out, had time to procure a staff car with a one-star plate from the Army, and see to it that the Marines who would meet the aircraft were shipshape and were standing at almost parade rest when the Avenger taxied up to the Navy hangar and stopped.
If the Marine liaison officer thought there was something slightly odd about the man in the backseat of the Avenger who climbed down to the ground—that he was carrying an M-1 rifle, for instance, and that when he took off his flight suit, he was wearing what looked like Navy khakis fresh from the clothing sales store, with no insignia of any kind—he asked no questions.
The Code Seven was Brigadier General Thomas A. Cushman, assistant commander of First Marine Air Wing. The Marine liaison officer recognized him.
Marine first lieutenants presume that Marine general officers know what they are doing at all times, and that the latter will offer an explanation if they feel an explanation is required.
Cushman said he needed the aircraft topped off, that he would return in an hour or two, and that something would be needed to “cover the Garand.” A U.S. Army rubberized raincoat was quickly found, and General Cushman and the man with the Garand got in it and drove off.
[TWO]
THE IMPERIAL HOTEL TOKYO, JAPAN 0905 10 AUGUST 1950
The CIC agent in the corridor of the Imperial Hotel had seen General Cushman in the Dai-Ichi Building and recognized him. And he recognized McCoy. He didn’t even challenge them as they walked past him and McCoy raised the knocker on the door to the Dewey Suite.
But—he was a very thorough special agent of the Counter Intelligence Corps—he did make note in his report that Captain McCoy was wearing an insignia-less uniform and carrying a rifle, probably an M-1 Garand, not very well concealed in a raincoat.
“Jesus Christ!” Captain George Hart exclaimed when he opened the door, and then he saw General Cushman. “Good morning, sir.”
McCoy thought: At least he’s in a pressed uniform with his tie pulled up.
Brigadier General Fleming Pickering, also in a freshly pressed uniform with his tie in place, appeared at Hart’s shoulder.
“I didn’t expect to see Captain McCoy until much later today,” Pickering said. “And I didn’t expect to see you at all, General.”
“Catch you on the way out, Pickering?”
“Surprising the hell out of me, General MacArthur sent word that he would be pleased if I attended the meeting he’s having with General Collins and Admiral Sherman,” Pickering said.
“Can I have a few minutes?” Cushman asked, as he and Pickering shook hands. “Maybe ride over to the Dai Ichi Building with you? I have a car.”
“Come on in,” Pickering said. “Truth to tell, when the chime went off, I was thinking it might be a good idea if I was a little late for the meeting.”
“Excuse me?”
“Something I learned from General Howe when Averell Harriman and General Ridgway were here,” Pickering said. “If I’m on hand, all shined up like some corporal waiting for the first sergeant’s morning inspection, when the distinguished visiting officers show up, they’re going to take a quick look at my shined shoes—and my one lonely star—and logically conclude that I’m a minor glow in the galaxy surrounding the Supreme Commander, and therefore to be ignored.”
Cushman, warmly shaking Pickering’s hand, chuckled. “You like the prestige that goes with being the CIA’s man for Asia? That’s a little out of character for a spymaster, isn’t it?”
“That’s not all I’m doing over here, Tom,” Pickering said, then turned to Hart. “Get us some coffee, George, please.”
“McCoy mentioned something about that,” Cushman said.
“Well, if he did, that’s really out of character for him.”
“He didn’t want to, Fleming. The circumstances demanded it.”
“Did he also tell you what he was up to in Korea?”
Cushman nodded. “And that the operation is classified as Top Secret/White House.”
“Okay,” Pickering said. “Since the cow is out of the barn: Ken, an hour ago, we heard from Zimmerman.”
“I guess those transformers got there, McCoy,” Cushman said.
Pickering looked at him, but didn’t say anything.
“What did he say, sir?” McCoy asked.
“The entire message was ‘standing by,’ ” Pickering said. “How did he get his radio fixed so quickly? When I talked to you last night, you said you were going to have to figure out some way to get the parts to him.”
“Sir, Colonel Dunn dropped the replacement transformers to them first thing this morning.”
“How did Billy Dunn get involved?”
Cushman chuckled.
“At 0400, as Badoeng Strait was getting ready to launch aircraft for the first