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He looked at the handset of the telephone and after a moment leaned forward
and hung it up. By the time he had rested his back against his chair and raised the
Coke bottle to his lips, it rang.
He leaned forward and picked it up.
 VMF-229, Captain Galloway, Sir.
 You guys must live on the phone, his caller said.  I been calling for an hour.
 Well, it ll keep your index finger in shape, Galloway said.  Who s this?
 Lieutenant Rhodes, at NATS Pearl. I got a couple of warm bodies for you.
 I don t suppose there s any way you could get them a ride over here?
 No. Not today, anyway. That s why I called.
 What kind of warm bodies?
 Two intrepid birdmen, fresh from the States. They went into Hickam Field, and
the Air Corps sent them here.
 Instead of here. That figures.
 You going to come get them? Or should I put them in the transient BOQ?
 I ll send somebody for them. Thanks very much.
 Anytime.
Galloway put the phone back in its cradle and talked out loud to himself:  I will
Battleground / 173
not send somebody for them, because I don t have anybody to drive a vehicle to
send for them& even if I had a vehicle, which I don t. He thought that over, and
added,  Shit!
He drained the Coke and dropped the bottle with a loud clang into the object he
now knew as a commanding officer charged with responsibility for government
property was not a wastebasket but a  Receptacle, Trash, Office, w/o Liner Fed-
eral Stock Number Six Billion Thirteen. Then he swung his feet back onto the floor,
burped again, and stood up. He looked at the telephone, took the handset out of
the cradle, and laid it on the desk.
He went to PFC Hastings s desk and left him a note.  1205 I went to pick up some
replacements at NATS. CMG.
Then he went out of the Quonset hut, closed the padlock, and walked to his Ford.
Regulations required that officers leaving installations be in the properly appointed
uniform of the day. An exception was made only for officers who were actually
engaged in preparing for flight duty, or who were returning from such duty; these
men were permitted to wear uniforms appropriate for such duty. Captain Charles
M. Galloway decided that he met the criteria for exception. He had been flying,
and he was preparing to fly again.
He took his fore-and-aft cap from the knee pocket of his flight suit, put it on, and
then slipped his arms into the leather flight jacket and zipped that up. Then he got
behind the wheel of the Ford and drove off.
The Marine MP on duty outside the Navy Air Transport Service terminal eyed
Galloway suspiciously as he pulled up in the yellow Ford.
 I ve got two warm bodies inside, Galloway said when the MP walked up to
the car.  Can I leave this here a minute?
 No, Sir, the MP said.  That would be against regulations. But on the other
hand, if I checked around inside, which would take me about two minutes, I
wouldn t see it, would I?
 Thanks, Charley said, and got out of the car.
He smiled when he saw the two warm bodies, the intrepid birdmen fresh from
the States, sitting on wooden benches inside the terminal. He knew both of them.
And when they saw him, they both stood up. First Lieutenant James G. Ward,
USMCR, smiled and waved. First Lieutenant David F. Schneider, USMC, just about
came to attention.
If he outranked Jim Ward, Galloway thought, he would bark  attention and announce
that he was  Lieutenant Schneider reporting for duty as ordered with a party of one.
 Welcome to sunny Hawaii, Galloway said, extending his hand.  How was the
flight?
 Long, Jim Ward said.
 Very nice, thank you, Sir, Lieutenant Schneider said.
Oh, that s the way he s decided to play this. He probably sat with his thumb up his ass
for a long time, trying to figure the best way to behave when reporting to a squadron com-
manded by an ex-sergeant.
 I ve got a car outside. You can flip a coin to see who gets to sit in the rumble
seat. Need any help with your gear?
 I can manage, thanks, Ward said.
 No, Sir. Thank you, Sir, Schneider said.
He led them outside.
 Great car! Jim Ward said.  I always wanted one of these. Yours?
 Yeah. I bought it when I was with VMF-211, tore it apart, and rebuilt it.
174 / W. E. B. Griffin
Captain Galloway suspected that Lieutenant Schneider was not nearly as enthu-
siastic about a nine-year-old yellow Ford roadster as Lieutenant Ward was. And
he saw that Schneider was almost visibly relieved when Ward settled himself in
the rumble seat with their luggage. Riding in the rumble seat of a nine-year-old
yellow Ford roadster was not the sort of thing that Lieutenant Schneider felt was
appropriate for a Marine officer, especially one who had entered the service from
Annapolis.
Galloway got behind the wheel.
 Following the sacred military custom of  do as I say, not what I do,  he said,
 be advised that wearing flight suits off the flight line is a no-no. A couple of the
guys have got themselves written up by the MPs and Shore Patrol.
 What happens then? Ward asked.
 I reply by endorsement that the offenders have been hung, then drawn and
quartered. It s a pain in the ass. We have only one kid for a clerk, and he s not all
that good with a typewriter. So don t get caught.
 Got you, Jim Ward said. He leaned forward from the rumble seat and thrust
an envelope, a thick one, firmly sealed with scotch tape, at Galloway.
 What s this?
 A little note from Aunt Caroline, Jim Ward said.
 You hang onto it, Galloway said.  I m greasy and so is the flight suit. I was
about to take a shower when they called and said you were here.
 We could have waited, Schneider said.
 I figured to hell with it, Galloway said.  I m going to fly again this afternoon
anyway.
 We have planes? Ward asked eagerly.
 Wildcats, Galloway said.  New Wildcats. And if you talk nicely to Sergeant
Oblensky, he will have your name painted on it, and you can send a picture home
to Mommy.
 Who is Sergeant Oblensky? Ward asked.
 The maintenance sergeant. Best one in the Air Group. At the moment, he s also
the first sergeant, the mess sergeant, the supply sergeant, and the motor sergeant.
 How is that, Sir? Schneider asked.
 Because we don t have anybody else to be the first sergeant, the mess sergeant,
the supply sergeant, or the motor sergeant. I m working on it, so far with a monu-
mental lack of success.
 I see, Schneider said.
 Where we re going now is to Ewa, where I will show you MAG-113
Headquarters,  Marine Air Group 113; a MAG is the next superior headquarters
to a squadron, the aviation equivalent, so to speak, of an infantry battalion  then
the BOQ, and then our squadron office. Then we ll go to the flight line, where I ll
get out. You will then drive back to MAG-113. The Skipper Lieutenant Colonel [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]