[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
finished with you, go to the BOQ and get yourself set up there. And then go to the
squadron office, where PFC Hastings will do all the necessary paperwork on you.
I ll meet you there, and we can go to the club for our one daily beer and supper.
OK?
Sounds fine to me, Ward said.
The penalty for dinging your skipper s little yellow car is death by slow castra-
tion, Galloway said. A word to the wise, so to speak. They chuckled.
I suppose your flight physicals are up to date?
Battleground / 175
Yes, Sir, they chorused.
OK. Make sure Hastings gets a copy. And your orders, too, of course. Then in
the morning, we ll go flying. Local area checkout if nothing else. There are two IPs.
Me and a Lieutenant name of Bill Dunn. He got a Betty and a Zero at Midway.
Good pilot. Pay attention to what he says. I do.
He s almost halfway to being an ace, Ward thought aloud.
Before you fly away on dreams of glory, Galloway said, he also took a 20mm
round in his window at Midway that damned near made him a soprano, and he
totalled the airplane when he set it down. Most of the pilots of VMF-211 who took
off for Midway didn t come back. Bear that in mind, too.
There was a moment s silence and then Schneider said, Sir, we re hardly
presentable. To report to the Group Commander, I mean.
Lieutenant, Galloway said, we are blessed with a Group Commander who is
wise enough to know how mussed people get flying here from the States. He wants
a look at your balls, not the crease in your trousers.
Jim Ward laughed.
Yes, Sir, Schneider said.
If first impressions are important, Galloway thought as he drove the Ford convertible
down the taxi road behind the flight line, Big Steve just blew it so far as Schneider is
concerned.
Technical Sergeant Oblensky was sitting on the ground in the shade of a Wildcat,
his back against the left wheel, with a bottle of Coke resting on his belly. He was
wearing service shoes and what had originally been khaki trousers, now somewhat
raggedly cut off just above the knees. And nothing else. The belly on which the
Coke bottle sat sagged over the trouser waistline. His massive chest was streaked
with grease and what probably was hydraulic oil, and he needed a shave. His head
and neck were sweat streaked.
As Galloway stopped the car and he and the others got out, Oblensky pushed
himself to his feet and sauntered over. He glanced at the two young officers with
Galloway and dismissed them as unimportant; then he looked at Galloway.
Those fucking guns need a good armorer, he announced. Peterson came back
this morning with three of his guns jammed after three, four rounds.
There were four .50 caliber air-cooled Browning machine guns on F4F-4 aircraft.
What s the problem? More important, what do we do about it?
If I knew what the problem was, I d fix it, Oblensky said. What I did was call
a pal used to be a China Marine, now he s a Gunny with the 2nd Raider Battalion,
guy named Zimmerman. He said if I could get them over there, he d have a look
at them.
OK, Galloway said.
But I d have to give him a little present.
What s he want?
An auxiliary generator, Oblensky said. They re living in tents. He s got a re-
frigerator someplace, but he needs juice to run it.
Jesus, Steve, we only have two.
I think I know where I can get another one.
Where?
You don t want to know, Captain.
And if you get caught?
Then I guess you d still have some fucked up Brownings, Captain.
176 / W. E. B. Griffin
Then be careful, Galloway said.
Big Steve nodded.
Galloway glanced at Ward and Schneider. He saw fascination in Ward s eyes
and disbelief in Schneider s, as both came to comprehend what had just been dis-
cussed.
Gentlemen, Galloway said, I d like you to meet Technical Sergeant Oblensky,
the squadron maintenance sergeant. Sergeant, this is Lieutenant Ward and Lieuten-
ant Schneider; they ve just reported aboard.
Big Steve extended his hammy, greasy hand to Ward and Schneider in turn.
Ward shook the hand with visible pleasure; Schneider managed a smile only with
an almost visible effort.
Welcome aboard, Sirs, Big Steve said. The Skipper s told me about you. We
didn t expect you so soon.
I told them you d paint their names on their airplanes, so we could take a pic-
ture, Galloway said.
Consider it done. Tomorrow, for sure, Big Steve said. He smiled, turned, and
pointed at the Wildcat behind him. This one s ready for a test hop, and if they can
replace one more jug in that fucked-up engine in Six-Oh-Three, that ll be ready this
afternoon, too. (A jug is the engine s cylinder and piston assembly.)
