by M L Maki
The get into a sedan waiting at the curb. They get in and Amy says, “This is my Aunt Ally.”
“Pleased to meet you, ma’am. Where are we going?”
Amy smiles, “You’ll see.”
They cross a bridge and drive down to a marina. Ally pulls in and stops. She turns around, “Here’s the keys, honey. You two have fun.”
“Aunt Ally, you’re the best.”
They get out, grab their bags, and walk down the dock. Gary asks, “What are we doing?”
Amy smiles, a mischievous glint in her eyes, “You’ll see.” She unlocks the gate and they walk down the dock to a Sparkman and Stephan’s 12 meter-yacht. “Welcome aboard the Sea Breese.”
“Your aunt owns a boat?”
“Uncle Danny. Aunt Ally married up. He’s actually a good Bruce. Really good to Aunt Ally.”
“Does he know we have his boat?”
“I reckon he should. Was him I asked.” She removes the sail lashings and covers.
“What do you want me to do?”
“You’re a sailor. Do you know anything about sail boats?”
“No. Our propulsion is a little more advanced.”
She grins, “Put our bags below and start the kettle. It uses an alcohol stove. Can you use one?”
“Yeah, we camped all the time.” He goes below. The boat is stocked and, in a few minutes, he finds everything he needs and starts the water heating.
She pops her head in, “Leave that to boil. I need some muscle.”
“Okay.” He climbs topside and helps her hoist the sails. It’s a Bermuda rigged sloop with lovely lines. “Does it have an engine?”
“Yeah. It’s below the companion way ladder.”
“I’ll check it.”
“Uncle Danny takes care of his boat.”
“I’ve no doubt. We’re going to take care of it, too.” He goes below and checks the oil, belts, and sea cock. The sea cock is closed. He opens it and looks for leaks. Finding none, he puts the ladder back, and climbs back up to the cockpit. “The sea cock was closed. If we had to run the engine, we would have burned it up.”
“Oh, crickey. Thank you. I know the sailing bit.”
“And I know engines. We’re a good team.”
“We are, aren’t we?”
He gives her a kiss, “Ready for me to let loose the lines, Captain?”
“I need to start the engine.” She turns the key and the two-cylinder engine below turns, catches, and starts popping along. Gary looks over the side checking to see water with the exhaust, then goes forward to untie the bow line. He then removes the stern line, and they are off. She moves them out of the marina, then, “Take the wheel. I’ll get the tea.”
She comes up with two mugs.
“Tell me where to go.”
“Go up wind.”
“Okay.” He starts to use a finger, then looks up the mast and sees a wing gauge.
She sets her mug in a holder and sets the sails, “Come off to starboard.”
Gary does as instructed. The boat surges forward as the sails catch the wind. They’re in a mild chop with the northeastern wind warm on their faces. She joins him in the cockpit and shuts off the engine, “It feels good. Don’t it?”
“It does.” She snuggles next to him.
“Where are we going?”
“I’m going to show you where I work. Then, we’re going down bay to look at your fleet.”
“We have to stay well clear, and I don’t think you’ll see mine.”
“Why not?”
“The boat I’m on is secret. It wasn’t in 1990, but it is now.”
She’s silent for a bit, “What can you tell me?”
“It’s designed to hunt submarines, though it can hunt surface ships, too. It isn’t designed, really, for anything else.”
“Is it a nice ship to work on?”
“It was before we got our new captain. He came aboard shortly before cruise.”
“What’s a cruise?”
“A deployment; a trip to sea for six or more months.”
She gives him a kiss, “What’s your home port?”
“Pearl Harbor, Hawaii.”
“Are there lots of girls in hula skirts?”
“There wasn’t when I was there in 1990. Mostly, there was tourists.”
“What was it like?”
“1990 or Hawaii?”
“Both.”
“In Hawaii, the water is really warm. You can swim comfortably in just shorts. Also, it doesn’t get too hot. Most days are around eighty degrees. Uh, about 24C. Because it’s an island group in the middle of nowhere, everything is expensive. So expensive, I lived in barracks even though I’m a first class.”
“What happened with your ex-wife?”
“Sissy was full of herself. She wanted me to be an admiral when all I am is a mechanic. She thought by marrying me, I would make her someone more important, and that isn’t who I am.”
“Who are you?”
“Me? I’m a sailor. I’m a mechanic. The symbol on my rank patch is a screw. I run the equipment that makes the boat go through the water. I like teaching the new guys. I also like doing a hard job well. I don’t want anything like stardom. I don’t want to be an officer, president, or politician. I just want to do an honest day’s work that I can be proud of.”
