by M. L. Maki
“Yes, sir, but I thought the Atlantic came first?”
Ike, “Yeah, that it does. I’ll see if this is even possible. If it is, I like it. I understand your submarine succeeded?”
“They did. They pull in tomorrow morning. I’ll be there to greet them.”
“Good. The devices. What will happen to them?”
“They will go to Admiral Klindt’s people for repair.”
“Good. It was a hell of a thing they did. I trust you have the awards package in hand?”
“I do.”
He gets another cup of coffee and lights a cigarette, “What are your plans after the war?”
“I’m not sure. Stay in the Navy if they will allow it.”
“Would you be willing to be my running mate?”
Her mouth opens and her eyes widen, then she snaps her mouth shut, “I don’t…um…You’re already the war hero. Wouldn’t you want a politician on the ticket?”
“I’m a general. You’re the war hero. Think about it.”
“I will.”
CHAPTER 2
FARMAN FACTORY, CHATEAUFORT, YVELINES, OCCUPIED FRANCE
Adolf Hitler screams, “Kill them. How is it, Goering, that the fucking, damned Americans overfly my position. Mine. Can you not control the air over your Fuhrer?”
“My apologies, mein Fuhrer. My apologies. I will put an end to it.”
“See that you do.”
“Yes, mein Fuhrer.”
“Now, show me my Amerika bomber.”
“This way, mein Fuhrer. They make good progress.”
HOLY LOCH, SCOTLAND
0715, 9 October, 1942
Spike sits in the jump seat of Commander Sandra ‘Cargo Britches’ Douglas’ SH-60. Lieutenant Commander Anthony Chatman is in the rear with a squad of Marines. Douglas, “Are we in a hurry to leave?”
Spike, “No. I need to debrief the SEALs and the San Fran.”
Douglas, “What if they wear boxers?”
Spike chuckles, “Cargo Britches, you’re turning your co-pilot red.”
Douglas’ new co-pilot, Ensign Wendy Johnson grins, “Not at all. I’m already inoculated.”
Spike, “Good to know.” She watches as her fleet rounds the bend into Holy Loch. She smiles. Her fleet. Four battleships, four cruisers, five destroyers, a tender, and a submarine.
Johnson breaks the silence, “Are the SEALs really as handsome as Commander Douglas says?”
“They’re in pretty fantastic shape. CB, you’ve been moving these guys all over the place. Are you trying to hook her up?”
“No. Um. Okay, we’re coming into land. Sterile cockpit. Johnson, your bird. Keep it smooth. Wind is about ten knots from the south. Yogi, are you ready back there?”
Behind them, AW1 Paul ‘Yogi’ Chatman, CB’s flight engineer and equipment operator replies, “Yes, CB.”
CB, “Good.” As they fly past the landing field, she says, “Okay, approach from the north east. Yogi…you’ve got it.”
“Roger, CB.”
Johnson comes in and flares to a hover, then the wind changes and the helo weathervanes. CB, “Compensate. Keep it smooth.”
“Right. Sweet and smooth.” Johnson settles the helo in the center of the circle. “Right on target.” She looks at CB, her smile lighting up her eyes.
CB, startled, says, “Right.” Then she grins, “Nicely done, Sweet. Nicely done.”
Yogi jumps out and sets the chocks. He stands clear and signals Johnson to shut down the engines. The pilots go through the shutdown check list and the rotors spin to a stop. CB, “Spike, can we have them install a landing pad on one of the ships? I’m getting tired of the boat thing.”
Spike grins, “You look into it, Sandy. If they can handle the weight, I’ll approve it.” She reaches forward and puts a hand on Johnson’s shoulder. “Welcome, Sweet. You’ve got your call sign. And nice landing. Now, you three have a license to chill.”
CB laughs, “Yes, ma’am.”
Yogi finishes tying down the rotors and they lock up the bird. They can see two F-14s orbiting to their east. Standing on the pier, they watch as all the ships find their positions and drop their anchors. They see the dry dock floor rising above the water. Sweet, startled, says, “Oh, I thought that thing was sunk.”
Spike grins, “That’s what you were supposed to think. A clever bit of camouflage.”
Sandra catches Sam’s eye, and they walk away from the others, “I heard one of the SEALs died.”
“Yes, that’s what the message said.” They concentrate on the submarine as it maneuvers into position and ties up to the tender.
“Did it say which one?”
Sam turns to Sandra, “Are you interested in a SEAL?”
“Yeah, the lieutenant, Russell Jeremy.”
Sam lets out her breath, “He’s a good man.”
Sandra looks away, “Am I nuts?”
“No, not at all. I think he’s a pretty good match for you.”
“Yeah, but he’s a lieutenant and I’m a commander.”
“So? You aren’t in the same chain. No one should grump too much. I know I won’t. I wish you the best.”
“What SEAL did you think I meant?”
