ROCKS AND SHOALS

by M. L. Maki

  Lisa, “Do you have their leave addresses?”

  “I do.”

  “Then write out a telegram and Dad can send it tomorrow. They’ll have it the same day.”

  CHAPTER 17

  CABINET ROOM, WHITE HOUSE

  1605, 27 October, 1942

  The cabinet meeting has lasted for over two hours. Finally, the President ends the meeting and dismisses everyone. As they all stand to leave, Roosevelt says, “Secretary Knox, may I speak with you for a moment?”

  “Yes, sir.” He sits down next to Roosevelt.

  Once the room is empty, Roosevelt says, “I want to know your position on promoting female officers.”

  “Sir, congress is blocking it.”

  “I know that. What is your position?”

  “One is an acting captain right now. That’s Penelope Severn. She seems satisfied with the situation. Commander Hunt did quite well as a breveted commodore. My staff has made it clear that many of the men are not pleased with adding women to the ranks. I have been told by a reliable source that the Stone court will reject both equality laws after the war. I see no reason to antagonize my people, or congress, over this.”

  “I see. You are aware of Churchill’s position on this?”

  “Churchill only opened his services to women after Hunt’s success. He may bludgeon you with it, but he needs us. He’ll toe whatever line we draw. The British position is of no consequence. I would also point out that Hunt, in her own words, has accepted the state of things. Sir, I say, let the whole thing lay.”

  “Knox, when we put her before crowds all over our nation, it will elevate this issue, regardless of what she says. Some stories just don’t go away.”

  “Yes, sir. My thought is that when the laws are repealed, it will be an easier transition if none of the women are of a high rank.”

  “I see. And if the law stands, then what? What explanation will satisfy an angry nation?”

  “Sir, she’s just a girl. No one will care long term. She’ll be an interesting anecdote in the history books, nothing more.”

  “Perhaps. I think it more likely that our treatment of her will be a stain on my presidency. We must get this right. Furthermore, I want her to succeed, Secretary Knox. Am I clear?”

  “Yes, Mr. President.”

  HUNT FARM

  1710, 27 October, 1942

  The baler is tucked into the garage with the other farm implements and tractor. Leigh, David, and Sam are building a cattle chute at one of the large paddocks when a Western Union car pulls up. Sam straightens up, her face going pale. Leigh studies her and puts a hand on her arm. David jumps the fence and runs up to the car. Leigh, “What is it?”

  Sam, “I don’t know. I’m afraid it’s Jere.”

  David, “Hey, Sam. You’re invited to a wedding of a Commander Jackson in Texas. It asks if you want to be maid of honor.”

  Sam takes a deep breath. “Oh, thank God.”

  Leigh, “Thank you, David. Sam and I are going to take a ride. You mind finishing the last few rails?”

  David looks at Sam, “Sure, Dad. Sam, could you come to my school with me next week?”

  “Yes, I’d love to.”

  “My team wants to talk to you about the military.”

  Sam and Leigh saddle two hunters and ride out. Leigh, “Yours is Hera. She thinks she’s the goddess of the farm. I’m on Chuckles. She has a sense of humor.” They pick up their mounts to a slow canter and instead of opening gates, they jump them.

  She tilts her head back, feeling the wind in her hair. They ride for a while, jumping a last fence and moving into the trees on the upper slope. Leigh, “You thought your boyfriend was dead.”

  “I did. Grandpa, I love him. Our ranks are too far apart. It’s all so new. I know the navy won’t approve, but I love him.”

  “How did you sleep last night.”

  “Like crap. The nightmares. They only happened a few times when I was in combat, but now, it’s every damn night.”

  “I’ve heard of that. Know it’s okay. We love you and support you.”

  “Thanks, Grandpa.”

  “Now, tell me about this Montana cowboy who’s won your heart.”

  “He said he grew up on a ranch.”

  “No, Darlin’. Who is he to you? Close your eyes and tell me who he is.”

