by James Young
“Mrs. King,” he nodded. “I apologize if my language offended you.”
“Oh my God, you’ve ruined me,” Mrs. Burke said lowly, her face remaining pallid. Turning from Adam she began walking up the sidewalk, hurrying away from him as quickly as possible.
No my lady, your lack of morals and restraint ruined you, he thought venomously. Mrs. King overhearing was simply a fortuitous occurrence.
“Major Haynes, I see that your reputation for being a bit of a firebrand is well-deserved,” Mrs. King observed quietly.
“Ma’am, with all due respect, she had it coming,” Adam replied. Mrs. King gave a slight smile at that comment.
“I am quite sure she did,” Mrs. King replied. “Have a good day, Major Haynes.”
“You too, Ma’am,” Adam said, tipping his hat. With that he continued on his way, whistling an old Irish drinking tune as he headed towards his squadron’s barracks.
I.J.N.S. Musashi
Truk Lagoon
1000 Local (2200 Eastern)
3 May (2 May)
“Our reconnaissance planes indicate that the Hermes is resting on the bottom,” Vice Admiral Jisaburo Ozawa stated. “The Revenge has escaped the harbor, and no aircraft have reported her whereabouts.”
You mean ‘no aircraft that have survived,’ Yamaguchi thought wearily. There was a transmission that got summarily cut off from east of Java. The Kido Butai’s commander could see in Ozawa’s face that the man was tired, and Yamaguchi resisted the urge to look down at his own clean, pressed uniform in comparison to Ozawa’s ruffled, stained one.
He has won as many carrier battles as I have, Yamaguchi thought, feeling slightly threatened. His maneuvers off of Ceylon were brilliant, and he likely saved Fukodome from certain defeat.
“What is the status of your air groups with the new reinforcements?” Admiral Yamamoto asked. Yamaguchi could sense the man sounded almost as tired as Ozawa.
“I recommend we send the Hiyo and Junyo back to the Home Islands,” Ozawa answered quickly. “We no longer need them to stage our fighters, and if the Fifth Fleet’s reports are true the enemy no longer has any carriers to employ against them.”
Yamamoto closed his eyes, rubbing his temples. His missing fingers were quite obvious as he did so.
“Kondo-san is correct,” he stated. “It is well past time to stop trying to kill an elephant with arrows when we have perfectly good spears at hand.”
Yamaguchi stiffened at the comment.
“I mean no insult, Yamaguchi-san,” Yamamoto continued wearily. “As you said earlier, it is imprudent to misuse a well balanced katana as well.”
“Sir, are you going to lead the attack?” Ozawa asked, his voice awed.
“No,” Yamamoto said. “His Majesty has expressedly forbidden me leading the attack or using the Yamato or Musashi in it. Kondo-san will have the Kongos and the older vessels, plus cruisers carrying Sandaburo warheads.”
Hopefully we will not lose any more of those cruisers than we already have, Yamaguchi thought.
“When will the Ise and Hyuga arrive?” Yamamoto asked Ozawa.
“I am told they will arrive in two hours,” Ozawa said. “I will give them ten hours to refuel and rearm, then we will depart.”
“Very good,” Yamamoto said. “Make sure you get some sleep, Ozawa-san. You have done very well in this war.”
Ozawa came to attention and bowed.
“Thank you, Sir,” he said.
CHAPTER 6: DANCE OF THE DAMNED
Something must be left to chance; nothing is sure in a Sea Fight beyond all others—Lord Nelson: Plan of Attack, before Trafalgar, 9 October 1805
Pearl Harbor
0700 Local (1230 Eastern)
3 May
Yawning, Nick Cobb opened the door to his small office, his arms sore and tired from his morning calisthenics. While exercising always hurt, it also woke him up and helped him to think more clearly, an attribute that was always helpful when going over collected dispatches and news from the front. Setting down the box of dispatches, reports, and orders collected for him by the previous night’s duty staff, Nick began to absently whistle.
