ROCKS AND SHOALS

by M. L. Maki

  “You’re not cleared.”

  “You know, I might end up directing your biography. You’d better tell.”

  “No, you won’t. You are an ill-mannered buffoon. An annoyance. Stop threatening me. It will not end well for you. Tomorrow, Major, muster is at 0700 at the flight line. Don’t be late.”

  “Why do I need to muster?”

  “You’re a part of my squadron.”

  “Right. So, you say. What if I don’t?”

  “I’ll write you up for unauthorized absence. If you miss a movement, you will be written up for desertion. You know that desertion is a felony.”

  “You wouldn’t dare. I’m in charge here.”

  “No, you are not. You keep forgetting this O-4, O-5 relationship. The Army does not command me. Get with the program, soldier. You are not in charge.”

  He looks down to avoid her steely gaze, “I’ll be there.”

  “Good. Good night, Major.” She walks into her room and leans against the door. Taking a deep breath, she looks to the heavens, “God, I want to fucking kill him. Could you maybe give him a clue?”

  THE BOAT HOUSE, MANETTE, WASHINGTON

  1850, 28 November, 1942

  Shawn Hughes sits with John and Liz Morrison, enjoying a fish dinner and drinking beer. “So, she was at your wedding.”

  Liz shows him a photo of the wedding party with Sam and Gloria in their dresses. “She was my maid of honor.”

  “Wow. She’s beautiful. How’s she doing? You know, just curious.”

  John smiles and looks at Liz.

  Liz grins, “You heard about the ‘date’ in England?”

  “Yeah. Are they an item?”

  Liz, “No, Shawn. It was a case of England saying thank you. Something our country is having trouble doing.”

  “So, she’s single.” Shawn’s gaze searches Liz’s.”

  Liz, “Shawn, have you thrown your hat into the ring?”

  “Yeah. I’m nuts. I know I’m nuts. But I love her.”

  Solemn, Liz asks, “I would like you to think about this, Shawn. Do you love her, or the idea of her?”

  “I don’t understand. You know I’m not a deep thinker.”

  Liz, “Bull shit, Shawn. You asked, and I’ll give you an answer, but not if you keep copping out. What are her warts?”

  Puzzled, Shawn answers, “She doesn’t have any warts. To me, she’s ideal.”

  John moans, “To you? Does Samantha the person match Samantha the dream?”

  “What’s the difference? They’re the same person.”

  John, “No, they’re not. Think about your interactions with her. No one goes through life never annoying anyone. I can give you list of things about her, or about Liz, for that matter. I love Liz as she actually is, not as I wish her to be. What has Sam done to annoy you?”

  Shawn, “Tell me what you mean?”

  John, “Okay, but not about Sam. About Liz. Liz has a habit of assuming she needs to go all human sexuality 101 on me if I say anything that could be construed as patriarchal. In her defense, I don’t always think through what I say. Liz is a problem solver and she’s often six steps ahead of me and has to remember to stop and let me catch up. She has a need to be in control. So do I. We’ve had to find a balance there. We do it by being conscious of our partners needs and our own needs. It’s work. But, that’s the price.”

  Liz, “All true and very accurate. John habitually underestimates his contributions and undervalues himself. We’re working on all of it. Like, he’s not very aware of how his race impacts others. I’m constantly terrified some redneck will assume he’s the enemy. I get a little over protective. Now, Shawn, we’ve shown you our warts. What are Sam’s?”

  He takes a deep breath, “First, she won’t commit to me. She’s kind and friendly, but that’s all. She’s inscrutable. She seems to turn off her emotions when she’s on the job. No one can possibly doubt she’s in charge.” He stops, thinking, and looks at them, “She doesn’t love me back. I’m an idiot.”

  Softly, Liz says, “No, Shawn. You’re not. Love makes fools of us all. I’m not sure who said that. Shawn, she’s not married, but she was, maybe still is, dating someone.”

  “Do you know who?”

  “That’s all I’ll say. It’s her story to tell.”

  John, “I have a question. Please describe the top five characteristics that would make an ideal partner for you.”

