Just before eleven in the morning yesterday (8 Aug. ), we were alerted (by the Coastwatcher on Buka, where Banning sent the radio) to a 45-bomber force launched from Kavieng, New Ireland (across the channel from Rabaul). They arrived just before noon and caused some damage. Our carriers of course sent fighters aloft to attack them, and some of our fighters were shot down.
At six o’clock last night, Admiral Fletcher radioed Ghormley that he had lost 21 of 99 planes, was low on fuel, and wants to leave.
I am so angry I don’t dare write what I would like to write. Let me say that in my humble opinion the Admiral’s estimates of his losses are overgenerous, and his estimates of his fuel supply rather miserly.
Ghormley, not knowing of this departure from the facts, gave him the necessary permission. General Vandergrift came aboard theMcCawley a little before midnight last night and was informed by Admiral Fletcher that the Navy is turning chicken and pulling out.
This is before-I want you to understand, in case this becomes a bit obfuscated in the official Navy reports -before we took such a whipping this morning at Savo Island. As I understand it, we lost two U.S. cruisers (VincennesandQuincy ) within an hour, and the Australian cruiserCanberra was set on fire. TheAstoria was sunk about two hours ago, just after noon.
In thirty minutes, most of the invasion fleet is pulling out. Ten transports, four destroyers, and a cruiser are going to run first, and what’ s left will be gone by 1830.
The ships are taking with them rations, food, ammunition, and Marines desperately needed on the beach at Guadalcanal. There is no telling what the Marines will use to fight with. And there‘s not even a promise from Fletcher about a date when he will feel safe to resupply the Marines. If the decision to return is left up to Admiral Fletcher, I suppose that we can expect resupply by sometime in 1945 or 1950.
I say "we" because I find it impossible to sail off into the sunset on a Navy ship, leaving Marines stranded on the beach.
I remember what I said to you about the admirals when we first met. I was right, Frank.
Best Personal Regards,
Fleming Pickering, Captain, USNR
TOP SECRET
(Eight)
Headquarters,
1stU.S. Marine Division
Guadalcanal Solomon Islands
1705 Hours 9 August 1942
"I don’t believe I know you, Colonel, do I?" Major General A. A. Vandergrift, Commanding, said to the tall man in Marine utilities with silver eagles pinned to his collar. The Colonel was sitting on a sandbag in the command post.
"No, Sir," the man said, rising to his feet and coming to attention. "I don’t have the privilege. And it’s ‘Captain,’ Sir. I borrowed the utilities."
"Are you waiting to see me, Captain?"
"I’d hoped to. Sir. I’d hoped to make myself useful somehow."
"You have about fifteen minutes to get to the beach in time to board your ship before they pull out. Captain."
"With your permission, Sir, I’m staying."
"We don’t really need the services of a Naval captain right now, Captain, but I appreciate the thought."
"How about those of a Marine corporal, Sir?"
"What?"
"Once a Marine, always a Marine, Sir. I served in France."
"Oh, now I know who you are. You’re Jack NMI Stecker’s friend, right? Pickleberry? Something like that. Frank Knox’s spy?"
"Pickering, Sir," he corrected.
"Isn’t Admiral Fletcher going to wonder why you’re not on the McCawley?"
"Fuck Admiral Fletcher, General."
Vandergrift flashed him an icy look.
"My hearing goes out from to time, Captain," he said. "I didn’t hear that. But I rather liked the sound of it." He raised his voice. "Sergeant Major!"
That luminary appeared at just about the same moment that Major Jack NMI Stecker came into the command post.
"Get Captain Pickering some sort of a weapon," Vandergrift said. "And then take him down to Colonel Goettge."
"Get him an ‘03, Sergeant Major," Major Stecker said.
The Sergeant Major, who had been told that a Navy captain was outside waiting to see General Vandergrift, looked at this senior Naval personage and then back at Major Stecker, whom he knew and admired, and asked, dubiously, "A rifle, Sir?"
"It’s all right, Sergeant Major. Captain Pickering is a Marine; he knows what a rifle is for," Major Stecker said.
"You heard the Major, Sergeant Major," General Vandergrift said. "Get him a Springfield."
"Aye, aye, Sir."
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