“Is that why they sent for you?”
“Either that or MacArthur wants me to take over,” Whittaker said.
The other passengers, nurses, some of them they had been ordered to leave their patients, some of them simply looking dazed, arrived in the back of a truck and were put aboard the gutted Chriscraft.
A sailor ordered Whittaker aboard.
Whittaker and the captain looked at each other and shrugged shoulders; then Whittaker jumped into the Chriscraft. He put his hand out to steady himself. Whatever it was that he put his hand on moved. He looked at it. It was a very clever stainless-steel device in which yachtsmen could put their glasses so that Scotch on the rocks–or whatever they were drinking-would not splash on the carpet and leave a stain.
They were strafed twice by Japanese aircraft between Mariveles and Corregidor, but the sailor was good at his job. He knew the exact moment when to spin the wheel and throw the engines in reverse, so that the stream of machine-gun fire went over their heads.
Malinta Tunnel Fortress Corregidor 1550 Hours 11 Marcls 1942
“Get rid of that hat,” Lieutenant Colonel Sidney Huff said to First Lieutenant Jim Whittaker.
Whittaker did as he was ordered, laying the Filipino peasant’s straw hat on the concrete floor of the lateral of Malinta Tunnel.
Huff went into a tiny cubicle off the lateral and then came immediately out.
“General MacArthur will see you now, Lieutenant,” he said, gesturing for Whittaker to come.
MacArthur was sitting behind a GI table. Except for a telephone and in and OUT boxes, his famous gold-embroidered cap was the only thing on the desk.
“Lieutenant Whittaker reporting as ordered, sir,” Whittaker said, and saluted.
“I understand you were strafed on your way here MacArthur said.
“Yes, sir.”
“But you came through all right,” MacArthur said.
“Yes, sir.”
“I was acquainted with your uncle,” MacArthur said. “In happier times, we played bridge. I was distressed to learn of his passing.
“Thank you, sir.”
“He would have been proud of you ‘ ” MacArthur said. “Colonel Huff has made inquiries for me. Yours was the only fighter craft to rise and challenge the enemy at lba, as I understand it.”
“I took off, sir, because I knew that I would have no chance at all on the ground Whittaker said.
“I have also been informed that you downed three of the enemy before you were yourself shot down. Is that the case?”
“I wasn’t shot down, General,” Whittaker said. “When the Japanese, who were out of fuel, broke off engagement, lba’s runways were blocked. I couldn’t land there, so I made for Clark. I was machine-gunned as I made my approach to land.”
MacArthur obviously did not want to pursue that subject. “But a you did down three of the enemy?” he asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“And your subsequent performance of duty, I have been informed, with the 26th Cavalry and with the Philippine Scouts, has been exemplary.”
Whittaker did not reply until MacArthur made it plain with his expression that he expected one. Then he said, “Thank you, sir.”
“Deserving of fonnal recognition MacArthur said. “I am therefore about to award you the Distinguished Flying Cross for your service as an aviator, and the Silver Star for your gallant service on Bataan. And you are promoted, effective today, to captain. I will pin the decorations on you, but you’ll have to give them back. Our supply of the medals, like everything else, has been exhausted. Colonel Huff has found a captain’s insignia for you somewhere.”
MacArthur got up and walked around the little table and pinned the two medals to the pocket of Jim Whittaker’s white civilian shirt. Then, with some difficulty, he unpinned Whittaker’s silver lieutenant’s bar and replaced it with the twin silver bars of a captain.
MacArthur stepped back and then shook Whittaker’s hand with both of his.
“Congratulations, Captain,” he said. “It is a great honor to command courageous men such as yourself.”
Whittaker was at once embarrassed, pleased, and confused. He was made uncomfortable by the flattery, but pleased (although a comer of his mind said “So what?”) to be a captain. And confused because it looked as if he had been ordered to Corregidor on some sort of whim by MacArthur.