To Hunt and Protect
Page 4
The Quartermaster says, “Sounding is 19,500 feet based on chart, sir.”
Cumberland, “Very well, Officer of the Deck, submerge the ship.”
Backes, “Submerge the ship, aye. Diving officer, submerge the ship.”
The Diving Officer says, “Submerge the ship, dive, aye. Chief of the Watch, pass the word, ‘Dive. Dive.’ Sound two blasts on the dive alarm. Pass the word, ‘Dive. Dive.’”
Giblin, the Chief of the Watch, announces, sounds the alarm, then announces again. He then lifts up the vent control switches. All the ballast tank valves open, letting the air escape.
Backes on the periscope, “Decks awash.”
Diving officer, “64 feet. 68 feet. 74 feet. 90 feet.”
Backes, “Down scope.”
Cumberland, “Make our depth 300 feet. Continue north at SOA.”
Backes repeats and Cumberland leaves control.
One of the helm watches asks Giblin, “Chief, why did they give us ice cream?”
Giblin smiles, “It’s an old tradition. I think it dates back to the birth of naval aviation. If you fish an airman out of the water, then the carrier gives you ice cream.”
“Cool. When will we get it?”
“It’s up to the captain.”
“Shit.” He pulls back on the dive planes, “Leveling at 300 feet.”
Backes, “Very well.” He turns to Morrison, “Where did the mail come from?”
“The carrier must have gotten a mail run before we went back and it’s just getting to us now.”
“So, it’s the last we get?”
“Yeah.”
Cumberland on the box, “XO, could you see me in my quarters?”
Morrison pushes the button, “Yes, sir.” He walks forward, knocks and enters the CO’s stateroom, “Yes, sir?”
“These mail bags create an issue. It seems to me our crew would be better off if we deep sixed the lot.”
“We can’t do that, sir. The crew knows we have it. It’s the last letters from their families, sir.”
“I’m aware that destroying mail was illegal in 1990, but we’re in 1941. The rules have changed.”
“No, sir. That law has been on the books since colonial times. Even the censors, who reviewed mail, would never destroy it. They would send it back to the originator for editing. Besides the legal implications, sir, destroying the mail would devastate crew morale. We must give them their mail.”
“Okay, I’m just concerned with crew morale.”
“Speaking of that, Christmas is coming and obviously we are not going to be in port. I would like to see the wardroom and goat locker plan something for the crew.”
“The SUPPO has a special meal planned. What do you have in mind?”
“Carols. Some decorations. Have a lay service.”
“Do we even have a lay reader on board?”
“Yes, sir. Lieutenant Cutting reads for the protestant services and Chief Hines read for the Catholics. We also have ST1 Thorsen who reads for the non-Christian services.”
“Thorsen isn’t Christian? What is he?”
“Buddhist, sir. Tibetan Buddhist, to be exact.”
“And we trust him?
“Sir, his religion does not mean he is not an American and a patriot. He’s an excellent sonarman. He holds a BA in music from Boston U and plays several musical instruments. He’s trustworthy, regardless of his religion.”
“Where’s he from?”
“Greenwich Village, New York.”
“Greenwich Village? Is he gay?”
“Not that I know of, sir.”
“I don’t want a big city faggot on my boat.”
“How would we replace him sir?”
Cumberland takes a deep breath, “Okay, what I say in here is private. At this time, there are no civil rights laws. I do not want any pagan ceremonies or rites on my boat. I no longer have to put up with it, so I won’t.”
Morrison, “Yes, sir. No Santa Claus, Christmas trees, Christmas lights, Christmas candles, and we need to have the celebration in July or August.”
“What the hell are you talking about. I was clear.”
“Sir, most of what we do in celebration of Christmas has pagan origins. Christianity adopted them to make it easier for pagan populations to embrace Christianity. Christmas was the winter solstice celebration and wasn’t even important in the early church.”
“I’m not arguing ancient history with you. You know what I want. Dismissed.”
“Yes, sir. Do we have permission to put together a Christmas celebration?”
“Of course. I’m not a monster, XO.”
“Yes, sir.” Morrison leaves and goes back to control. Backes hands him five letters, “On course at 300 feet. No new contacts.”
“Thank you. You get anything from Carol?”
“Yeah. Two letters and Travis wrote one, too.”
John looks at his letters. The first two are from Lisa. The next is from his mom. The fourth is from Captain Klindt. The last is from Captain Chris Van Zandt. He tilts his head, “Hmm.” He turns to Greg, “I’ll be in my state room. Could you arrange a meeting for me with the COB and the off-watch chiefs and officers in the wardroom? Make it for after watch change.”
“Yes, sir.”
Morrison goes forward into the wardroom and gets a cup of coffee to take back to his tiny stateroom. He settles in with his coffee, “Captain Van Zandt has to be first. He was one of my instructors at command college. This is odd.”