“I want that, too. Over there on that island is a ship yard. I work in the weld shop cleaning metal for welding. It’s filthy work, but it’s important.”
“Wow. What building?”
“It’s kind of in the middle of the island. You can’t really see it.”
“Okay.”
They continue down the bay toward the Garden Island Naval Base, passing under the Sydney Harbor Bridge. Gary, “Always a cool view. You know, there’s going to be a big opera house around here somewhere.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, it becomes this huge landmark like the London Bridge, or the Eiffel Tower.”
“Wow. Okay, I need to let out the sails a bit.” She gets up and adjusts the sails, then cuddles back against him. “It’s a good thing it isn’t too warm.”
“It is.”
BOTANICAL GARDENS, SYDNEY, AUSTRALIA
A photographer from the Sydney Morning Herald is looking out over the bay. He was told to find pictures of Yank sailors enjoying Sydney. He has pictures of sailors shopping or walking, but they do not capture what he wants. Then he sees a sail boat. At the helm is an American sailor in uniform. Snuggled next to him is a local girl. She is looking toward him. He brings his camera up and takes a series of photos.
S/V SEA BREESE, SYDNEY HARBOR
Gary sees the guy with the camera and waves.
Amy, “What?”
“A guy is taking our picture.”
Amy waves too. They settle back, watching the scenery pass by. “That ship sticking out? What is it?”
“It’s the front half of the Carl Vinson, our aircraft carrier.”
“Wow. How big is it?”
“Actually, I don’t know the numbers. I know it’s over a thousand feet long and holds a bunch of aircraft.”
“How many and stuff is probably classified, right?”
“Yeah.” When they get a bit closer, a wood runabout, with a machinegun mounted, comes toward them. “It’s time to give them some space.”
They swing up wind until they are close hauled and sailing away. The patrol boat continues to approach and comes alongside. The Australian sailors ask, “What yous doing, mate?”
Gary, “She wanted to see the ships.”
“No worries, mate. We’ll radio it in. Keep three hundred feet or more from them.”
“Thank you.”
“Which one is yours?”
“The San Francisco.”
“Stay clear of that one, mate.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“G’day then.” They motor off.
Amy nods, “So, it’s a fair dinkum secret. Wow.”
“Yeah. I wasn’t
bull shitting you.”
Amy, “Do you want to come about and run in there?”
“If you want. You didn’t bring a camera, right?”
“No.”
“Good.” They swing about and run into the inlet where the ships are. They’re building a dry dock between the Horne and the Vinson.
She looks up at the Vinson, “Do you know the air planes?”
“Yeah, those you see toward the front with two tails are F-18s. They’re fighters and bombers. The skinny tailed ones with one vertical tail, those are A-6s. They’re bombers. The ones with two tails and the wings folded back, instead of up, those are F-14 Tomcats. They’re fighters, pure and simple and they’re really cool. I wish I could show you the movie ‘Top Gun’. It’s so cool.”
They sail down in a broad reach until they get to the finger pier and the wind dies. He starts the engine and they come about. Amy, “That big boat is a cruiser?”
“Yeah.”
“You know, I’m curious.”
“I do, but, sorry. If I talk about it, I would go to jail.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“Okay. I keep asking questions that could get you into trouble. Let’s get away from here.”
“Okay. Where next?”
“I know a cove further up the harbor.
USS SAN FRANCISCO
1527, 7 February, 1942
Cumberland is going through paperwork when there is a knock on his door, “Enter.”
Morrison walks in, “You wanted to talk to me, sir?”
“About?”
“The restaurant, sir.”
Cumberland shakes his head, “Who’s idea was it to cross-train crews with the carrier?”
“As I understand, the reactor officer, Captain Tucker.”
“Don’t you see the possibility of him stealing our crew?”
“Thought about that. None of their people are sub qualified. They can’t have any of our guys that are. Commander Petrea said they’re running an approved nuclear power school on the carrier. In time, we could get new crew. It would be nice if they at least had an idea of what we are about.”
“Were you talking shop in public?”
“No. We discussed it on the Vinson when you sent me to the reactor department for parts and maintenance help. Sir, they’re providing experienced nuke welders, valves, and other supplies. They’ve also offered the reactor training console. I thought it would be a good thing to run our ET’s through. We have an ORSE coming up.”
“Okay. That’s a good idea. New nukes would be nice. I’ve no idea how we can get new non-nuke crew.”
