And then once–if–they made it safely ashore, the next problem was the radio Garvey was carrying. They intended to replace the guerrillas’ homemade radio with equipment capable of reliable communications to Australia, Hawaii, and the States. What they had was a new, apparently not fully tested “transceiver,” a device weighing only sixty pounds, including an electrical generation system that was pedaled like a stationary bicycle.
But that was several steps away. What had to be done now was to let the guerrillas know, and to keep the Japanese from learning, that Whittaker and his team were coming ashore–and where, and when.
Solving that problem had nothing to do with the esoterics of radio-wave propagation in the twenty-meter band.
Joe Garvey had been sending a short message twice, and then listening for a response, and then sending twice again, and then listening again:
KFH FOR WYZB
FOR GENERAL FERTIG
RELAY WRISTWATCH
QUOTE POLO COMING FOR NORTH PUERTO RI CAM COCKTAILS TODAY
ACKNOWLEDGE KFH BY
The message, Captain Jim Whittaker had explained, would be delivered to Master Sergeant George Withers, whom he had left on Bataan, and who was now with Fertig on Mindanao.
“Wristwatch” made reference to the watch Whittaker had taken from his wrist and given to Withers just before he had left him.
“Polo” was simple. Jim Whittaker had been a polo player, and was known by that nickname.
Whittaker was sure that Withers and Fertig would understand that “cocktails” meant “at the cocktail hour.” Whether they interpreted that to mean five p.m.” or any hour up to eight or nine, didn’t matter. If they were on the beach where Polo was coming at the cocktail hour, they would wait until the last hope he was coming was gone.
The tricky part of the message was “Puerto Rican cocktails.” Whittaker said he was banking on Whithers being initially baffled by that, saying aloud to find a meaning.
Puerto Rico? Puerto Rico? Puerto Rico?
“Word association, Skipper,” Whittaker had said.
“What’s the first thing that pops into your mind when you think “Puerto Rico’?”
“Rum,” Commander Lennox said immediately.
“Think geographically,” Whittaker said.
“San Juan, I guess,” Lennox had said.
“But I knew about San Juan.”
It was Whittaker’s intention to go ashore north of the small city of San Juan on the eastern shore of Mindanao at six, just before darkness fell.
“They will be thinking geographically,” Whittaker said firmly.
“They’ll get it, all right. The message isn’t what’s bothering me.”
“Something is bothering you?” Lennox asked sarcastically.
“I can’t imagine what that would be.”
“Well, for one thing, we don’t seem to be getting any reply,” Whittaker said dryly, “which could mean that either Garvey’s radio isn’t working; or that Fertig’s radio isn’t working; or that Fertig’s people just aren’t listening; or if you insist on taking counsel of your fears, that they have been killed or captured by the Japanese.”
“And what if they have been, Jim?
“Lennox asked, very seriously.
“What are you going to do if you can’t raise them on the radio? Try again tomorrow?”
“I’ve thought about that,” Whittaker said, now as serious as Lennox.
“Garvey tells me that the signal he is sending is strong enough to be picked up all over the island. That means that other Americans, or at least Filipinos friendly to him, have heard the message and will get it to him. And so, of course, have the Japanese. I don’t want to give the Japanese any more time to play word association than I already have. I want to go ashore at six tonight.”
Lennox nodded.
It was, he realized, the first order Whittaker had given him that was not open to suggestion or argument.
“I think I’m going to go up to the bridge,” he said, then added without thinking about it, “if you don’t need me?”
“No, go ahead,” Whittaker said absently.
Commander Lennox had just reached the ladder to the conning tower when the Klaxon sounded and the speaker’s voice came over the loudspeakers:
“Japanese aircraft ninety degrees three miles! Dive! Dive!”
[FOUR]
Drop Zone Aspirin near Pecs, Hungary
It. Hank Darmstadter walked down the slanting floor of the C-47 to where Canidy knelt, with his ear to the chest of It. Commander John Dolan, USNR.
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