by James Young
Forty minutes later, Adam was wondering if he shouldn’t have taken Blakeslee up on his offer.
Sweet mercy, the near collision in Green Division on takeoff was just the start of our troubles, Adam thought, stamping on his rudder. While that could be chalked up to the new division leader, the fact that no one can fly outside of formation means the late Major Pressler was a little too concerned with appearances.
“Okay dammit, what part of ‘get upsun of those bombers before you bounce them’ was unclear, Blue One?!” Adam barked over the radio net. The flight of Army Marauders conducting a training mission had seemed the perfect opportunity for some impromptu training. Adam was suddenly glad that the olive green planes weren’t sporting black crosses and carrying live ammo.
Oh, these boys would be amazing as an aerobatics demonstration team, Adam thought, feeling almost helpless with anger, but I’d sooner go into combat with a pack of nuns than these idiots. At least then God would be on my side, for He’s surely forsaken me now.
“Okay dammit, let’s head for the barn,” Adam said, glancing at his watch. “We’re going to stop wasting the Corps’ fuel. All pilots will meet me in the classroom thirty minutes after landing. Bring paper and pencil for notes. Division leaders acknowledge.”
As the radio replies came in, Adam shook his head.
Well, I guess I asked for this, he thought. But I’m definitely starting to think about that Dutch bounty money again.
Pearl Harbor, Hawaii
0600 Local (1100 Eastern)
Patricia looked at herself in the mirror and was not happy with what she saw.
Need to lay off the sweets, she thought uncharitably, the green sundress just a tad bit too tight across her hips and breasts for her to feel comfortable wearing it. One would think walking three miles to work every day would have helped with that, but apparently not. Who knew being a librarian was hell on the figure? Especially with how much work it is…
“Stop looking in that mirror and being hard on yourself, you look fine,” Jo chuckled from the bathroom doorway. “Or are you worried that the good Lieutenant Byrnes is coming by to walk us home again today?”
Patricia looked at her roommate with a raised eyebrow.
“I don’t think Peter comes for my company,” she replied archly. “Even if some of us are too oblivious to realize that.”
Jo rolled her eyes at her, causing Patricia to flush slightly in annoyance.
You could try a acting a little less like you’re the valedictorian of the school of hard knocks, Patricia thought unfavorably. Yes your mother died right in front of you and your Dad’s stuck in the Philippines, but life’s hard all over.
Jo gave Patricia a slight smirk,
“You’re thinking I need to get over myself again,” Jo observed.
Patricia felt an altogether different coloring occurring on her face.
“Your brother is great at poker,” Jo continued. “You, on the other hand, really, really suck at keeping things off your face.”
“Jo, I didn’t mean…” Patricia started to say, before the other woman waved her off.
“You’re right, I need to stop throwing a damn pity party for myself,” Jo replied. “The problem isn’t that I don’t realize Peter has a thing for me, by the way. It’s that I’m not sure I have a thing for him, and think you two would make a much better match.”
“Oh? Just why is that?” Patricia asked.
“Gee, I don’t know, the fact that try as he might he keeps looking at your rear end whenever you walk in front of him?” Jo answered with a smile.
Damn you, Patricia thought, feeling the blush getting deeper.
“On a serious note, you both like to read like fiends,” Jo said. “I used to think I liked to read a little bit, but you’ve already devoured half the library.”
“Don’t exaggerate, Jo,” Patricia sighed.
“Fine, just the mythology section,” Jo said with a small laugh.
“You know, that’s not a good thing to remind me of,” Patricia replied. “Men are put off by that. No one wants a smart girl. I’m going to die a spinster.”
Jo looked her up and down, then shook her head.
“I doubt that,” the shorter woman observed drily.
“Fine, I’m going to end up with some man who’s going to try and change me as soon as we get married,” Patricia replied.
“Keep thinking that and you just might prove me wrong on the spinster part,” Jo said after a moment’s consideration.
