by M. L. Maki
“Thank you, sir.”
Morrison, “Miller, what is Moffett’s closest point of approach?”
“If he stays straight, four miles.”
Morrison studies the chart, “If he doesn’t turn in four minutes take us down to 200.”
“Yes, sir.”
USS MOFFETT
“Bridge, starboard look out. Periscope two points off the starboard bow.”
The OOD, “Is that our target, sir?”
Sowell picks up the radio, “Yankee Bravo, is that you off our bow.”
“Affirmative, Moffett.”
Sowell, “Understood, we will maneuver.” He shouts, “Left full rudder, come to 345.”
Morrison, “Thank you, Moffett.”
“Can you give us a steer?”
“Affirmative. Come to 342. Drop in eight miles. You know your business, Moffett.”
“Thank you.”
“The target is turning to port and coming up. Set your charges to 170.”
As they run over the German submarine, “Roll ten. Roll ten.” Ten depth charges roll off the deck and sink into the cold water. All ten are within 150 feet of the sub when they detonate. Three are right beside it.
“Good kill, Moffett, Thank you.”
“Yankee Bravo, any chance you can escort us to Reykjavík?”
“Sorry, no. Good Hunting, Moffett.”
“And you as well.”
CHAPTER 4
USS SAN FRANCISCO, HOLY LOCH, SCOTLAND
1013, 14 June, 1942
Commodore Holtz is on the bridge with Morrison and the lookouts. The day is bright and clear, puffy clouds dotting the sky.
Papa, “Once we have a brow, arrange to have Cumberland escorted to the brig on the Beaver. I want to do the promotion ceremony tomorrow afternoon.”
“Promotion ceremony, sir?”
“Yes. Who do you want to pin you?”
“I don’t kn…My grandfather, sir.”
“Good. We also need to promote your new chief engineer and commission your sonar tech. In fact, put together a promotions list and promote whoever you want to. If you want to jump one or more ranks give me an explanation. Otherwise, if you want to move your entire boat up one, that’s fine with me.”
“Yes, sir.” John shouts, “Heave the lines.”
“Moored, shift colors.”
LCDR Little and Lt. Simmons walk down the companionway onto the submarine’s mooring barge.
Holtz calls down, “Commander Little, can you fetch four master at arms. We have a prisoner to transfer.”
Little, “Yes, sir.” Simmons takes the companionway three at a time and comes back a minute later with the four petty officers.
Brown shuts down his sonar equipment.
Guthrie watches him, “You going to be okay without your panel?”
Brown, “I need to let it go. Clinging onto my yesterday is fucking up my tomorrow.”
“When are you getting married?”
“I don’t know. We haven’t set a date.”
“Do you have a best man?”
“She has a brother in Vichy France, but no sisters. I don’t know if she has or wants a maid of honor. The marriage traditions in 1942 Scotland and France are way different than 1990 America.”
“If you were going to have one, who would it be?”
Brown looks at his friend, “It would be you. If you didn’t want to, it would be Gordon.”
“I want to. Gordon probably does too. I don’t know.”
“That’s why we’re probably going to stand up alone. It isn’t like I am the prince of Sheba or something. I don’t want or need airs.”
“Okay. I heard you invited the whole crew.”
“I did. I want all of you there.”
Miller pops in, “Brown, why aren’t you ready to go. Liberty call will be going down in a bit.”
“I have duty, sir.”
“Petty Officer Brown has duty. You get commissioned tomorrow. Get the fuck out of here and hug your girl. You also have to figure out a set of whites for tomorrow. They might have something on the Beaver.”
“Yes, sir.”
Brown waits at the hatch as they haul up Cumberland trussed to a Neil Robertson stretcher. The whole way up he cusses a blue streak. Brown climbs up and through the SEAL garage to leave. He shows ID, salutes, and leaves the ship.
On the barge, Holtz says, “Hold up a moment, Brown. Come with me. They walk up onto the Beaver and into the ship’s store. Holtz, “If we can’t find your size, I’ll see what they have in Alconbury.”
