In Danger's Path (51 page)

“Jesus, I wonder what the hell this is all about,” Chief McGuire said.

“I thought perhaps you could tell me.”

“I haven't a clue, Admiral. Do I have to go?”

“One of the quaint customs of the Navy, Chief,” Admiral Henton said, smiling, “is that when the Commander in Chief, Pacific Fleet, says ‘go,' we go.”

“I really hate to fly,” Chief McGuire said.

“So do I, Chief,” Admiral Henton said. “Why don't you give that TWX to Commander Sloane, so he'll know what's going on?”

“Sure,” Chief McGuire said. “Here you go, Commander.”

[THREE]
Office of the Chief Signal Officer
Headquarters, U.S. Military Mission to China
Chungking, China
25 March 1943

The dusty GM six-by-six truck jerked to a halt before the entrance to a tunnel. Outside was a wooden sign reading,
SIGNAL SECTION, USMMCHI
. Lieutenant Colonel Edward J. Banning, USMC, holding a Thompson submachine gun in his hand, climbed down from the cab and walked to the rear of the truck. “We're here,” he announced, as he began to remove the chain holding the two-foot-high rear “gate” in place.

With a grace surprising for his bulk, Gunnery Sergeant Zimmerman jumped out of the truck. “I'll get that, Colonel,” he said.

When the gate was down, Captain Ken McCoy and Master Gunner Harry Rutterman jumped off the truck and started unloading their luggage and the crates marked “Personnel Records, Not To Be Opened Without The Specific Written Permission of the Adjutant General.”

Banning entered the tunnel. After his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he could see signs identifying the various offices the tunnel contained. It reminded him of Corregidor, except that on Corregidor the tunnels were lined with concrete; here the tunnel was naked rock. He found a wide area in the tunnel, a place where it looked like someone had decided to carve another lateral and then changed his mind.

He walked back to the mouth.

“Ken,” he called, “there's a wide place inside. Put everything there and wait for me. I'll go see what happens next.”

McCoy, holding one of the “Personnel Record” crates, nodded and started to carry it into the tunnel.

Banning turned back inside. After proceeding quite a long way, he found what he was looking for, a sign announcing the space off the main tunnel that housed the office of the Signal Officer, USMMCHI. There was a door in a wooden wall; he opened it and walked though, finding himself in a perfectly ordinary military office—except of course, there were no windows. It held four desks, filing cabinets, a safe, and a rack for clothing. At the largest desk sat an Army Signal Corps lieutenant colonel. Banning walked up to the desk, and after a moment the officer raised his eyes from the papers on his desk.

“Good morning,” Banning said. “I'm Ed Banning. I'd like to see the Signal Officer, please.”

“The General is not available at the moment, Colonel,” the army lieutenant colonel said. “Perhaps I can help you?”

“I have to see him, I'm afraid,” Lieutenant Colonel Edward J. Banning, USMC, replied. “When could I do that?”

“Why do you want to see the General, Colonel?” the Army lieutenant colonel said. There was a touch of impatience in his voice.

“I'm not at liberty to discuss that,” Banning replied.

“The General is a very busy man.”

“I'm sure he is,” Banning said.

His temper was a little short, too. It had been a very long flight from Newark. The original idea had been to spend only enough time on the ground to take on fuel and perform necessary minor maintenance. That had worked. This meant they had spent long hours trying to sleep on the floor of the Curtis Commando's fuselage, with the roar of the engines as background, three quarters of the way around the world until, after “Flying the Hump,” they had arrived in Kunming, China. There the weather had been so bad, they had to spend two days in a flea-infested transient billet until they could make the final leg into Chungking.

No one came to meet them at the airport—which was, of course, to be expected. But the Air Corps personnel running the terminal did not consider it their responsibility to see that incoming passengers got from the airfield to wherever they were going. Gunner Rutterman and Gunny Zimmerman had finally commandeered an Air Corps General Motors six-by-six truck by offering its PFC driver the choice of helping them out or having his arms pulled off at the shoulder.

“My job,” the Signal Corps lieutenant colonel said, “is to see that people don't waste the General's time.”

