«There's supposed to be
two
of them,» Chief McGuire said. 'Two Catalinas.»
«What do I have to do to make you shut up, McGuire?» Captain Houser flared, and was immediately sorry. McGuire's face was that of a kicked child. A
sick
kicked child.
«Sorry, sir.»
Chief Buchanan suddenly stopped in his binocular sweep of the skies, moved to the port bulkhead, and rested his elbows on it.
«Got anything, Chief?» Lieutenant Lewis asked.
«I have two objects at estimated two miles.»
Captain Houser pressed the lever on the squawk box. «Suit up the deck crew. Notify when ready.» This command was necessary because it was too warm in the interior of the
Sunfish
for the deck crew to put on their cold-weather gear until they were needed.
«Two Catalinas at two miles,» Chief Buchanan said.
Captain Houser reached inside his hood and came out with a cord for his earphones. He plugged it in, then picked up a microphone. «Sea Gypsy One, this is Gas Station.»
«We have you in sight, Gas Station. What are the seas?»
«The seas are three-to-four-foot swells. The wind is from the north at estimated twenty miles,» Houser replied.
«We'll turn into the wind and have a shot at it,» the pilot replied.
Captain Houser pressed the squawk box switch. «Pass the word, aircraft in sight,» he said. Then he looked at Lieutenant Lewis. «Would there be space? Weight-wise?»
«I'd say the chief weighs about thirty-five gallons of avgas,» Lewis said, and then added: «He's really sick, I think.»
«Yeah,» Captain Houser said thoughtfully. «McGuire, make up your mind. Do you really want to go on one of the airplanes? You know where they're going.»
«Yes, sir,» Chief McGuire said. «I think I could probably make myself useful, sir. Maybe help the weather people. Keep their generator working. I can fix practically anything—«
Houser held up his finger again. «Ssssssh!»
«Do you think they could make do with one less meteorologist?» Lieutenant Lewis asked.
«I don't think we could go that far,» Houser said. «But that would be your decision, wouldn't it, Mr. Lewis?»
He bent to the squawk box. «As soon as the deck crew goes on deck, suit up the supercargo,» he ordered.
«The first one's down, Skipper,» Chief Buchanan reported.
Captain Houser looked. The first Catalina had not only landed but had slowed enough for her pilot to start turning toward the
Sunfish
. As Houser watched, the second touched down.
He bent over the squawk box. «Deck crew on deck, break out and prepare to launch rubber boats. Suit up the supercargo. Prepare to pass cargo onto the deck.»
He picked up the microphone. «Sea Gypsy One, what would an additional two hundred and fifty pounds do to you?»
«That would depend. Any change in our coordinates?»
«No.»
«We can handle another two hundred and fifty pounds.»
«Thank you,» Houser said. «McGuire, your decision. You want to go?»
«Yes, sir.»
«Then go below, and have someone show you how to go on deck.»
«Aye, aye, sir,» Chief McGuire said. «Thank you, Captain.» He saluted, which Captain Houser returned. Then he saluted Lieutenant Lewis, which Lewis returned. «I'm sorry to have been such a mess, Buchanan.»
Chief Buchanan turned and looked at him, then put out his hand. «Take care of yourself, Chief,» Buchanan said. «Don't take any wooden nickels or anything.»
note 98
OPERATIONAL IMMEDIATE
ALL RECEIVING USNAVAL COMMUNICATIONS FACILITIES RELAY TO CINCPAC
ATTENTION RADM WAGAM
RENDEZVOUS SUCCESSFULLY COMPLETED IN ALL ASPECTS. SEA GYPSIES DEPARTED 1105 LOCAL TIME.
WILL CONDUCT ROUTINE PATROL ACTIVITIES EN ROUTE TO PEARL HARBOR. HOUSER, LTCMDR, USN COMMANDING
note 99
Somewhere in the Gobi Desert
Mongolia
1500 2 May 1943
For the past several hours, people had been removing all the supplies stored inside the ambulance—and lashed all over its outside—and then distributing them among the wagons and carts of the caravans. Doing all that had converted the ambulance into the radio room of what, if everything went well, would be known as Station Nowhere. The single radio in the rear of the ambulance at the moment was one of the two small portable radios designed and built by Collins Radio to be transported on camelback. It was connected by a cable to a stationary bicycle-driven generator set up just outside the rear doors of the ambulance.
A long wire antenna came out of the passenger window, the other end fastened to the three-quarter-ton weapons carrier. It was a jury rig, but it worked. Proper, collapsible antenna masts and more powerful radios were aboard the Catalinas. According to their last contact with Pearl Harbor, these had left Pearl Harbor just before midnight the day before.
It was now time to find out if they had found the
Sunfish
a hundred miles offthe coast of china in the yellow Sea, had landed, and more important, had taken off again, and when.
So far as McCoy was concerned, there were entirely too many people crowded into the ambulance. He had considered ordering everybody but Jerry Sampson out, but decided against it, partly because he understood their interest and partly because he was aware that most of the Gypsies had already decided he was a prick. While he really didn't care what they thought of him, that might get to be a problem.
McCoy was sitting in the driver's seat. Chief Motor Machinist's Mate Frederick C. Brewer, Fleet Reserve, USN, sat in the passenger's seat. As McCoy saw it, the chief had a right to be in the ambulance. He was the ranking man, and the gypsies were accustomed to doing what he told them to do. Captain Jerome Sampson sat on the floor of the rear of the ambulance. He was the radio operator, and obviously had to be there.
The man sitting beside Sampson didn't need to be there. He was the gypsies' radioman, a radioman first who had transferred off the gunboat
Panay
into the Fleet Reserve when McCoy was in the fifth grade. The radio he had somehow managed to cobble together from parts «borrowed» from another Yangtze River patrol gunboat had allowed him to transmit the few messages announcing the very existence of the gypsies. His delight at seeing the Collins radio, and his awe at the tiny little radio's capability to so easily communicate with Pearl Harbor, had been almost pathetic. McCoy didn't have the heart to tell him to get out of the trailer.
Technical Sergeant Moses Abraham, USMC, who had retired from the 4th Marines; and Staff Sergeant Willis T. Cawber, Jr., who had retired from the US Army's 15th Infantry; and Sergeant James R. Sweatley, USMC, were also in the back of the trailer and had no business there, except for the positions of authority they had given themselves.
McCoy had immediately disliked Cawber; and Technical Sergeant Abraham had immediately made it apparent he didn't like taking orders from a youngster who was a corporal in the machine gun section of Baker Company of the Fourth two years before and now thought he was really a captain of Marines. Though McCoy was sure he had put Sweatley in his place, he had no doubt that Sweatley considered it a great injustice to a longtime Marine such as himself to take orders from Zimmerman, who was a corporal when he knew him before, and was now a gunnery sergeant.