Sam gives her a wry smile, “I didn’t know, and I wasn’t guessing. Sandra, I’m happy for you.”
“Thanks. You were tense. What’s up?”
“Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing.”
Sandra turns and faces Sam, “You know, you deserve to be happy, too. Actually, more so.”
“Well, you see, I’m in a touchy place for a relationship right now.”
“Good God! You don’t have to martyr yourself to the job.”
“I don’t know. It feels wrong somehow…all the killing.”
“So. I’ve killed. I’ve sunk twenty-six subs. That’s a lot of people, so If I deserve a relationship, so do you. In other words, Sam, get over yourself.” She smiles to take the sting from her words.
Sam looks at her friend, “It’s Buford. He took a bullet for me. He’s so young.”
“You only feel old because of what you’ve had to do. It’s okay. I’ll keep your secret, just like you do for me. Just…just, when it’s in front of you, trust it. Capiche?”
An officer’s gig from the Beaver pulls to the pier. The coxswain switches the bow flag to Hunt’s blue flag with a single star, the staff topped with the halberd of a flag officer. The boat crew helps them aboard. She sits in the rear of the boat and studies the ships as they pass. Her barge pulls up to the end of the mooring barge and Spike disembarks with Chatman and the Marines. The helo crew walk up the brow of the Beaver.
After they salute the quarterdeck and flag, Yogi says, “I’m going to scare up some grub.”
CB, “Roger that.” She walks forward so she can look down at the sub.
Sweet, “Looks like the SEALs are unloading. Which one is your guy?”
“He’s not my guy. Not yet. He’s the one talking to the Commodore.”
“The guy with the bandage?”
“No, the other one.”
“He’s cute.”
“Yeah. He’s solid and a really nice guy. Kind. Thoughtful.”
“You sound like he has you hooked. Aren’t you going to play hard to get?”
Sandra looks at Sweet, “Hard to get makes sense for kids. No, if an adult woman sets her sights on a man, she’s much better off being up front. A guy like that finds coy annoying. That, and if he isn’t interested, you know and don’t waste your time on a forlorn hope.”
“Who’s the other guy? He’s cute.”
“Ensign Jeremiah Buford. He’s Russ’ assistant team leader.” She smiles, “I think someone else is shaking out a rope for him.”
“Someone we know?”
“Someone I know. There’s another officer down there, Fronzak. He’s the other lieutenant. I’ve heard he’s dating a movie star.”
“So, unless I want to fraternize, I’m too late to hunt this herd.”
�
��I’m afraid so.”
The Commodore enters the sub and Triage bounds up the brow. As soon as he salutes on board, he looks around. He sees CB and heads toward her. Sweet grins, “I’m going to get some coffee. See ya.”
CB nods, watching Triage coming toward her. He salutes, “Hi, CB.”
She returns it, “Hi. Back at you. Let’s walk.” The go forward along the rail.
Triage, “This is a little more awkward than I wanted it to be.”
“Yeah. How are you with direct?”
“I like direct.”
She pulls him into an alcove, takes his head in her hands, and pulls it down for a kiss. It seems to stretch into an eternity. Her hands slide down his shoulders, then she takes his hands. When they separate, she smiles shyly, “I like you, a lot.”
He takes a deep breath, “I like you, too. I have for a while.”
“Was it the rank thing?”
“Yeah, that and our wildly separate schedules.” He drops her hands and they walk back to the rail and forward.
Sandra still smiling, “I don’t care about the rank thing. It’s my professional life. I want you to be my personal life.”
“I want that, too. How are we going to do this?”
“What are your long-term plans? Team guy, then what?”
“As long as I manage to keep my health, I want to stay in the teams for a career. After that, a house in the country…Oh, I don’t know.”
“Where are you from?”
“Taos, New Mexico.”
Sandra chuckles, “Artsy fartsy, or rancher?”
Russ laughs, “Mom was a writer. Dad was a team guy. When he retired, he ran a wilderness guide business and trained marksmanship. I learned a lot from him.”
“What did she write?”
“Political thrillers, dead body books. She had a couple of series going. Where are you from?”
“I’m from the Oregon coast. You know, loggers, fishermen, farmers, and way too many herbalists.”
Russ laughs, “Right. Which are you?”
“None of the above.” She looks up at him, smiling, “We had a small farm, but Dad was an Army vet and he owned a gun shop. Mom was Coast Guard. That’s what brought us to Brookings. When she retired, she had a business teaching boating. We had a sail boat on the Chetco River.”
“So, where do your grandparents live now?”
“My dad’s folks are outside Warrenton, Oregon. That’s by Astoria. Grandpa is in the Navy, but he’s a fisherman and farmer. Grandma works at a cannery, but I remember her helping grandpa with the farm and cooking. She’s an amazing cook. Mom’s folks are farmers in Wisconsin. Where are your grandparents now?”
