Twilight of the Gods: War in the Western Pacific, 1944-1945 (The Pacific War Trilogy Book 3)

by Ian W. Toll

Returning dripping wet to the dock, Buell glimpsed a small, white-haired man being pitched headlong into the lagoon. The victim was already airborne when Buell recognized him as Admiral McCain. Naval etiquette gave leeway in certain circumstances, but in general, drunken aviators were not permitted to lay hands on a three-star admiral and heave him into the sea. Buell shouted a warning, but too late. He and several others dove after McCain immediately: As we got hold of him and helped him to his feet, he was gasping and wheezing and said: “Get my hat, boys, get my hat.” The hat, a special version of a field fatigue hat with the gold band and scrambled eggs almost all green from salt air, was his lucky hat and well-known among the fleet pilots. We retrieved the hat, got the admiral back up on the dock, and expressed our deepest regrets for our conduct. . . . He was a small man, almost fragile, and looked like a strong wind could blow him away. Dripping salt water, seaweed, and coral sand, he kept grinning as he shook hands with each of us while we continued making our apologies. He asked for a dry cigarette, lit up, and started telling us how good it was to be back with his “fighting men.”