  Startled, Shawn says, “Oh. Well, they should be kind, loyal, supporting, smart, and loving. Yes, that’s right.”

  John, “Now, be honest. How many does Sam check off?”

  “She’s kind, and loyal. We all know she’s damn smart. But she’s not really supporting. She has her own war to fight. That, and she doesn’t love me.”

  John, “Now add financial, goals, and family compatibility. How does she stack up?”

  “Financially, we’re on the same page, I think. We’re both investing for the future. I don’t know her goals. I’ve no idea if she even wants a family. I’m an idiot. The problem John is, I still love her.”

  Liz, “I know her pretty well, Shawn. You do, too. She’s direct and upfront. If she wanted a relationship with you, wouldn’t she say so?”

  “Yes, she would. I know I shouldn’t, but I keep hoping. There’s something about her I can’t shake.”

  John, “I think you need to let go. Grieve for your loss. You’ve the right. Go find someone who represents the whole list for you.”

  Shawn shakes his head, “I dumped my cushy NRRO job to go to sea because her guys called me a REMF. I was trying to measure up.”

  Liz, “We all are. Do you regret it?”

  “No. I’m on the command track now. A total surprise to me. It was never in the books.” They can see the pain in his eyes, “You won’t say who? Is he in the military?”

  Liz, “Are you pissed we told you?”

  “No, I needed to know. It’s just…the life I planned no longer works. I feel unmoored. Lost.”

  John, “Are you angry with her?”

  “Yeah, a little bit. She never led me on. She always kept our relationship…she always made sure we were friends. Damn it. I just couldn’t see. I guess, I’m angrier at myself.”

  CHAPTER 26

  FLOYD BENNET FIELD, NEW YORK

  0700, 29 November, 1942

  Commander Hunt’s squadron forms up in front of her, Lieutenant Wright and Major Pettigrew in front. Lieutenant Wright, “All present, ma’am.”

  Hunt, “Very well. Were there any problems last night?”

  SSGT Jargon, “We had a few airfield staff trying to examine the jet. They were polite and accepted that they couldn’t. We allowed the community to use it as a backdrop for photos.”

  “That’s fine. Okay, lets load our gear and preflight the birds. Today is Philadelphia. Hook, Irish, Radar, let’s go over the plan.”

  ROYAL BLACK KNIGHTS HANGER, NAS MIRAMAR, CALIFORINA

  0800, 29 November, 1942

  Swede and Gandhi walk down the line of sailors, speaking with each one, “What’s your name, AE3?”

  “Simon Taylor, sir.”

  “Where are you from?”

  Pittsburgh, sir.”

  “College?”

  “One and a half years as an electrician apprentice.”

  “Good. Very good. We have a lot to learn, Taylor, but we’ll get there.” He moves to the next sailor. When Swede is done, he steps to the front of the unit, “For those of you new to the Knights, welcome. We’re all one team here. My expectations: first, news, good or bad, should be delivered fresh. Never be the senior man with a secret. Commander Jacobs and I must be informed immediately if any bird is unable to fly. That said, do not hesitate to pull a bird off line when it has problems. We in naval aviation have a habit of living with aircraft problems.

  “We learned in combat, faulty systems handicap a pilot. It’s often a fatal handicap. If you find a problem, pull the bird and fix it. Every officer here is trusting you with their lives.
Also, if you have problems outside of work, family problems, financial problems, legal problems, tell your chief. We expect you to be responsible, but we also know, shit happens.” He looks over his command, “Okay, we’ve got a lot to get done today. Let’s get busy. I can already smell the beer.”

  ROYAL WHITE KNIGHTS HANGER, NAS MIRAMAR, CALIFORNIA

  0850, 20 November, 1942

  Commander Frank ‘Thud’ Jackson finishes speaking to his squadron, “My door is always open. That said, I expect you to use the chain of command. As a squadron, we are family. That is all. Officers take charge of your divisions and carry out the plan of the day.” Thud and Houlihan walk back to their offices.

  Gloria, “When does Abby get to Pensacola?”

  “Tomorrow morning. They waved Aviation Candidate School because of her license and experience. She starts flight training immediately.”