“Thank you, sir.” They have a four-pocket white uniform jacket, a combination cover, and shoes, which all fit. They have two sets of summer khakis that fit as well, but no white pants. The1940’s summer uniforms are all cotton twill.
“Sir, I could get away with my tropical white pants and my working black tie.”
“That would work for now. You’ll need to get together a whole sea bag. Talk to the supply officer about it or find a decent tailor. For that, you would have to go to Edinburgh or London.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Okay, you have enough for tomorrow, and you have a few working uniforms. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Holtz leaves.
The seaman who works the store asks, “Was that the Commodore?”
“Yeah. Commodore Holtz.”
“You know, he has a huge number of kills in the air. He’s a hero.”
“He will always be my hero. Any ideas on how I can fill out my sea bag.”
“You’re getting promoted to chief?”
“I’m getting commissioned.”
“Oh, wow. Talk to Lieutenant Lincoln in deck department. He manages the officer’s supplies. We only have a few things here.”
“How much for this?’
He rings it up and Mike pays. After he chases down Lt. Lincoln, he has a full sea bag and lighter pockets. He carries his two bags ashore. As he walks up to the gate, Laureen gets out of the car, her face aglow. He drops his bags and takes her into his arms.
After a long kiss she asks, “How was it?”
He smiles, “It’s a long story.” He loads his bags and they hit the road.
She can’t take her eyes off her fiancé, “Your happy.”
“Cumberland was relieved as captain. Commander Morrison is our new captain and he’s wonderful.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. It happened right behind me. I didn’t see it because I had my panel to mind. I was told he tried to beat up the Commodore. Morrison, knocked him out with one punch.”
“What will happen to him?”
“I don’t know. He’ll probably be court martialed. Maybe spend some time in prison. The important thing is, he’s gone. Baby, I have some other news. Tomorrow you are invited to pin on my butter bars. They’re commissioning me.”
“An officer? Really?”
“Yeah, and it does not come with a transfer. I’ll still be on the boat. We have to sort out my new uniform tonight.”
“I can sew.”
“I know you can. I love you baby.”
“Can Sheamus and Jean Luc be there?”
“I asked. Sure.”
She cuddles up against him, “This is good news.”
They pull into the yard. When he left, the first two floors of the tower were floored and framed but no sheathing had been installed. Now he can see sheathing and window frames on the first two stories, and the third story framed. Sheamus has installed an outside walkway around the top floor of the tower, but no railing.
Jean Luc runs up to Mike, “Daddy! Daddy! Uppy!”
Mike scoops him up and tosses him into the air. Mike catches him and gives him a hug, “How are you, son?”
“I’ve been helping Papa. I clean the garden and give him nails. I am a helper just like you, Daddy.”
Mike, “You are.” He looks at Sheamus, “How are you, Dad?”
“My heart warms ‘t see ye, lad.”
Mike says, “Mine too. Can we go i
nside? I have some good news.” Once sat down and with tea at hand, Mike says, “Tomorrow Laureen is pinning on my ensign bars. I’m being given a commission. The best part is, they’re not asking me to transfer. I stay on the boat.”
“That’s lovely lad. Lovely.”
Jean Luc, “Can I go, Daddy? Can I see?”
“Yes, son. You and Sheamus are invited, too.”
NAVY PIER, SANDBANK, SCOTLAND
MMC(SS) James Giblin walks outside the gate and turns toward the town center.
A pale blue Ford car pulls up and the window rolls down. He hears a woman’s voice, “Chief Giblin?”
“Yes?”
Constable Ann Lochlin says, “Are you walking into town for a drink?”
“I was, yeah.”
“Can I buy you one?”
“Sure.” He gets in the passenger side. “Thank you.”
“Thank you. Is it okay if we find a pub further away?”
He smiles, “Where ever you like.”
They drive up loch and she pulls into a small village pub. It doesn’t even have a sign.
