sir. I was just thinking about how I could best do this assignment. That’s a lot of names, hometowns and faces to keep track of, besides all of the other pictures you want.”
“Improvise, Lieutenant. Improvise. When a Marine is given an impossible task, he improvises.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
Back in my office, I pondered the problem and had to admit that I had no idea how I could accomplish this assignment. Finally, picking up the phone, I called Black Jack and asked him to meet me for a drink after work. After some hesitation, and my insistence that it was ‘important,’ he agreed. Petty Officer Malone was the only person I knew who could give me the right advice.
We decided to meet at a local bar where many of the studio workers went. I got there first, and ordered a scotch on the rocks. I hadn’t drunk any hard liquor since last winter in the wilderness, but I needed one, today. As I sat there, nursing the cocktail, my mind painted the bleak prospect of my first failed assignment.
“You look like you lost your best friend, Dutch.”
It was Black Jack, with that easy-going way and confident smile. Relieved, I stood up to greet him.
“Thanks for agreeing to meet me, Jack. Sit down and I’ll buy you a drink.”
Nodding his approval, he sat down. “So, what’s so important?”
Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out the assignment sheet and passed it across the table.
He took a few moments to read it.
“The Colonel went over this list with me, this afternoon,” I said glumly. “I’m at a loss over how I can complete this assignment.”
“Wow! He expects a lot from one photographer. Even a seasoned shooter couldn’t fulfill this job. The organization of the shots alone would be a tall order.”
Just then, the barmaid appeared. Jack gave her his order, then turned his attention back to me.
I looked for courage to ask my next question. “How about you shooting the event and I’ll direct and do the logistics? We might make a great team. Maybe your talent and my gold bars could help us both out. I’ll even pay you for your time. What do you say, Jack?”
Uneasiness crept over the table as he thought about my question. Finally, he said, “I don’t want your money, Lieutenant. And I don’t want to be the only Nigger Sailor in a room full of mud Marines. It’s not healthy.”
His choice of words caught me off-guard. I tried to reassure him. “You don’t look very colored to me, and the Marines are part of the Navy, so a sailor at the USO won’t stand out. And anyway I’ll be there.”
“What the hell could you do, sir? Beat the bigots off with your gold bars?”
My face got hot with anger. “Yeah, and my bare knuckles, if I have to. You’re my friend, and anybody that crosses my friend crosses me.”
The table went quiet again, and the Chief looked me straight in the eye, with a deeply puzzled expression on his face.
“The last white man I trusted was my father…and in the end, he ran out on me. But there’s something about you, Dutch. Something I like. There’s just one condition,” he said as his drink arrived. “I don’t want any money for helping you.”
“Well then…how about me loaning you my car for a weekend?”
Jack grinned from ear to ear. “The Staff Car? Now, don’t get me wrong, it’s a great car on the inside…but I don’t think I’d be able to pick up many ladies with that Army-brown color. No, Dutch, I don’t want your car. BUT…I would like to borrow your camera, to take a few pictures of my girlfriend.”
“Consider it done!’ I said, and we raised our drinks and clinked our glasses together.
With that clink, a special bond was formed, a bond based on trust and friendship. Silently, I vowed not to be the next white man to let Black Jack Malone down.
“But how in the hell do we shoot a job like this one?” I asked.
“I started out doing press photography,” he said, “so that’s no problem. We’ll need more film, another case of flash bulbs, and a half-dozen more film holders.”
“I’ll pick those supplies up tomorrow,” I assured him. “Anything else?”
“Yes. Get a black grease pen. When you use that little pad to write down the names and hometowns, make sure you write them from camera left to camera right. Then write a big bold number, using the grease pen, on the back of the page. Pin that number on the bottom part of one of the uniforms. I’ll make sure to keep the number in the lower frame of the picture. That way, we can identify who’s who in any given negative. Then, when we make the prints, we’ll crop out the slip of paper with the number. I’ve done this before, with big groups, and it works just fine.”
With a grin on my face, I leaned back in my chair and finished my scotch.
“Now, why the hell didn’t I think of that? Black Jack, you’re a photographic genius.”
We spent the next hour -- and another round of drinks -- going over the other details of the assignment. Jack was full of confidence, and that confidence rubbed off on me. For the first time, I started to look forward to the USO event.
We also agreed to meet on Saturday morning at my office, where Black Jack would give me my second lesson. This time it would be about ‘steady shooting’ and depth of field. After the session, he would borrow the camera, and then meet up with me again at Madonna Dance Hall at 1900 hours. The party was from eight to eleven, so that would give us an hour to get set up.
Lights, Camera, Action
The Colonel had hired Hollywood Lights to provide two of their big search lights outside the Canteen. They were being set up when I arrived. Finding some off-street parking, I removed the supplies from the truck and made my way to the front of the Hall. It was a warm evening, with little or no breeze, and I was sure it would be hot and stuffy inside.
Making my way through the open front doors, I found Petty Officer Malone dress in his summer white uniform, waiting for me. With a big smile on his face, he told me, “Tonight, I’ll call you ‘Lieutenant.’”
Grinning back at him, I nodded my head in approval.
One of the volunteer hostesses showed us to a small anteroom in the back where we could layout and arrange our equipment. Using the black changing bag, we loaded eighteen film holders with thirty-six sheets of film. At some point during the evening, we would have to reload all these holders again.
By seven-thirty, we were ready to go. Taking the camera and case, loaded with film holders and flash bulbs, we stepped out onto the dance floor. The Marine band from Camp Pendleton had already arrived and was on the bandstand. The sounds of the practicing instruments filled the hall with disjointed music that sounded like an accident waiting to happen. Standing in a corner, we watched the beehive of preparations.
A few minutes later, the Colonel arrived, dressed in his Class A uniform, with all those
