turned and walked out of the room.

(Three)

Navy Air Station Pensacola, Florida 29 August 1942

Second Lieutenant Malcolm S. Pickering's first response to the knock at the penthouse door was to simply ignore it. Either it would go away or Dick Stecker would get up and answer it.

It was Saturday morning, and they had drunk their Friday supper.

They were finished at Pensacola. Orders would be cut on Monday, 31 August, certifying that Second Lieutenants Pickering and Stecker were rated as fully qualified in F4F-3 aircraft, and placing them on a ten-day-delay-en-route leave to whenever the bell the Marine Corps was sending them.

It was occasion to celebrate, and they had celebrated until the wee hours.

the knocking became more persistent, and Pickering finally gave in. Wrapping a sheet around his middle, calling out "Keep your pants on!" he walked to the door and jerked it open.

It was Captain James L. Carstairs, USMC, Captain Mustache, in his usual impeccable uniform.

"Good morning, sir," Pickering said.

"May I come in?" Captain Carstairs asked. "You alone?"

"I'm alone," Pickering said. "But… Captain Carstairs, Stecker has a guest."

"The one with her hair piled two feet over her head?" Captain Carstairs said. "And the enormous bazooms?"

"Uh…"

"We saw you last night," Captain Carstairs said. "I rather doubt that in your condition you saw us, but we saw you."

"I saw you, sir," Pickering said. "I didn't know you had seen us."

"You should have come over and said hello," Captain Carstairs said. "I had the feeling Mrs. Culhane rather wished you would."

Pickering looked at him in surprise, and blurted what popped into his mind.

"Is that why you're here? To tell me that?"

"Unfortunately, no," Captain Carstairs said, and handed Pickering a yellow Western Union envelope.

"What's this?"

"Keep in mind the other possibility," Carstairs said. "The word is they left a lot of people on the beach."

Pickering ripped the envelope open.