  She smiles, “He’s tall and really strong. He can pick me up like I’m nothing. When he smiles, the left side of his mouth goes higher than the right. He has amazing deep blue eyes. I could live there forever. In Britain, I was talking to his team out on the tarmac. He spotted a sniper. He wrapped me up in his arms, put his body between me and the sniper, and took me to the ground. He was shot in the back. His body armor mostly stopped the round. Grandpa, I have never felt safer than when I am in his arms.” She smiles, “Yeah. I feel myself and safe with him.”

  “Well, tonight when you sleep, wrap yourself around him. Hold onto that memory and see if it helps.”

  “I will.”

  “I want you to talk to a friend of mine. He fought at Belleau Wood in the last war.”

  “Okay, Grandpa. I will.”

  DOWNTOWN MELBOURNE, AUSTRALIA

  1400, 31 October, 1942

  John Hunt wanders around on his own and finds an equine supply store. He walks in and smells the odor of home, oiled leather. He stops and just breathes. Then he checks out the store. It has some clothing, but mostly it’s saddles, boots, and tack. An old timer behind the counter asks, “Can I help you, mate?”

  He walks to the counter, smiling, “You already have, sir. I miss the smell of leather. It’s the smell of home.”

  “You’re a horseman, then?”

  “Yes, sir. Back in Tennessee we raised and trained hunters and event horses.”

  “You know, mate, the Melbourne Cup is November 3rd.”

  “I was never much into flat track racing. I don’t know about Australia, but in the States, it’s about breeding only for speed. I don’t feel they treat their animals well. We breed for intelligence and strength and stamina. That, and there’s a criminal element in racing.”

  “It’s the social event here, but your points are fair.”

  “Is there a place here I could rent a horse to ride?”

  “Do you fight on Guadalcanal?”

  “Yes. I’m John Hunt.” He offers his hand.

  “Danny O’Toole. My family has a station east of Camp Balcombe with some riding stock. We raise them for riding in the outback. Sheep and cattle. Also, for pulling wagons. There’s still plenty of that here. If you know horses, you’re welcome to come out.”

  “Can I get an address?”

  “Sure.”

  STONE MOUNTAIN HIGH SCHOOL

  1000, 2 November, 1942

  Sam, wearing her aviation greens with ribbons, walks up the stairs. The school she attended replaced this building in the early seventies. An older man in a suit meets her, “Hello, Commodore. Welcome to Stone Mountain High School.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “You’re welcome. I’m the principal, Randall Capp. Please, this way.” He puts a hand at the small of her back and opens the door.

  She steps ahead of him and turns, “Thank you, Mr. Capp. Do you mind if I wander around for a bit?”

  “Please. I need to get back to my office. We’re planning an assembly for you right after lunch. I’ll see you there.”

  She walks the halls, “Gloria is right. The whole thing feels like it should be in black and white.” She hears music and following the sound finds the music room where the band is practicing. The bell rings and the halls fill, the herd of kids parting around her. The kids openly stare. Her arm is grabbed from behind. In that split second, she turns and puts a boy onto his stomach on the floor, his arm locked behind him.

  The kids gather around, laughing. She releases the boy, “I’m sorry, David. Please don’t do that.”

  “I won’t. Not ever. Where did you learn that?” He pops to his feet.

  �
��College. It’s a Japanese martial art called Aikido.”

  “Wow. It’s lunch time. Let’s eat.”

  She gets in line with David and is served baked beef, mashed potatoes, and mixed vegetables. She overhears one of the kids say, “Dead cow, again.”

  She smiles, “I’m going to sound way too parental, but Britain is on rations. They do not have beef to eat. It all goes to their troops.”

  “They can have mine.”

  Sam, “My point is, don’t bitch. It could be much worse. Those of you who join the Army or Marines will look back with fondness to this meal while you’re sitting in mud, fighting the bugs for cold food from a can.”

  One of the boys, “Don’t sailors get good food?”

  “It depends on what you do. Submariners are said to get the best food, but nearly a quarter of them are lost in combat. The carrier I served on had pretty good food, but after two weeks at sea, all the fresh stuff is gone. It’s way better than what the Army and Marines get. We don’t bitch. Well, not much.”

