ROCKS AND SHOALS

by M. L. Maki

  “Tomorrow is a maintenance day, so I can have a drink.”

  Pettigrew joins them with a photographer, “Can we get a photo with your family, Commander?”

  Sam turns to Leigh and Margaret, “Is it alright?”

  They nod, and she says, “Okay.” The four of them stand together and the photo is taken. The photographer, “Can I have a better smile? You are together.” He snaps another photo and leaves.

  Pettigrew, “I’m happy to meet your family, Samantha.”

  Leigh, his arms around Samantha and Margaret can feel Sam stiffen. He asks, “Exactly what is your role in all this, Major?”

  “I’m managing the program. I’m running the tour.”

  Leigh, “But you work for her, correct?”

  Pettigrew looks away, then back, “I do.”

  Sam, “Major, please give us a moment.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  When they are clear of Pettigrew, Leigh asks, “Is he a problem?”

  “More of a thorn. He was an assistant director in Hollywood and has delusions of grandeur. He’s always pushing his boundaries.”

  David snorts, “I could shoot him and leave him in a ditch.”

  Sam sighs, “No, David. For now, he’s my cross to bear.”

  Rita Hayworth, Veronica Lake, Myrna Loy, and Merle Oberon walk up. Sam introduces them to her family. David’s eyes go wide. Looking adoringly at Miss Hayworth, David says, “You are the most beautiful woman to ever live.”

  Hayworth blushes, “You’re too kind.”

  Dinner is called. Sam manages to seat Leigh and Margaret on her right. On her left is the mayor. She watches as across the table David, seated between Miss Hayworth and Miss Lake, turns crimson from the attention.

  After the dinner, Pettigrew corners Margaret, “Might I have a word?”

  “If you like.”

  “It must be hard to see your granddaughter fighting a war.”

  She smiles, appraising him coolly, “We love her, Major. We do not own her.”

  “Still, have you thought to ask her to stay at home? There is no need for her to return to the fighting.”

  “May I tell you a story, Major?”

  “Of course.”

  “During the Civil War, my husband’s grandfather fought for the Union. The Hunts did not own slaves. We disagreed with the whole concept. The Hunts had the foresight to understand that the future of our nation demanded we stay united. While her husband was off fighting for the Union, Melanie Hunt ran the farm, keeping her children and hired hands alive. One day a detachment of Union cavalry came by with the intent of stealing the last of her horses and food. She held them off with a shotgun and two dogs. My family breeds tough, fighting women. You would do well to remember that.

  “My granddaughter is an amazing woman and an amazing officer. I, and my entire community are extremely proud of her. Let it go, Major. You’re fighting a losing battle.”

  Pettigrew stares at her in astonishment, as Margaret rejoins her family.

  Sam spends the next day with Leigh, Margaret, and David, giving them a tour of her jet and Fat Albert and introducing them to her squadron. The next morning, Sam and her people leave for the rest of the tour: Miami, Dallas, San Antonio, Kansas City, Saint Louis, and Cleveland.

  RUNWAY 06, NAS MIRAMAR, CALIFORNIA

  0834, 10 December, 1942

  Swede and Thud work as LSO’s as their squadrons practice landing on the area of the runway painted to look like a carrier deck. Swede, “They keep flaring the landing.”

  Thud, “Yeah. That, and they’re watching the field, not the lens. I think I can build a better simulator.”

  Swede, “You have a supercomputer in your pocket?”

  Thud laughs, “I wish. No. Here’s my idea. Use clock work to control the lens and lights in a dark room so they respond to the pilot’s inputs as they get closer to landing.”

  “If we can build it, I like it. Let’s throw some people at it and get it done.”

  Thud, “I’ve already talked to a clock maker and a lens maker.”

  “Of course, you have.” Swede grins, “Let’s talk to Packs about it. You know, now he’s a commander and the CO of the Knightriders, he needs all the help he can get. It isn’t easy transitioning a squadron from A-6s to F/A-14s. I think he’ll like it.”

  DETROIT OPERA HOUSE, DETROIT, MICHIGAN

  1517, 11 December, 1942

  Commander Hunt winds down her speech highlighting the heroics of Lieutenant Commander Hammond. “Commander Hammond is one of a three-man team who successfully shot down a jet fighter using Browning Automatic Rifles. He has been instrumental in all my successes and is a true hero.”