“Well at least I’d have a say in that,” Patricia observed. “While not as bad as my mother, my brothers do seem to keep trying to set me up with people.”
Jo looked at her as if she’d grown a second head.
“Right. You mean the same brothers who promise a painful end to any man who even looks at your funny in their presence? Those brothers?”
“That’s only Sam and David,” Patricia scoffed. “They’re harmless.”
“Of course, completely harmless,” Jo sneered. “Why, just the other day I seem to recall your older brother nearly beating a man to death for looking at you too long while you were getting off a ship.”
Patricia absent-mindedly fiddled with the center button of her dress, afraid that it was going to gape open at an inopportune time.
Definitely have to lay off the sweets, Patricia thought. I can’t afford to buy a new dress right now.
“You know, if you tug on that damn thing one more time, you’re going to cause it to do the thing you’re worried about,” Jo observed laughingly.
“I’m glad you find this amusing, Jo,” Patricia said, her Southern drawl starting to thicken as it always did when she was embarrassed or flustered.
“Well, you just look like someone who’s getting ready to go meet the love of her life, not just spend the day at work,” Jo said, stepping back out of the bathroom to grab her brush. “Maybe you like Peter more than you realize.”
Patricia took a deep breath to get control of herself. Jo, you’re a great friend, but there are days.
“I mean, sure, when the ‘brother of the day’ stops by with one of his shipmates or squadron members, there may be sparks,” Jo called from the bedroom, referring to the fact that Nick, Sam, and David seemed to always stop in with a different shipmate on days that Peter didn’t walk her home. “But I don’t think one button out of place will change his mind on whether or not you are beautiful.”
Jo entered the bathroom as she finished her sentence, taking a quick glance at herself in the mirror. Quickly brushing her hair, an evil thought crept into her mind.
“Not that he won’t have mussing up your hair on his mind in the first place,” she said with an evil grin.
Patricia gave Jo a dirty look.
“Just because you grew up among sailors and their somewhat more earthy habits doesn’t mean you know all of them that well, Jo. Some of my brothers’ comrades are the utmost gentlemen,” Patricia replied.
Jo gave a sharp, braying laugh at that comment.
“You know, thank God you ended up with me as your housemate,” Jo said. “It’s going to be tough, but I just might manage to keep you a virgin until your wedding night.”
Oh you little… Patricia thought, fighting the urge to box Jo’s ears.
“I’m just saying you need to take a look around, Patricia, and realize that there aren’t that many single, available white women here,” Jo continued. “In some ways it’s a blessing, but in just as many it’s a curse.”
Patricia started to speak, but was cut off by Jo continuing.
“Now, while I’m sure your brothers have screened many of their more amorous shipmates away from you, it never hurts to be just a bit cynical. Not to mention, anyone you hitch up with just might find themselves suffering from a slight case of death in the near future.”
I have had about enough of you, Patricia said, giving Jo a glare to indicate she’d crossed the line. Jo at least had the decency to look sheepish in return.
“While I do not have the luxury of, nor need the looming presence of the ‘meanest bastard in the navy,’ Jo, I am not an idiot,” Patricia snarled. “Please, do not lecture to me as if I am a child,” Patricia said severely.
Seeing she’d truly struck a nerve, Jo winced inwardly.
Okay, I see someone else has been talking to you about my Dad’s time at BuPers, Jo thought. For the record, he really didn’t send that lieutenant to the Philippines because he checked me out when I was fifteen.
“I just don’t want to see you get hurt,” Jo said, stepping back from her friend.
“I have a bit more experience with men than you apparently think. Now, I believe if we do not hurry, we will be late for work,” Pat said coolly, stepping past her friend.
One of us has probably barely kissed a man, while the other one of us is a commander’s daughter, Jo thought. A commander’s daughter who was a rather rebellious teenager that made a few mistakes in attempts to hurt her father. I’d dare say poor Lieutenant Foster probably didn’t think my virginity was worth being assigned to a gunboat in Shanghai, Jo thought wryly. It had been a wonderful six-month love affair, and she didn’t really regret it, but it had ended badly for all involved.
