Destination Gobi

I remember the day like it was yesterday.

November 12, 1944.

My ship, "The Big E," was putting into Pearl for refuelling.

We just plastered the nips at Luzon and Leyte, and we were going back to give them more...

When I got the order to report to Saco headquarters.

Nobody knew much about Saco then...

Except that it was big and secret,

and they seemed to get what they wanted when they wanted it.

Right now they wanted me.

Yours truly, Sam McHale, chief bosun's mate, carrier enterprise.

Okay, chief. They're expecting you. Thanks.

McHale, sir.

Glad to see you, McHale. Thank you, sir.

This is lieutenant commander Wyatt.

How do you do, sir? How do you do?

Commander Wyatt's just arrived from stateside.

He's volunteered for a tough job.

He needs a seasoned C.P.O. To help him do it. Yes, sir.

The commander's a meteorologist from Cal tech. He's one of the best.

In other words, a weatherman. I see.

This thing is top secret, McHale.

You'll be briefed thoroughly on it later, but right now we can give you the general idea.

Commander Wyatt is gonna head up an expeditionary weather unit in the Gobi desert.

The Gobi desert?

And from the check we've made,

he couldn't get a better foreman than chief bosun's mate Sam McHale.

Well, I appreciate the compliment, sir,

but if you're thinking of me for anything but sea duty...

Well, sir, I'm the original blockhead.

I ain't worth two cents unless I got a deck under my feet.

As a matter of fact, I never got past the sixth grade.

Well, in that case you and commander Wyatt ought to make a good team.

He has five degrees.

But, my ship, sir, she's pulling out.

Your ship, McHale, and every ship in the fleet...

Is dependent on the work commander Wyatt will be doing.

You've heard of Saco, haven't you? Yes, sir. A little, sir.

Saco is Sino-American combined operations... "a" priority.

Now, one part of it, and a very vital part, is weather.

As a carrier man, you know what accurate weather forecasts mean to our sea and air strikes.

Yes, of course, sir, but my ship...

For a while we were losing more planes to weather than we were to the enemy.

The situation required desperate measures.

Saco has taken them.

We've put together a lash up across the face of China and Mongolia...

Small expeditionary forces flown in, supplied by air...

For one purpose...

To assemble weather observations,

relay them to central command,

which coordinates a forecast for the whole Pacific theater.

Right now we have five units functioning...

Argos 1, 2, 3, 4 and 5.

Commander Wyatt's unit will be Argos 6,

up here in Chengwan oasis in inner Mongolia.

The crew of Argos 6 is made up of young men,

especially trained for just one job...

Getting the weather and sending it.

What we need in addition, McHale, is a watchdog.

As soon as they started to butter me,

I could feel the deck of the enterprise sliding out from under my feet.

"Top secret." "'A' priority." That's always the pitch.

Watchdog, my neck.

Wet nurse, he meant.

Wet nurse to a bunch of balloon chasers in inner Mongolia,

which is different from outer Mongolia only because it's hotter, drier, sandier...

And "in-er."

Take it from me, brother... the Gobi desert wasn't for sailors.

It was for lizards.

And after six months of fighting the battle of Argos 6,

six months of balloons and barometers and sand that never stopped blowing,

I'd have given half my retirement pay for just one whiff of salt water.

Why do they call it a "theater" of war?

A theater's a place where you see shows or movies. Right?

Coney, you ask too many questions.

If I don't ask questions, how can I learn? Right, Mac? Right.

Good boy. There you go, boy. Hey, that's a good boy.

Hey, Walt, look. I got this jerboa trained.

He's eating "c" rations. He ain't trained. He's crazy.

This newscast from Chongqing reports we've landed troops on Okinawa.

What do you know? Boy, I bet they're giving that island the business.

- Your ship's on that, isn't it, Mac? - Of course it is.

The big "e" is in everything. Right, Mac?

Yeah. Yeah.

Hey, Swenson. This your piball form? Yeah.

How about your entries over here, and here? Well, the sand was blowing...

Don't give me that, you lazy swab.

If I catch any more forms half filled, I'll give you something to yelp about.

What's eating him? Three guesses.

What the devil's keeping the skipper?

We got the 1400 report in 10 minutes. Send it without him.

He's gotta okay it. What for? It's only a lousy six-hourly.

Wyatt's the skipper of this detachment.

Anything that goes out goes out over his signature. That's form.

McHale, you'd fill out a form to duck a bullet.