Is that what you want me to do, Steve, test-fly this one?
Lieutenant Dunn took Lieutenant Peterson out again. He said if you got hung
up, he d test-fly this one when he got back.
What I d like, Steve, is for six-oh-three to be ready for a test hop when I bring
this one back, Galloway said.
You want to trust Neely to replace the jug himself? I mean, I got to see about
that other auxiliary generator.
We have to push him out of the nest sometime, Steve.
OK. I ll tell him to have it ready when you get back, Oblensky said. Things
are probably going to be a little tight. You want to change your plans for tonight,
Captain?
Shit! I forgot all about that!
Mrs. Stefan Oblensky, aka Lieutenant Commander Florence Kocharski, United
States Navy Nurse Corps, had requested the pleasure of the company of Captain
Charles M. Galloway, USMCR, at dinner at the family residence where she and
Technical Sergeant Oblensky cohabited with the blessings of God but in contraven-
tion of the Rules & Customs of the United States Naval Service.
Charley looked at Big Steve s face.
I can t turn him down again. They ve asked me four times, and I ve had to turn him down
three.
Hell, no, he said. I ll be there.
XII
(One)
HEADQUARTERS, MAG-21
EWA USMC AIR STATION
OAHU, TERRITORY OF HAWAII
1445 HOURS 7 JULY 1942
Lieutenant David F. Schneider reached out and touched Lieutenant Jim Ward s
arm as Ward tried to operate the door latch of Galloway s 1933 Ford convertible.
Ward turned and looked at him.
Don t you really think it would be a good idea if we took a shave and got into
a fresh uniform before we go in here?
You heard what the man said. The man said the colonel is smart enough to
know you lose the crease in your trousers when you spend twelve hours in an air-
plane. And the man, if I have to point this out, is now our commanding officer.
But he hasn t changed much, Schneider said, has he?
Meaning what?
You did understand that he gave that bare-chested gorilla of a sergeant of his
permission to steal an auxiliary power unit generator someplace, from somebody
who certainly needs it?
Ward didn t reply. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl akte20.pev.pl
finished with you, go to the BOQ and get yourself set up there. And then go to the
squadron office, where PFC Hastings will do all the necessary paperwork on you.
I ll meet you there, and we can go to the club for our one daily beer and supper.
OK?
Sounds fine to me, Ward said.
The penalty for dinging your skipper s little yellow car is death by slow castra-
tion, Galloway said. A word to the wise, so to speak. They chuckled.
I suppose your flight physicals are up to date?
Battleground / 175
Yes, Sir, they chorused.
OK. Make sure Hastings gets a copy. And your orders, too, of course. Then in
the morning, we ll go flying. Local area checkout if nothing else. There are two IPs.
Me and a Lieutenant name of Bill Dunn. He got a Betty and a Zero at Midway.
Good pilot. Pay attention to what he says. I do.
He s almost halfway to being an ace, Ward thought aloud.
Before you fly away on dreams of glory, Galloway said, he also took a 20mm
round in his window at Midway that damned near made him a soprano, and he
totalled the airplane when he set it down. Most of the pilots of VMF-211 who took
off for Midway didn t come back. Bear that in mind, too.
There was a moment s silence and then Schneider said, Sir, we re hardly
presentable. To report to the Group Commander, I mean.
Lieutenant, Galloway said, we are blessed with a Group Commander who is
wise enough to know how mussed people get flying here from the States. He wants
a look at your balls, not the crease in your trousers.
Jim Ward laughed.
Yes, Sir, Schneider said.
If first impressions are important, Galloway thought as he drove the Ford convertible
down the taxi road behind the flight line, Big Steve just blew it so far as Schneider is
concerned.
Technical Sergeant Oblensky was sitting on the ground in the shade of a Wildcat,
his back against the left wheel, with a bottle of Coke resting on his belly. He was
wearing service shoes and what had originally been khaki trousers, now somewhat
raggedly cut off just above the knees. And nothing else. The belly on which the
Coke bottle sat sagged over the trouser waistline. His massive chest was streaked
with grease and what probably was hydraulic oil, and he needed a shave. His head
and neck were sweat streaked.
