B004V9FYIY EBOK

by Unknown

  Lopez smiled a crooked smile. His teeth were a little uneven, but that didn’t seem to bother him. “Well, Captain, she’s not like my first ship. I was on a frigate with gas turbines. I swear that thing could turn on a dime, but when they asked for volunteers for this ship, I jumped at it. I mean, when will I ever get this chance again?” he said.

  “True enough. How do you like working with all these older guys?” he said a little louder so the others could hear. That got a few smiles from some of the other bridge watchstanders. They were interrupted by the navigator’s report stating they were on track and giving the time to next turn. Jamison shook his head each time – as if he didn’t know where they were, he thought.

  “It’s interesting, Captain,” Lopez said. “I got some guys in my division who are old enough to be my grandfather. But I must admit they are handy as hell to have around. It’s almost like having a division full of Chiefs,” he said.

  The Captain laughed. “Better not let the Chiefs hear you say that,” he said.

  “Too late,” came a cry from the navigation station behind the armored citadel. There were some chuckles around the bridge. Lopez blushed and the Captain sat back and grinned. Hammond had spent the day touring the ship and meeting his people. He took the time to enter each compartment and find out where everything was and how it worked. They were scheduled to fire the guns in three days for some crash gunnery training off of Camp Pendleton. Between now and then he would sit in with the gunners to see how they did their job. Already some ancient Master Chief was drilling the hell out of the fire control types. They were taking bearings on every point and every structure they could to calibrate the equipment and train the crews. He was thinking about this when the Weapons Officer walked up.

  “Excuse me, Captain, but I want to do some exercises with my turret crews. We are going to sync in the guns and run some exercises in main battery plot. This will mean the turrets and guns will be moving, but we obviously won’t be loading any projectiles. I need your permission to move the guns. I’ll be moving the turrets first, then some of the 5-inch,” he said.

  “Will this interfere with our transit?”

  “No, sir, I already checked with Mister Jamison. I’ll still have some of the 5-inch directors providing the bearings and ranges for navigation.”

  “Permission granted. Let me know if there are problems.”

  “Will do, sir,” he said as he turned and left the bridge. Within a few minutes the warning bells began ringing on the turrets and the massive 2,200 ton structures began rolling along their roller path pointing toward imaginary targets farther inland. It was impressive watching the huge 16-inch guns turning and aiming to the commands of the computers deep below.

  The coast was under a blackout, but the moon was nearly full. People looking from shore were awed at the sight of a giant black shadow crossing along the horizon. No lights were showing. The few cars out stopped near Ocean Boulevard as the ship passed. Something was happening. They had rarely seen ships that big and those were museum pieces. Almost all of them thought the same thing. America was being sneaky. To a person, it made them feel really good.

  Pusan, South Korea

  Su Lynn was slaving over several pots cleaning out the remains of boiled cabbages and other vegetables. Since deciding to stay in the city, Su Lynn demonstrated an amazing talent at cooking, especially for larger numbers of people. What most people didn’t know was that she had acquired this talent from the masterful instruction of her mother and several years of providing food for all the workers at their farm. She had developed a knack of getting the most out of any food. This served well since food was now being rationed throughout the city. All that had been allowed for two weeks was the equivalent of one good meal a day. However, Su Lynn was able to teach a few of the people the basics of gardening. Even now several plots of new vegetables were sprouting in the courtyard of the facility. She had also been able to befriend an older fisherman who still had a boat. In return for cooking for himself and his family in the facility, he would go out when he could and fish. On several occasions he came back with his boat filled with fish and other sea creatures.

  Nothing went to waste. Even seafood that would ordinarily be thrown away found its way into soups and other tasty meals. The South Korean government was being very strict on whom it would let out of the harbor each day, but they allowed the old man to continue fishing because they knew what he was doing with the catch. On two occasions they sent along a soldier to make sure there was no espionage going on. In both cases the solders came back worked to death and filled with the old man’s many years of stories of the sea. After that, they simply inspected his catch each time and let him continue on.

  Su Lynn had been working her assistants all afternoon, and the sweat was pouring from each of them. Gone were the days when she sat silently in the back of a Jeep. Over the weeks she grew more assertive and more outspoken. She had been given a great responsibility and was determined not to let down the people who counted on her. Yet she was one of the most pleasant people in the facility. Although the work was hard, she tried to make all the chores more bearable and often led the cooks in singing while they worked. The people assigned to Community Shelter Number 2 thought the world of her.

  She was busy scrubbing out a pot when a very haggard looking man appeared at the doorway. Most of the people in the kitchen couldn’t tell who he was because of the bright evening sun coming through behind him. His shoulders were slouched and his whole body had a very tired look. The uniform was dirty and wrinkled, with what appeared to be bloodstains on it. His hands hung from his sides like two pieces of meat on a butcher’s hook. They were filthy and calloused.

  But it was the face that seemed to tell most of the story. It too was dirty; the eyes slightly sunken and barely open. Deep bags under each eye told of long days without sleep. They were almost lifeless – devoid of feeling or understanding. Even the cheeks seemed hollow and pale. The lips were devoid of color and stretched in a thin line across the front of his face. Wrinkles lined his brow, yet the thick, dirty hair didn’t have a trace of gray in it. It was the hair of a young man.