“Dad’s folks are in New Mexico. Grandpa is in the army. I think he’s still training. I remember him as a truck and car mechanic. After the war, he bought the business he worked for. It’s weird, but he hasn’t met grandma yet. He meets her in France. My mom’s folks live in Narragansett, Rhode Island. They own things and drink brandy.”
“I take it they didn’t approve of your mom’s choice?”
“They came around. They were more pissed off that he wouldn’t join the family business.”
“Are they writing you?”
“Yeah. All proud, like they made it all happen. What about your folks?”
“No letters from grandpa Douglas. Several from grandma. I’m sure he’s focusing his writing on his young bride, and well he should.”
He looks down and takes her hand, “I’ve wanted to be with you for a long time, Sandy.”
“When did you decide?
“You picked us up after we inserted Spooky. When we landed, you looked back and smiled at me. My existence altered at that moment. My whole world shifted. I knew with unshakeable certainty that you would always be there for me.”
Sandra grins, “Yeah. It was when our eyes met that time on the Vinson when I was asking you to be my SAR. I wasn’t really sure until I saw you lead your men.”
“Wow.”
“We’ll figure it out. We can make this work.”
Russ, “What are your post war plans?”
“Russell, I’ve killed over a thousand people. By the time this fucking war is over, it will be a lot more. I’m going to leave the navy and start a life flight service. When I’ve saved ten times the number I’ve killed, then maybe I can live with myself.”
“That is something I can get behind. I love you.”
“You just said that?” Looking into his eyes, she smiles, “I love you, too.”
“Look, I have to go to a meeting.”
“Spike said she had to debrief you. I told her you might wear boxers.”
Jeremy laughs, “Oh my God! Well, I hope you find out soon.”
She laughs, her voice like a spring brook, “I’m counting on it.”
He turns and walks aft and CB goes looking for Commander Little.
She finds him in his office, “Hi, Commander. I’m Sandra Douglas, Valkyrie 1. May I talk to you about a project?”
“Marion Little.” They shake hands, “Coffee?”
“Sure.”
He pours a cup. “The Valkyries are the helicopter squadron. What can I do for you?”
“Could you install a helicopter landing pad on your stern? The boat thing is prehistoric and a pain in the ass when we need to move cargo.”
He nods, “I get it. What are the size and weight requirements?”
She smiles and settles in.
HENDERSON FIELD, GUADALCANAL, SOLOMON ISLANDS
2nd Lieutenant John Hunt stands in formation at the front of his platoon of Marines. They can see their transport sitting at anchor in the bay. Colonel Puller walks to the front of the battalion, “Men. All of you have kicked some serious ass. Guadalcanal is ours. It cost us damn near a quarter of our force, but it is now American soil. We are being relieved by units of the Second Marines. It’s time for us to replace our losses and retrain for our next engagement. There’s still a great deal of war in front of us. I ain’t one for long speeches, so, grab your gear and get yer asses on board. At sea, we’ll tell you where we’re going. Also, the boat has our mail. Carry on.”
VALKYRIE 1, RETURNING TO RAF KENLEY
Hunt is in the jump seat facing the SEALs. Everyone is quiet, lost in thought. Sweet, “My God, this flight deck is a tomb.”
CB, “Sorry, I was thinking.”
Sweet, “Well, what happened.”
“He’s my boyfriend.”
“Then why are you so quiet?”
CB, “Sorry. Yogi, I’m sure you don’t want to hear girl talk.”
Yogi, “Are you kidding, CB? I want to know how some fish boy swept my boss off her feet. Spill it.
CB laughs, “I asked him if he liked direct. He said yes. So, I dragged him into an alcove and kissed him. We talked about our relationship until he had to go. Yogi, you might be pleased to know you were there when he fell. It was the first extraction off of France.”
Sweet, “Is he a good kisser?”
“Wendy, dear, I don’t kiss and tell. Nope. Won’t do it.”
Yogi, “Thank you. Do you think you two are good for the long haul?”
“I hope so. Yogi, given what we do, what are the odds we both survive the war?”
Yogi, “One hundred percent. You’re too damned ornery to die.”
“Thanks for the vote. Spike, are you okay?”
Spike, “Later, CB.”
Okay.”
NAVY BUILDING, WASHINGTON, DC
Quincy Diggs smiles, “I quite agree with you, undersecretary. No woman should be praised as they’re praising Hunt. Why can’t she be happy married with children. It’s what God intended.”
Undersecretary Small sips his coffee, “Yes. Yes. Exactly. Thank you for bringing me up to speed with the congressional state of things. I will see to it that she does not get promoted, and does not receive any high-level medals.”
“Thank you. I will continue to work this from the congressional side. Your help is most
appreciated.”
Small, “Tell me. Were you aware of the war bond tour they’re putting her on after her leave?”
