Part 46 (2/2)
Bradley could not keep a look of amazement off his face.
”I'd like a word with General Bradley before we go in here,” Truman said. ”I think if you two went in, the others would follow suit.”
”Of course, Mr. President,” MacArthur said.
”I'm to be at the meeting?” Pickering blurted.
”Of course,” Truman said. ”You're really the middle-man, General. You're the only one who knows everybody.”
MacArthur entered the building with Pickering on his heels. Truman waited until they were out of earshot, then until the others who would partic.i.p.ate in the conference had entered the building, and then turned to Bradley.
”General, I want that young officer returned to the United States as soon as he's fit to travel. And I want to make sure the people Major McCoy named are notified as soon as possible, by an appropriate person. Have you got someone who can handle that for me?”
”Yes, sir,” Bradley said. He raised his voice, just slightly. ”General Mason!”
An Army major general walked quickly to them.
”General,” Bradley said. ”I want you to read this.”
General Mason read the message and raised his eyes curiously to Bradley.
”General,” Bradley began, ”the President desires-”
”What the President desires,” Truman interrupted, ”is that Major Pickering-as soon as he is physically up to it-be flown to the United States to whichever Naval hospital is most convenient for his mother. And I want the people listed in that message to be notified personally-without anything said to them about keeping this a secret-by a suitable person just as soon as that can be arranged. You understand?”
”Yes, sir.”
”Thank you,” the President said.
”May I keep this message, sir?”
”Why not?” Truman said, then gestured for Bradley to precede him into the conference building.
Truman slipped into an ordinary wooden office chair at the head of a table around which the partic.i.p.ants had arranged themselves, those who had come with the President on one side, and MacArthur and those who had come from Tokyo with him on the other.
Everyone was standing, in deference to the President.
”Take your seats, please,” Truman said. ”General Bradley will take notes, and each of you will later get a copy, but it is for your personal use only, and not to be shared with anyone else. Clear?”
There was a chorus of ”Yessir.”
”But before we get started, I want to tell you that General Pickering has just been informed that his son, a Marine pilot, who was shot down early in the war . . . How long ago, General?”
”Seventy-seven days ago, Mr. President,” Pickering said softly.
”. . . who was shot down seventy-seven days ago,” the President went on, ”and has gone through G.o.d only knows what evading capture, was rescued behind the lines yesterday and is as we speak aboard the carrier USS Badoeng Strait. Badoeng Strait.”
There was a round of applause.
”Mr. President,” MacArthur said. ”If I may?”
Truman gestured for him to go on.
”Perhaps only I know nearly as much as General Pickering does about what Major Pickering was facing and has come through. One of the unpleasant things I have had to do recently is compose the phrasing of the citation for the decoration it was my intention to award-posthumously, I was forced to think-to this heroic young officer. I would like your permission, Mr. President, to-”
”Give him the medal anyway?” Truman interrupted. ”What did you have in mind?”
”Mr. President, it is self-evident that Major Pickering's valor on the battlefield was distinguished.”
”The Distinguished Service Cross?” Truman asked.
”The major is a Marine, Mr. President,” General Bradley said. ”It would be the Navy Cross.”
”Yes, of course,” the President said. ”I agree. I don't know how that's done, but I'm sure that General Bradley and General MacArthur can handle that between them.”
”Yes, sir,” Bradley said.
The President wasn't finished: ”I also think whoever rescued him from behind enemy lines needs recognition,” he went on. ”That would be Major McCoy, wouldn't it, General Pickering?”
”Either McCoy or one of his men, sir,” Pickering said.
”I would suggest, Mr. President,” MacArthur said, ”the Silver Star for the officer who risked his life to s.n.a.t.c.h Major Pickering from the midst of the enemy, and Bronze Stars for the others.”
Truman looked at Omar Bradley.
”I agree, Mr. President,” Bradley said.
”You'll take care of all this?”
”Yes, sir.”
”Okay,” the President said. ”Let's get started with this. The first thing . . .”
[TWO].
ABOARD THE BATAAN BATAAN 30.59 DEGREES NORTH LAt.i.tUDE 172.44 DEGREES EAST LONGITUDE THE PACIFIC OCEAN 1615 15 OCTOBER 1950 30.59 DEGREES NORTH LAt.i.tUDE 172.44 DEGREES EAST LONGITUDE THE PACIFIC OCEAN 1615 15 OCTOBER 1950.
Captain George F. Hart, USMCR, gently nudged Brigadier General Fleming Pickering, USMCR, with his elbow, and, when he had his attention, directed it with a just-perceptible nod of his head down the aisle of the Bataan. Bataan.
There were few pa.s.sengers on the Douglas C-54 four-engine transport. Pickering and Hart were seated toward the rear, in what Hart called ”the cheap seats.” In them were seated the junior officers-including the aides-de-camp of the senior officers-and the warrant officers and noncoms brought from Tokyo to do whatever was necessary for the senior officers.
Pickering saw Brigadier General Courtney Whitney coming down the aisle to the rear of the airplane. In doing so he pa.s.sed a number of rows of empty seats. There was little question in Pickering's mind that Whitney was headed for him. He was the only senior officer sitting in the cheap seats.
Whitney stopped at Pickering's seat.
”General Pickering,” he said, ”the Supreme Commander would like to see you at your convenience.”
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