“They have a sub school in Groton.”
“True, but the curriculum would be massively out of date.”
“Yes, sir.”
There’s a knock on the door and Morrison opens it. The roving watch says, “XO, you have a guest on the brow.”
“Who?”
“Commander Petrea, sir.”
“Thank you.” He turns back to Cumberland, “Anything else, sir?”
“No, go continue your date.”
“Sir, it wasn’t a date. She just lost her spouse, too.”
“Call it what you will, it isn’t a fraternization issue, so carry on.”
“Yes, sir.”
Morrison climbs out of the boat and walks up the brow and sees Petrea in her tropical whites. She grins, “Are you hiding on your boat?”
“Can you give me a moment to change?”
“Sure.”
Ten minutes later, he’s walking up the brow in his tropical whites. She dangles car keys from her finger, then tosses them to him. They walk to a Ford, and this time, he remembers which door to open for her. He asks, “Where too?”
“I found a bar yesterday. I’ll show you.”
“Okay. They have food?”
“The best ‘tucker’ I’ve found. Turn left, then right at the first stop. Are you okay?”
“He said he wanted to talk to me, then he fled the fucking boat. I couldn’t leave until we talked.”
“What an ass.”
“Yeah. What’s worse, when I finally cornered him in his office, he blew off the whole thing like it was nothing. Did Hunt report him?”
“She doesn’t bluff, John.”
“Well, I think he got his ass chewed, again.”
She chuckles, “Is it becoming his hobby?”
He laughs, “It seems like it. By the way, he approved the cross-training.”
“Good. Turn left up ahead, the right on the roundabout. It’s called the Blue Rabbit.” They find a place to park and walk in. An older gentleman greets them and finds them a table. About half of the customers are in uniform. They see a few in aviation green. Some are in the blue of the RAAF. They appear to be the only ones in white.
John, I see our comrades haven’t found this place.”
“Yeah. It’s a hole in the wall, but it’s nice. Gloria and Sam recommended it.”
“Are they coming?”
Liz, “I’m not sure what they are up to. Are you okay?”
He nods, “Yeah.” They order their food and a beer. “Unfortunately, I’ve grown accustomed to my boss’ eccentricities. Captain Van Zandt and Admiral Klindt know all the particulars. I think they’re waiting to get the training pipeline sorted out.”
“I just heard they’re standing up a nuclear power school in Washington state. It’s at the shipyard in Bremerton, I think.”
The waiter brings their beers. John asks, “Have you been there?”
“John, the Vinson is stationed there.”
“I was assigned to the Parche in Bremerton.”
Liz, “Oh, the spook boat.”
“Yep. That’s all I can say about that. I did like Washington. It’s nice, but rainy.”
“I liked it too. We’re dancing around what we ought to be talking about.”
“We are. Did you report him to Tucker?”
“I had to. Otherwise, I would undercut what Sam did. The CAG was the one who talked to him. What’s he like underway?”
“The same as he is everywhere else. The exception is when we are stalking a target. Then he gets calm and happy. I think, after a kill, he has to rub one out.”
Liz, “That’s sick.”
“It’s weird.”
“No, it’s sick. I’m no psychologist, but your captain is clinical. He’s like a serial killer, or something.”
“Not my area, either. Don’t serial killers have to always kill? We’re the first sub to take a war shot since the Falkland’s.”
“Maybe he tortured cats.”
“Liz, how could someone with an actual psychological condition make it all the way to command?”
“He would be the only one who could answer that. Look at his behaviors. What other explanation is there?”
The waiter delivers their food. John says, “I heard he went through an ugly divorce a bit before he reported.”
“That explains the anger when he thinks you’re in a relationship. It isn’t fair for you to be happy, when he is not. That sounds narcissistic.”
John smiles, “By the time we get to dessert, we’ll have him diagnosed as a homicidal maniac.”
“That’s not an actual diagnosis.”
“Okay. I don’t know what to do. An XO is supposed to be loyal. I have to have rock solid reasons to recommend he be relieved. Relieving a skipper can be devastating to a command. Not that I think he’s popular.”
Liz smiles, “What are we going to do is change the subject, because your command knows and there’s nothing you can do, yet.”
“Okay, maestro of musings, we’ve talked about my work situation. Can we discuss the conversation we had before assholius interrupted us?”
“I would like that.”
“While I was on the boat in purgatory, I did some thinking about what you and Hunt and Houlihan said. I admit my ignorance on the topic. I’ve enough empathy to attempt understanding, but I think my bias gets in the way.”
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