by M. L. Maki
She smiles, “Do you want me to?”
He takes her into his arms and kisses her. “I love you.”
She looks into his eyes, “I love you, too.
DIRECTOR’S OFFICE, FBI HEADQUARTERS, WASHINGTON, DC
2234, 15 August, 1942
“Sir, the name of the woman is Commander Elisabeth Petrea. She commands a Navy school in Bremerton. And sir, she’s from 1990.”
“What’s the school?”
“I don’t know. Our Navy sources either don’t know or won’t say.”
“Send someone from our Seattle office to Bremerton to find out.”
“Yes, sir.”
“How do they know each other?”
“We don’t know.”
“God damn it. Find out.”
JAG HEADQUARTERS, NAVAL YARD, WASHINGTON, DC
0955, 16 August, 1942 (1455 GMT)
John and Liz wait in the anteroom as the court case grinds on.
Liz asks, “Why were you the only person brought over to testify?”
“The XO of the Beaver deposed everyone, including me. We felt he was the most neutral. The court accepted all, except me. It makes sense.”
“Isn’t that your grandpa?”
“No, he’s the XO of the Livermore, a destroyer. The Beaver is our tender.”
“Oh. I forgot.”
“No problem. Figuring out my family will drive you nuts.”
“Yours? I’m Italian.”
“The only Italian I know how to say is food.”
“That’s okay, love. You’ll learn more.”
“Be sure to write your grandma, so she doesn’t fret over you anymore.”
“They’re all going to want to meet you. When we’re done here, let’s get a photo together.”
“Good idea. I love you. Liz. What are your plans after the war?”
“Does it matter to you?”
“Yes. If I don’t know where you are going, I can’t plan to be at your side.”
“Don’t screw your career to help mine.”
“Liz, your dreams are equal to my dreams. That’s how it must work. If it doesn’t, then I’m being a jackass. I don’t want that.”
“Would it upset you if I went back to sea?”
“No. I’m already doing scary shit. If you want or need to do some scary shit too, that’s fine. It will mean, when we are together, we have shared experiences. It’s another way we can support each other.”
“God, you’re a gem. I want to get back out there, and Klindt has a plan for me. I don’t know what. After the war a lot of cultural things will change, John. The last time, all the boys came home, all the women lost their jobs, so they could be Suzie homemaker in dresses and with new toasters.”
“Yeah, a great time to be white, male, and protestant. Everyone else is fucked.
BREMERTON NAVAL EDUCATIONAL ANNEX, BREMERTON, WA
0740, 16 August, 1942 (1540 GMT)
FBI Special Agent Johnson sits in the security office waiting.
Captain Tenzar walks into the office and offers his hand, “How can I help you?”
Johnson stands and shakes his hand, “I need to know what Commander Petrea does here.”
Tenzar sits down, “She’s in DC right now. Is she okay?”
“As far as I know. DC asked me to find out.”
“She commands this Navy school. You do not need to know more.”
Johnson, “What’s the curriculum?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“Because I was told to ask, Captain.”
Tenzar, “What’s your security clearance?”
“I’m an FBI agent.”
“We’re fighting a war. You are not cleared for the information you seek. You can’t storm into a military facility, flashing your badge, and expect to access top secret information. Now, tell me why you want the information.”
“I’m sorry, Captain. I don’t know.”
“Why do you want to know about Commander Petrea? She’s an exceptional and professional officer.”
“The director instructed me to determine what the curriculum was at the school she’s in charge of.”
Tenzar, “Well, you’re not cleared. No one in the FBI is. If you wish to be briefed in, you should direct your inquiries to President Roosevelt. The classification level we are operating under was established directly by him. If law enforcement wishes access, they need to contact Admiral Klindt or the President.”
“Yes, sir.”