“You know, Mr. Crosby might have something to say about you butchering his music in such a manner,” Agnes said from the doorway, causing him to jump. He realized that he had not heard the woman approaching as he turned, then saw why—she was standing in her bare feet in the hallway, her shoes in her hand.
“Hello Agnes,” Nick said, smiling. “I thought I was going to be the only one here for at least another half hour.”
“Yes, apparently. I take it you’re an early riser like the admiral?”
“Old habits die hard, and the day starts pretty early for a midshipman. Will the admiral be in today?”
“Probably not, his son’s memorial service will be this afternoon. His wife has been pretty broken up Justin’s death, and I think he’ll want to be with her.”
Nick nodded and exhaled heavily.
“He was a very good man. I cannot believe those yellow bastards murdered his crew like that.”
Agnes shrugged, her eyes sad.
“Men are very cruel,” she said simply. “All of us are only a few generations removed from being barbarians, and war brings out the worst in you.”
Nick raised an eyebrow.
“You seem rather philosophical on this.”
“I guess I am. A woman sees and hears many things when men forget she exists.”
Nick smiled.
“I find it a bit hard to believe men forget you exist.”
Agnes blushed a little, smiling.
“Men often forget that secretaries have ears also,” she said quickly. “And a brain that can think about what those ears have heard.”
A corner of Nick’s mind, what he liked to call the Cobb family’s inherent paranoia, thought briefly about that statement. The look must have shown on his face, as Agnes giggled.
“Don’t worry, Nick, I’m not a spy,” she said.
There was the sound of a door closing at the other end of the hallway.
“But I am about to be late for getting the coffee started, so I will go.”
Watching her turn to leave, Nick suddenly remembered something.
“Hey Agnes,” he said, stopping her before she got too far.
“Yes?” the secretary asked.
“I’m sorry I didn’t call the other night,” Nick said.
Agnes grinned at him.
“That’s all right, you can make it up to me by coming over tonight. Seven o’clock all right again?”
“Yes,” Nick replied. “I’ll even bring over some wine.”
Agnes fixed him with suspicious look.
“Lieutenant Cobb, I hope you realize that I am not the type of woman to get drunk and fall into the arms of every handsome young officer who gets assigned to her section.”
“Agnes, I don’t think many ‘young’ officers are unlucky or stupid enough to get assigned here, and you can rest assured I have no designs on your virtue.”
“Good, because my roommate would likely kill you.”
Nick was about to retort when Agnes’s phone rang. Sighing, the woman gave him a quick wave then started to move out at a fast walk towards her desk.
Turning back to his desk, Nick started to read the first war dispatches to come from Europe. Three paragraphs into the dispatch, he found himself reaching for the National Geographic maps he had appropriated from the intelligence staff. Pulling out a map that included Poland, he moved his finger around until he found the place he was looking for.
“Damn lieutenant, I’ve seen navigational officers study maps less intently,” Captain Donze said from the doorway. “What has you looking at…Poland, is it?”
“Apparently the Russian attack that started two weeks ago was them putting their heads into a noose. The Germans are claiming to have over two hundred thousand men trapped between Warsaw and some city called Grodno. The Russians are strangely quiet, with no dispatches
coming from Moscow save to say that the ‘Fascists will be crushed upon the forge of the masses’, which I’m taking to mean that that the Germans aren’t stretching the truth too far.”
“Decent analysis,” Donze allowed, “but what does it mean to our boats?”
“That if things keep going this poorly, we might have to start sending boats to the Atlantic to try and take some of the pressure off.”
Donze laughed.
“While the Germans benefited from beating the Brits, there is still quite a shortage of targets for our boats. Might want to refine that thought process before taking that in front of RAdm. Graham when he gets back.”
Nick fought to keep his face neutral.
Never did cotton to being laughed at, and it’s not like I asked for this job, Nick thought.
