March Anson and Scoot Bailey of the U.S. Navy

by Marshall McClintock

  CHAPTER NINE

  DESTINATION—

  All during the morning supplies were being loaded into _Kamongo_—foodand oil and water and torpedoes. Larry Gray spent the time from elevento eleven forty-five at Navy headquarters, going over final details andreceiving his sealed orders. When he returned, his officers reported tohim one by one, informing him that their departments were ready.

  He looked at his watch. “Fine,” he said. “We might as well shove off.Come on, Ray.” He stepped from his quarters into the control room withCorvin, his executive officer, behind him. There he saw March at thelittle navigation desk.

  “Want to come up to the bridge with us?” he asked. “We’re getting underway.”

  “Sure thing,” March replied. “I might as well wave goodbye to land. Wemay not see any for some time.”

  “Oh, I think we’ll be seeing land for a while,” Gray replied, startingup the ladder to the conning tower.

  “Oh—you know where we’re going?” March asked.

  “No, but I’ve got my ideas,” the Skipper answered.

  Ray Corvin grinned at March as he stepped up the ladder. “And his ideasare usually right,” he muttered.

  On the bridge, March looked over the busy waters of the harbor. A graymist hung over everything, penetrating sweaters and coats in a chillingwave. March shivered.

  “Well, now that winter’s coming on,” he said, “I hope you’re leading usto a warmer climate.”

  “I think so,” said Gray, as his eyes swiftly went over his boat, thedock, and the ships in the harbor. “But you never can tell. It might beIceland or the run to Murmansk.”

  “Brrr!” shivered Ray Corvin. “Don’t mention it.”

  “Okay, Ray, let’s get going,” Gray said, and Corvin began to bark hisorders for casting off the lines. March knew that Stan Bigelow wasbelow looking over his shining new Diesels, ready for the moment whenthey would roar into action. After all the training he had gonethrough—this at last was the real thing. He had to make those Dieselsrun and run right at all times. This was a shakedown cruise, but it wasprobably combined with the voyage of getting to some battle zone. Marchand Stan were not full-fledged submarine officers quite yet—not forsure. This first assignment was their last test. If they did a good joband pleased the Skipper they’d be set. If not—they’d be out!

  The electric motors whined as the pigboat slid back away from the dockinto open water. Then came the roar of the Diesels and the clouds ofwhite smoke from the exhaust vents, and March smiled, knowing Stan’spride in the powerful rumble of those engines. In a few minutes theboat had swung around and headed downstream toward Chesapeake Bay. Forsome time, they knew, they would be traveling between two long shores.Here they could easily go on the surface, but once out in the open seathey would have to travel submerged during daylight hours.

  It had surprised March when he first learned that our own subs traveledsubmerged in our own waters. But when he came to think of it, it madesense. There were German subs traveling in our waters, too, and therewas a constant naval and aerial patrol looking for them. From the air,the markings on a pigboat did not stand out very well, particularly ifa rolling sea were breaking over it. And the anti-sub patrol had ordersto shoot first and ask questions later. A German sub could crash-divevery quickly when sighted and the minute or two taken to look moreclosely or to ask questions might result in its escape.

  After half an hour Larry Gray went below, leaving March and Ray Corvinon the bridge with two enlisted men, one serving as lookout and theother handling the controls. March had little to do until they were inthe open sea, for navigating down the Bay was no job at all. After theywere out a few hours the Skipper would open his sealed orders and thenMarch would have a job to do, charting the sub’s course to theirdestination.

  He and Corvin talked with each other, leaning on the rail and watchingthe choppy waters slide past the sleek sides of _Kamongo_. Ray spoke ofLarry Gray with such warmth of feeling, such admiration, that Marchfelt sure of his own first impression of the Skipper. Here was a man hewould like, and would grow to like more and more as time went on.

  “It’s cold,” Corvin said. “Why don’t you go below and have a cup ofcoffee? Nothing going on here.”

  “Guess I will,” March said. “See you later.”

  March slid down the ladder to the control room and started over to theofficers’ wardroom. Then he saw Scotty at the little radio shack andstopped to speak with him.

  “How do you feel, Scotty?” he asked. “It’s good to get going, isn’t it?”

  “I should say so, sir,” Scott replied. “Know where we’re going?”

  “Not yet,” March replied. “Skipper opens orders ten hours out.”

  “Well, wherever we’re going,” Scott said, “I’m sure glad we’re goin’with you, sir. And the whole gang feels the same way. You see, we sortof liked the way you handled the pigboats back there in New London.”

  “Thanks, Scotty,” March said. “And you don’t know how good it made mefeel to find you boys here. Bigelow and I felt right at home from thenon.”

  March turned and found the Skipper at the door, smiling.