Banning was tempted to show his orders to the officer—he quickly came to think of him as “this idiot'—but decided that wouldn't be wise. This idiot was the type who wouldn't be able to wait until he got to the Officers' Club to start telling his pals about the Marines who had just arrived on Top Secret orders issued by the Joint Chiefs of Staff.

The door to the chief signal officer's outer office suddenly opened and a major general marched in. He was a short, stocky man, with a pencil-line mustache. He was wearing a brimmed cap with the crown stiffener removed, à la Air Corps pilots, and an open necked khaki shirt with two silver stars on each collar point. Over that he was wearing a jacket that looked like something Ernest Hemingway would wear while shooting lions in Africa. There were two stars on each epaulet. He had a swagger stick clutched in his hand.

He smiled at Banning. “Colonel Banning, I presume? Welcome to the mysterious East.”

How the hell does he know my name?

“Yes, sir,” Banning said, and saluted.

The General returned the salute by touching the brim of his cap with his swagger stick. “Well, come on in,” the General said, and turned to the lieutenant colonel. “Ask General Newley to come in chop-chop, will you, please?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Sir, I had hoped to see the General alone,” Banning said.

“I have no secrets from General Newley, Colonel, something you should understand from Step One. He's my deputy.”

“Yes, sir.”

He motioned with the swagger stick for Banning to follow him into his office. Inside, he walked behind his desk and sat down. On the ornately carved desk was a nameplate adorned with his name—Frederick T. Dempsey—inlaid in some sort of shell above a painted fire-breathing dragon. On either side of his name were the two silver stars of a major general.

He did not offer Banning a chair. Banning assumed the position of Parade Rest.

“Those were your men I passed in the main lateral?” General Dempsey asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“I couldn't help but notice the civilians are wearing beards. They're probably not civilians, are they, but CIC agents? What's that all about?”

Before Banning could reply, another officer entered the office. He was dressed like General Dempsey, except that he had only one silver star on each collar point and epaulet. He took a very good look at Banning.

“Colonel Banning, obviously,” he said. “Right?”

“Yes, sir.”

And this one knows my name, too! How come? Did General Pickering send them a heads-up? He's pretty casual about classified matters, but I can't believe he would do that
.

“I'm General Newley, Colonel. Welcome to USMMCHI.” He pronounced the acronym, “U.S. Double M Chi.”

“Thank you, sir,” Banning said, and shook General Newley's offered hand. Then he turned to General Dempsey. “General, may I show you my orders?”

“You can if you like,” General Dempsey said. “But we already know what they are.”

“Thank you, sir,” Banning said. He took a sealed envelope from his tunic pocket, tore it open, removed a sheet of paper, and handed it to General Dempsey.

General Dempsey read the orders.

“As I said, we were expecting you, Colonel. But I was under the impression that the devices would be guarded by CIC agents. Are they on separate orders? Don't tell me those two bearded characters I just saw are Marines?”

He knows about the
MAGIC
devices. Jesus H. Christ!

“I'm not sure I know how to answer the General's question, sir,” Banning said.

“Actually, Colonel, there were two questions. The first was ‘where are the CIC agents I expected to be guarding the
MAGIC
devices?' and the second was ‘are those two bearded characters Marines?'”

“I know nothing about CIC agents, sir.”

“Then you guarded the
MAGIC
devices?”

Banning did not reply.

“Something wrong with your hearing, Colonel?” General Dempsey asked, a touch of unpleasantness in his voice.

“Sir, may I speak to the General alone?”

“I thought we'd already been down that path,” General Dempsey said. “To answer
your
question, Colonel, when we have finished our business here, yes, I will have a word with you in private if you insist. Now to
my
question…Let's get down to basics. Do you have the
MAGIC
devices?”

“Sir, as I'm sure the General understands, I am not at liberty to discuss anything of that nature with anyone who does not hold the proper security clearance.”

“Frankly, Colonel, I am rapidly moving from appreciation of your concern for security to annoyance. Your own orders direct you to inform me of the nature of your mission. I already know the nature of your mission. You are to serve, as a member of my cryptographic staff, as officer-in-charge of the
MAGIC
devices.”

“Then the General possesses a
MAGIC
clearance? I was not so informed.”