  A girl, “Who cooks on the ships?”

  “Mess specialists. The food is cooked in the galley and served in the mess. That’s where we eat. During battle, the mess decks are turned into a ward for the medical department. That and a…on the mess decks you always remove your hat out of respect for the fallen.”

  A boy, “How many planes have you killed?”

  David, “I told you guys, don’t ask her about that stuff. Sorry, Sam.”

  “It’s okay, David.” She smiles, “Thank you.” She looks at the kids at her table, “I’ll talk a little about that at the assembly. It’s wrong to brag about killing people.”

  “But…but you shoot down planes.”

  “And planes are flown by people. Sometimes the crew survives. Most of the time, they die.”

  They finish their meal and the bell rings. David takes her tray. “I’ll see you there.”

  “Thanks, David.”

  She walks to the auditorium surrounded by teenagers. Inside, she goes up onto the stage where the principal is standing. The auditorium is soon filled with eager teenagers and several members of the community. The local paper has sent a photographer and reporter. The principal acknowledges her with a nod. Then, “Ladies and Gentlemen, Commodore Samantha Hunt is the savior of Great Britain. A pilot and ace without equal, I give you, Commodore Hunt.”

  Sam walks to the microphone to thunderous applause. She takes in the eager faces of the young men and women, and the worn faces of the adults. “You all know we are at war. Most of you think you know why. I want to explain a few things. In German controlled Europe, Adolf Hitler’s government is running a number of camps that are being used to exterminate all those people they consider non-Aryan. The people in those camps are mostly Jews, but they are also gypsies, political enemies of Nazism, the weak and infirm they deem a drain on their economy, and communists. Anyone who gets in their way. Hitler calls this extermination of the Jews the Final Solution. I call it industrialized murder. If for no other reason, we must end this evil regime as fast as we can so we can save as many people as possible.

  “The Germans are looting Europe of every work of art they can. They are burning books. They are robbing churches. They are murdering babies with any perceived or visible defect. In every imaginable way, the Nazi’s are evil.

  “The Japanese and Italian governments are not any better. The Japanese raped cities in China, murdering or enslaving the men, and enslaving the women for their own pleasure. They are barbarous to any captured allied troops. Many in captivity will be murdered for sport by the Japanese.

  “I want to be clear. The governments of Germany, Italy, and Japan are evil. Most of their people are not. Many turn a blind eye to the atrocities of their leaders, but they are silent out of fear. Any who speak out against the atrocities become its victims. As we fight to destroy our enemies, we must not forget that among the victims are the citizens of the nation’s we fight.

  “I ask you, how did the Japanese government become so evil? How did the German government become so evil?” She looks out at them, pausing. “Scholars will study and pontificate on this topic for decades. There seems to be a small number of reasons, conditions, that could put any responsible and representative government on a path toward evil.

  “When the people of a nation give up their voice in the governance of their nation, tyranny soon follows.

  “When good men and women stand silent as they see small cruelties done by those who seek power for power’s sake and control of a populace, rather than for service to their people, those who seek such power will be emboldened to commit more and worse atrocities. Freedom dies in silence.

  “Benjamin Franklin said that when a people give up their liberty to purchase safety, they deserve neither. I know you do care. Because of you, we win this war.

  “I know most of you want me to talk about my kills. You’d like me to relive battles fought and won. I don’t do that. Each time I successfully engage an enemy plane in combat, I’m killing another human being. They have people who love them; parents, brothers and sisters, wives, and children. German or Japanese, those brave military have people who love them and have their hearts broken. So, I can’t brag about that. I can’t and I won’t.

  “I love the people I fight with. I love them more than life itself. So, I strap on my plane and I do it, again and again. It’s not glamorous. It’s not like the movies. Death is random. It can be one small mistake. In combat, you only get one.

  “We do need your help. It’s going to take all of us to defeat the evil we face today. It’s going to take sacrifice and some of you will not be coming home. That’s a hard truth. I may not come home. It’s worth the sacrifice.

