As for the Garand, no one, of course, was going to question the right of a battalion commander to arm himself with any weapon that struck his fancy. And this would have been true even for those battalion commanders who did not win the Medal of Honor in France in World War I.

But there is a tendency in the military, just as in civilian life, to emulate those we hold in high regard. Imitation is indeed the most sincere form of flattery. Colonel Stecker not only enjoyed a reputation as one hell of a Marine, but he very much looked the part: He was personally imposing-tall, erect, and muscular.

If Colonel Stecker felt that the way to go about armed was with a Garand and a.45 in a shoulder holster, then a large number of majors, captains, lieutenants, sergeants major, and gunnery sergeants (those, in other words, who believed with some reason they could get away with it) clearly felt that this was a practice to be emulated.

Though extra shoulder holsters were not available to the Division's tankers (much to their regret), the Cactus Air Force did in fact have access to a goodly supply of them. And for the proper price, they were in a position to meet the perceived demand. A barter commerce was already well established between Henderson Field and Espiritu Santo (and other rear-area bases). Japanese flags (many, to be honest, of local manufac-' ture) and other artifacts were sent to the rear via R4D or other supply aircraft, while various items (many of which had a tendency to gurgle) were sent forward in payment thereof. It was not at all difficult to add shoulder holsters to the list of rear-area goods that could be exchanged for souvenirs of the battlefield.

In exchange for a bona fide (as opposed to locally manufactured) Japanese flag or other genuine artifact of war, the Marines of the Air Group would provide shoulder holsters to their comrades-in-arms of the First Marine Division.

Until the Army came to Guadalcanal, laying one's hands on a Garand posed a much greater problem. But the Army came equipped with Garands.

Mysteriously, almost immediately upon the Army's arrival, these weapons seemed to vanish from the possession of the men they'd been issued to. And after the Army became engaged in military actions, virtually no Garands were recovered from the various scenes of battle and returned to Army control.

By then, of course, the value of the Garand was apparent to all hands: Among other demonstrable advantages, for instance, it fired eight shots as fast as you could pull the trigger. On the other hand, a Springfield held only five rounds, and you had to work the bolt mechanism to fire one. Thus, when he happened to notice a Garand in the hands of one of his riflemen, it is perhaps not surprising that even the saltiest second lieutenant (the kind of officer who devoutly believed in the sacredness of regulations) did not point an accusing finger, shout "that weapon is stolen!", and take steps to return it to its proper owner.

The more senior officers, meanwhile, seemed to be so overwhelmed by the press of their duties that they were unable to devote time to investigating reports of theft of small arms from the U.S. Army. This understandable negligence did, however, lead to occasional differences of opinion between the Army and the Marines. Indeed, when one Marine colonel informed an Army captain that Marines never lost their rifles and that the Marine Corps could not be held responsible for the Army's lax training in that area, the Army captain was seen to leave the regimental headquarters in a highly aroused state of indignation.

"The General will see you now, Colonel," Major General Archer A. Vandegrift's sergeant major said to Colonel Stecker.

Lieutenant Colonel Stecker nodded his thanks to the sergeant major for holding open for him the piece of canvas that was General Vandegrift's office door and stepped inside.

"Good morning, Sir."

"Good morning," Vandegrift said.

Vandegrift was not alone in his office. There was another colonel there; he stood up when he saw Stecker and smiled.

His was a familiar face to Stecker, but he was a newcomer to Guadalcanal. That was evident by his brand-new utilities and boondockers, and by the unmarred paint on his steel helmet. And because he was wearing a spotless set of web gear, complete to suspenders.

"You two know each other, don't you?" Vandegrift asked, but it was more of a statement than a question.

"Yes, Sir," they said, almost in unison.

"I worked for the Colonel at Quantico," Jack Stecker said. "When he was in Marine Corps Schools."

"That seems like a long time ago, doesn't it, Jack?" Lieutenant Colonel G. H. Newberry said.

"Yes, Sir," Stecker said.

"Newberry will be taking over your battalion, Colonel," General Vandegrift said.

There was a just-perceptible hesitation before Stecker replied, "Aye, aye, Sir."

Well, what the hell did I expect? I never expected to command a battalion in the first place. Battalions go to career officers, not people who have an "R" for reserve after USMC in their signature block.

"From what I've been hearing, Jack," Colonel Newberry said, "you've done a hell of a job with it."

You didn't have to say that. Why am I surprised that you're a gentleman, trying to make this easier for me? I always thought you were a pretty good officer. As a matter of fact, the only thing I don't like about you is that you 're taking my battalion away from me.

"I've had some pretty fine Marines to work with, Colonel."

"My experience is that Marines reflect their officers," General Vandegrift said. "Good or bad."

That was nice of him, too.

"I want you to turn it over to Newberry as soon as possible, Colonel," Vandegrift said.

"Aye, aye, Sir. I'd like a day or two, Sir, if that's possible."

Vandegrift looked at his wristwatch. "Would you settle for thirty hours? There's a PBY scheduled to leave Henderson at seventeen hundred tomorrow. I want you on it."

"Aye, aye, Sir," Stecker said. "We ought to be able to do it in that time."

"Newberry," Vandegrift said, "I'd like a word with Colonel Stecker, if you don't mind."

"Aye, aye, Sir. By your leave, Sir," Newberry said, and then added, "I'll wait for you outside, Jack."

"All right," Stecker said.

Newberry left. Vandegrift waved Stecker into a folding chair.

"OK, Jack," he said. "What is it that you know about Newberry that I don't? He came highly recommended."

"Sir, to the best of my knowledge, Colonel Newberry is a fine officer. I'd be very surprised if he didn't do a fine job with Second of the Fifth."