Listen, bright boy. I've been in this man's Navy for 16 years.

I don't know anything about theodolites or slide rules,

and I don't know what I'm doing here, wiping noses for a bunch of jokers like you.

But there's one thing I do know... the Navy means form.

All reports are signed by the officer in charge, filed by me.

All decisions are made by the officer in charge, carried out by me.

That's the way it was on shipboard. That's the way it's gonna be here.

Sing us a sea chanty, will ya, Mac?

Okay, okay, knock it off.

But just remember...

When that relief plane gets here,

there ain't nobody back at H.Q. Gonna be able to glom onto any mistakes made...

By yours truly, Sam McHale.

June the 20th. Happy day!

You wanna know something?

I've been smoothing a spot out there with my bare hands...

For that plane to land.

Boy. Only three weeks.

Hey, Walt, why don't we put a nice, big red circle around June the 20th?

Lay off that calendar! Come on! It's been on January ever since we've been here.

I happen to like January.

I like her myself. Only June has so much more to offer.

That's what you think.

Believe me, I been thinking.

- Skipper! - What happened?

Clumsiest thing... I slipped climbing an outcropping and fell against a rock.

Lucky thing Elwood happened along.

I didn't exactly happen along, sir. Mac sent me.

Good old Mac? Thinks of everything.

Even the absent-minded professor.

Hand me that first-aid kit.

It's nothing, Mac.

Nothing alongside of what I accomplished today.

Would you believe it... I stood smack in the center of a Gobi wind devil.

Checked its temperature and traced its whole pattern.

That 1400 report's right in back of you, sir. We're due in three minutes.

Hasn't it been encoded yet?

No, sir. It's waiting for your okay.

Send it off, Mac. You don't need my initials for everything.

You're the skipper, sir. Those reports have to be filed over your signature.

Very well. Guess that'll do for now.

I'll dress it later.

Okay, you sparks. Crank up for the 1400.

Thank you, sir. Here it is, Walt. Write it up.

Northwest, six and scattered.

Pressure, 2-6-8.

Temperature, 92.

Visibility, one mile and blowing sand.

Clouds, low one, middle seven.

- That sound okay, sir? - Okay, Mac.

Got it, landers? Right. We're on.

Here you go, Jenkins. Right.

You all right?

Fine.

That night a message came in from top Argos...

Marked "secret and urgent."

While I was unscrambling it, Argos 6 was in headquarters' tent...

Trying to keep from being blown out of Mongolia.

Hey, how do they name ships anyway?

Here's a picture of the carrier Lexington... that's a battle.

Here's a picture of the carrier wasp... that's a bug.

- It don't make sense. - Neither does this desert.

Furnace by day and refrigerator by night.

I guess destroyers are named after people. This one's called the U.S.S. Harding.

Don't worry, Coney. They'll never name a ship after you.

Be some ship, wouldn't it?

The U.S.S. Cohen.

Hey, I got something to tell ya.

That message tonight from top Argos was an alert.

We've been warned there's jap cavalry in the desert. Cavalry?

Yeah. Seems like the nips have been getting hit where it hurts.

They figure you guys are responsible.

We're a thousand miles from nowhere. A camel couldn't get this far.

Anyway, first thing tomorrow we're making a check of defensible positions.

What are we gonna defend them with? Barometers?

We got some weapons. We can requisition more.

You don't think there's any danger, do you, Mac?

Buck up, Coney.

Any nips that drop around in this weather can keep the joint.

Hey, toss me some beans, will ya, Elwood.

I'll have two cards. Give me two of your best.

Japs!

Take it easy.

They're Mongols.

Welcome to Argos 6.

My name's McHale, uni...

My name's McHale, United States Navy.

McHale. Chief. U.S. Navy.

Me chief. Chief Kengtu.

You missionary?

No, no. No. Navy.

Navy!

Navy. Ships. You got it?

No missionary? No.

- Use grass? - What?

He wants to know if we use grass. No. No, no.

We don't use grass.

Hey, they're gonna camp on the oasis. What'll we do?

What do you suggest we do? Scare them off with balloons?

Suppose they're bandits.

I read about Mongol bandits.

They bury you in sand and let ants devour you. You guys sit tight.

I'm gonna report this to the old man.

Jenkins, monitor the radios. Set up a 24-hour watch. I'll be right back.

Don't forget... don't none of you guys eat any grass,

no matter how bad the "c" rations get.