by M. L. Maki
Bradley, “Agreed.”
Vandergrift, “What’s the rate of fire.”
Maki, “Sir, we’re still integrating the gun. We’ve only had it for a couple of weeks. We’re aiming for fifteen to twenty rounds a minute for a trained crew.”
Patton, “Will it blow up a Tiger II?”
Maki, “It should, sir. In testing against the Tiger’s sloped armor, it punched through at one point five miles. It’ll do better if we can design a better AP round.”
Vandergrift, “How heavy is it?”
Maki, “Sir, with a combat load, it weighs in at just under forty tons. I’m told an LCAC can handle two.”
The tank rolls to a stop in front of the officers. The tank commander, Marine Lieutenant Tom Thompson salutes. The officers return the salute.
Klindt, “Well, gentlemen, what do you think?”
The Generals nod. Bradley, “It’s a game changer if we can get enough of them into the field.”
Klindt, “That’s the meeting tomorrow. I told you he could build us a tank.” He grins and turns to Maki, “Once this is squared away, what kind of ship do you want?”
“I don’t do submarines, sir. I think something small.” Maki grins, “Maybe a cruiser or destroyer.”
BANQUET HALL, HOTEL DE CORONADO, CORONADO ISLAND, CALIFORNIA
1730, 22 December, 1942
Commanders Hunt and Houlihan walk into the hall wearing their dinner dress uniforms. They walk up to Swede and Thud, who are talking with Captain Issa. Major Pettigrew intercepts her, “Commander, would you please introduce me to Commanders Swedenborg and Jackson?”
Sam smiles, “Sure.”
Out of Pettigrew’s line of sight, Gloria raises her eyes to heaven.
Sam, “Captain Issa, Commander Swedenborg, Commander Jackson, Commander Hardin, Lieutenant Buford, my I introduce Major Pettigrew. He’s organizing my tour.”
The men shake hands and Pettigrew stares at Buford a little too long.
Swede, “What unit are you with, Major?”
“I work for the War Finance Committee.”
Thud, “I see. Ever shoot a rifle, Major?”
“No, sir. I’m very much honored to meet you.”
Swede, “I see. You know, Major, you could do something that would make all of us very grateful.”
“What is that, sir?”
Thud, “Stop dragging our commodore around the country like a cheerleader and send her back to sea, where she belongs.”
“I can’t do that, sir. It’s above my pay grade.”
Thud shakes his head, “I hope you enjoy the party, Major.” He turns to Sam, “How bad is it?”
She smiles, “It’s been weird. I just have to suck it up and get it done.”
Pettigrew walks away from the group, then turns back to study them, especially Buford. Jere is looking at Sam and smiling. Pettigrew smiles, too. “I saw him in the crowd in LA. Is this her boyfriend? A lieutenant? Now, that’s something that might get her into trouble. Especially with her married to Swedenborg.”
Gunner, “I like that Lee named your unit the Blue Angels. Forever, you will be their first commander.”
Sam, “It was a nice touch. How are you doing with the Knightriders?”
Gunner, “Training. At least they can fly. Packs and I have to teach them to fight.”
Sam, “Are they good at air to ground?”
Gunner, “Yeah. Most can put it in the pickle barrel. ACM is another thing. They’re getting better.”
Thud, “How to say this in mixed company, um…all the new aircraft’s features now work.”
Sam, “Good.” Out of the corner of her eye she sees Admiral Halsey walk in. He looks thin, but he stands erect in his uniform. He catches her eye and smiles.
Major Pettigrew makes a bee line to him, “Admiral Halsey, what an honor.” He offers his hand and Halsey accepts it.
Halsey, “And you are?”
“Major Pettigrew. I’m a movie director. Sir, I have the most disagreeable task of managing this bond tour.”
Halsey shifts his full attention to the major, “Disagreeable? How?”
“Well, as you no doubt know, Commander Hunt is extremely difficult to work with. I’ve worked with many, many actors, and she, bar none, is the biggest prima donna of them all.”
Halsey bites his lip, then smiles, “I see. Major, are you aware that I assigned her to Britain?”
“Um, no, sir.”