I wonder why I have not heard from Dad for two weeks? Jo thought.
U.S.S. Houston
0015 Local (1115 Eastern)
25 March (24 March)
The harsh light of the igniting flare was an unpleasant shock to Jacob’s eyes.
Jesus Christ that’s bright! he thought, blinking to clear the white dots now hovering in his vision. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Battle Two’s helmsman and look outs shielding their eyes from the glare. He dimly heard the sound of aircraft engines as he squinted into the darkness around the heavy cruiser.
Didn’t even hear the bastards! Jacob thought angrily. His musings were interrupted as the Houston’s crew sprang into action.
“Hard to starboard, aye! All ahead full!” the talker, Seaman Third Class Teague, relayed the bridge’s command from the rear of the compartment. In the brightness from the still falling flare, Jacob could clearly see Teague’s freckled features set in a shocked expression. Of average height, the talker stood with his powered by sound handset clutched in one hand, the other gripping a nearby stanchion to remain steady as the cruiser lurched in acceleration.
So much for traveling at a slower speed so we didn’t leave a wake, Jacob thought angrily.
Battle Two was a structure located just forward of the cruiser’s hangar in which all of the functions performed by the bridge were duplicated. In case the main bridge was destroyed or lost the ability to relay steering commands to the rudder, it was the job of Battle Two’s occupants to continue maneuvering the ship. In addition, Jacob was able to monitor the Houston’s damage control information, thus freeing the captain to fight the ship.
“How in the Hell did those Aussie bastards find us?” someone muttered as the American heavy cruiser heeled over into her turn.
Good question, Jacob mused. Maybe those airedales had a reason to be cocky when they arranged for this night flight. Their radar must be better than anything our boys have.
“Aircraft, port bow!” Teague said anxiously, drawing a stern look from Chief Petty Officer Roberts, Battle Two’s NCOIC. Jacob waved in acknowledgment, and was about to say something when there was the roar of aircraft engines passing from starboard. Everyone in Battle Two reflexively ducked as there was a brief sensation of a shadow passing overhead.
Is this how the mouse feels before the talons hit? Jacob thought.
“Holy shit!” Teague said, frightened.
“Belay that talk!” Roberts barked. The older, slightly heavyweight NCOIC’s skin was pallid even for being illuminated by the descending magnesium, and Jacob had the feeling the man did not feel as confident as he was letting on.
If that had been a Jap torpedo plane we’d have a hole in the side of the ship right about now, Jacob thought bitterly. A few moments later, the aircraft initially sighted from port passed over the ship, and again Jacob marveled at how quiet the airplanes were.
“What did they call those birds, sir? Beauties or something like that?” Lieutenant Robert Locher, Battle Two’s Officer of the Deck (OOD), asked.
“Beaufighters,” Jacob said grimly. “Should probably call them owls after that performance.”
Mercifully, Battle Two became dark again as the magnesium flares went out upon falling into the ocean. Stepping outside of the compartment, Jacob attempted to look astern of the Houston and realized his night vision was completely shot. Closing his eyes for a long ten count, he reopened them to find he could once more make out the light cruiser Boise astern and destroyers Ford and Whipple to the two cruisers port side.
“Sir, Captain Wallace requests your presence on the bridge,” Lieutenant Locher called from the entry hatch behind him.
“Understood Lieutenant Locher,” Jacob said. “You have the station until I return.”
“Aye aye, sir,” Locher replied.
A little under five minutes later, Jacob was standing alone with Captain Wallace on the bridge’s starboard wing. Having sent the lookouts inside, Wallace turned to look at his XO.
“I just received our new orders,” Wallace said solemnly. “We are to return to the Philippines at once.”
“Sir, I take it Admiral Hart lost his argument with General MacArthur?” Jacob asked drily. Surprising no one, General MacArthur had gotten wind of Admiral Hart’s plan to retreat to the Dutch East Indies with all of his surface ships. The former had immediately contacted General Marshall, his ostensible superior in Washington, and raised political cain.