CHAPTER 13
JAG HEADQUARTERS, NAVAL YARD, WASHINGTON, DC
1135, 16 August, 1942 (1635 GMT)
Admiral Klindt comes into the anteroom and says to Morrison and Petrea, “Could you both come with me. They’re preparing for closing arguments. They follow him in and sit. After a couple of minutes, the court comes back in. The JAG hits the desk three times with his gavel, starting the court session. “Prosecutor.”
The prosecutor stands and faces the three flag officers, “This case is simple. His actions stand for themselves and every deposition agrees on the facts of this case. That on June fourth, 1942, Commander George Cumberland deliberately attempted to fire on an enemy vessel with swimmers in the water, knowing full well his actions would kill the swimmers. We know that when he was thwarted by his superior officer and XO, he then assaulted both men, placing his entire command in jeopardy. We also know that while being held in custody, he committed aggravated assault against the two petty officers assigned to care for him. We have sufficient evidence to prove mens rea. His choice to hide the fact that he intended to fire on a vessel with swimmers in the water is clearly indicated by his bypassing the normal communications chain. His words, as quoted by every watch stander present, clearly demonstrate his intent to sacrifice the swimmers in order to sink the cruiser.
“His preparation for assaulting the petty officers, by creating a garrote and hiding behind the door, also show premeditation. The only conclusion any reasonable person can draw is that he is guilty on all counts. No previous issues with higher command can justify his actions. His careful premeditation demonstrates he was clear headed and intentional. Those are the facts. That is the truth. The truth matters. Your honor, the prosecution rests.” He sits down.
The defense counsel stands, “This is a man who was subject to undercutting and back dealing by his subordinates and superiors. He was singled out for exceptional scrutiny. He was abused by his superiors. He was under extraordinary professional pressure. Day after day, it was his mission to kill. To destroy enemy vessels. He had to kill hundreds of enemy combatants. It was under these circumstances that Commander Cumberland broke from reality. Convinced he was failing to complete his assigned mission to sink enemy vessels, his mental state deteriorated to the point that he was target fixated and mission fixated. In this state, he was not in control of his faculties. He was not responsible for his actions. As such, he should not be found guilty. The defense rests.
The judge hits the desk with his gavel, “The court is recessed for deliberations. We will be back in session in one hour.” Everyone present stands.
As the judges are walking out, Cumberland asks Morrison, “So, Jap. Do you have any more kills?”
Lawrence, the JAG, “Silence your defendant!”
The defense counsel, “Yes, your honor.” He, and the guards, hustle Cumberland out of the room.
Klindt, “I know where we can scare up some coffee.”
Walking across the quad, Petrea asks, “Will he be convicted?”
Klindt, “Absolutely. The only question is the sentence. Attempted murder in the military may be punished by execution. It’s very rare. More likely they’ll stack all his crimes and give him, effectively, a life sentence. It’s also possible they’ll forbid parole. Even if they do, a later court can overturn the decision.”
They find a food area on the ground floor of a building. As they’re drinking their coffee, Klindt asks, “So, what are my two love birds going to do after? Remember, White House
at five.”
Morrison, “We want to get some pictures together.”
“Good. Enjoy the city. I’m very happy for both of you.”
Morrison, “Sir, she has told me she wants to go back to sea. Our relationship must not interfere with her career. I want her success as much as I want my own.”
Klindt smiles, “I have an XO slot I am setting up for her. I can’t say more now because it’s not firm. What do you want, John?”
“I’m right where I want to be. If I spend the entire war at the helm of the Frisco, I’ll be happy.”
“You’ve only had a couple months there. I intend to give you your two years. After that, I have to give it to someone else. Letting you keep it longer would stunt the growth of other officers. That said, you have more than proven yourself at command. Could you go surface?”
“I could, sir. That brings up another matter. We need to introduce the SWO and ESWS to the fleet. It will make better sailors and better commands.”
“It’s out of my purview, but I am working it. Lee is standing up air warfare and King is already on board for both.”
John, “Can we start a trial on the Livermore and Beaver?”
