“Plum will be fine, thank you,” General Vandegrift said.
General Harris spread his toast with the jam, and took a bite.
“This must be American,” he said. “It’s awful.”
“Did you send for a photographer, Lew?” General Vandegrift asked.
“Yes, Sir. He’s standing by.”
“Well, let’s get him in here and get this over with.”
“Aye, aye, Sir,” General Harris said. He rose and walked out from under the canvas fly, returning a minute later with a Marine in sweat-stained, tattered utilities. He had a shoulder holster holding a.45 Colt across his chest, a Thompson submachine gun hanging from his right shoulder, and a musette bag slung over the left. He carried a small 35mm Leica camera.
“Good morning,” General Vandegrift said.
“Good morning, Sir,” Corporal Easterbrook replied.
“Will you stand up, please, Jack?” Vandegrift said as he got to his feet.
Now what the hell?
“You want to take off those major’s leaves, please, Jack?” Vandegrift said.
“Sir?”
“You heard the General, Colonel, take off those major’s leaves,” General Harris said.
I don’t believe this.
“Pursuant to directions from the Commandant of the Marine Corps, I announce that Major Jack (NMI) Stecker, USMCR, is promoted Lieutenant Colonel, USMCR, effective this date,” General Vandegrift said. “How do you want to do this, Corporal? Me pinning on the insignia, or shaking Colonel Stecker’s hand?”
“I’d like one of each, Sir,” Corporal Easterbrook said.
“Very well, one of each,” General Vandegrift said.
When they shook hands, General Vandegrift met Lieutenant Colonel Stecker’s eyes for the first time. “Congratulations, Jack. The promotion is well deserved.”
“Jesus!” Stecker blurted.
“I would hate to think that your first act as a lieutenant colonel was to question a general officer’s recommendation,” Vandegrift said. Then he looked at Corporal Easterbrook. “Is this all right, Corporal?”
“Colonel, if you would look this way, please?” Easterbrook said. When Stecker did that, he tripped the shutter.
[FOUR]
The Beach
Guadalcanal, Solomon Islands
0805 Hours 13 October 1942
Lieutenant Colonel Jack (NMI) Stecker was standing out of the way, on the highest ground (an undisturbed dune) he could find, watching the lines of landing craft moving between the beach and the transports standing offshore.
They were being reinforced.
After they waded the last few yards ashore, soldiers of the 164th Infantry Regiment were being formed up on the beach by their noncoms to be marched inland. At first, General Vandegrift had said at breakfast, these men would not be placed in the line as a unit. Rather, they were to be distributed among the Marine units already there; for they were desperately needed as reinforcements. At the same time, the Marines could guide them through their first experience under fire.
They’re not going to be much help, he thought. They’re not even soldiers, but National Guardsmen. Still, it’s a regiment of armed men, presumably in better physical shape than anyone here.
And armed with the Garand. Goddamn it! Why is The Marine Corps at the bottom of the list when it comes to good equipment?
As the soldiers in their clean fatigue uniforms waited to move inland, Marines in their torn and soiled dungarees came down to the beach to do business with them. Word had quickly spread that the soldiers had come well supplied with Hershey bars and other pogie bait. Though the Marines had no Hershey bars or other pogie bait, they did have various souvenirs: Japanese helmets, pistols, flags, and the like. In a spirit of interservice cooperation, they would be willing to barter these things for Hershey bars.
Stecker smiled. He was aware that at least fifty percent of the highly desirable Japanese battle flags being bartered had been turned out by bearded, bare-chested Marine Corps seamstresses on captured Japanese sewing machines.
“Good morning, Sir,” a lieutenant said, startling Stecker. He turned and saw a young officer in utilities and boondockers, armed with only a.45 hanging from a belt holster. He was wearing a soft brimmed cap, not a steel helmet.
The Lieutenant saluted. Stecker returned it.
The utilities are clean. He doesn’t look like he’s hungry or suffering from malaria. Therefore, he probably just got here. Maybe with these ships, they’re sending us a few individual replacements. He will learn soon enough to get a rifle to go with that pistol. And a helmet. But it’s not my job to tell him.