I know where you got that, Charley. That’s El Supremo talking. That’s what I’m hearing right now, El Supremo’s evaluation of Fertig. And El Supremo’s like the Pope, isn’t he? Infallible, when speaking on matters of military faith and Army morality?
“… that he could not realistically be expected to handle.”
“You’re suggesting, General, that he’s a little off base, mentally speaking?”
“He did not obey his orders to move to Corregidor. The only way he could have gotten from Bataan to Mindanao, as you well know, is by boat. A thirty-, forty-footer. That means he… the word is ‘stole’… that means he stole one-one that he knew was certainly required for our military. Given the fact that he performed his duties well-even admirably-prior to this, one is drawn to the conclusion that he was not then, and is not now, thinking clearly.”
“And the proof would be that he is now under the delusion that he is a general?”
“I shouldn’t have to tell you, General…”
“General”? Charley, did you really call me “General”?
“… that when men, brave men, finally crack under the strains of combat, they often display manifestations of delusion. They think they’re home, or still in battle… or that they’re Napoleon.”
“Then the bottom line would seem to be that you don’t think Fertig’s guerrilla operation is worth much?”
“Think about it,” Willoughby said. “There are a number of field-grade officers, professional soldiers, on Bataan, Mindanao, and other islands… professional Naval officers, too, and I daresay some professional Marine officers, as well… who have so far escaped capture by the Japanese. Don’t you think it’s odd we haven’t heard from any of them? From any one of them?”
“Yes,” Pickering said. “It is odd.”
“They would have the military training and experience to set up guerrilla operations, not to mention the contacts among the Filipino
Scouts, et cetera, et cetera. Don’t you think they would have acted along those lines if there was any possibility, any possibility at all, to do so?”
“I can see your point,” Pickering said.
“God knows I admire this man Fertig,” Willoughby said. “But right now, I just feel sorry for him. I hope he manages to stay out of Japanese hands.”
“General, I won’t take any more of your time.”
“Nonsense, Pickering. My door is always open to you, you know that.”
[THREE]
Cryptographic Center
Supreme Headquarters
South West Pacific Ocean Area
Brisbane, Australia
1725 Hours 2 November 1942
As he turned to bolt the steel door behind him, Brigadier General Fleming Pickering offered a greeting to Major Hong Son Do, Signal Corps, Army of the United States. “Still here, Pluto?” he asked.
“Sir?” Pluto asked, surprised at the question.
“It’s almost five-thirty. I thought you’d almost certainly be over at the Field Grade Officer’s Mess with the other brass hats, sucking on a martini and figuring out clever ways to annoy the lieutenants.”
“I feel like a whore in church in there,” Pluto said. “I’ve been doing my eating and drinking with Moore and Hart in the Navy’s Junior Officer’s Mess.”
Pickering laughed. “Anything interesting come in?”
“Koffler doesn’t have the clap, or tuberculosis, or syphilis.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear that. Is there some reason you felt that you had to tell me?”
“You can’t have any of the three and get married here. Everything is fixed. They’re getting married next week.”
“You didn’t mention our other two lovesick warriors.”
“They’re not getting married. Barbara Cotter was smart enough to ask some discreet questions. The minute they get married, the nurses would get shipped home.”
“You’re kidding! This doesn’t affect Koffler and the Farnsworth girl?”
“Daphne Farnsworth is what SWPOA insists on calling ‘an indigenous female.’ Indigenous females don’t count. And anyway, she’s an Australian, she’s already home.”
“Anything I can do?”
“I don’t think so, Boss. And when I asked Howard if I should come to you, he said he didn’t want special treatment.”
“Maybe there’s a reason for it.”
“Well, anyway, when you see two nurses weeping loudly at Koffler’s wedding, you’ll know why. Aside from that, nothing special. I think the Japanese are licking their wounds. Is there something I can do for you, General?”