The Last Heroes (Men at War 1)

No aunts, no uncles, no cousins, no nieces;

No pills, no planes, no artillery pieces;

And nobody gives a damn.’’

His forces were being whipped, not because of a lack of valor, and certainly not because of a lack of highly skilled leadership, but because they had been left high and dry, without resupply worth mentioning of food, personnel, medicine, aircraft, or munitions. As constitutional Commander in Chief of the Armed Forces of the United States, the President bore the ultimate responsibility for the decision not to resupply the Philippines.

And now Franklin Roosevelt was ordering him out, ordering him to desert his men just when they needed him most.

MacArthur’s face whitened when he read the cable, and he sharply demanded that his aide-de-camp, Lieutenant Colonel Sidney Huff, locate Mrs. MacArthur. That told Huff that whatever the cable said was really bad news. MacArthur always turned to his wife when he was deeply emotional. She could often temper his responses, and he seemed to understand that was often desirable.

Huff told him a minute later that she was in one of the laterals off Malinta Tunnel. MacArthur headed in that direction, with Colonel Richard K. Sutherland on his heels.

Forty-five minutes later, Huff was directed to call a staff conference.

When the officers were assembled, MacArthur read them the direction of the President’s radio message.

He had made his decision, he announced. In all of his commissioned service, he had never disobeyed an order. As an officer, he never would. But never in his military service had he deserted comrades in arms, and as a man he could not do so now. He intended to resign from the officer corps of the United States Army, go by boat to Bataan, and enlist as a private in the ranks. The officers would be advised when this change in status would take effect.

He then went to his desk, a standard GI folding desk exactly like that issued captains commanding companies in the field. There, in longhand, he wrote out his resignation.

The question arose as to who should receive his resignation. By regulation, resignations were addressed to the senior commander. General Douglas MacArthur was the senior commander in the Philippines, and in the entire U.S. Army subordinate only to General George Catlett Marshall (whom MacArthur had once officially described as unworthy of promotion beyond colonel). Now Marshall was a four-star general, the Chief of Staff, and sitting at the right hand of Franklin Delano Roosevelt.

There was no question in MacArthur’s mind that Marshall was behind the cable, compliance with which would force him to violate everything he had held sacred since he had taken the oath of allegiance at West Point.

Sutherland suggested that he think the whole matter over overnight, and in his required acknowledgment of the Roosevelt cable be careful to say nothing that indicated his plans.

A radio message was sent acknowledging the order, but asking permission to pick his own time to leave. General MacArthur said his ‘‘departure from the Philippines, even to assume command of ‘relief forces’ in Australia, had delicate morale overtones, that had to be carefully weighed.’’

Marshall, not Roosevelt, replied almost immediately to the first radio message. Since ‘‘maintaining the Luzon defense was imperative,’’ General MacArthur was permitted to choose his own time, and means, of going to Australia.

The resignation was put in a drawer.

Near Ksar es Souk, Morocco February 23, 1942

Dick Canidy drove the first leg of the trip back to Rabat—in silence. He was tired and hungover after a very late night with Eric Fulmar. And Eldon Baker was more than glad to oblige him in his wish for quiet, for Baker had spent almost as much time playing cutthroat chess with Sidi Hassan el Ferruch and, inevitably, negotiating the details of their agreement. But by the time they reached the foothills of the Atlas Mountains, Baker sensed that Canidy had emerged from his fog.

‘‘So,’’ Baker said, ‘‘did you have an exciting time?’’

‘‘Splendid. And you?’’

‘‘Satisfactory. How is your friend Eric taking all this?’’

‘‘I actually think he’s looking forward to the change.’’

‘‘Hmmm. I believe he’s going to do us a lot of good. And what do you think about the pasha of Ksar es Souk?’’

‘‘He’s a man with a promising future.’’

Baker laughed. ‘‘I know what you mean. A

few like him in their royal family and the English would before long find themselves without a Parliament.’’

Canidy laughed, agreeing.

‘‘And are you satisfied,’’ Baker went on, ‘‘with your part in our Grunier plans?’’

Canidy looked hard at him. ‘‘It all seems very nasty and cold-blooded,’’ he said. ‘‘Or does murdering a stranger in cold blood matter to you spies?’’