B-25s or B-26s along, but when you get right down to it all we're doing is squeezing pimples on the Japanese ass. We're not really hurting them because we can't hit them one shot after the other. The reason General Smyth is so willing to take the long shot with our outfit is that Intelligence is reasonably sure the Japs are going to make an all-out effort to push down from their positions along the north coast of New Guinea. A real hammer job and — "
"They'd have to cross the Owen Stanleys. That may be too tough even for the Japanese,"
Goodman observed.
"They haven't been stopped yet," Whip retorted. "Besides, it's not our people who are taking the worst of it in the jungles and mountains in New Guinea. It's the Aussies.
They're having a bitch with it, Lou. A real bitch."
Muhlfleld moved into the conversation. "Until you've seen it, Colonel, there's no way to appreciate the problems of moving along those mountains. The Japanese soldier has an advantage. He lives off what he carries and he forages in the field. He's the closest thing to a native you can find. If they're willing to spend the lives to do the job they can get across. Once they're on the way down the southern flanks of those mountains it may be too late to keep them back. And if that happens, we'll lose Port Moresby and that whole complex of airfields. I don't think I need to spell out what that means."
"No, you don't," Goodman said grimly. "We're next."
"Yes, sir."
"Go on, Mule."
"You see, sir, right now the Japanese can't do the job. Not yet, anyway, and it's a very big 'not yet.' The first thing they've got to do is increase, by a considerable margin, their flow of supplies into New Guinea. Supplies, and men."
"In the meantime," Whip broke in, " we're short of everything. Men, supplies, aircraft.
You name it and we've got a shortage for you."
Goodman grimaced. "Tell me about that."
"Well, there's no reason we've got to be short of ideas. That's why we're doing the job with the B-25s, and why we're going to set up an advance base in hill country."
Goodman rose to his feet, pacing slowly. "I've been thinking about that ever since you mentioned Kokoda. You don't really expect to get away with that lunatic idea. You can't
."
Whip didn't find the conversation amusing. "I don't think you understood us, Lou. We're not just getting away with it. We're doing it. We've already started."
"How the hell can you handle your supply situation, for God's sake! You know what it takes to run an outfit like yours! Ammo, fuel, parts, bombs — the whole package, Whip.
There isn't enough manpower in all of New Guinea to do that kind of job. And I haven't said a word about the field. You'll have to carve out a runway for B-25s. In the mountains? Right under the noses of the Japs?"
"There's a way, Colonel."
Goodman turned to Muhlfield. "You'd better have your own brand of miracle, Lieutenant. I accept you know the country. You'd better accept I know logistics."
"Yes, sir, I understand. But we do have what you call a miracle."
"You're keeping an old man in suspense, Lieutenant."
"There's an old dry lake bed in the mountains, sir. It's completely off the beaten path.
Not even that many natives know about it except by word of mouth. The ones that do —
they're headhunters, by the way — are friendly to us. I even knew a few of them from the old days. The lake bed, well, the natives did us a favor. They dragged in bushes and spread them all over the field so that aerial reconnaissance by the Japanese wouldn't show a thing. The lake bed is in clouds quite a bit, but we can operate from it. We've got about four thousand feet of runway and — "
"What we're planning," Whip broke in, "is to make sure some old B-25s, even wrecks, are left in the dispersal areas and on the flight line at Seven-Mile so the Japs will see them there. Having all our airplanes disappear could be a tip-off and we don't want to take any chances. But the 335th will disappear. Hell, Lou,
"They'd have to cross the Owen Stanleys. That may be too tough even for the Japanese,"
Goodman observed.
"They haven't been stopped yet," Whip retorted. "Besides, it's not our people who are taking the worst of it in the jungles and mountains in New Guinea. It's the Aussies.
They're having a bitch with it, Lou. A real bitch."
Muhlfleld moved into the conversation. "Until you've seen it, Colonel, there's no way to appreciate the problems of moving along those mountains. The Japanese soldier has an advantage. He lives off what he carries and he forages in the field. He's the closest thing to a native you can find. If they're willing to spend the lives to do the job they can get across. Once they're on the way down the southern flanks of those mountains it may be too late to keep them back. And if that happens, we'll lose Port Moresby and that whole complex of airfields. I don't think I need to spell out what that means."
"No, you don't," Goodman said grimly. "We're next."
"Yes, sir."
"Go on, Mule."
"You see, sir, right now the Japanese can't do the job. Not yet, anyway, and it's a very big 'not yet.' The first thing they've got to do is increase, by a considerable margin, their flow of supplies into New Guinea. Supplies, and men."
"In the meantime," Whip broke in, " we're short of everything. Men, supplies, aircraft.
You name it and we've got a shortage for you."
Goodman grimaced. "Tell me about that."
"Well, there's no reason we've got to be short of ideas. That's why we're doing the job with the B-25s, and why we're going to set up an advance base in hill country."
Goodman rose to his feet, pacing slowly. "I've been thinking about that ever since you mentioned Kokoda. You don't really expect to get away with that lunatic idea. You can't
."
Whip didn't find the conversation amusing. "I don't think you understood us, Lou. We're not just getting away with it. We're doing it. We've already started."
"How the hell can you handle your supply situation, for God's sake! You know what it takes to run an outfit like yours! Ammo, fuel, parts, bombs — the whole package, Whip.
There isn't enough manpower in all of New Guinea to do that kind of job. And I haven't said a word about the field. You'll have to carve out a runway for B-25s. In the mountains? Right under the noses of the Japs?"
"There's a way, Colonel."
Goodman turned to Muhlfield. "You'd better have your own brand of miracle, Lieutenant. I accept you know the country. You'd better accept I know logistics."
"Yes, sir, I understand. But we do have what you call a miracle."
"You're keeping an old man in suspense, Lieutenant."
"There's an old dry lake bed in the mountains, sir. It's completely off the beaten path.
Not even that many natives know about it except by word of mouth. The ones that do —
they're headhunters, by the way — are friendly to us. I even knew a few of them from the old days. The lake bed, well, the natives did us a favor. They dragged in bushes and spread them all over the field so that aerial reconnaissance by the Japanese wouldn't show a thing. The lake bed is in clouds quite a bit, but we can operate from it. We've got about four thousand feet of runway and — "
"What we're planning," Whip broke in, "is to make sure some old B-25s, even wrecks, are left in the dispersal areas and on the flight line at Seven-Mile so the Japs will see them there. Having all our airplanes disappear could be a tip-off and we don't want to take any chances. But the 335th will disappear. Hell, Lou,
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