“Don’t worry, Lieutenant Cobb, you’ll get the hang of this yet,” Donze said, putting his hand on Nick shoulder. “Besides, even I just have an opinion—the President tried so hard to help the British that we almost left our own cupboard bare, so nothing’s to say he won’t try and do the same for the Russians.”
“But I thought you just said that there was no way to really hurt the Germans with our navy?” Nick said, confused.
“Oh, there’s ways to hurt the Germans with our navy, I’m just not sure our submarines would be much use in doing it,” Captain Donze replied. “Not to mention I don’t fancy taking a chance on getting confused for some U-boat and blown apart by our own side.”
Can’t say I disagree with you on that one.
“What news from the Far East?” Donze asked, going into the box of dispatches.
“Nothing much, except apparently the ACDA command is having all sorts of fun fighting the Japanese,” Nick said. The implied “unlike us” was almost visible as it hung in the air.
“Well hopefully they’re having better luck than this fleet has,” Donze replied. “It seems like every time we leave harbor we lose a battleship, and I’m pretty sure Washington has told Vice Admiral Halsey he’s to hold what we already have before we all end up in San Diego.”
Or a Japanese prison camp, Nick thought grimly.
“Still can’t see why we can’t send them some help,” the younger officer said aloud.
“Come over and check the admiral’s plot today,” Donze said quietly. “You’ll see things aren’t quite as quiet as you may think.”
Nick shook his head, feeling the frustration starting to rise.
“Sir, if there’s no good news I can pass on or everyone finds out things before I do, why am I here and not on a boat?” Nick asked.
“Besides the fact that you’re the first officer Agnes has ever gone out of her way to talk to?” Donze replied gently, causing Nick to start to blush. “Maybe because you have the willpower to keep trying to make sense out of all this rather than bitch and moan about how you’re not out on a boat. You’re doing quite well for someone whose first calling isn’t intelligence work, so I think we’ll probably keep you here just a little bit longer.”
“Sir, I’ve got to know more if I’m to do my job,” Nick said.
“We’re working on that,” Donze replied. “Soon, Lieutenant Cobb, you may know more than you ever wanted to. Ignorance is sometimes truly blissful.”
Nick didn’t like the look on the older officer’s face.
He suddenly looks like he hasn’t slept in days based on what he knows, Nick thought.
“But, anyway,” Donze continued, stepping in and closing the door behind him, “before we go any further, let us talk about yourself and Agnes.”
Nick felt himself starting to sub-consciously come to the position of attention and stopped himself.
I can get my ass chewed about trying to date the secretary, Nick thought, but I’ll be damned if I’ll act like I’m doing something wrong.
“Agnes is a very special woman to all of us, sort of like the daughter most of us never had or haven’t seen in months,” Donze said flatly. “We’d just like to make sure you take due care for her reputation.”
“Sir, I never had any intentions of behaving other than an officer and a gentleman,” Nick replied stiffly.
“You know, Lieutenant Cobb, I honestly never doubted that,” Nick said. “Others in this office, on the other hand, just wanted to make sure someone sat you down and made sure you were aware of the situation. So consider this our talk, and don’t do anything that’s going to have you conning a Sugar boat in Alaska.”
“Aye-aye, sir,” Nick replied neutrally.
Donze grimaced at Nick’s reply, then nodded.
“All right, I guess I’ll go ahead and leave you to your work.”
Nick watched as Donze headed back into the office.
Probably could’ve handled that a bit better, Nick thought after a moment. Of course, if I piss them off enough, maybe I’ll get out of this damn office.
With that he turned back to the dispatches.
We may not be able to use our boats in the North Atlantic, he thought. But I’m reasonably certain we could convince those damn Argentineans and Brazilians they picked the wrong side. Or maybe raid some of that oiler traffic going across the Red Sea.
Looking at the map with the German pocket, he had a sudden onrush of fear.
We just might be losing this damn war, he thought. Maybe Captain Donze is right, and I’m probably happier not knowing the full picture.
As if on cue, his office door swung open to reveal his superior. Captain Donze strode up to his desk, his face looking like the man was in great pain as he sat a recently opened envelope on Nick’s desk.
