NEGLIGIBLE, IF ANY. MAIN NAVAL GUNFIRE CAME FROM WARSHIPS BEYOND THE RANGE OF 5-INCH
SEACOAST CANNON OF 3RD MARDEFBN. ACCOMPANYING SMALLER VESSELS, PRESUMABLY DESTROYERS, WERE
ENGAGED WITHOUT VISIBLE RESULT.
6. US LOSSES:
A. FIELD GRADE OFFICER KIA ONE (1)
B. FIELD GRADE OFFICER WIA ONE (1)
C. COMPANY GRADE OFFICER KIA FIFTEEN (15)
D. COMPANY GRADE OFFICER WIA ELEVEN (11)
E. ENLISTED KIA THIRTY-NINE (39)
F. ENLISTED WIA SEVENTY-NINE (79)
G. MISSING IN ACTION: TO BE DETERMINED
H. SEVERE DAMAGE TO HENDERSON FIELD RUNWAY, CONTROL TOWER, REVETMENTS AND SUPPLY STORAGE AREAS. REMAINING AVGAS SUPPLY CRITICAL.
I. EXTENT OF DAMAGE TO AIRCRAFT NOT YET FULLY DETERMINED. IT IS OBVIOUSLY SEVERE. FOR
EXAMPLE OF THIRTY-NINE (39) SPD AIRCRAFT AVAILABLE AS OF YESTERDAY, FOUR (4) ARE AVAILABLE AT THIS TIME, AND TWO (2) OF EIGHT (8) B17 AIRCRAFT WERE TOTALLY DESTROYED.
7. AS SOON AS RUNWAY REPAIRS PERMIT REMAINING B17 AIRCRAFT WILL WITHDRAW TO ESPIRITU
SANTO.
8. MOST CRITICAL NEED OF THIS COMMAND IS RESUPPLY OF AVGAS. URGENTLY REQUEST RESUPPLY
BY ANY MEANS AVAILABLE. RECOMMEND NO REPEAT NO REPLENISHMENT OF AIRCRAFT UNTIL SUFFICIENT
AVGAS AVAILABLE HENDERSON FIELD FOR FUELING.
VANDEGRIFT MAJ GEN USMC COMMANDING
=SECRET=
[FIVE]
Mag-21
Henderson Field
"Colonel," Captain Samuel M. Davidson, U.S. Army Air Corps, said to Lieutenant Colonel Clyde W. Dawkins, "I'm not sure I like this. As a matter of fact, the more I think about it, I don't like it at all."
"You don't have any choice in the matter, Sam," Dawkins said. "These people are going with you, period."
"Who the hell are they?"
"Two majors, a lieutenant, and a sergeant. I told you."
"I told my people they're going out with us."
"I'll find something constructive for them to do," Dawkins said. And just as soon as I can find space for them, I'll get them out of here."
"And what if... ?" He paused a moment and then began again: "I really don't mean to sound insubordinate, but the first obligation of an officer is to take care of his men. What if I simply say 'with all respect, Sir, no'?"
"I said no way, Sam. I was shown a set of orders on White House stationery, signed by Admiral Leahy, the President's Chief of Staff. To repeat myself, you don't have any choice in the matter."
"How did they get here?"
"In an R4D. It took a bomb through the wing."
"The one with that funny landing gear?"
Dawkins nodded.
"You want to tell me what that was all about? It looked like skis."
"Sorry, Sam. I couldn't tell you if I knew, and I don't. I really don't. But if it makes you feel any better, I was in the Division Command Post, and I saw General Vandegrift shake one of the Major's hands and thank him. They're not tourists."
There was a loud, frightening crash, a long one, along with the scream of timbers being ripped apart.
"What the hell was that?" Captain Davidson asked.
"That was the Pagoda," Dawkins said. "General Geiger decided that the Japanese were using it as an artillery aiming point. They bulldozed it, I guess."
"Why didn't they just blow it up?"
"Probably because there's a shortage of dynamite, in addition to everything else," Dawkins said.
"Where are these people, then?" Captain Davidson asked.
"Bill Dunn, Charley Galloway's exec, has been told to take them to your plane."
"You know, I've only got three functioning engines."
"That shouldn't bother the Army Air Corps."
"I feel like I'm running away, Colonel. I don't like that feeling, either."
"You'll be back," Dawkins said. He stood up and put out his hand. "Have a nice flight, Sam. It's been good knowing you."
"What's going to happen to you?"
"Who knows? Sooner or later, one side is going to run completely out of airplanes."
Davidson met his eyes for a minute. Then he brought himself to a position of attention worthy of the parade ground at West Point, and saluted.
"Serving with you has been a privilege, Sir," he said.
"Thank you, Sam," Dawkins said after a moment, as he returned the salute. "For a dog-faced soldier, you're not too bad an airplane driver."
Davidson did a precise about-face and marched out of the sandbag-walled tent that served as the headquarters of Marine Air Group 21.
Corporal Robert F. Easterbrook ran up to the B-17 as it stood, second in line, for takeoff. The prop blast from its idling engines blew his helmet off.
He glanced at the helmet, then went up to the airplane and banged on the fuselage. After a moment, the door in the fuselage opened and an Army Air Corps staff sergeant peered out.
"Major Dillon! Major Dillon!" the Easterbunny shouted over the roar of the engines.
The staff sergeant disappeared, and a moment later Major Dillon showed up in the door.
Easterbrook handed Dillon a canvas bag.
"Still and motion picture film of the Raiders last night," he shouted. "And a couple of reels of this fucking mess."
Dillon took the bag and nodded.
Easterbrook stood back and the door closed.
Easterbrook waved at the nice lieutenant who'd kept him from having to carry cots the day before.
The door opened again. Major Dillon motioned for Easterbrook to come closer. When he did, he extended his hand.
Easterbrook thought it was nice that the Major wanted to shake his hand.
Major Dillon took Corporal Easterbrook's wrist, not his hand. With a mighty jerk, he pulled Corporal Easterbrook into the airplane. The door closed.
The pilot advanced the throttles. The B-17 started to roll. He turned onto the runway and shoved the throttles to FULL MILITARY POWER. It began to accelerate very slowly, and for a moment Captain Davidson thought that with only three engines working, there was a very good chance they weren't going to make it.