“The Livermore is your grandfather’s ship. Good idea. The Beaver will be almost constantly in port, but it’s officers can gain experience by sailing on the Livermore. I’ll pass it through the admiral’s club and try to make it happen.”
“Sir, Huber, on the Livermore, and I are already swapping officers with Little. I qualified Simmons last underway.”
“That’s fantastic. I’m not at all surprised. How is Huber?”
“A solid and professional officer. He’s joined the team. Little has too.”
They finish their coffee.
Klindt, “John, is your XO ready for command?”
“He is, sir.”
“I’ll have a boat for him in a few months. I want to give him the new Shark.” They get up to leave, “Another thing, John. Don’t be alone in this city.”
John looks at Liz, “That’s not going to be a problem, sir.”
Klindt smiles, “I hope, when the day comes, I get an invite.”
Liz, “You will, sir.”
They return to the court room to wait. As the sentencing is not classified, the court room fills up with officers, but no press. They all stand as the court takes its seats.
Admiral Lawrence hits the desk with the gavel, “Court is now in session.” He looks over the audience, and his eyes settle on Cumberland, “On the charges of attempted murder, the court finds you guilty. On the charge of assault, the court finds you guilty. On the two charges of aggravated assault, the court finds you guilty. On the charge of assaulting a superior officer, the court finds you guilty. On the charge of hazarding a vessel, the court finds you guilty. On the charge of conduct unbecoming of an officer, the court finds you guilty.”
When he stops, Cumberland’s head is down. A quiet whisper runs through the audience.
Admiral Lawrence continues, “For each count of attempted murder, the court awards fifteen years. For the count of assault, the court awards four years. For each count of aggravated assault, the court awards ten years. For the count of assaulting a superior officer, the court awards sixteen years. For the count of hazarding a vessel, the court awards twenty years. For the count of conduct unbecoming an officer, the court awards six years. The sentences are to be served consecutively, and without the possibility of parole. We remand the prisoner into custody. Court adjourned.” He strikes with his gavel.
Cumberland’s eyes laser onto Morrison, “I’ll fucking kill you. I’ll fucking kill you all!” The master at arms secure him, and take him, screaming, out of the room.
John says, “That’s three hundred and six years.”
Klindt, “A fitting end. I have to get back to work. You two enjoy yourselves.”
FBI HEADQUARTERS, WASHINGTON DC
“Sir, the two left the Klindt home in dress whites. That Navy commander has been convicted and sentenced to three hundred and six years.”
“Okay. He’s not important. Keep trailing them and keep me informed.”
PHOTO STUDIO, WASHINGTON, DC
Liz and John pose in front of the camera. They face each other, looking into the other’s eyes as the camera clicks.
The photographer says, “Kiss.”
John, “We’re in uniform.”
Liz puts her hands on each side of his face and pulls him into a kiss. The camera clicks. She says, “They’re for us. Screw the rules.”
“Okay. I love you.”
The photographer says, “That should do it. I’ll have them in two hours.”
John, “Thank you. We each get a copy, and we also get the negatives.”
“Yes, sir.”
John and Liz pay, and they leave the studio.
Five minutes later an FBI agent walks in and shows his badge, “What did the two naval officers want?”
“Why, sir?”
“You don’t need to know.”
“Yes, sir. They wanted to get their picture taken.”
“Did you take their picture?”
“I did.”
“We want a copy of every photo.”
“Yes, sir.”
ADMIRAL KLINDT’S HOME
Liz and John go up to their room to change into their dinner dress uniforms. John, “You don’t want to see the city?”
“I want to see you.” Liz unbuttons his tunic, grinning.
John, “I love you, Liz.”
“I love you, too.”
In bed, John says, “I have been mulling venues and fancy ideas. This is the right place.” He pulls her close, then takes her face in his hands, looking deeply into her eyes, “Will you.”
“I will.”
