“The training schedule is therefore changed to rifle marksmanship. In the first hour of training tonight, you will draw your piece from the armory, clean it, inspect it, make sure it’s as right as it can be. The following three hours will be devoted to dry firing, et cetera. I have arranged for us to use the St. Louis Police Department firing range. It’s only a hundred yards, but it’ll have to do. There will be a special drill next Saturday. You will report here, draw your weapons, and be taken by truck to the range. Those who will be working at your civilian jobs on Saturday, give your name to your platoon sergeant, and either your platoon leader will, or I will, call your employer and explain the importance of this.”
He looked again at the faces of his men.
Well, I’ve done it. Peterson will shit a brick.
There will be no deviations from the prescribed training schedule without prior permission from battalion.
Special drill sessions will not be held without prior permission from battalion.
Ammunition will not be drawn from sealed armory stocks without prior permission from battalion.
The use of civilian and/or local governmental firing ranges is forbidden unless specifically directed by HQ
USMC.
“Company, ten-hut!”
Baker Company snapped to attention.
“I will see the officers and senior noncoms in my office immediately following the formation,” Captain Hart ordered his executive officer. “Dismiss the company for training.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” Lieutenant Barnes said, and saluted.
Captain Hart returned the salute, did an about-face movement, and marched across the varnished wood to his office.
Lieutenant Peterson was standing just inside the office.
“Questions, Lieutenant?”
“The colonel’s going to shit a brick,” Lieutenant Peterson said.
“I suppose he will,” Captain Hart said. “Sometimes you have to do what you think is right even if it gives the entire Marine Corps diarrhea.”
“Yes, sir,” Lieutenant Peterson said. “Sir, permission to speak?”
“Granted.”
“You didn’t specify a time for the special drill on Saturday. May I suggest the company report at 0430? That will give us time to get to the range by first light.”
“Make it so, Lieutenant.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
[THREE]
SUITE 401 THE CORONADO BEACH HOTEL SAN DIEGO, CALIFORNIA 1030 10 JULY 1950
Captain Kenneth R. McCoy sprang to his feet and opened the door of the suite.
“Good morning, gentlemen,” he said to the two Marine brigadier generals and their aides-de-camp, both captains. “General Pickering expects you. Will you come in, please?”
"How are you, McCoy?” Brigadier General Clyde W. Dawkins said, extending his hand. “It’s good to see you.”
Captain McCoy had never seen either captain before, but Captain Arthur McGowan, Dawkins’s aide, had heard about the legendary Captain “Killer” McCoy and looked at him curiously.
He doesn’t look, McGowan thought, like either a legend or somebody known as “the Killer.”
“Thank you, sir,” McCoy said. “It’s good to see you, sir.”
Brigadier General Fleming Pickering, USMCR, came into the sitting room from one of the bedrooms that offered a view of the Pacific and had long ago been converted to a bar, holding a mug of coffee in his hand.
“I was going to say, ‘Christ, Dawk, you didn’t have to come here,’ ” he said, “But I think I’d better make that, ‘Good morning, gentlemen.’ ”
Dawkins chuckled.
He nodded at the officer beside him.
“I just now found out you two don’t know each other; I thought you’d met on the ’Canal. General Fleming Pickering, General Edward A. Craig.”
Craig offered his hand to Pickering.
“I think you left the ’Canal—” Craig began.
“Was ordered off,” Pickering interjected.
“—before I got there,” Craig finished. “But I know who you are, General, and I’m glad to finally get to meet you.”
“General, I tried to tell General Dawkins that whenever he could find a few minutes for me, I would be in his office. ”
“Craig and I had to go to the Navy base, coming here was easier all around, and I don’t think I could have given you an uninterrupted five minutes in my office,” Dawkins said. “Things are a little hectic out there.”
“I can imagine.”
“Craig has been named CG of the 1st Provisional Marine Brigade,” Dawkins said. “Which sails for Kobe, Japan, on the twelfth.”
Colonel Edward J. Banning, USMC, and Marine Gunner Ernest W. Zimmerman came into the room.
“I didn’t know you were here, too, Ed,” Dawkins said.
“Good morning, General,” Banning said. “It’s good to see you.”
“Ed Banning I know,” Craig said. “Fourth Marines. Hello, Ed.”
“Good morning, General,” Banning replied, and added, “Mr. Zimmerman and Captain McCoy are old China Marines, too.”
Craig shook Zimmerman’s hand, then glanced at his watch.