“Furthermore, they came in a tramp freighter which the Coast Guard only belatedly identified. The freighter tried to run away, but was shot up by a Coast Guard cutter and one of our old gunboats that was in the canal area. The enemy ship then rammed the cutter. The gunboat continued to pound the freighter and, when they thought she was dead, sent over a boarding party. At that instant, the ship exploded, killing everyone on the cutter and most of the people on the gunboat. Needless to say, everyone on the freighter was killed. We don’t know if the explosion was accidental or not.”
“Let me give you some reassurance, gentlemen,” Admiral King said. “The situation Admiral Halsey has described is totally accurate, but you are not going to be hung out to dry. We know you need carriers and more carriers. I’ve spoken with Secretary Knox and he assures me that warship production will be shifted from cruisers and destroyers to carriers. Thus, we will be able to accelerate the completion of the
After a few more questions, the meeting broke up. Merchant grabbed Dane’s arm. “How’s that report on Jap fanaticism coming?”
“Haven’t started, sir.”
“Start.”
Steve Farris had reluctantly come to the conclusion that Captain Lytle might be more of a danger to the American army than the Japs were. His platoon had been issued helmets and rifles and now at least looked like soldiers. The helmets were the new bowl type and not the World War I pie tins. The new models were said to provide more protection for the occupant’s skull. Farris was in no hurry to check out the hypothesis.
The rifles, however, were the venerable but still lethal 1903 model Springfields, and not the new Garands that were just beginning to be produced. The Springfield was a .30 caliber bolt-action weapon that took a five-shot clip. It might be old, but in the right hands, the Springfield was a deadly weapon. The next day, Lytle took them to the rifle range where the company largely succeeded in hitting the ground, much to the amusement of their Marine instructors. Farris, who considered himself a good to excellent shot, had lost any edge he might have had and was as bad as anybody.
To Steve’s astonishment, Lytle had appeared satisfied and announced that the next day they would head ten miles north and build a post near the small village of Bridger. Bridger was located a mile inland and had a population of two hundred, some of whom farmed and others fished.
Along with being satisfied with the company’s miserable shooting, Lytle was preoccupied with building what Farris considered a resort for himself and his men after they arrived at their destination. Patrolling and recon work were not on his agenda. Instead, a comfortable tent village was constructed with the largest and most luxurious tent going to the captain.
Farris and Lytle soon had a number of arguments regarding this and other matters, but to no avail. Steve once again worked up the nerve to protest and did so in Lytle’s tent when the two of them were alone.
“Sir, when are we going to start doing our job of scouting?”
Lytle laughed mirthlessly. “For what? Do you really think there are Japs coming? Hell, there are thousands of miles of coastline. The odds of the Japs landing here are astronomically small.”
Farris had to admit his lush of a commanding officer had a point. But they had their orders and there was such a thing as doing their duty. “I think we should be doing at least a little recon work instead of painting the rocks white.”
“I think it makes the base look good,” Lytle replied, not catching the sarcasm. Several paths were outlined by brightly painted rocks. Lytle’s breath reeked of booze. Away from San Diego and the sobering presence of more senior officers, he’d again been drinking heavily.
“Regardless, I think it’s a waste and I also believe we should have built elsewhere.”
“Nonsense, we have a great view of the ocean.”
“And that’s the point, Captain. We can see for miles, which means we would stick out like a sore thumb to lookouts on any enemy ship. We should have built behind the hill where we can’t be seen and have lookouts watching the ocean. I agree with you that it’s a long shot that any Jap will show up, but any enemy ship that might happen by would know right away that this is a military post and shell it from a distance, and we’d be unable to do a damn thing about it.”
He declined to say anything about white rocks serving as aiming points. Lytle sat down in a camp chair and leaned back, clearly off balance. For a moment it looked as if he would fall over and Steve relished the thought.
“Farris, just because you had a year of college, it doesn’t mean you’re smarter than I am. I am the captain and in command of this company, and you are a lieutenant and you are rapidly becoming a pain in the ass. If I could, I would send you back and get someone more reasonable, but I can’t.”
Farris was undeterred. “And instead of painting the damn rocks, we should be training. Our men are out of shape and, like you saw on the range, can’t shoot worth squat. Sir, I would like to start patrolling and training instead of just sitting here and admiring the scenery.”
“Lieutenant, instead of wasting our time patrolling, I would like to either relieve you of your command or have your worthless ass court-martialed. Like I said, though, I can’t do much about you. Instead, I am going to do you a big favor. You can take your platoon and your grumpy fucking Sergeant Stecher the hell out of here and build your own little castle a couple of miles up the coast where you can hide behind hills to your little heart’s content. I’ll replace your platoon with Sawyer’s.”
Farris had mixed emotions. Sawyer was the youngest and least experienced officer in the company and was totally intimidated by Lytle. They would do a marvelous job of painting rocks and anything else the company commander wanted, except prepare for war.
There was, however, a good side to Lytle’s orders. Away from Lytle, Farris would indeed be able to get his men as close to fighting trim as circumstances would permit.
Outside, Stecher asked how it went. “Well, we get a little independence,” Farris said and explained that they’d be moving.
“Half a loaf is better than nothing,” Stecher said. He was impressed that his lieutenant had a pair of balls and had stood up to their sot of a CO. He also had a sense of duty.
Farris smiled. “Lytle may be right, and the only Japs we’ll ever see will be running a laundry or something, but if the worst should happen, we’ll be as ready as we possibly can be.”
Stecher laughed. “Chinese run laundries, not the Japs. No Pearl Harbor on our watch then?”
“Not if I can help it. If anybody dies on my watch, it won’t be because I didn’t do the best I could.”
“Uh, Lieutenant, I know you don’t approve of our captain’s drinking, but I hope you agree there’s a time and place for everything.”
“Of course.”
“Then you might like to know that a case of beer has appeared as if by magic in my tent, perhaps sent by the beer fairy, and I’d enjoy sharing one or three with you.”
Farris grinned. “I’d be honored. Tomorrow we move this hot dog stand to a new location.”
“Any of you ladies own a gun?” Mack asked.
Amanda, Sandy, and Grace shook their heads in surprise at the question. Sandy said she hated guns.
“Well, thank God I own a few,” Mack said. “I’ll be bringing a twelve-gauge shotgun, a thirty-two-caliber revolver, and an 1873 model Winchester carbine that I was told was used by the Sioux against Custer. That’s probably a lie, but it shoots straight. Oh yeah, there’ll be a box of ammo for each.”
“But why,” Sandy asked. She was tired. They all were. They’d managed time off from the hospital and had spent the last several days learning how to improve their handling of the catamaran. Sandy had started as the plump one, but was now slimming down. Mack thought she looked good, but not as good as Grace, who had just unbuttoned the top three buttons of her blouse, which gave him a good view of her ample cleavage. Regardless, all three were becoming skilled sailors.
When the nurses weren’t there, Mack had worked hard to improve the sailboat. The decking connecting the