He smiles, “Looks cozy.”
“Yeah, it is.” Inside are large wood beams and white walls. In the middle is a stairway to the upper floor. To the left are tables. To the right is the wooden bar and a couple tables. The bartender waves a hand. She picks a table.
“You know him?”
“I do. He’s my uncle. My Da’s brother.”
“So, this is your home turf?”
“I grew up in Edinburgh, but my Grandparents live here. They own a small farm up valley.”
Her uncle walks up, “Beer, constable?”
“Two please. Uncle Ian, this is Chief Jim Giblin. He’s in the Yank Navy.”
The older man takes the measure of Jim, “Well, ye have the look. Ye know she likes them iron bracelets?”
Ann turns beet red and Jim smiles, “I prefer to wait for a second, or even third date, before I am ready for any odd stuff. It’s just a good policy.”
Ian, “What do ye do fer the Yank Navy?”
“My job is as a mechanic. As a chief, I mostly take care of my guys.”
Ian, “So, does a chief run the whole show?”
“No, sir. That would be our captain.”
Ann, “We would like the lamb, Uncle Ian.”
Ian, “Lamb it is.” He walks back into the kitchen. There is a local at the bar and a few others at tables. There are no sailors here.
Ann, “If I didn’t remind him, he would pick your noggin for days.”
Jim, “People are curious. It’s understandable.”
“I’m curious too. Where did you go to college?”
“U-Mass. Um. University of Massachusetts. I studied philosophy and pre-law.”
“I attended the University of Edinburgh in Ancient History. How that qualifies me to be a constable, I am not sure.” The beers arrive.
“I didn’t finish. Two and a half years in, I ran out of money. I joined the Navy thinking I would serve one tour and finish. Plans change.”
“You could still finish.”
He shakes his head, “No. Time travel. There are no records of my course work. If I was to go back to college, I would have to start all over. Right now, that isn’t all that important to me.”
“How was your trip?” Ian sets their plates down.
“Eventful. Crazy even. Our old commander, the one who was in charge when we left, was relieved for cause. Our XO was made commander. It’s like a huge weight lifted off of us. I won’t miss him. I won’t even shed alligator tears.”
“Oh. What happened?”
“He slowly got more and more crazy. When he snapped, he tried to beat up the commodore. I didn’t see it, but I am told our XO, who replaced him, knocked him out with a single punch. Morrison has sand.”
“What do you mean by sand?”
Jim chuckles, “He’s brave and capable. He’s the kind of guy that will stand by you in trouble.”
“Like you did for your guys in the bar?”
He smiles, “I guess.”
“So, you have sand, too.”
“Thank you.”
“Are you married?”
“None of us time travelers are married. Those who were, and I wasn’t, are single. Their spouses are not even born yet.”
“Oh. I see. So, you weren’t married?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because marriage and a naval career are mostly incompatible. One in a thousand girls can put up with being a sailor’s spouse. I didn’t like the odds.”
“I dinna ken? I…I don’t understand.”
“Marriage to a sailor is difficult because he comes and goes. The sailor might be in port half to a quarter of any given year. All the rest of the time he is off doing, God knows, what. The wife is home alone, probably with a passel of kids, bills, maintenance, and maybe a job. She has all the work of a single mom without the benefit of dating. Truth, though, most of them do cheat on their husbands while he’s gone, then accuse their sailor of screwing girls in every port. Some of that happens, too.”
“So, by staying single you can shag girls everywhere you go without guilt or shame. Break their hearts and sail on.” She smiles.
Ian quietly sets two new beers down and clears the table.
He looks her in the eye, “Nope. I generally get a beer somewhere and learn some of the culture where we are. I leave the shagging to the young guys. I don’t like breaking hearts, and I don’t go throwing mine around.”
“You care not for sex?”
He chuckles, “You’re direct. It isn’t that. I just prefer to avoid the complications all that brings. I have a strong and healthy relationship with my right hand.”
“Ah, ye wank. Right then. Is it a girl ye think of then?”