As Galloway stopped the car and he and the others got out, Oblensky pushed
himself to his feet and sauntered over. He glanced at the two young officers with
Galloway and dismissed them as unimportant; then he looked at Galloway.
Those fucking guns need a good armorer, he announced. Peterson came back
this morning with three of his guns jammed after three, four rounds.
There were four .50 caliber air-cooled Browning machine guns on F4F-4 aircraft.
What s the problem? More important, what do we do about it?
If I knew what the problem was, I d fix it, Oblensky said. What I did was call
a pal used to be a China Marine, now he s a Gunny with the 2nd Raider Battalion,
guy named Zimmerman. He said if I could get them over there, he d have a look
at them.
OK, Galloway said.
But I d have to give him a little present.
What s he want?
An auxiliary generator, Oblensky said. They re living in tents. He s got a re-
frigerator someplace, but he needs juice to run it.
Jesus, Steve, we only have two.
I think I know where I can get another one.
Where?
You don t want to know, Captain.
And if you get caught?
Then I guess you d still have some fucked up Brownings, Captain.
176 / W. E. B. Griffin
Then be careful, Galloway said.
Big Steve nodded.
Galloway glanced at Ward and Schneider. He saw fascination in Ward s eyes
and disbelief in Schneider s, as both came to comprehend what had just been dis-
cussed.
Gentlemen, Galloway said, I d like you to meet Technical Sergeant Oblensky,
the squadron maintenance sergeant. Sergeant, this is Lieutenant Ward and Lieuten-
ant Schneider; they ve just reported aboard.
Big Steve extended his hammy, greasy hand to Ward and Schneider in turn.
Ward shook the hand with visible pleasure; Schneider managed a smile only with
an almost visible effort.
Welcome aboard, Sirs, Big Steve said. The Skipper s told me about you. We
didn t expect you so soon.
I told them you d paint their names on their airplanes, so we could take a pic-
ture, Galloway said.
Consider it done. Tomorrow, for sure, Big Steve said. He smiled, turned, and
pointed at the Wildcat behind him. This one s ready for a test hop, and if they can
replace one more jug in that fucked-up engine in Six-Oh-Three, that ll be ready this
afternoon, too. (A jug is the engine s cylinder and piston assembly.)
Is that what you want me to do, Steve, test-fly this one?
Lieutenant Dunn took Lieutenant Peterson out again. He said if you got hung
up, he d test-fly this one when he got back.
What I d like, Steve, is for six-oh-three to be ready for a test hop when I bring
this one back, Galloway said.
You want to trust Neely to replace the jug himself? I mean, I got to see about
that other auxiliary generator.
We have to push him out of the nest sometime, Steve.
OK. I ll tell him to have it ready when you get back, Oblensky said. Things
are probably going to be a little tight. You want to change your plans for tonight,
Captain?
Shit! I forgot all about that!
Mrs. Stefan Oblensky, aka Lieutenant Commander Florence Kocharski, United
States Navy Nurse Corps, had requested the pleasure of the company of Captain
Charles M. Galloway, USMCR, at dinner at the family residence where she and
Technical Sergeant Oblensky cohabited with the blessings of God but in contraven-
tion of the Rules & Customs of the United States Naval Service.
Charley looked at Big Steve s face.
I can t turn him down again. They ve asked me four times, and I ve had to turn him down
three.
Hell, no, he said. I ll be there.
XII
(One)
HEADQUARTERS, MAG-21
EWA USMC AIR STATION
OAHU, TERRITORY OF HAWAII
1445 HOURS 7 JULY 1942
Lieutenant David F. Schneider reached out and touched Lieutenant Jim Ward s
arm as Ward tried to operate the door latch of Galloway s 1933 Ford convertible.
Ward turned and looked at him.
Don t you really think it would be a good idea if we took a shave and got into
a fresh uniform before we go in here?
You heard what the man said. The man said the colonel is smart enough to
know you lose the crease in your trousers when you spend twelve hours in an air-
plane. And the man, if I have to point this out, is now our commanding officer.
But he hasn t changed much, Schneider said, has he?
Meaning what?
You did understand that he gave that bare-chested gorilla of a sergeant of his
permission to steal an auxiliary power unit generator someplace, from somebody
who certainly needs it?
Ward didn t reply. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]