  The eyes scanned the room and rested on Su Lynn. When they did, life sparkled back into them and his lips slowly spread wider, even if just a millimeter. Several people looked up to see him and then got Su Lynn’s attention. At first, she didn’t recognize him. Suddenly she jumped up from where she was to run to his side. Her face was a mask of joy and great concern.

  “I had to come see you again,” Ricks said through his exhaustion. This was the third time Ricks had come to see Su Lynn. The people of the shelter had been wary at first, but gradually accepted him.

  “You no be here,” Su Lynn said with concern. “You go bed!” she said as she led him to a chair in one corner of the kitchen. He sat heavily into the chair and drank thirstily from a cup of water offered by one of the workers.

  “I just got here,” he said. “They gave us 72 hours before we have to go back. I’ll go to bed, but just had to visit with you first.”

  She pulled up a stool beside him and took his hand. It felt coarse and rough in her own, but that didn’t bother her. “I know, but I fine. I can wait,” she said warmly.

  He smiled at her. “I know that, but I couldn’t,” he said.

  She smiled and looked him over. She had no way of knowing that just a few hours earlier he had been in the thick of battle. “You fighting hard?”

  He nodded. “They’re getting closer every day. We are having a hard time keeping them back, but we manage,” he said. An older woman brought him a bowl of the food they had prepared for the evening. It mainly consisted of cabbage and some meat in a broth. Some rice was in it as well. He ate as the people asked him questions about the war and he shared his more recent experiences. All the while Su Lynn stayed by his side. When he finished the bowl, he thanked the old woman and handed it back to her. She smiled and scurried away.

  The few minutes he sat talking to the grou
p seemed to draw more out of him. Su Lynn noticed. “You need go bed,” she said in her broken English.

  He nodded. “I’ll head back to base,” he said.

  “No. You too tired,” she said as she took his hand and pulled him from his chair. She led Ricks across the kitchen to a small room that had been set aside for her as the head of the kitchen staff. Opening the door, he saw only enough room for a small bed, a table at one end with some shelves, and one small chair to sit in. She led Ricks to the bed. “You go too hard. I glad to see, but you rest. Come, sit,” she said. Ricks almost fell on the bed.

  Su Lynn placed her hand on his cheek. “I like you here, but you hurt yourself,” she said with some concern.

  Ricks smiled at her. “I feel much better now,” he said tiredly.

  Su Lynn smiled. “Just rest. I clean up some,” she said. She began helping him remove his shirt and pants. She then laid him back on the bed as she went to get a large bowl of warm water and a wash cloth. The clothes she handed over to the man who cleaned the kitchen towels each night and asked him to clean them as best he could. The man nodded and left. When she returned to her room, Ricks was dead asleep. She laid the bowl on the floor and soaped up the cloth. Beginning with his face, she gently cleaned the grime and sweat from him. Then she pulled the cover back and washed his chest and torso. She liked what she saw. Ricks had lost much of the boyish look and had developed well-defined muscles on his arms and chest. He wasn’t muscle bound or overly developed, but more of a youthful, very masculine look. His chest even boasted a small tuft of hair, something she really liked.

  Su Lynn continued to wash Ricks even though he didn’t wake as she worked. His hands were the hardest to clean. It was as if the dirt from crawling 1,000 miles had been ground into them. Taking her time, she slowly worked the grime from the hands and even from under the fingernails. Then she rolled his body toward her and cleaned his back, down to his underwear. Next she covered his upper body and exposed his legs. They too were well-defined from miles of running and walking. She lifted and washed each leg until nearly his entire body had been cleansed. Then she gently laid each down and covered them with the blanket. Ricks hadn’t stirred. His breathing remained steady and deep. She tucked him in slightly and lightly kissed him on the forehead. She turned to see an older woman watching her. She had kept the door open the whole time so that no one would suspect anything outrageous. The old woman smiled at her.

  “This is the one you talk about?” she asked.

  Su Lynn smiled and nodded.

  The woman smiled and bid her to follow. “Then we must treat him very nice. After all he fights for us,” she said. They went to a small closet and the old woman pulled out a straw mat. “This is my son’s, but he will not mind you using it,” she said.

  They went back to Su Lynn’s room, moved the chair to the far end, and lay the mat down beside the bed. “You stay here with him,” she said. “He may need you.”

  Su Lynn was surprised. Such things were not proper and would be frowned upon. Her fears were reflected in her face.

  The old woman laughed. “Child, he is exhausted. Nothing will be wrong. You sleep on the mat. I will sleep in this chair outside the door to make sure you are not disturbed,” she said.

  Su Lynn nodded and laid some sheets on the mat. The old woman produced a pillow. Su Lynn changed into a sleeping gown and lay down on the mat. She left the door open and watched as the old woman walked over and switched off the kitchen light. She then pulled back the blackout curtains from the windows to let the breeze through. It was now dark outside and only a little light seeped into the room. Su Lynn heard the woman sit in the chair and lean it back against the wall. Within minutes she was snoring.