He blushes, “Yeah. How did this turn into an interrogation?”
Now she blushes. “I’m sorry. Too much time as a constable. Will ye forgive me that?”
“Yes, if we can change the subject.”
“Last time we talked, you said you were from damn near everywhere. What was your favorite place?”
He smiles, “After the war, Germany was divided into occupation zones. Russia’s was to the east. America, France, and Britain held the other three, which later became the Federal Republic of Germany or West Germany. Because of hostilities between Russia and the west, America and Britain garrisoned West Germany from after the war until I came back. I liked Germany. I had a good friend when I lived there. He was another Army brat, but we were close.”
“There is this huge history you know that is our future.”
“It might not be. This time a lot has already changed.”
“What has changed?”
“There is a second battle of Britain. In my history there was only one.”
“Oh.”
“McArthur is still battling in the Philippines. In my timeline, I think it already fell. We blew the shit out of Tokyo. In my history the attack was, at best, symbolic.”
“You were there?”
“Yeah. We sank three submarines while the carrier gave it to the Japanese. Anyway, just because it happened, does not mean it will happen again.”
“Okay. What are you going to do after the war?”
“I have almost 17 years in. I’m going to stay as long as the Navy will put up with me and retire when I must. After the war, there will be no shortage of jobs for people with my skills. I’ll find a place.”
“Alone?”
“Unless I find someone crazy enough to put up with me. That isn’t likely.”
“Why not?”
“Because I am a confirmed bachelor. I’ve lived alone the bulk of my life and am relatively set in my ways. When a woman sizes up a man, she immediately makes plans on how she will change him. I don’t want to change.” He looks her in the eyes, “I’m a pain in the ass.”
She smiles, “Where do you want to live?”
“I don’t know. My m
om is four years old. My dad is six. I love my mom, but would it fuck her up if I moved close? I couldn’t bear ruining her life.”
“Do you love your dad?”
“He and I had a difficult relationship. He dumped my mom for a Thai girl younger than me.”
“What is a Thai girl?”
“From Thailand. I think it is called Siam, now.”
“Oh, an Asian.”
“Yeah. Anyway, he was a difficult father most of my life. Not violent or anything, just absent and difficult.”
“So, that brings us back to you. What do you want to do after the war?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about it long and hard. I don’t have a home. The only place I belong right now is on my boat and I can’t retire there.”
“You know the wonderful thing about homes? If you don’t have one, you can always create one.”
Ian with three beers, sits down, “Aye chief. Yer among folks er.”
“Thank you. Ann, I didn’t ask, but I will now. Are you married?”
Ian, “Haw! She’s a right fine hen, and solid, but havnae een fer the lads.”
Ann hits her uncle, “"Yer bum's oot the windae! I do so.”
Giblin rocks back, “Okay, please translate.”
Ann, turns red, “He said I don’t like boys. I told him he is wrong.”
Giblin smiles, “Ian, she picked me up and invited me to dinner. I would say the evidence does not support your case.”
“Aye chief. Ah been counseled.”
“Uncle, I just can’t handle the fandans bin sparking aboot.”
“But yer yankee doodle is dandy?”
Jim smiles as he listens.
Ann asks, “You dinnie…um… don’t understand, do you?”
Jim, “Some of it. He asked if you like me. I’m just waiting for the answer.”
Ian says, “Aye. Ah be waiting tae.”
Ann turns to her uncle, "Haud yer wheesht.” She smiles at him after telling him to shut up.
Jim, “Well?”
Ann, “Yer solid, strapping, and a braw brammer. Aye, Ah like ye.”
Jim, “I like you too, but you’ve no blessed idea what you’re signing up for.”
STEWART FARM
0600, 15 June, 1942
Mike wakes up with Laureen’s head and left arm on his chest and her hair everywhere. For a time, he stays still, her breath on his skin and her breasts pressing against him. His hand rests on the small of her back. He kisses the top of her head and she wakes.