“Yes, I did. She has far outstripped all my hopes for her. She is, in my estimation, the finest pilot I have ever known, and an excellent leader. My heart aches that she must put up with a bond tour and nonsense from staff flunkies like you. Your attempt to discredit your commanding officer with me is underhanded and despicable. It is also insubordination. Good evening, Major.” He walks away and motions for Sam to join him.
“Good evening, sir.”
“When are you going to end this nonsense and get back to work?”
“I have five more days and three more air shows, sir. After, Lee promised me the CAG spot on the George Washington.”
Halsey frowns, “I would love to have you on my staff, but in truth, you belong in the air. Please tell me about Britain.” They sit down and he motions to a waiter and orders two coffees.
“Sir, may I ask why you are here rather than blowing up Japanese strongholds?”
“Admiral Nimitz felt I needed a break. The Vinson is in Bremerton getting repaired and her flight deck resurfaced. So, here I sit.”
“Sorry, sir. It looks like we share the same problem; neither of us are doing what we want to.” She goes over her experience in Britain, focusing on tactics and capabilities, and only give pertinent details on what happened, not her conclusions.
When she’s finished, Halsey asks, “Who is the SEAL officer who keeps looking at us?”
“Jeremiah Buford, sir. We’re in a relationship.”
He nods, “I see. I was assuming the story about you and Swedenborg was bullshit. They got it wrong, as usual. Well, I wish you the best. Every officer should have support at home. Another thing, Commander.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Your major tried to undercut you with me. It’s past time for you to tell that whole lot to go to hell. Go tell Lee he needs to assign you to a sea billet. They’re fucking wasting you and it pisses me off.”
Sam, stunned, looks away. She turns back and looks him in the eye, “Yes, sir. I get it. Thank you, sir.”
WEST OF MELBOURNE, AUSTRALIA
1310, 23 December, 1942
Marine Lieutenant John Hunt guides his dun quarter horse alongside Alicia O’Toole’s brown paint. She looks at him out of the corner of her eye, “You said your daughter is Commodore Hunt?”
John grins, “It’s nuts. She’s ten years older and outranks me, but she’s my daughter.” He shakes his head, “You know, even though I’ve never met her, I’m proud of her.”
“This time travel thing is strange. Do you know who her mother is?”
“She was cryptic about that. She sent a picture of our family, but then she said I should follow my heart. It’s confusing.”
“Maybe she didn’t like her mother.”
“Maybe. Do you believe in destiny?”
“No. I believe people make their own future.”
John sighs, “But, if I don’t marry the same girl, she won’t have the same siblings she lost.”
Alicia looks at him, “Really? John, you breed horses and you know that isn’t how it works. Even if you marry this woman you haven’t met, and even if you have kids, they will be different.”
“Yeah, you’re right. Thanks for that. Thank you for riding with me.”
Alicia smiles, “You are very welcome.”
HOTEL DEL CORONADO, CORONADO, CALIFORNIA
1832, 22 December, 1942
Halsey walks outside to Buford’s side, “Would you ever clip her wings?”
Buford, startled, turns to Halsey, “Sir, I would rather die. I want her success mor
e than I want my own. I want her happiness, too.”
“Can you deal with her flying combat?”
“Yes, sir. She’s a warrior. Whatever she does in life, she will always be a warrior.” He pauses, looking out over the ocean, “Sir, I don’t want to change her. I want to help her.”
Halsey, “Are you the one who took a bullet for her in Britain?”
“Yes, sir. A sniper, sir. My pack took the round.”
Halsey nods, “You just might be the only man who can keep up with her.”
“Thank you, sir. I need to speak with Admiral Lee. I don’t know how to contact her grandfather in Tennessee. I sent a letter to her dad in Australia. Sir, am I missing anyone?”
Halsey smiles, “Me.”
Buford pales, “Yes, sir. Sir, may I have your blessing?”
Halsey, still smiling, “You already have it. Lieutenant, there’s also Admiral Klindt. They’re close. Lieutenant, I appreciate that you are doing this right.” Halsey sees Sam walk out and smiles, “Now, if you will excuse me.” He exchanges a smile and salute with Sam and walks back into the ball room.