  Glancing down, she sees a naval officer who looks familiar. She continues, “Guys like him need the supplies, equipment, and materials you provide in order to do what they do. Without everything you do, we can do nothing. We are a team, you and every man and woman fighting on the front. Please buy war bonds and support our team members. Thank you.”

  She points at the naval officer and motions him to go back stage. When he arrives, Sam says, “You look familiar.”

  He offers his hand, “James Maki, ma’am. We’ve crossed paths.”

  “Okay. When?”

  “I was on the Long Beach when we came back. After the Beach pulled into Bremerton for repairs, I was cut loose to do projects for Admiral Klindt.”

  “Look, I have to go out and do the receiving line. Please, join me.”

  “Sure.”

  After Sam is done on the receiving line and has fielded several propositions, Cooper corrals them and takes them out of the building. “Sir, ma’am. The car is this way.”

  “Thanks, Radar. This is Lieutenant Commander Maki. Commander, my yeoman, YMC Cooper.” The two men shake hands.

  They get into a car and Cooper drives them to the next venue. Sam turns to Maki, “What does the admiral have you doing?”

  “That’s the way of it, isn’t it? I did some design work on the Beach and he liked it. So, he sent me across the Atlantic in a floating dry dock to Scotland.”

  “That was you? You came up with the missile launcher idea.”

  “Yeah. I was there, and I saw a need.”

  “The Royal Navy and the US Navy have adopted your design for retrofits across the fleets.”

  “Did they? That’s great. Now, he’s got me designing a new tank.”

  Sam nods, “Yes, we need one. Can you show me? Against the Tiger, the M-4 was worse than pathetic.”

  “Sure, if you have the time.”

  “Tomorrow morning before I fly out.”

  T-6 TEXAN TRAINER, 2000 FEET, SOUTH OF NAS PENSACOLA, FLORIDA

  1750, 11 December, 1942

  On intercom, Abigail Jackson’s instructor says, “You obviously have no problem with basic flying. You said you were a barnstormer. Get permission to perform ACM over the field, then show me what you can do without getting us killed.”

  “Roger.” On radio, “Pensacola tower, Texan 397, request permission to practice ACM over the field. Ceiling is angels five.”

  “Roger, Texan 397. You are cleared in, zero to angels five.”

  Abby takes the trainer down to fifty feet and flies down the length of the runway. “Gs.” She pulls the stick into her belly and goes vertical. As she climbs out, she puts the plane into a spiraling roll. Commander Truman ‘Johnny’ Walker walks out of his office to watch the show.

  As Abby’s plane loses vertical speed, she holds it vertical, then, at just the right moment, she kicks the rudder over and goes into a hammer head turn. She squares her wings with the runway in the dive, gaining speed, “Gs.”

  Lieutenant Ashley ‘Rose’ Thorne joins Walker, “Do we know who that is?”

  Walker, “I think it’s Thud’s girl.”

  Abby flies down the runway at 100 feet, then pulls up into a loop. Thorne, “It’s near perfect.” Abigail picks up speed, rolls to the side and performs a minimum turn. As she comes out of the turn, she keeps
the bird on its side and flies down the runway, the engine screaming to hold the bird in the air. Thorne, “Is she showing off?”

  Walker, “Her instructor wanted to do this. She’s graduating to jets.”

  Abby circles back around and performs a precise eight count roll. Then she lowers her gear and flares to land.

  Walker, “We have a new student.”

  Thorne smiles, “Yes, we do.”

  GM FACTORY, DETROIT, MICHIGAN

  0614, 12 December, 1942

  Lieutenant Commander Maki and Commander Hunt are climbing over tanks. They’ve made it to the Tiger 2H. Hunt, inside the Tiger, “What sections can we kill with a twenty-millimeter?”

  Maki, “Rear deck and turret top. Even the thirty-millimeter on the Wart Hog can’t penetrate the front.”

  “Will the gun on your tank?”

  “We simulated the armor thickness for the test. A hardened AP round opened it up like a tin can. I’m pushing for a sabot round to make sure we can blow through even the Russian tanks.”

  Hunt jumps off the tank, “What’s a ‘sabot?’

  “The sabot is like a shotgun wad. It holds a long, relatively thin dart in the center of the barrel. The dart has fins for stabilized flight. Because of its length to density, without fins it would tumble. So, the dart is thin, but it’s dense. That ratio means it punches through armor. What the Army used in our time was depleted uranium.”