  “Come on in for a cup of coffee,” Gray said.

  “Thanks,” March replied, sliding down behind the little table in thewardroom with Gray.

  “Jimmy just brought the pot of coffee,” Gray said, filling March’s cup.“It’s hot. Jimmy’s the messboy, by the way—nice kid.”

  March smiled to himself. Jimmy the messboy was only about one yearyounger than Gray.

  “Those men you knew in New London,” Gray said, “seem to like you.”

  “We got to know each other pretty well,” March said. “We went throughthe whole business together. There are some swell men among them.”

  “What about Sallini, the pharmacist?” Larry asked.

  “Fine—one of the best,” March said. “He’s quiet and reserved,serious-minded, but with a nice sense of humor you don’t always suspectis there.”

  “I like that kind,” Gray said. “I was a little hesitant about having anew pharmacist on board. It can be a mighty important job if there’sserious sickness or trouble. Think he can stand the gaff?”

  “I think he’d get better the more difficult the situation,” March said.“One of the prizes of the bunch is that Cobden. He really has guts.”

  March told the Skipper about Cobden’s experience with the escape towerand his overcoming of his emotional fears.

  _The Skipper Was at the Door_]

  “That’s swell,” Gray commented. “Nothing much can lick anybody afterthat. With our Chief in the torpedo room, Kalinsky, the man ought toturn into a real submariner. Pete Kalinsky is one of the best men inthe whole Navy. Men under him love him, and they learn plenty, too.”

  March looked up as the red head and bulldog face of Stan Bigelowappeared. He sat down and joined them in a cup of coffee. Theengineering officer was smiling broadly.

  “Did you ever hear anything prettier than those engines?” he demanded.

  “Well—the Philharmonic is pretty good,” March laughed, “and I think Iprefer Bing Crosby.”

  “Not me!” Stan exclaimed. “That purr is the sweetest sound there is.And are those beauties! The very latest thing, you know, the verylatest!”

  “I personally ordered them that way,” Gray smiled. “And I’m glad you’resatisfied. I never liked an engineer that didn’t have a deep andabiding affection for his engines.”

  After talking a while, March went to the chartroom and went through thedetailed maps idly, picking out one here and there that lookedinteresting to him.

  “Celebes—Pago-Pago—Ceylon—and look at this, Wake Island! Some of thosenames sound wonderful. Wonder if we’ll hit any of them.”

  Later he went up to the bridge again and found that Larry Gray hadrelieved Corvin.

  “I feel sort of useless,” he said. “Nothing to do yet.”

  “
Nothing much for any of us to do right now,” Gray said. “Plain sailinglike this isn’t very hard. Most of the crew are lying down, reading,playing checkers or just shooting the breeze. Why don’t you have alittle rest?”

  “Not I,” March said. “Not on my first day out. I don’t want to missanything. Anyway, in another hour we ought to be getting away from landa bit, and a couple of hours after that you’ll be opening your orders.I want to know where we’re going just as soon as I can.”

  As the time approached for opening the orders, there was an air oftenseness throughout the boat. The crew members who had been lying downweren’t sleepy or tired any more. They were up, walking back and forthin the narrow passageways, climbing up the forward hatch for a breathof fresh air, climbing down again to get another cup of coffee.Everyone but Larry Gray seemed a little nervous. He still stood calmlyon the bridge, looking out over the long rollers in which _Kamongo_ nowsailed. The last line of land had finally disappeared behind them.

  He glanced at his watch, and then slid down the conning tower hatchwithout a word. McFee and Corvin and March Anson, who were all on thebridge with him, looked at each other.

  “This is really my watch,” McFee said. “Go on down, you two, but forgosh sakes let me know as soon as you find out.”

  So March and Ray Corvin went below and sat down in the wardroom. Theyknew the Skipper was in his quarters next door.

  “He’ll be calling for the chart in a minute,” Corvin said. “The chartof where we’re going. Then we’ll know.”

  But Gray did not call for a chart. Instead, he sauntered into thewardroom sat down and smiled.

  “Sorry to disappoint you,” he said. “I feel a little let down myself,though it’s a perfectly natural destination.”

  “Not Iceland!” Corvin cried. “Don’t tell me that!”

  Gray laughed. “No, our present destination is just a way-station.”

  “Well, if it’s so all-fired disappointing,” Corvin exploded, “why areyou trying to build it up into something dramatic by holding out on us?I think it’s just a gag. It’s probably that we’re going to blast Kielharbor from inside or find some way of traveling up the sewers toParis.”

  “Ray, you’ve been going to too many movies,” Larry said. “You know thatlife on a submarine is very prosaic, except for just once in a while.Gentlemen, we are going to San Francisco, California!”

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