He kisses her, and sighs, deeply contented, “Simple ring, or fancy?”
“Simple elegance is always better than frou-frou fancy.”
He asks, “How soon?”
“If my family isn’t invited, they’ll kill me. It’s going to take time.”
“I want my folks there, too. Do you want a maid of honor?”
“Yeah. Samantha or Gloria.”
“I want Greg to stand with me. I could have Grandpa Henry, or Craig, stand as well. That way you could have them both.”
Liz, “Where should we do it?”
“Your folks are in New York, right?”
“They are.”
John, “Mine are in New Jersey. Somewhere around there.”
“Okay. You good with setting up house in Bremerton?”
“I think we should set up house where ever you are. I’ll stay aboard whatever command I have. That way we save money and you can have a nice place.”
Liz, “You should have a nice place, too.”
“I have you. I don’t care where I live.”
“Okay, love. Stop talking.”
GLENLEAN MANOR
1900, 16 August, 1942
The farm manager, Howard McCullum, walks back toward the manor with Greg Backes. Howard is sixty-two and has worked for the manor most of his life.
Greg, “This is lovely land. Rather vertical but nice.”
Howard, “What did your farm grow?”
“We raised cattle, feeder calves, and hay. We had a garden, too, but it was for our own kitchen.”
“Our garden is the same.”
Greg, “How do you keep the sheep from eating the grass to the roots?”
“We rotate the fields. I send out one of the lads to move them twice a week.”
“Can I see your equipment?”
“Of course.” Approaching the barn, a teenage boy steps out and stares at Backes.
Howard, “Owen, quit with the staring and get back to yer mucking.”
Owen lowers his eyes, “Tis done, boss.”
“Kay then. Yer feeling yer oats. What’s that fer?”
“Sir, why en ‘tis the yank about?”
“Donna go sparking the missus, lad. Yer to young af
er the one, ana too old fer the tuther. That, an ye aint get one rock t’ put on a’nuther.” He pulls out a pound coin, “Heres yer bob. Na ken well on what yer doing. Yer paid fair an worked fair.”
The boy takes his wage and grabs his bicycle, riding away. Howard has a place on the property beside the barn, but the other two workers only come when not in school. They walk into the barn. There is an Aveling-Barford steam powered tractor parked in the barn.
Greg, “Oh my God. This is a thing of beauty.”
“Aye, it is. It’s more than a bit cantankerous, though.”
Greg looks close, “I’ve never seen a steam tractor this small. They used to use steam donkeys and steam tractors to haul logs out of the woods in Oregon. The ones I saw were huge.”
Howard, “So, you know how this beasty works?”
“Yes, I do. You have to watch the water close. If you steam it dry, you’re screwed. You can even blow it up.”
Catherine walks into the barn, “Howard, what’s he doing?”
Howard, “He says he can make Bessy here work.”
Catherine, “Only father and Robert ever knew how to start it.”
Greg, “So, the feed pump shaft is here. The drain cocks are here. It’s direct venting. The vent should go into the stack.” He looks up, you converted it from coal to oil?”
Catherine, “My father had it converted before the war. You understand it, dear?”
“The steam system I was taught to run in the Navy was way more complicated than this one is.”
Howard, “Now we can harvest those trees we talked about, M’lady.”
“Yes. Greg, Howard, dinner will be on the table in a bit.”
Greg climbs off the tractor, “Thank you, dear. I need to get cleaned up.”
She leans in and gives him a kiss, “You look lovely to me.”
FBI HEADQUARTERS, WASHINGTON, DC
1510, 16 August, 1942 (2010 GMT)
Hoover and his men look over the photos, “Is there anything scandalous here?”
Hoover, “No. They’re both single, the same rank, and in separate commands. The pictures were not meant for publishing. Still, it’s information. Put a file together on each and put it in with the other time travelers. I want files on all of them. Keep tailing them but leave them alone. They’re having dinner tonight at the House.”
