W E B Griffin – Corp 06 – Close Combat

“But my mission here, Sir, is to convince you that Mr. Donovan’s people would be of greater value than harm. I’m not sure I should go to Admiral Halsey’s conference with that hanging in the air.”

“We can talk about Wild Bill Donovan when you return,” MacArthur said.

That could be interpreted to mean tit-for-tat; I go to the conference and tell you what they said, and you let Donovan’s people in. But I know you better than that. When I return we will talk about Donovan again and you will tell me of another reason you don’t want his camel’s nose under your tent.

“General, you have again put me on the spot,” Pickering said, draining his scotch. “Ethically. If I go to Halsey’s conference, there is a good chance I will be made privy to things the Navy wouldn’t wish you to know.”

“My dear Fleming,” MacArthur said. “I understand completely. But it is a moot point. If anything transpires at that conference that I should know, Admiral Nimitz will see to it that I do.”

I believe that. I also believe that somewhere in the hills of Tennessee there is a pig that really can whistle.

“And anyway,” MacArthur said, tapping his foot on the floor-mounted button again, and smiling at Pickering. “When they see you at the conference, they won’t say anything they don’t want me to hear. They know how close we are.”

[FOUR]

Office of the Director of Public Affairs

Headquarters, U.S. Marine Corps

Eighth and I Streets, N.W.

Washington, D.C.

0945 Hours 20 October 1942

Brigadier General J. J. Stewart, USMC, a ruddy-faced, stocky, pleasant-looking officer of not-quite-fifty, had received by hand the square envelope he was now holding. In theory, every item delivered into the Navy Department message center system was treated like every other: It would gradually wend its way through the system until it ultimately arrived at its destination.

There were exceptions to every standard operating procedure, however, and the item General Stewart held in his hand headed the list of exceptions. The return address read: “The Secretary of the Navy, Washington, D.C.”

General Stewart carefully opened the envelope by lifting the flap. His usual custom was to stab the envelope with his letter opener, a miniature Marine Officer’s Sword given to him by his wife. But such an act felt too much like a-well, minor desecration. He extracted the single sheet of paper and read it carefully.

The Secretary of the Navy

Washington, D.C.

October 19, 1942

Brigadier General J. J. Stewart

Director, Public Affairs

Headquarters, U.S. Marine Corps

Washington, D.C.

The Secretary wishes it known, upon the release of Major Homer C. Dillon, USMCR from temporary duty with the Office of Management Analysis, that he is cognizant of, and deeply appreciative of, the extraordinary performance of duty by Major Dillon in the conduct of a classified mission of great importance.

The Secretary additionally wishes to express his appreciation of the professional skill and extraordinary devotion to duty, at what was obviously great personal risk, of Corporal Robert F. Easterbrook, USMC. Corporal Easterbrook’s still and motion picture photography, when viewed by the President, the Secretary and certain members of the U.S. Senate, provided an insight into activities on Guadalcanal which would not have otherwise been available.

By Direction:

DAVID W. HAUGHTON

Captain, U.S. Navy

Administrative Assistant to the Secretary

General Stewart’s first thought was that what he was reading had been written the day before. Probably late in the afternoon, or even at night. Otherwise it would have been delivered before this.

Then he began to try to understand what the words meant.

Though he could not be considered an actual thorn in General Stewart’s side, Major Homer C. Dillon was the sort of officer who made General Stewart uncomfortable. He didn’t fit into the system. He knew too many important people.

As for the “classified mission of great importance” Dillon had been involved in, General Stewart had no idea what it was all about. He’d been told at the time, and rather bluntly, that Major Dillon was being placed on temporary duty for an indefinite period with the Office of Management Analysis. He’d never previously heard of that organization. Yet when he quite naturally asked about it, he’d even more bluntly been told that his curiosity was unwelcome.

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