Considering the Philippines allegedly became independent as of the 1st of this month, I’m not seeing where Admiral Hart was violating orders, Jacob thought. Apparently Secretary Knox or, more likely, President Roosevelt felt differently.
“It would appear that way,” Captain Wallace said grimly. “Or more correctly, I believe Admiral Hart decided he wasn’t going to get relieved over this just yet.”
Jacob kept his face expressionless in the gloom.
So the plan remains the same, we’re just waiting until war breaks out, Jacob mused. At least we’ll start having regular mail service again.
“Those Aussies were an unpleasant surprise,” Captain Wallace said, changing the subject.
“Sir, if they can do that when people are shooting back, unpleasant surprise is not going to begin to cover it,” Jacob observed. “We didn’t even see the flare plane, and at least one of the bombers would have caught us by total surprise.”
“We’re supposed to return to Sydney for one of those radar sets ourselves in a couple of months,” Wallace observed, his tone showing his inexperience with the new technological word. “If the New Mexico and Idaho are released from the Atlantic for duty here, we may be able to go all the way back to Pearl.”
Or alternatively, if pigs fly we could have bacon season, Jacob thought sardonically. No one besides the Brits are sending battleships out here. Especially with Congress wrangling over paying for anymore new ones.
“I hope we get someone who knows how to use it as well as those Australians apparently do,” Jacob observed. “That is a game changer.”
“That squadron leader said they’ve been training with it for five months,” Wallace replied. “I’m not sure how much use it would be if someone just got their hands on it.”
“I’d love to try that out, I know that much,” Jacob replied.
“Hopefully the other side doesn’t have anything like it,” Wallace stated grimly. “Although who knows what our German friends gave them.”
“The Commonwealth radio said there’s been a couple of incidents in eastern Poland,” Jacob said. “I guess they’ll be fighting over there sooner rather than later.”
“Which probably means we’ll be fighting here,” Houston’s master said. “With the whole weight of the Jap fleet barreling down at us.”
North P
acific
1845 Local (2145 Eastern)
25 March
It is a gorgeous day, Isoro Honda thought, giving his Shiden a slight left rudder to line up behind the twin columns of carriers. Nothing at all like the last three. Not that I am complaining—we could not have asked for better weather during our approach.
The entire Kido Butai was steaming into the westerly wind, and Isoro thought briefly of how striking the fleet was. The six carriers were steaming in two columns of three, the sun turning their wooden decks a fiery orange as it reflected off them. The flattops were surrounded by the battleships Hiei and Kirishima roughly equal with the middle of the columns, and the heavy cruisers Tone, Chikuma, and Mogami steaming forward of them in a semi-circle. Beyond the heavy ships, two light cruisers and ten destroyers made up the rest of the escort. Even as Isoro watched, two of the latter broke inward to take up their position as plane guards, ready to pluck any member of the twelve strong CAP out of the sea.
How horrible would it be to suffer a mishap today? Isoro mused. To go through all these months of training only to be killed by some mechanical error or accident. Or even worse, be saved and not be able to take part in the strike tomorrow? Shaking his head, Isoro turned away from the fleet beautifully outlined against the red orb of the setting sun and looked over his chutai. He felt a warm sense of pride as the two other Shiden in perfect formation.
We have come so far since we first started flying these fighters. I look forward to meeting the Americans tomorrow, Isoro thought. Gently, he moved astern of Akagi, noting that the carrier’s funnel smoke was moving straight behind her like black yarn trailing behind a running child.
Thank goodness, no cross wind, he thought. The weather gods continue to smile upon us, and tomorrow we shall make history.
It is going to be a restless night, Vice Admiral Yamaguchi thought, looking at the map board in front of him. The flag plot was quiet, almost funereal as his staff went about their business and left him to his thoughts.
I am forgetting something, Yamaguchi thought. I just know that I am.
