“From what I’ve heard about what he did at Bloody Ridge, I think that’s justified.”
“There was an officer on the first tour, wounded with the parachutists during the first wave to hit Gavutu,” General Stewart went on. “A chap by the name of Macklin. First Lieutenant R. B. Macklin. Ring a bell?”
“Yes, Sir. If it’s the same man, I sent him home for the tour when he was in the hospital in Australia.”
Who else would it be but that sonofabitch? I cast him for the role of hero because I needed a handsome hero-even though I knew the story about the lieutenant with only a minor shrapnel wound to his leg who had to be pried from a piling at Gavutu… screaming hysterically for a corps-man. I knew it had to be Macklin.
“I’m sure it’s him, then. Good-looking chap. He was very effective on the tour, and I talked G-l into letting us have him permanently.”
“Sir?”
“I arranged with G-l-with the same fellow, by the way, who will help us see Easterbrook get his promotion-to have Macklin assigned to us for the war bond tours.”
“I see.”
“And there has been one other development while you were away. The Assistant Commandant was very pleased… very pleased… with the performance of your people on Guadalcanal. The picture of the Marine parachutist on Gavutu-the one firing the BAR with the blood running down his chest-”
“Easterbrook took that picture, General,” Dillon interrupted.
“Yes,” General Stewart said. “Of course! I should have remembered! Well, anyway, that was on the front page of every important newspaper in the country.”
“Life, too,” Dillon interjected.
General Stewart did not like to be interrupted; it was evident in his tone of voice as he went on: “Yes, Life, too. And since the concept of combat correspondents obviously worked so well, the Assistant Commandant decided to formalize. Do you know Colonel Denig, by any chance?”
Dillon shook his head, no.
“Well, we’ll have to arrange for you to meet. Splendid officer. Anyway, Denig is recruiting suitable people to be combat correspondents, officer and enlisted. Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer has offered to give them training in motion picture photography; various newspapers will do the same thing, et cetera, et cetera. The operation, for the time being, will be located on the West Coast.”
“Sounds like a good idea,” Dillon said.
“Homer,” General Stewart chided, “whatever ideas the Assistant Commandant might have are good ideas, don’t you agree?”
Well, he was the one who hung these major’s leaves on me. That wasn’t such a good idea. And what is this “Homer” crap? Are we now pals, General?
“Absolutely,” Dillon said.
“Now that you’re back with us, Homer, what I’ve been thinking about for you is sending you back to California to take charge of the whole thing-the war bond tours and the training of combat correspondents at the Hollywood studios. It seems to me to be right down your alley. How does that strike you?”
We’re both supposed to be Marines. You outrank the hell out of me.
You’re supposed to say “do this” and I’m supposed to say “aye, aye, Sir. ” What is this “how does that strike you?” crap?
“Wherever you think I’d be of the most use to The Corps, Sir,” Dillon said.
“Good man!” General Stewart said. “Now is there any reason why you couldn’t get right on this? Any reason I don’t know and you can’t talk about?”
Well, for one thing, General, when it comes to getting a new set of records for the Easterbunny, I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you. I think I’ll stick around and make sure that’s done.
“I think it would be best, Sir,” Dillon said, “if I made myself available here for the next two or three days.”
“Certainly. I understand fully. Whenever you feel comfortable going back out there, you just call Sergeant Sawyer about transportation. This is important. I don’t see any reason why we can’t get you a high enough priority to fly out there.”
“That’s very kind of you, Sir.”
“Macklin is temporarily set up in the Post Office Building in Los Angeles. I’ll have my sergeant send a telegram telling him you’re coming.”