Commander Morrison,
I’m hoping you remember me from command college where I taught command ethics. I knew your father professionally and you struck me, in class, as an exceptional officer. I am now the chief of staff for Admiral Ren on the Carl Vinson. Your commanding officer, CDR Cumberland, sent a message asking if it was our intent to comply with FDR’s executive order regarding internment of Japanese-Americans. The Admiral determined we will not, under any circumstance, follow orders from history books. All regulations in effect as of December, 1990 are still in effect until countermanded by our current chain of command.
We’re preparing to report our presence to Admiral Nimitz. Everything we know about him says he’s a fair and decent man. Still, we have no idea how this will go, or what will happen. This has a potential, though small, of impacting your career. As I, and Admiral Ren, see it, each person in this command is essential to our overall war effort and effectiveness. This is what we will impress upon our leadership.
This brings forward another question. Regarding this, I need and require a frank and honest answer. Please do not allow loyalty to cloud your answer. Could you explain Commander Cumberland’s command style and reflect upon what would motivate him to seemingly recommend dismissing you from naval service?
Reply by private letter.
Respectfully,
Christian Van Zandt
Morrison sets it down and drinks his coffee, thinking. He reads the letter again. “God. He sure knows how to cut right to the point and force an answer. Okay, never be the senior man with a secret.” He pulls out a pad, flips over the letter he had been writing to Lisa, and begins on a clean page.
Captain Van Zandt,
I do remember the course and the lessons it contained. As you are fully aware, you put me in a vise. Cumberland is difficult, but he is a competent officer. He is cold and he does not believe in positive feedback as an effective means of motivation. His manner is brusque with the men and myself, but he is competent and a good tactician. It was his decisions that led us into a position to engage the Russian and Japanese submarines that we successfully sunk. My instincts say he has a cruel streak, but again, he has been a competent tactician and has kept us alive thus far. In peace time circumstances, I would be concerned as to his being a good fit in command, but we are at war and there are no officers who could easily relieve him. For this reason, I see his positive qualities outweighing the negative at this time. With your permission, I would prefer to continue a correspondence on this and
other topics.
Very Respectfully,
John Morrison
He pulls the sheet off the pad and puts it into an envelope. He addresses the envelope and sets it aside. “Captain Klindt next.”
Greetings,
I, very much, hope this letter finds you well. I am the Reactor Officer on the Vinson and I lead a group called the Captain’s Brain Trust. We have been sorting out things since we came back in time. I should discuss the Trust’s evidence. After the storm event, we lost communications with higher and the Hewitt, which was aiding a disabled Japanese fishing boat and, thus, out of the area of effect, which we determined to have about a fifteen-mile radius. We continued picking up bounced radio from the US that was playing big band music. After the loss of the Stoddert, we recovered the body of a Japanese sailor. We gave the body an internal dose check and found his reading to be nine counts. That is substantially below normal. The test was run twice, with a calibration in between. The man lived before the advent of nuclear testing. Based on the evidence we had, we were authorized to make a radio transmission in the clear posing as a lost boy on a sail boat. The ruse worked and we confirmed that the date of the transference was December 19th, and the years were from 1990 to 1941. We are still working to determine the cause. It is possible we may never know. That brings you up to date on what we’ve done.
As the leader of the Trust, I have been finding myself aiding Admiral Ren on a number of issues. Earlier today I was called in to give my advice regarding a message Commander Cumberland sent the Admiral. It was in regard to internment of Japanese Americans. Specifically, when he was to turn you over for internment and get a white XO. My skin crawled. He also included the other non-white members of the crew, but the focus was clearly on you. I recommended, and the admiral agreed, to not follow orders from history books. The reasoning is simple. Our presence here changes history.
Internment was a blight on the moral landscape of our nation. It was racist, a waste of resources, and allowed the theft of property. As an advisor, I will do everything in my power to eliminate internment and a number of other mis-steps our nation took.
This brings me to you. I was very much impressed with you during our time serving together on USS Fulton. I do not know your captain, but his message does not do him credit. I want to be clear. I am writing as your friend and mentor. It is for this reason I am skipping the normal chain of command and protocol. I need a frank and straightforward assessment of your commander, and whether you, and the other minority crewmembers are safe under his command. I know I can trust your response.
One last item. In my position, I will do everything possible to protect you from internment and keep you, and your talents, in the service of our navy.
Your Friend,
Captain Craig Klindt
“Wow. I have friends.” He takes a deep, clearing breath. “Some of the weight lifts.” He pens a reply.
Captain Klindt,
Thank you so much for your letter. Captain Van Zandt wrote me inquiring of much the same issue regarding CDR Cumberland. With you, I will be frank. Cumberland is an ass. He sees no value in positive reinforcement as a motivational tool. He is cool to cold with the crew and with me. For example, he cannot see why the crew would be saddened by the loss of their families when they have an opportunity to make history. My wife and I had dinner with him in Pearl during our last night in port. He informed us that she was an inappropriate choice as a spouse for a naval officer. But it was his behavior that was inappropriate, if not out of bounds.