“I may have been wrong,” Donze said, his voice quivering. “There might be a use for our boats.”
“Sir?” Nick asked, his stomach falling as he noted the other man’s agitation.
“Read it, and then bring it back to me,” Donze said. “Show no one, and I mean, no one else.”
Nick waited until the door clicked shut then pulled the dispatch out of the envelope. Trimmed in red, with TOP SECRET in bold letters at the top, the document was three pages long. Taking a deep breath, Nick started to read it. Five minutes later, he put his shaking hands down, his stomach flip flopping. Suddenly he felt the overwhelming urge to vomit, just barely grabbing the trashcan in time.
My God, the Atlantic Fleet just got its ass kicked by the Germans, Nick thought. In the aftermath of the Second Battle of Britain, with the Germans managing to acquire two complete British battleships and a third being nearly finished building, the USN had greatly reinforced its Atlantic Fleet in anticipation of fighting a great battle to reinforce Iceland.
Well it appears that battle has been fought, and we lost, Nick thought, swilling his mouth out with some of the water that was on his desk. The New York, Mississippi, and New Mexico lost. The South Dakota, North Carolina, and Washington severely damaged. Ten thousand Army troops, at least, gone.
Donze came back into the room, his nose wrinkling as he smelled the fresh vomit in Nick’s trash can.
“Sorry Sir,” Nick said, his voice raspy.
“At least they got both German carriers the next day,” Donze said, his voice shaken.
“How…how did they get past the escort?” Nick asked.
“They showed the main fleet what they wanted to see,” Donze replied. “Apparently Admiral Kimmel took off after one German heavy group and got into a gunfight with them. We’re not sure if it was the French, Italians, or Germans that snuck up on the convoy in the dark that night.”
Nick looked down at the dispatch, fighting the urge to crumple it.
“Does it matter, sir? Three battleships for one of theirs, plus the two carriers, is a loss,” Nick observed bitterly. “Throw in the transports, cruisers, and destroyers and this was a brutal defeat. How long can they hold Iceland?”
“Don’t know,” Captain Donze replied. “With the reinforcements landed there shortly before the war started, plus supplies, maybe another month if the Germans don’t try to take it by force.”
Topeka, Kansas
1430 Local (1530 Eastern)
With the subconscious survival instincts of a combat veteran, Adam suddenly realized that the conversation in the train car had almost completely stopped. Acting as if he was still reading the The Grapes of Wrath, Adam used his peripheral visition to glance across the aisle at Captain West. Seeing the man looking towards the front of the compartment with wide eyes and an agape jaw, Adam exhaled.
Only one things makes most men start to look like half their brain has up and melted away, and that’s a woman, Adam thought. Realizing there was no danger, he went back to reading his book.
The sound of walking high heels stopped slowly at his small booth. Putting down the book, Adam looked up into the blue eyes of a tall, The woman’s shoulders were obviously muscular, indicating that she had done her fair share of hard work, but not so much so that she lost her femininity. She wore a button up emerald dress, the hem of which came just above her knee, revealing well-muscled calves underneath her stockings.
“Is this seat open?” the woman asked, her voice distinctly Midwestern and quite pleasant. Her blue eyes were friendly and intelligent, looking directly into Adam’s.
“Yes, it is,” Adam replied pleasantly, gesturing nonchalantly with his hand. The woman nodded, sliding into the opposite bench and placing her purse beside her. Looking at Adam, the woman extended her hand.
“My name is Norah, Norah Hedglin.”
“Adam Haynes.”
Good firm grip she has, Adam thought. Wonder what she does for a living?
The thought was interrupted by the conductor coming up to collect Norah’s ticket. Nodding at Adam as he handed the ticket back, the gray, balding man went back to his seat at the front of the now moving car. Looking outside, Adam could see a group of children attempting to catch some fish in the Kansas River, the body of water apparently uncharacteristically high.
