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//-->W E B Griffin - Corp 07 - Behind the LinesTHE CORPS is respectfully dedicated to the memory of Second Lieutenant Drew James Barrett III,USMC Company K, 3d Battalion, 26th Marines Born Denver, Colorado, 3 January 1945 Died QuangNam Province, Republic of Vietnam, 27 February 1969 and Major Alfred Lee Butler III, USMCHeadquarters 22nd Marine Amphibious Unit Born Washington, D.C., 4 September 1950 Died Beirut,Lebanon, 8 February 1984 And to the Memory of Donald L. Schomp A Marine fighter pilot whobecame a Legendary U.S. Army Master Aviator RIP 9 April 1989 "Semper Fi!"NOTE TO THE READERProbably the best-known Marines who served with great distinction behind the enemy's lines with theOffice of Strategic Services (OSS) during World War II are Major Peter Ortiz (who was decorated withtwo Navy Crosses and named a member of both the French Legion d'Honneur and the British Order ofthe British Empire for his valor); Sergeants Jack Risler and Fred Brunner; Gun-nery Sergeant RobertLaSalle; and Captains Sterling Hayden (the actor) and Peter Devries (the writer). There were others...Behind The LinesChapter One[ONE]Headquarters, U.S. Army Luzon ForceBataan Peninsula, Luzon, Philippines0915 Hours 7 April 1942A Ford pickup truck turned off the Mariveles-Cabcaben "highway" into what was officially called "TheHeadquarters Area" but known universally as "Lit-tle Baguio." The area held, in flimsy tropical buildings,the main ordnance and engineer depots and General Hospital #1, as well as the collection of buildingsthat housed the various offices of Headquarters, U.S. Army Force, Luzon.The truck had seen better days. Its fenders were crumpled, its windshield was cracked, and the brightcrimson paint of its former life as a utility vehicle for the Coca-Cola Company of Manila showed intwenty places through a hast-ily applied coat of Army olive drab. On the truck bed were a footlocker, afold-ing wooden cot, a battered leather suitcase, and half a dozen five-gallon gasoline cans.In a few moments, it pulled up beside the building identified by a battered sign as the CommandingGeneral's.A tall, just this side of heavyset man got out of the truck and started to walk toward the building. He waswearing mussed, sweat-soaked khakis, high-topped shoes, and a web belt from which was suspended aModel 1911 Colt.45 ACP pistol. He stopped and returned to the truck, snatched a khaki overseas capfrom the seat and put it on. On the cap was the gold leaf of a major. There was no insignia of any kind onhis khaki shirt. He rubbed the red stubble on his cheeks.I need a shave. To hell with it.He entered the open-sided building and walked past a collection of desks toward the building's rear,stopping before the desk of another major of about the same age. On the desk, an ornately carvedtriangular nameplate-a rem-nant of better times-carried the crossed rifles of infantry, a major's leaf, andthe legend "Marshall Hurt."A moment or so later, Major Hurt looked up."Fertig," he said. "What can I do for you?""I was sent for," Fertig replied."Oh, yes. I'd forgotten," Hurt said.They didn't particularly like each other. Hurt was a professional soldier, Wendell Fertig a reservist. Ayear before, Hurt had been an underpaid captain and Fertig a successful-and wealthy-civil engineer.Hurt stood up from his desk and went deeper into the building. A minute later he returned."The General will see you now," he said, and nodded toward the rear of the building.Fertig nodded, walked to an open door, then stood there and waited to be noticed by Major GeneralEdward P. King, Jr., the Commanding General of Luzon Force. King, a stocky fifty-eight-year-oldartillery man from Atlanta who wore a neatly cropped full mustache, was at that moment standing beforea sheet of plywood on which a large-scale map of the Bataan Peninsula had been mounted.Fertig both liked and admired General King. He had known him socially before the war-indeed, GeneralKing had played an important role in the di-rect commissioning of Fertig as a Captain, Corps ofEngineers, U.S. Army Re-serve.And right now he felt very sorry for him. Fertig didn't pretend to know much about the Army, but heknew enough to understand that the worst thing that could happen to a career officer was to sufferdefeat.The map of Bataan General King was studying was clear proof that not only was he suffering defeat, butthe defeat was very shortly going to be total and absolute. It didn't matter that King was going to bedefeated by a well-equipped, battle-hardened Japanese force that outnumbered King's poorly equipped,starving, "Filamerican" force four or five to one; he was about to lose, and that was all that mattered.A minute or so later, General King glanced at the door, noticed Fertig, and waved him inside."Wendell," he said."General.""Could you see the map, where you were standing?"Fertig nodded."I'm afraid it won't be long," King said. "You know how we are defining effectives these days, Wendell?"Fertig shook his head, no."An effective soldier is one who can carry his weapon one hundred yards without resting and be capableof firing it after he has gone the one hundred yards. Fifteen percent of our force is effective as ofyesterday. The percentage is expected to decline."Fertig nodded."I had