Sam goes to Jere and they stand, silent, side by side, not touching. “I’m sorry. He asked who you were and I told him we are in a relationship.”
Jere turns to her, his face lit with his smile, “We had a good conversation. He has a reputation for aggressiveness. He’s really smart.”
“He is.”
“He cares about you.”
“I know. We have a history. You do know, you’re amazing.”
Captain Issa interrupts, “May we chat, Commander?”
Sam smiles, tilting her head, “Sure.”
Issa, “Lieutenant, can you give us a moment?”
Jere looks at Sam and she nods, “Yes, sir.” He walks into the hotel.
She looks out at the ocean, waiting, silent.
Issa takes a breath, “I don’t understand your interest in him.”
“Captain, your understanding is not required.”
“It just doesn’t make sense. He’s a Forty-one, and a lieutenant.”
“I’m a commander. So?”
Sam turns and makes eye contact, “I know my relationship with Buford will hurt my career. I understand your concern. I appreciate it, but my career has peaked. Congress and the Navy have decided that as a woman I can never be promoted above commander. Did you know that?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Abdul, we both know there are no guarantees in war. If I survive, once the war is over, I’ll be forced out. That is what happened the last time, and I think it will happen again. Meanwhile, you’re thinking that Jere is going to hurt my career. That ship has sailed. You are way too fucking smart to be thinking like that.”
“I see. Do you love him?”
“Are you asking as a friend, or a captain?”
“I guess, both.”
“Well, Captain, I’m sorry but my personal life is not your business.” She turns back to the ocean, “But, I do love him, Abdul. Very much.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Me, too. Good evening, Captain.”
She takes a step and he grabs her arm, “I don’t want it to end like this. I’m sorry I meddled. I recognize I was wrong.”
She turns back to him, tears forming, “Thank you, Rob.”
“I hate what they’re doing to you. It’s wrong. They’ve made you the lightning rod for this whole thing.”
“I know. It’s my lot and I have to deal with it. The thing is, Rob, happiness is damn fucking hard for me to find, so please don’t fuck up what little I have.”
“I won’t. I’m sorry. I thought I was being a good friend.” He touches her cheek. “Take care.”
Sam nods and gives him a watery smile, “Thank you.” Schooling her face, she walks away.
Jere walks out of the head and walks into Pettigrew. They both step back, startled. Jere recovers first, “Sorry.”
Pettigrew glowers, “So, you’re in a relationship with my charge.”
Jere stares at him contemplating the easiest way to take the major down. He settles on a broken neck. Less messy. “You’re the guy who sent that man into her room last night.”
“You were there? Brilliant. So, she’s fucking you in the Beverly Hills Hotel while she’s married to Swedenborg.”
Buford, surprised, laughs, “They’re not married. Never were. You don’t deny sending that man into to what? Rape her? You know that’s a felony. The boys in Leavenworth will like you.”
“You can’t prove anything.”
Buford smiles, his eyes dark, “I don’t have to. That’s JAG’s job. Of course, that assumes you live long enough to be tried.”
“Don’t disrespect me, Lieutenant.”
“Fuck you, you piece of shit. Fuck you, you little whiny fuck. You know, Pettigrew, the best part of you ran down your mama’s leg. You should have been a blow job. You waste air with every fucking breath. Now, pussy, what are you going to do about it?”
“I’ll put you on report.”
Buford moves into Pettigrew’s space, bending over, staring him in the eyes, “You know nothing hunk of shit. Would anyone miss you if you floated out to sea with a knife in your head?”
Pettigrew turns pale, trying to break the eye contact, “You…you wouldn’t.”
Buford smiles. He can smell urine. “I’m a combat swimmer. You wouldn’t be my first. Now, do you understand who you’re fucking with?”
Pettigrew rapidly nods his head.
Buford, “We’ll go public when we’re ready. You break the story before we do? You’d best have eyes in the back of your head, because I will kill you. Good evening, Major.”
BUNYIP STATE PARK, VICTORIA, AUSTRALIA.
1432, 23 December, 1942
John Hunt and Alicia O’Toole lay on a blanket on a hill overlooking a deep valley. Their horses, ground tied, crop grass contentedly. He looks into her eyes and smiles, “Thank you, love bird. Thank you.”