  “The A-10 used DU, too. Are we making it?”

  “That’s a question for the guy in charge of the Manhattan Project. I’m a nuke, but it’s not my brief.”

  Hunt smiles, “Okay. That non-answer was an answer. I know a little about what Craig does, and you’re right. It’s best left unsaid. Thank you, James. Can you get me back to the airfield? I’d enjoy another ride in your jalopy. It’s a 1934 Chevy roadster, right. It looks stretched. What’s the engine and transmission?”

  “Sure. It has a Cadillac V-16 engine and tranny.”

  Sam grins, “Just when did you find the time to build this thing?”

  James grimaces, “I have no life. I do have a rented house with a nice garage. None of the parts came from the assembly line. I bought it all used and kept my receipts. I’ll get around to the front fenders and the engine cover someday.”

  “You know, it’s kind of cool just the way it is.”

  “Thank you.”

  Maki drops her off in time for muster. Pettigrew is waiting. “A boyfriend?”

  “No, Major. Did you forget something?” Pettigrew sighs and salutes. She returns it. “He’s a friend. A colleague. He works for a mutual friend.”

  “Who?”

  “None of your business, Pettigrew. The brief I received was professional. Your insistence on delving into classified matters is becoming extremely annoying.”

  After muster, Cooper joins her, “Meteorology is good. The bird is pre-flighted. We’re ready to go.”

  “Thanks, Cooper. Okay, Chicago.”

  CHAPTER 27

  CATHEDRAL OF SAINT PAUL, SAINT PAUL, MINNESOTA

  1106, 15 December, 1942

  Commander Hunt is just finishing up with the receiving line when Cooper walks up with Chief Geller. She finishes talking to a woman with a small daughter, “I’m so glad you could make it.”

  “My daughter, Amanda, was insistent. Thank you for seeing us.”

  Sam takes the little girl’s hand, “Amanda, how old are you?”

  “Ten. I want to be like you. I want to fly. It was so beautiful. Wasn’t it, Mommy?”

  “Yes, dear. Honey, we need to go.”

  Sam, “Amanda, someday you’ll be able to fly, too. But, until that happens, I have something for you.” Sam puts a pair of gold wings into Amanda’s hand.

  Amanda looks at her hand and looks up at Sam, adoration in her eyes, “Yes, Commander.” She salutes and Sam solemnly returns it.

  “Remember, it’s all about your education. Okay?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Her mother takes Amanda’s hand and walks her away. The little girl looking back at Sam and grinning. Cooper smiles, “That was a good thing, Spike.”

  “What’s up, guys?”

  Geller, “The weather, boss.” He hands her a paper. The forecast is for snow beginning tonight and blizzard conditions by morning.

  “Shit. Do Lord and Wright know?”

  Geller, “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Okay, have Wright lay in a flight plan for McChord Airfield in Washington state. Put in Boeing Field and Portland as alternates. We take off in three hours. Get everyone fed and packed up. Make sure the birds are fully checked out and the tanks completely full. When you’re dealing with weather, options can disappear.”

  Cooper and Geller take notes. Cooper, “Are you going to the luncheon?”

  Sam sighs, “That’s where the others will be. We eat and go directly to the field.”

  An hour later, after the luncheon, she gathers the actors and Pettigrew. “I have bad news. Due to the weather, we fly out in two hours. If we don’t get out of here tonight, we’ll be snowed in. Major, can we move the schedule up for Seattle? Also, you have the unenviable job of cancelling the events for tonight.”

  Pettigrew, “Yeah, I’ll take care of that. Damn. I should be able to move the Seattle events to the 16th. Are you sure about this? There’s going to be a lot of unhappy people.”

  “I’m sure. I’ve seen the reports. They’re solid. We’ll fly to McChord Field outside of Tacoma, Washington. It could be hairy. When we get there, we find accommodations and sleep in tomorrow. We’ll need it. Then we’ll do the show and take a day off. That gives us some flexibility in case of more bad weather.”

  Pettigrew, “Right. Got it.”

  Two hours later, they’re airborne. Sam on intercom, “Cooper, I need you to warm up the radar like I taught you.”

  “Okay. What are we doing?”

  “McChord is surrounded by mountains and it’ll be dark and probably overcast. I want to use the radar as a back up to the navigation aids.”

  “Roger that.”