  “How are you doing?”

  “I’m good.” He turns to Gloria, “How are you and Swede?”

  “Good. It’s weird that we’ll be deploying together.”

  “Yeah, if the Navy finds out, they’ll probably yank one of you.”

  “I know. Hopefully, I won’t get kicked out.”

  USS DWAYNE HUBLER, DDG-9, TACOMA, WASHINGTON

  1344, 29 November, 1942

  Lieutenant Commander Hammond and the Hubler’s captain, Commander Hugh Parker, watch as Hammond’s fire room crew light off a boiler for the first time. His crew are a mix of experienced and fresh out of school. A new fireman apprentice calls out, “Hey, Susie. Any chance of a date later?”

  Fireman Susie Spear turns on him, “For the last time, Huff. No!”

  Hammond moves to correct Huff, but Commander Parker is faster, “Huff, no is no. If I catch you asking again, you’ll be cleaning shitters for a month. Am I clear?”

  “Yes, sir. Sir, I thought only new cruisers were getting women?”

  “The Hubler and the Douglas are a trial program. They have the same training as you. I expect you all to work together as a team. Understood?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The boiler lights and the crew bring up the fire rate to warm the boiler. Parker turns to Hammond, “CHENG, may I have a word?”

  “Yes, sir.” They climb the ladders out of the fire room and go to the captain’s cabin.

  Parker pours them both a cup of coffee, “We haven’t had a chance to get to know each other. What’s your background?”

  “Yes, sir. First, I’m a time traveler. I served five years on the Dahlgren. She was a DDG. Then, I spent three years teaching at an A school. My last ship was the Stoddert. Hubler was my CHENG and Douglas was my captain. She was lost last December. It’s a story, Captain. Maybe later. Anyway, rather than take survivor leave, I opted to serve with Commodore Hunt in England. She commissioned me.”

  “How long have you been an officer.”

  “About six months, sir.”

  Parker smiles, “I have you beat. I’ve been an officer for eight months. Before that I was a manager in a feed store in Minnesota. I’ve been to sea on a Farragut class where I worked my way up. Our XO was a school teacher four months ago. Our first lieutenant was a Maine fisherman seven months ago. Our combat officer was a foreman for Winchester Arms. What that has to do with a five-inch dual purpose guns or missiles, I don’t know. In a real sense, you’re the most seasoned sailor in my crew.”

  “Sir, we’ll figure it out. You handled Huff well. I’m glad we have females on board.”

  “Agreed. The XO in invaluable. Are you okay with the female JO’s in your department?”

  “No problem. In the nineties it was policy that any ship with female enlisted had to have female officers.”

  “It makes sense. Do you have any insights about serving with female sailors?”

  “Treat them mostly the same. Expect professional conduct from every sailor. Make it clear that sex on board the ship is prohibited.”

  Parker, “What about off ship?”

  “It’s illegal to interfere with the personal life of a sailor. As long as no laws are broken, including the prohibitions against fraternization, it’s none of our business. That said, there is one thing we can do. We can put out that if any female sailor gets pregnant, the father, if aboard, will face captain’s mast. Also, the father will be expected to perform her work load while she’s gone.”

  “Sensible. You’re familiar with the policy for pregnancies?”

  “Yes, sir. They were developed by Admiral Klindt and Commodore Hunt. I was there. Sir, another thing, when we’re in port, we should have a box of condoms available. It might lower the STD rate, and help avoid pregnancies.”

  “Okay. We go out on shake down with the Long Beach on the second. Is your department going to be ready?”

  Hammond, “I think so. I’ve a lot of testing to do.”

  “Let me know if we can’t. I don’t want to miss movement.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Parker smiles, “By the way, I take it we win the war?”

  “Yes, sir. But everything has changed. I do have some insight on what to expect.”

  NAVAL AIR STATION, ATLANTA, GEORGIA

  1129, 30 November, 1942

  Commander Hunt steps up on the stage and shakes Mayor Hartsfield’s hand, “Thank you.”

  Hartsfield, “I’m very glad to meet you. I have a request.”

  “Yes?”