  “We will create a world of peace. It is just. It is right. It’s also hard as hell.” She pauses. “Now, if any of you have specific questions about the military, I’ll answer them after the assembly. But, please do not ask me about my record. Thank you.”

  CORONADO BEACH, SAN DIEGO

  1750, 4 November, 1942

  Buford pounds down the beach, then slows to a walk, and takes a swig of water. He walks it out, stopping and stretching. Looking up and down the empty beach, he smiles, breathing in the salt air. It’s a work day and he has it all to himself. Triage pulls up in a Jeep, “There you are. Get in.”

  Buford climbs in, “What’s up, Boss?”

  “I want you to talk to someone.”

  “Okay, but you’re not trying to hook me up with anyone, are you?”

  “Hell no. You’re committed. Nope, it’s someone else.”

  “You know Issa denied me leave.”

  “I do, and I know why. He’s wrong and it’ll cost him down the road. Right now…well, you’ll see.”

  “Who?”

  “I want you to talk to Sandy. She’s here.”

  “Are you two getting married?”

  “Yeah, after the war.”

  “Why wait?”

  “Same problem you and Spike have, she outranks me and I want her to be successful.”

  “Oh, so that’s it. You know, I don’t own Sam. I love her.”

  “Good, here’s our hotel.”

  Sandy meets them at the door of their room and gives Russell a kiss. “Please, come in Jeremiah.”

  “Sure. You want to talk about Sam?”

  She hands him a beer, “I do. Are you aware of just how fragile she is right now?”

  He nods, “Yeah. I know. Look, I love her. I love exactly who she is. I don’t want her to be anyone else. I want her to be happy and healed of the pain she’s suffering.”

  “You’ve only spent a few hours with her and you believe you know her?”

  “I’ve no doubt you know her better than I do. If you think I’m full of shit, try me.”

  “Why doesn’t she talk about her kills.”

  “Anyone who’s spent ten minutes around her knows that one. She believes she’s a mass murderer. She won’t brag on her kills because she thinks it’
s a sick thing to do. After the war, she wants to find out the names of the people she killed so she can apologize to their families.”

  Sandra, “Oh, I didn’t know that last one. Why did she want to be a pilot?”

  “She loves to fly. She’s loved it since the first hop she took as a kid. She joined the navy to go into outer space. Evidently that’s a thing after the war.”

  Sandra, “Why her?”

  Jeremiah, “Sandra, why him? Why Triage? What about him tells you he’s the forever one for you?”

  She takes a breath and looks up at Triage.

  Jeremiah, “Look, I know you care about her. I know she’s your friend and it makes me happy to know she has such good friends. Most people look at her and see a strong, capable, intelligent, competent, and yes, beautiful woman. That’s her outside layer. I see the most wonderful, fragile, beautiful flower. I want nothing more from life than to protect her from the world, but I’m just barely wise enough to know that if I try that, I will destroy everything that is beautiful about her, and about us.” He takes a breath and looks Sandra in the eyes, “Instead, I will give her all the love I have and try to build a home for her heart. I will let her be who she must be and cherish every moment we are together, because I know life is painfully short and either of us could die on any mission. I’ve laid bare my soul, Sandra. Now what?”

  She pulls Jeremiah into a hug, tears in her eyes, “Jeremiah Buford, you might well be the only man on earth that’s good enough for her. I love you for that. Thank you.”

  “Thank you. I want to be with her right now, but I have to follow my path, too.”

  Sandra looks up at Russell, “Baby, you know he’s a treasure. She needs him, so don’t let him die a stupid death. Okay?”

  “I’ll do my best. I’m still trying to teach him to duck.”

  Jeremiah, “I’m going now. By the way, she calls me Jere. If you want, Sandy, that would be fine.”

  She shakes her head, “No, that’s for her. I’ll leave it that way.” She gives him another hug and lets him out the door.

  Jeremiah Buford orients himself and sets off at a run toward the beach, the setting sun highlighting his tears.