  The flight over the plains and the Rocky Mountains is a bit bumpy and there is a slight head wind at altitude.

  CLEARING MOUNT RAINIER, WASHINGTON STATE

  1545, 15 December, 1942

  Four hours and thirty-six minutes later Commander Hunt on the radio, “McChord Tower, Blue Angel 1. Two to marshal.”

  Nothing. She double checks the frequency and calls again. “McChord Tower, Blue Angel 1, two to marshal.”

  Then, “Blue Angel 1, McChord Tower. Ceiling is three thousand feet. Lights are on. Our ILS went down due to a power outage. I suggest an alternate.”

  Spike, “Understood, McChord. We’ll turn for Boeing Field.”

  “Blue Angel 1, McChord. Boeing Field is shut down for the night. Are you flying to Vancouver?”

  Sam, “Damn.” On radio, “Understood McChord. What is Portland’s status?”

  COMBAT, USS DWAYNE HUBLER, DDG-9, TACOMA, WASHINGTON

  1545, 15 November, 1942

  The guard frequency runs in the background as Lieutenant Commander Hammond familiarizes himself with the functions of the Combat Information Center. He grabs for the mic, “Blue Angel 1, Hamm on the Dwayne Hubler. I’m turning on our TACCAN.” He flips the switch and reads her the frequency. “We’re located in Commencement Bay in North Tacoma. I’ll have your distance and angle to the field in a sec.”

  He pulls out a chart, “If you let down directly at my TACCAN, flying 180 degrees, the runway is nine miles out and an easy left turn.”

  “Hubler, Blue Angel 1. I have your TACCAN and will overfly it north bound. Do you have radar?”

  Hamm smiles, “I’m in combat learning what all the buttons do. It would take too long to wake the radar operator up.”

  “Affirm, Hubler. We have overflown you. Thirty miles and we circle back.”

  BLUE ANGEL 1

  Hunt on radio, “Fat Albert, Blue Angel 1. Have you done this before?”

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sp; Wright, “Blue Angel 1, Fat Albert. Nothing this sketchy, Spike. A three-thousand-foot ceiling surrounded by mountains is close.”

  “We have our radar on. Just follow my lights down.” On intercom, “Cooper, keep an eye on the radar.”

  “Got it boss. As you’ve been maneuvering, I’ve been getting a feel for the terrain.”

  Then, on radio, “Blue Angel 1, Gold Eagle. We are scrambling to light off our 48. Our TACCAN is coming up if you need triangulation.”

  “Gold Eagle, Blue Angel 1. Understood. Making the cut for a long final. Fat Albert, turning on all our lights for you.” Sam flips the switch, and the F-14 becomes a glowing beacon in the gloom. She rolls into a gentle turn and begins the descent. Fat Albert is a quarter mile behind and above. She settles her course onto the Hubler’s TACCAN just as they descend into the clouds. The Carl Vinson’s TACCAN shows her progress as she descends.

  “Hubler, Blue Angel 1. Hamm, Spike. I hope you make it to the show tomorrow afternoon.”

  “I’ll be there, Spike.”

  Cooper calls out their altitude, “Six thousand. Five thousand. Still clear. Four thousand. Clear. Three thousand.”

  As they break through the clouds, the lights of Tacoma appear ahead of them. Spike can see the lights of McChord Field ahead and to her left. “McChord tower, we have visual.” Spike hears a deep sigh from behind her and smiles.

  “Blue Angel 1, McChord, you are cleared to land on runway 16.”

  “Thank you, McChord. Thank you, Hubler. Thank you, Gold Eagle. You’re life savers.” As she makes her approach, she sees the darkness where the power outage happened. She brings her bird in, kissing the tarmac and rolling out. She enters the taxiway just as Fat Albert lands behind her. They follow a car to an apron. Spike lets out a long breath, “Okay, Radar. You lived up to your name tonight. Thank you. Let’s find the crew a place to sleep.”

  “I already turned on the transient barracks. It’s all arranged.”

  “Of course, it is.”

  MORRISON HOME, MANETTE, WASHINGTON

  0700, 16 December, 1942

  Liz is drinking her coffee and eating her breakfast when her phone rings, “Morrison.”

  “Liz, it’s Shawn. I just found out Sam’s show is today. They flew in last night. Do you want a ride?”

  “Shit. I have officer boards scheduled today. When does she leave?”