  “I know what you said in New York and Philadelphia. Please do not speak on racial issues here, Commander. Our city is already a powder keg.”

  Hunt smiles, “I see. What are you doing about it?”

  “Atlanta has always been like this. I’m fair to our black citizens. I think we are making progress. Commander, change has to happen slowly.”

  “Mayor, I know the future of this city. I was not planning on speaking on that topic. But, know this, the battle over civil rights is coming. But right now, we have another war to fight. Are there any concrete reforms you have done that I can praise you for?”

  Hartsfield, “The Wartime Resource Act has everyone on edge, but we’re implementing it. Please don’t speak about it.”

  “I see. Please know, I know your future. I hope you’ll take the necessary measures to defuse the powder keg in a fair way.”

  “I don’t understand you. You’re white.”

  “I am and I’m a southerner. The civil rights movement starts in Atlanta in the fifties and early sixties. White supremacists burned churches and murdered people. Understand, nothing can stop the march of progress. When an idea’s time has come, there is nothing that can stop it. It might get slowed down, but it will never be stopped. What side of history do you want to be on?”

  Hartsfield shakes his head, “Just don’t blow up my town.”

  Major Pettigrew glares at her. She smiles and turns to the microphone, “Hello, Atlanta.” She waits for the cheers to die down, “This stop, here in Atlanta, is the closest I’ll be able to get to my home town of Stone Mountain, Tennessee. I think my family made it down.” She sees David, with some of his classmates, waving at her. “I hope you liked the air show.” She grins as the crowd applauds and cheers, “The first thing I would like to talk about is how important it is for all of us fighting out there to have your support back here at home.

  “My father, Lieutenant John Hunt is fighting in the Pacific. He is just one of many who rely on you and your support. Please, write to your soldier, your sailor, your airman. Send them the occasional care packages.

  “Because you build the equipment we need, because you send us our supplies, we are successfully destroying fascism and evil around the world. We are pushing Hitler and Tojo back. We are ending their reign of tyranny and hate. We are ending the atrocities they are committing in the name of evil. Because of you we will win. We are winning. Thank you so much.

  “But victory is not without its price. Many of your family members overseas will not come back. It’s the price of service that we all agreed to pay when we put on the uniform. I’ve
lost friends and comrades, and I know I’ll lose more before the last shot is fired.” She pauses, quietly scanning the faces before her, “Why do we pay such a steep price for freedom? It’s because freedom is worth the price. I know, in every fiber of my being, that freedom is worth the price. Freedom is worth almost any price.

  “I want to talk to you about one of my pilots who distinguished himself in the skies over Britain. Lieutenant Colonel Louis Mossberg is a Marine pilot from Atlanta. He grew up here surrounded by a loving family and a strong community. He went to church here. He attended the United States Naval Academy at Annapolis and graduated with honors. He chose Marine aviation. He left Britain with forty-three kills. An ace eight times over. Many times, when I was in trouble and seriously outnumbered, he flew in and helped turn the tide of battle. Off the coast of Newcastle during the invasion of Britain, I would have surely died if it were not for his help.

  “There came a time when we were almost out of aircraft. It was a desperate time. But you, the people of America built the new aircraft we so desperately needed. You built the systems and components our jets needed. You do all you do so that we out there can win this war. Nothing we do is possible without you. The entire war is a team effort, and I’m inviting you, all of you, to join our team. By buying bonds, you take care of us. You have my back just like Colonel Mossberg did.”

  A black man in the crowd shouts out, “Mossberg is black.”

  Sam smiles and nods, “Yes, he is black. Thank you.”

  She steps back and walks off the stage. Sam and the actors do a rally at a college campus. When they get to the hotel for dinner, David finally tracks her down, “Sam…Sam…your air show was so…so, wow. I’m going to do what you do.”

  “I know you will.” She hugs Margaret and Leigh. “I’m so glad to see you. Let’s go in.”

  Leigh says, “I liked what you said, Samantha. You made us proud.”

  In the lounge, waiters are circulating with trays of champagne. David, “Can I, Dad?”

  “No, David.” Leigh looks at Sam, “When do you fly again?”