Alicia grins, “John Hunt, you…you can do that to me forever.”
He laughs and kisses her, “We have to eat sometime.”
She takes his face in her hands and kisses him deeply, “Food is overrated, love.”
HOTEL DEL CORONADO
2010, 22 December, 1942
Jere and Sam walk into their room and Jere wraps her up in his arms. Jere kisses her, “What did Issa say?”
“In the end, he apologized and said he would no longer interfere.” She takes his face in her hands and kisses him. “Hold me, love. I so need you right now.”
They dance across the floor, tightly entwined, moving to music only they can hear, and shedding their clothes.
The next morning, Sam wakes first, her head on his chest and her leg over his. She watches him sleep in the early light of dawn and inhales his scent. Smiling, she whispers, “I love you, Jeremiah Buford.” She closes her eyes and breathes deeply, “My man.”
He wakes and turns to her, “I love you.”
“I love you, Jere.”
He rolls on top of her and looks into her eyes. He softly strokes her skin, smiling.
ALBATROSS 2, 80,000 FEET OVER CENTRAL GERMANY
1230, 23 December, 1942
Oberstleutnant Oscar Mentz studies his instruments. His copilot, Hauptman Gant, is flying their magnificent bomber. He marvels at the black sky in the middle of the day. Seeing the curve of the earth below him takes his breath away. He scans the formation of twenty bombers, checking for problems. He hears the flight lead’s copilot on the radio, “Pressure. Pressure. Can’t breathe.
ALBATROSS 1
Oberst Werner adjusts his mask, tightening it. He hears his copilot whisper, “Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe. Can’t b….”
Werner fights to get control as the weight of his copilot sags against the stick. He can feel the jet go into a dive. His skin feels like a million red hot needles are poking it. His eyes grow blurry. The pressure in his head builds. His eyes burn. “Calm. Calm.” The clouds look w
rong. He realizes they are not under him; they are in front of him. The plane is in a steep dive. Werner struggles to pull the stick back. Slowly, it responds. His unconscious copilot’s foot finds the rudder and presses down. The tail pushes over hard, and the wing snaps at the base. The stick flies back into Werner’s belly.
ALBATROSS 2
Mentz watches the lead plane go into a steep dive. Then it pitches over and falls straight down. On the radio, Mentz calls, “Sir, you dive too deep.” He sees the plane fall far beneath his plane. Then, shocked, he watches the right wing fold, then break off. As the wing falls away, the big bomber starts disintegrating in midair. On radio, “Everyone stay calm and watch your cabin pressure.”
GAS LAMP DISTRICT, SAN DIEGO, CALIFORNIA
1224, 23 December, 1942
Sam and Jere find a pub called the Blarney Stone and walk in. A young woman seats them and takes their order. Jere, “You’ve been lost in thought.”
“Yeah. Something Halsey said last night. He told me to tell Lee to assign me a sea billet. At first, I thought he was commiserating with me. Now I realize he was deliberately giving me cover.”
“I don’t understand.”
Sam smiles at him, “After lunch I need to chase down Cooper. If I interpret his statement as an order, the show is over.”
“Are we still doing the bonfire?”
“Yeah. Everyone is looking forward to that.”
Jere, “Something you should know. Pettigrew figured out we’re a couple. He tried to blackmail me.”
Sam closes her eyes and nods, “What did you do?”
“I made it clear that if he did so, I would kill him. Sorry, I’m not very sophisticated when it comes to that kind of shit. Honey, he’s a sleaze.”
“Yes, he is. After tomorrow morning, it won’t matter.”
CHAPTER 32
SENATOR RUSSELL’S OFFICE, WASHINGTON, DC
1530, 23 December, 1942
Quincy Diggs sips his coffee. “She’s almost done with the tour. I’ve read the transcripts. She’s been careful with her speeches. Mostly, it’s praise of her people.”
Russell, “The women and Negros.”
“Yes, sir. At least, she’s not bad-mouthing congress.”
“How’s Pettigrew doing?”
“Sir, let me hold onto that so you have deniability.”
