But then he felt life come into the controls. He edged the wheel back very, very carefully.
The rumble of the landing gear on the battered runway died.
"Wheels up!" Captain Davidson ordered.
[SIX]
United States Naval Base
Espiritu Santo
1715 Hours 14 October 1942
While Rear Admiral Daniel J. Wagam, USN, of the CINCPAC Staff, was not a cowardly man, or even an unusually nervous one, he was enough of a sailor to know that the greater the speed of a hull moving through the water, the greater the stresses applied to that hull.
He could see no reason why this basic principle of marine physics should be invalidated simply because the hull belonged to a flying boat. Flying boats, moreover, were constructed not of heavily reinforced steel plate, but of thin aluminum.
Consequently, Admiral Wagam was not at all embarrassed to feel a bit uncomfortable whenever his duties required him to take off or land in a flying boat. Each required the flying boat's hull to move through the water at a speed two or three times greater than a battleship's hull would ever be subjected to, or even a destroyer's.
The twin engines of the PBM-3R "Mariner" made a deeper, louder sound, and the Admiral glanced out of the window beside him. They were moving; the water was just starting to slide by. (The PBM-3R Martin "Mariner" seaplane was a variant of the Martin PBM-series maritime reconnaissance aircraft. Powered by the same two Wright R-2600-22 1900-horsepower "Cyclone" engines, but stripped of armament, the -3R aircraft were employed as transports, capable of carrying 20 passengers or an equivalent weight of cargo.)
When the Mariner began its takeoff, he tried, of course, not to show his concern: He turned to speak to his aide, Lieutenant (Junior Grade) Chambers D. Lewis III. Lewis's father, Admiral Lewis, had been Admiral Wagam's classmate at Annapolis.
His mouth was barely open, however, when the roar of the Mariner's engines died and the seaplane lurched to a stop.
"I wonder what the hell that is?" Admiral Wagam said aloud. The seaplane now rocked side to side in the sea, reminding the Admiral that they were not in a bona fide vessel, but rather in an aircraft that happened to float.
The pilot appeared in the aisle between the two rows of seats. When he passed Admiral Wagam, the Admiral held up his hand. "Is there some problem?"
"Sir, I was told to abort the takeoff and hold for a whaleboat," the pilot replied.
Admiral Wagam nodded, and turned back to his aide.
"Probably some mail they didn't have prepared in time," he said. "Some people don't know the importance of meeting a posted schedule."
"That's true, Sir," Lieutenant Lewis agreed.
Admiral Wagam paid no attention to the activity aft, where there was a port in the hull, until Captain J.H.L. McNish, USN, of his staff, appeared by his seat, knelt, and said, "Admiral, I'm being bumped."
"What do you mean, you're being bumped?" Admiral Wagam asked, both incredulous and annoyed.
This aircraft was not part of the Naval Air Transport command. It had been assigned to Admiral Wagam, more or less personally, to take his staff to Espiritu for a very important conference: Guadalcanal was in trouble. Extraordinary measures would be necessary to keep the Marines there from being pushed off their precarious toehold. Wagam personally didn't give them much hope; the necessary logistics simply weren't available. Indeed, in his professional opinion-and he'd said so-the whole operation had been attempted prematurely. But he was going to do the very best he could with what he had to work with. And that meant flying here from Pearl to see the situation with his own eyes; and bringing his staff, to give them the absolutely essential hands-on experience.
But getting them back to Pearl quickly was just as important as bringing them here. They had to get to work. One of the reasons he had gone all the way to the top-to CINCPAC himself-to have an airplane assigned to his team was to make sure the team stayed together.
CINCPAC had agreed with his reasoning, and authorized the special flight. Admiral Wagam certainly would have no objections to carrying other personnel, or mail or cargo, if there was room, but he had no intention of standing idly by while one of his staff was bumped.
If there was a priority, he had it. From CINCPAC himself.
"I'm being bumped, Sir," Captain McNish repeated.
"I'll deal with this, Mac," Admiral Wagam said, and unfastened his seat belt and made his way aft. Standing by the pilot were a commander he remembered meeting on the island and a Marine major in a rather badly mussed uniform.
"Commander," Admiral Wagam said, "just what's going on here?"
"Sir, I'm going to have to bump one of your people. Captain McNish is junior-"
"No one's going to bump any of my people," the Admiral declared.
"This is not a Transport Command aircraft. It is, so to speak, mine. I decide who comes aboard."
"I'm sorry about this, Admiral," the Marine Major said.
"Well, Major, I don't think it's your fault. The Commander here should have known the situation."
"Admiral, I have to get to Pearl. This is the aircraft going there first," the Major said.
"A lot of people have to get to Pearl," the Admiral snapped. "But I'm sorry, you're not going on this aircraft."
"I'm sorry, Sir," the Major said. "I am."
"Did you just hear what I said, Major?" the Admiral replied. "I said you're not getting on this aircraft!"
"With respect, Sir, may I show you my priority?"
"I don't give a good goddamn about your priority," the Admiral said, his patience exhausted. "Mine came from CINCPAC."
"Yes, Sir," the Major said. "The Commander told me. Sir, may I show you my orders?"
"I'm not interested in your goddamn orders," the Admiral said.
"Sir, I suggest you take a look at them," the Commander said.
The Admiral was aware that he had lost his temper. He didn't like to do that.
"Very well," he said, and held out his hand. He expected a sheath of mimeographed paper. He was handed, instead, a document cased in plastic. On casual first glance, he noted that it was a photographically reduced copy of a letter. He took a much closer look.
=SECRET=
THE WHITE HOUSE