  Su Lynn lay on her mat for a while, but couldn’t sleep. She had been around Ricks overnight before, but now it was different. She sat up in bed and watched him sleep. At one point he began thrashing around and let out a moan. Su Lynn reached over and took his shoulder, steadying him. “It okay. You safe. I here with you,” she whispered to him. Her touch immediately stopped the thrashing. His breathing became steady and she felt his hand rub her arm. “Love you,” he muttered in a groggy sleep.

  She leaned in and kissed him gently on the lips. “I love you, too,” she whispered.

  Su Lynn lay her body over his for a moment in a soft hug, then lay back on her mat. She listened to the old woman’s snoring a while longer before sleep finally overtook her.

  USS Iowa

  The letter had been sitting on his desk as he came in for the evening. The ammunition onload at Seal Beach had kept Hammond out of his cabin at meetings both on the ship and ashore. A pile of documents sat on the desk for him to sign or approve. Hammond started working through the correspondence, but his eyes kept returning to the letter. It had a San Pedro return address but not anything official. He returned to the pile. Reports on damage control drills, eight o’clock reports, NALC reports, messages, a firing plan for the gunshot; just the myriad of things that a CO must deal with. But his mind drifted back to the letter.

  Hammond finally gave into temptation and opened it. It was handwritten, with a light and delicate hand. It was two pages and he hurriedly flipped to the back to see who sent it. It was from Patricia Crowell. Something about a letter from her excited Hammond. He returned to the first page and began reading.

  Dear Captain Hammond,

  I hope you don’t think me brash by writing to you, but I wanted you to know how much I enjoyed meeting you at the wardroom dinner. I have grown very attached to the people onboard your ship since we started this venture, but that has been on an official level. Through my office, we have held parties, helped obtain equipment, and done many other things to help get the ship and crew ready for what you are about to do.

  It’s interesting to me the difference one person can make with people. As a politician, I aspire to be that for the people in the city. After all, it’s what gets people elected. So you can understand when I notice such things in others.

  I couldn’t believe what happened in that wardroom when you came in. Just about everyone there seemed to straighten up a little and show a little more pride. They hung on the words you said and I heard them start talking about how great things were. It was as if everyone’s personality changed when you walked into the room. That was really impressive.

  Then we got the chance to talk a little. If you don’t mind my saying, you are a pretty interesting guy. I never met anyone who has done so much. Most of the politicians I have met are pretty dull. They talk about political conquests and campaigns they had. On occasion they might have an interesting trip they went on or luncheon they attended. Trust me, it isn’t much. You, on the other hand, have done things that really made a difference. Most recently you even did things on a political level. That’s a lot more than I ever expected. At the same time, you impressed me a little in another way. As opposed to some of the people I deal with, you can actually put more than two words together in a complete sentence. I saw the smart guy who did all those things I heard about.

  I must admit I enjoyed talking with you. Since then, I have been thinking about you a lot and for that reason I decided to write. I hope you don’t mind.

  We all realize what you and your crew are preparing to do. I can’t imagine what you will be going through or the dangers you will face. But I hope you know there are a lot of people around here who are thinking about you and wish the best for you. The people are proud of the ship and crew. We all wish you the best.

  I hope you don’t mind if I write occasionally. Since I am by myself after hours I have nothing better to do. I’ll keep you up on all the San Pedro gossip and let you know what’s going on. If you want to say hello occasionally, I’m here. Someone should have a friend to talk to.

  Just remember people wish you well. I hope we can be good friends.

  Sincerely,

  Hammond sat back in his chair and let out a long breath. Patricia Crowell was an open and interesting woman. More
than that, he had fun around her. He actually didn’t mind that she wrote. It kind of reaffirmed some things he had thought about her. Hammond smiled. It could be interesting.

  Hammond looked back at the desk and then at the clock on the bulkhead. It was after 10 pm. He didn’t really feel like finishing the pile tonight. Placing the letter back in the envelope, he placed it in a side drawer. He yawned and then turned out the light and went to bed.

  Chapter 11

  July 11 - New Allies

  Beijing, China

  Gregory Sussman was a low level diplomat assigned to the American Embassy in Beijing. His forte was business negotiations, and he had been working with the Chinese government for several years. Most of the time he negotiated copyright laws – primarily in music and films. China had a plethora of places that copied and sold bootleg CDs and DVDs.

  The latest round had to do with fashion design. The Chinese had very good fashion designers, but it was much easier to make copies of popular fashions and sell them on the open market. Unfortunately, China was so far reaching in landmass it was difficult to pinpoint where the manufacturers were located. The Chinese government was not particularly interested in hunting them down. It all brought money into their coffers.

  The day had been somewhat frustrating with both sides going over particularly hard points and offering proposals and counter proposals. It was all done in a friendly and amicable way, of course. Never were heated words exchanged. At the end, both sides offered to continue the discussions the next week. The two top negotiators left the room for a media-related statement while the “underlings” cleared the tables.

  Greg had just completed gathering the notes for the day when he noticed he and only one Chinese associate were in the room. The associate was eyeing him closely and walked over to where Greg was standing, offering a packet of paper.