NIMITZ, ADMIRAL, USN, CINCPAC
Pickering handed the message back to Knox.
"Before you start handing out any medals, you better look at this," Pickering said. It was handed to me a few minutes ago, just before Florence Nightingale came in here."
"Will you hold still, please?" the nurse snapped.
Pickering handed Knox the radio message Lieutenant Pluto Hon had sent to MAGIC headquarters in Pearl Harbor.
Knox glanced at it and handed it back.
"I've seen it," Knox said. "How do you think they knew where to deliver it?"
"You don't know what it means," Pickering said.
"I've got a damned good idea," Knox said. "I also have
this."
He handed Pickering another radio message.
URGENT
SECRET
HQ FIRST MARDIV 0845 20AUGUST 1942
SECNAV WASHINGTON DC
PLEASE PASS URGENTLY TO CAPTAIN FLEMING PICKERING USNR SERGEANT J M MOORE USMCR HAS BEEN
AIRLIFTED ON MY AUTHORITY TO USNAVAL HOSPITAL PEARL HARBOR FOR TREATMENT OF WOUNDS
SUFFERED IN COMBAT 19 AUGUST 1942. THE RABBIT DID NOT GET OUT OF THE HAT. BEST PERSONAL
REGARDS SIGNED VANDERGRIFT MAJGEN USMC
BY DIRECTION: HARRIS BRIGGEN USMC
"I wonder what he means about the rabbit in the hat," Knox said. "That sounds like MAGIC."
"It never entered my mind that boy would be sent to Guadalcanal," Pickering said. "How the hell did that happen?"
"No one knew any reason he should not have been sent. Not even me."
"I thought it was necessary that Hon have some help."
"So did I. That's why I sent your secretary over there."
"I didn't know she was coming," Pickering said.
"I told myself that," Knox said.
"I think you should know that I would do the same thing again, under the same circumstances."
"Except that next time, you might bring me in on it?"
"Yes. I am sorry about that. If it had been compromised, it would have been my fault."
"Who else knows?"
"Just Vandergrift."
"OK," Knox said.
The nurse finished cleaning the wounds on Pickering's chest.
"I'm going to send a nurse in to give you a sponge bath," she said. "And this time, you will not run her off."
"Yes, Ma'am," Pickering said.
"You're on the way to recovery. Don't screw it up by getting yourself infected," the nurse said.
"No, Ma'am," Pickering said, and then to Knox: "I don't suppose you know how badly Moore was hurt?"
"He's well enough to be flown home; I ordered that."
"That kid should be an officer," Pickering said.
"Why don't you make up a list of things you think the Secretary of the Navy should do?" Knox said, and then called after the nurse, "Lieutenant, there's a Captain Haughton and a lady out there. Would you send them in, please?"
"Yes, Sir."
Captain David Haughton held the door open for Patricia Pickering to enter her husband's hospital room.
She looked at him. Tears welled in her eyes.
"You goddamned old fool, you!" she said, and walked to the bed and kissed him.
"Haughton," the Secretary of the Navy ordered. "Give him the medal. I think we can dispense with the reading of the citation."
(Three)
BUKA, SOLOMON ISLANDS
1105 HOURS 24 AUGUST 1942
"Here you go, Steve," First Lieutenant Joseph L. Howard, USMCR, said to Sergeant Stephen M. Koffler, USMC, handing him a limp, humidity-soaked piece of paper. He had had to be very careful as he encrypted the message so that his pencil would not tear through the paper.
Koffler smiled at him and laid the paper on the crude table. Koffler, Howard thought, looked like hell. There were signs of malnutrition and fatigue. There was a good chance that Koffler had malaria. There was no question that he had a tape worm, and probably a half dozen other intestinal parasites. Koffler thought much the same thing about Joe Howard, who was down to probably one hundred thirty pounds, and whose eyes were deeply sunken and unnaturally bright.
But, like Howard, he kept his thoughts to himself. Talking about it wasn't going to fix anything.
"Hey!" Koffler called. Ian Bruce was sitting on the generator. He smiled, exposing his black, filed to a point-teeth, and began to pump slowly but forcefully.
There was a whine; and after a moment, the dials on Koffler's radio began to glow a dull yellow. The yellow turned almost white, and the needles came off their pegs.
Koffler put earphones on his head and arranged his own pad of paper on the table. He had attempted to dry out his paper on a heated rock. The result was that the paper had shrunk and twisted.
Koffler reached for the key.
The dots and dashes went out, repeated three times, spelling out simply, FRD6. FRD6. FRD6.
Detachment A of Special Marine Corps Detachment 14 is attempting to establish contact with any station on this communications network.
This time, for a change, there was an immediate reply.
FRD6.FRD 1 FRD6.FRD 1.FRD6.FRD 1.
Hello, Detachment A, this is Headquarters Royal Australian Navy CoastwatcherEstablishment, Townesville, Australia, responding to your call.
As Koffler reached for the RECEIVE/XMIT switch, there was another reply.
FRD6.KCY.FRD6.KCY.FRD6.KCY.
Hello, Detachment A, this is the United States Pacific Fleet Radio Station at Pearl Harbor, Territory of Hawaii responding to your call.
"What's that?" Joe Howard asked.
"We got both Townesville and Pearl Harbor,"' Koffler said. Meanwhile his fingers were on the key.
FRD1.FRD1.SB CODE. KCY.KCY.PLS COPY.
Townesville, stand by to copy encrypted message. CINCPAC Radio, please copy my transmission to FRD1.
FRD6.FRD1. GA.
Townesville to Detachment A: Go ahead.
KCY.FRD6.WILL COPY YRS FRD1.GA.
CINCPAC to Detachment A; As requested we will copy your transmission to FRD1. Go ahead.
Koffler put the sheet of damp paper Howard had given him under his left hand, then pointed his index finger at the first block of five characters.
As his right hand worked the telegrapher's key, his index finger swept across the coded message. It is more difficult to transmit code than plain English, for the simple reason that code doesn't make any sense.
It took him not quite sixty seconds before he sent, in the clear, END.
FRD6.FRD1.VRF.
Detachment A, this is Townesville. I am about to send to you the material you just transmitted to me for purposes of verification.
FRD1.FRD6.GA
Townesville, this is Detachment A. Go ahead.
Koffler picked up a stubby pencil carefully.
We're running out of pencils, too. If something doesn't happen, if they don't send us some supplies, I'll be taking traffic from the Townesville and the Commander-in-Chief, Pacific by writing it with a sharp stick in the dirt floor.