several things on my mind when I sent for you," General King said. "For one thing, I wanted tohear from you, personally, that we are pre-pared to destroy our ordnance and other stocks.""Everything is prepared for detonation, General. Redundantly, in terms of both hardware and personnel.In other words, each blow site has been doubly wired, and there are two locations from which the sitescan be blown."King nodded."Thank you. Good job. A young lieutenant came up with a means to de-stroy artillery that somehowdidn't occur to the authors of the Field Manuals. You simply shove powder bags down the tube ahead ofthe charge, or the round, and then fire it.""I don't suppose the authors gave a lot of thought to destroying our own cannons," Fertig said. "I wasgoing to suggest shoving sandbags down the barrel from the muzzle end. I don't know how it would workwith a cannon, but I do know, from painful experience, what happens to the barrel of a Diana-gradeBrowning when you try to get an ounce and a quarter of Number 6 shot past a lump of mud."King smiled. It was a memory of better times... of a cock pheasant rising from the frozen stubble of acornfield."Secondly, Wendell, I was wondering what to do with you.""Sir?""You've blown up-or arranged to blow up-everything here that has to be blown," King said. "It occurredto me that General Sharp might find some use for your skills."Brigadier General William F. Sharp commanded, on the island of Min-danao, what was now known asthe Mindanao Force of the U.S. Army in the Philippines. From everything Fertig had heard, Sharp'sforces had not been subjected to the same degree of attack as the Luzon Force, and so were in muchbetter shape.In the absence of reinforcements, Sharp's forces were as inevitably doomed as King's, but that defeatwas some time off, perhaps as much as two months, and in two months a good deal could happen."Yes, Sir.""Would you be willing to go down there to him?""Yes, Sir. Of course.""Well, we have some small craft that periodically try to get from here to there. There's one leaving atnightfall. I've told Hurt to find space for you on it.""Yes, Sir.""Possibly, Wendell, you could make it from Mindanao to Australia. God knows, it would be a waste ofyour talents to spend the rest of this war in a prisoner-of-war cage.""If you think I can be of any use here, General...""I think we've passed that point, Wendell. And I'm sure General Sharp will be glad to have you. Give himmy best regards when you see him.""Yes, Sir.""That'll be all, Wendell," King said. He put out his hand. "You've car-ried your weight around here.Thank you. See you after the war.""It's been a privilege serving under you, Sir."Fertig saluted. King returned it.Fertig did as crisp an about-face movement as he could manage, and then marched toward the door. Histhroat was tight; he felt like crying."Wait a minute," General King called after him. Fertig turned."I said there were several things on my mind," King said. "I forgot one.""Yes, Sir?"King motioned him to approach."This used to be done with photographers, with a proudly beaming wife standing by, and would befollowed by a drunk at the club at your expense," King said. "No clubs, no photographers, and no wife,thank God, but con-gratulations nonetheless, Colonel."He handed Fertig a lieutenant colonel's silver leaf."I'll be damned," Fertig said."Well earned, Wendell," King said, and shook his hand. "I'll hold you to the party. In better times.""I'll look forward to it, Sir."King grabbed Fertig's shoulder, squeezed it, smiled, and then turned away from him.Fertig left the office and returned to Major Hurt's desk."Tell me about the boat," he said."It's a small coaster," Hurt replied. "Be at the pier at Mariveles at half past five. They expect you.""Do I need orders, or...""You're traveling VOCG," Hurt said-Verbal Order of the Commanding General. "Technically, you're ontemporary duty from Luzon Force to Min-danao Force. We don't have authority to transfer anyone.""OK.""I'll need your truck," Hurt said. "So far as luggage is concerned, one item of luggage.""I've got a suitcase and a footlocker.""One or the other. Sorry.""Well, then, I'll leave the footlocker here with you. For safekeeping."Hurt smiled."I love optimists," he said. "Sorry, there really is no room on the boat.""If it's all right with you, Hurt, I'll take the footlocker to one of the ammo dumps. And then bring the truckback, of course. There's some personal stuff in there I'd much rather see blown up than fall into the handsof some son of Nippon.""May I offer you a piece of advice?""Certainly.""You're a lieutenant colonel now. You don't have to ask a major for per-mission to do anything.""I'll try to remember that," Fertig said. He put out his hand. "So long, Hurt. Take care of yourself.""Yeah, you, too," Hurt said. "And just for the record, I think you deserve that silver leaf.""If there was anything left to drink around here, I'd think you'd been at it.""If there was anything left to drink around here, I would be at it," Major Hurt said. "Good luck, Colonel.""See you after the war, Major."Chapter Two[One]Headquarters, 4th MarinesMalinta TunnelFortress CorregidorManila BayCommonwealth of the Philippines [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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