Having bashed the man, I must also say he is a superb tactician and knows his business. It was his decisions that lead to the sinking of our two kills. One, if you are unaware, was a Russian Akula class nuclear sub which was maneuvering aggressively toward the Vinson. Also, though he is an ass, he is a consistent ass. We all know the importance of consistency in leadership.
Were we at peace with replacements at hand. I would recommend his replacement. In the current situation, I will deal with him as we move forward. I would very much like to continue our correspondence.
On another note, Lisa Stevenson and I broke up right before I reported to the Fulton. We had been a couple for about a year. For me, she was the one. She is a singer, songwriter. Up until recently, she was a backup vocalist with Metalsmith, as well as the bands primary songwriter. Her brother, Andy Stevenson, is the keyboardist. She married Ted, the lead singer, a few years after she and I split and divorced him eight months ago. My mom match made and suggested she borrow my apartment and escape her life for a while. We married the night before we left Pearl. I very much hope there is some mechanism to bring us back home.
Your Friend,
John
John picks up Lisa’s two letters and the one from his mom and sets them with the rest of Lisa’s letters, “For when I need you.”
USS SAN FRANCISCO
1800, 24 December, 1941
LT Craig Cutting leads the men through a Christmas eve service. “…So, the child lay in a manger, which is sort of a trough for hay to feed animals. The family is far from home and all alone. If they knew anyone in town they wouldn’t be in a barn. Normal nativity scenes show there are three wise men, but we only know they gave three gifts. In all likelihood, they didn’t show up that night either. Put it together. A young couple, recently married is forced by an uncaring government to travel to a strange city when the wife is approaching childbirth. It has to be a difficult time. A scary time. What held them together? Why did this special family hold together when others fail? It is, and must be, love. We, each of us, are all we have. Find room in your day for love.”
ETC John Barton, on his acoustic guitar, and ST1 Thurman, on his violin, play the first notes, then sing, “What Child is This?”
FOREST EAST OF DIJON, OCCUPIED FRANCE
1814, 24 December, 1941 (local time)
US Army SFC Henry Holmes stops the box truck he and his men stole and they all get out. It’s snowing and bitterly cold. Lieutenant Victor Olsen says, “Fuck, it’s cold. Why aren’t we trying for the Swiss border? It’s only over there.”
Holmes, “Shhh, sir.”
Holmes has seven technicians to feed and care for, including one woman. He starts cutting branches and small trees to cover the blue sides of the truck. Once they get started, Holmes walks back down their tire tracks with a branch. In twenty minutes, he motions south and they start out.
In their packs are jerky and other high energy, low mass foods they picked up at the mini-mart on their way off Brendenmeyer. As the sun starts to set, Holmes motions them to stop and they get off their feet and eat. He looks at his lieutenant, “Look, sir, if we make it across into Switzerland, we get interned. We’re of no use to our country if we can’t get home. We go south to the Med where it’s warmer. If we can, we steal a boat and go to Gibraltar. Barring that, we make contact with the underground and escape from one coast or another.”
The lieutenant nods, “Hooah, SFC.”
Technical Sergeant Tiffany Van Zandt says, “We could make for Andorra, too.”
Olsen, “What’s Andorra?”
Van Zandt, “It’s a small principality on the border of France and Spain. It was truly neutral during the war and they took in refugees. I read once that the French underground used Andorra to smuggle out downed pilots. They could smuggle us out, too.”
U.S. Airforce Master Sergeant Kelly O’Brien says, “I went there once on leave. It’s in the mountains. To get there we have to cross all of Vichy France.”
Holmes, “First, the coast.”
Van Zandt, “It’s Christmas eve.” She looks at each of her companions, “Merry Christmas. God, I wish I was home.”
Holmes, “Yeah, I know. For now, we’ve got to let it go, or we won’t survive. We need to cover about thirty miles in this snow tonight.”
USS SAN FRANCISCO, 90 MILES NORTHEAST OF THE CARRIER GROUP
0810, 27 December, 1941
The sub slows from a sprint. To keep ahead of the
carrier, they have to spring ahead, then stop and hunt. Brown is in a near meditative state, listening and watching his waterfall screen. As they slow, a line of dots appears.
Guthrie asks, “What’s this?”
Brown, “Conn, Sonar. New contact. Designate Sierra 5. Bearing is 224.”
Morrison walks in, “Penny for your thoughts?”
“Sir, two screws. Twin diesels. The screws are fast. Either a large fishing boat or a sub on the surface.”
“Okay.” Morrison returns to control, “OOD, left standard rudder. Make our course 170.”
The watch repeats back.