"Jimmy," she then said, "if I drove over to Lakehurst, could I watch you drop the paratroopers?"
"I don’t know," Jim Ward said. "What about it, Charley?"
"Why not?" Galloway replied. "Just tell the guard at the gate that you’re there to meet the plane from Quantico."
He set that up, too,Dave Schneider realized furiously. What has that sonofabitch got planned for tonight?
As they were climbing out of Willow Grove, on a due-east course for Lakehurst, the crew chief, who was wearing a headset, got out of his seat and leaned over Dave Schneider.
"He wants you up forward, Sir," he said.
Schneider walked through the cabin into the cockpit. Jim Ward was in the pilot’s seat. Galloway mimed for Dave to put on a headset.
"You still plugged in back there, Nesbit?"
"Yes, Sir."
"OK. Now, since the weather isn’t going to be a problem, we will discuss what is going to probably be the problem at Lakehurst. His name is Neville. He’s a lieutenant colonel. Just made it. Starchy sonofabitch."
Dave Schneider was about to speak, to point out to Galloway that, aircraft commander or not, he was a sergeant, and sergeants did not refer to a Marine Corps lieutenant colonel as a "starchy sonofabitch." But then Galloway went on, "Colonel Hershberger warned me about him and gave me the game plan. If he proposes something idiotic for us to do-this is a public-relations job, and there’s no telling what nutty ideas they’ll come up with-I will take the heat for refusing to do it. All you have to say to him is that Hershberger told you I’m the aircraft commander, and the only person who can change that is Hershberger himself. Clear?"
"What makes you so sure, Sergeant Galloway," Schneider asked icily, "that Colonel Neville will propose something . . . idiotic, as you put it?"
"Well, for one thing, they call him ‘Fearless,’" Galloway said. "What does that tell you? And for another, Colonel Hershberger wouldn’t have given me the game plan if he didn’t think it would be necessary. He’s dealt with this sonofabitch before."
"I am deeply offended, Galloway, by your repeated references to a senior officer as a sonofabitch!" Dave Schneider said icily.
"Oh, for Christ’s sake, Dave!" Jim Ward said, turning to look at Schneider in disgust.
Galloway met Schneider’s eyes.
"Lieutenant," he said politely, "you want to go back in the cabin now and strap yourself in? It’s getting a little turbulent, and I wouldn’t want you to bang your head on a bulkhead or anything."
"This conversation is not over, Sergeant," Dave Schneider said before he took off the headset and went back in the cabin.
Chapter Seven
(One)
Lakehurst Naval Air Station
Lakehurst, New Jersey
0515 Hours 14 February 1942
Lieutenant Colonel Franklin G. Neville had driven up from Washington in his Auto-Union roadster the day before. He would have preferred to take the train, which was quicker and more comfortable, but he might need the car at Lakehurst because of the press people. It even entered his mind that the press people might want a photograph of him in his Auto-Union. Fast sports cars and parachutists, that sort of thing.
Actually he had hoped to travel to Lakehurst in the R4D from Quantico; it had even occurred to him that he might arrive at Lakehurst by jumping from the R4D just before it landed, to give the press people a sample of what they could expect. But when he’d asked Hershberger whether the R4D could pick him up at Anacostia, Hershberger told him it was already en route to Lakehurst.
When he got to Lakehurst, of course, the airplane wasn’t there. And it was only after frantic telephone calls to Colonel Hershberger and Willow Grove that he was able to put his worries about that to rest. Hershberger told him the plane had made a precautionary landing at Willow Grove. And then Willow Grove told him there was nothing wrong with the airplane, and that it was on The Board for an 0430 takeoff.
It was vital for the R4D to arrive. It had to be a Marine airplane doing the dropping for the press people’s cameras- nota Navy airplane. Neville would not lie about it, but he had no intention of volunteering the information to the press people that Navy pilots, flying Navy R4Ds, actually had done all the dropping of Marine parachutists at Lakehurst so far.
Colonel Neville was convinced that if things went well today, their future would be secure-presuming, of course, that it all resulted in Life magazine doing one of their spreads on Marine parachutists, and that the spread showed Marine parachutists in a good light. On the other hand, if things did not go well, it could be a fatal blow to Vertical Envelopment within the Marine Corps.
Consequently, a lot of thought and planning and effort had gone into preparing everything and everybody for the visit of the Life photojournalists to Lakehurst. The public-relations people at Marine Corps headquarters had been enthusiastic and cooperative, which was more than could be said for some other people in the head shed.
The Deputy Chief of Public Relations, Headquarters USMC, a full colonel named Lenihan, had told him that he had assigned the task of publicizing the demonstration jump to Major Jake Dillon, who would head a team of nine public-relations specialists.
"You’ve heard of Dillon, of course, haven’t you, Neville?" Colonel Lenihan asked.
Neville searched his mind, but could come up with no recollection of a major or a captain named Dillon.
"No, Sir, I don’t think so."
"Metro-Magnum Pictures," Colonel Lenihan said, significantly.
Metro-Magnum Pictures was a major Hollywood studio.
"Sir?"
"Dillon was Chief of Publicity for Metro-Magnum," Colonel Lenihan said. "He just came on active duty. Amazing fellow. Knows all the movie stars. He introduced me to Bette Davis at the Willard Hotel last night."
"Is that so?" Neville replied. He wondered if this Major Dillon could arrange for a movie star to be present at Lakehurst. Bringing somebody like Bette Davis there, or even Lana Turner or Betty Grable, would get his Para-Marines in the newsreels.
Major Dillon’s public relations team had come to Lakehurst two days before. The team had two staff cars, two station wagons, and a jeep. The tiny vehicle, officially called a "Truck, 1/4 Ton 4X4," had just entered the service. Neville had seen one in the newsreels-it was actually flying through the air-but this was the first one he had ever seen in person. The team also included four photographers, two still and two motion-picture.
When Colonel Neville mentioned his notion of asking some beauty like Lana Turner to the demonstration, Major Dillon, a stocky, crewcut man in his middle thirties, explained that he didn’t think that publicizing the Marine parachutists was the sort of job that required teats and thighs to get good coverage.
"I really don’t want to sound as if I’m trying to tell you your job-" Colonel Neville began, convinced that the presence of a gorgeous star would insure a public-relations coup.
"Then don’t," Dillon interrupted.
"I’m not sure I like your tone of voice, Major."
"Colonel, I think you’re going to have to trust me to do my job. If you don’t like the way I’m doing things, you get on the horn and tell Colonel Lenihan. He’s the only one I take orders from."
Franklin G. Neville considered the situation quickly, and forced a smile.