by Unknown
Every half hour the men surfaced and recharged their rebreathers. The men didn’t use scuba gear. The bubbles would give their positions away. Instead they were using a device that allowed them to rebreathe their own air. This eliminated the bubbles and the need to refill empty air tanks from a compressor. Periodically they had to surface, and change out a canister, replenishing their air and dive again. They didn’t have to dive deep. Inchon was a shallow area and contact mines had to be near the surface for a ship to hit them.
One after another the mines were located and the charges placed. As the early dawn began to lighten the sky, the six men emerged unseen onto a small island in the bay. They crawled into the thick scrub to a small hollowed area under a canopy of trees and underbrush where they ate and set a watch. Then the men slept.
Turner lay back and listened to the birds sing in the trees. It was so peaceful here. Rarely was there a sound of machinery or war. If they hadn’t been afraid of being shot, it would have been nice to go back down to the beach and get a tan. He glanced over at the men with him. Petty Officer Dunn was seated so that his head was just above the bushes, giving him a good view around the island. He seemed alert. His eyes darted back and forth and his head turned to cover all 360 degrees of his surroundings. Chief Pullam was already sawing wood. It never ceased to amaze Turner that the Chief could fall deeply asleep whenever the opportunity arose, yet be fully awake at the slightest touch. The rest were cuddled up as best they could in the early morning coolness.
They had been lucky. The C-130 dropped them and their gear off within a mile of the island in the dead of night. Since the fall of Seoul just a few days before, no activity was anywhere near them. The airports were closed and even the fishing boats rarely ventured out. A larger island was a couple of miles away, but this one was made up of a rocky hill full of vegetation. It was not more than 600 yards in any particular direction, and there was not a soul on it except for the SEALs. The rocky outcroppings along the shore had been a perfect place to hide their inflatable boats and the rest of their gear. Each boat had a small electric motor to help get the men around. The batteries were hooked to high efficiency, portable solar panels that recharged them during the day.
One other piece of luck had been the discovery of an empty, rusting grain barge anchored near the center of the bay. It was partially submerged through neglect. No top covered the open hold and over time water had washed in and was freely moving inside. The barge itself was still relatively solid. After watching the barge during the first day and seeing no one disturbing it, Turner and the others crawled aboard the first night and made sure it was secure. Finding a small compartment in one end that was dry, they placed half of their explosives and diving gear inside and re-secured the hatch so that it looked like it hadn’t been touched. Chief Pullam had set a charge on the equipment so that if the North found it, the charge would go off killing the finder and sinking the barge, eliminating the evidence. So far, no one had even glanced at the thing. The team used the materials on the barge first, then resupplied from the island.
Now the team was almost finished. Turner figured one last night of work would do it. Their orders were to complete the mission and be extracted by some kind of ship the Navy would be sending. They would set up a small receiver on the barge and a sonar transducer underneath to signal the detonations. By then, Turner and his team planned to be long gone.
USS Iowa
Hawaii had been a rendezvous with several ships. Now the entire surface task force was together and on its way. The rendezvous had been over a week ago. Vice Admiral Thacke surveyed the ships around them in his command center. It wasn’t something he thought he would ever see. Battleships and gun cruisers formed the central core of the formation, with old missile cruisers and a sprinkling of newer ships forming the outer screen. The newer ships had been drawn from those deployed or out to sea during the EMP attack. There were enough missiles and parts to keep them operational. A few had been brought back on line in time to join in. Thacke liked the fact that if needed, his missile ships could provide adequate protection. The older Belknap Class missile cruisers had been scraped together from mothballed fleets in San Francisco and along the east coast. Built mostly in the 1960s, the technology was old but the missiles themselves were of a newer design. Raytheon, General Dynamics, and a few others pulled out the stops to bring out the old missiles and get them back online. In some cases they dug out the templates and stamps manufacturing new missiles to meet the old designs. The Navy was warned to use the things sparingly since it took time to build them, but they were working on a small stockpile. The old Adams class DDGs had been the easiest. They could fire the SM-1s still in inventory.
“I’m going up to the bridge and walk around some,” Thacke said. He then left the flag bridge and went up one level to the pilot house. Captain Hammond was sitting in his seat talking on the telephone.
“Look, I don’t care what it takes. Get that system back online ASAP,” he said. After a pause, he continued. “That’s okay with me; I doubt the Admiral will squeal either. Just let me know when it gets done,” he said hanging up the phone.
Hammond stood for the Admiral but was motioned to sit back down. “Problem?” Thacke asked.
“Spot One is down. Weaps says it’s some sort of brush in the servo that sends the signal down to the computer. As usual, no spares, but he says Skelly has a fix. So they’ll get back to me,” Hammond said.
“So I won’t squeal?”
Hammond shrugged. “I figure you won’t care as long as the system works.”
Thacke nodded. “Quite correct, Captain. I was told you plan on running some kind of drill?”
“Yes, sir, a fire drill. We're going to take it all the way so I let your watch officer know. That shouldn’t interfere with anything you have, should it?”
Thacke shook his head. “No, go ahead. By the way, I liked your ideas for our mini-refresher training out here. It’s getting everybody on their toes in a short period of time. My Chief of Staff coming from one of the training units didn’t hurt. He’s acting like a chess master maneuvering things around a board. He wants to pull the heavies off and have a short gun shoot tomorrow. It’s a good idea and will let the guys get a look at what we have here,” Thacke said.
He looked around at the orderliness of the bridge and its smooth operation. Hammond had taken over and done a great job of getting his ship ready. “You and Bill came up with a good plan for the distribution of forces. I went over it again this morning. Bill’s going to get it typed up as a battle plan and we will go over it at the commander’s meeting day after tomorrow. It fits well with Richardson’s overall plan for the invasion and appears to give the support needed to pull it off well. I’ll get it transmitted from Guam via the broadcast after the meeting.”
“Sounds good,” Hammond replied. “Which group do you want us in?”
“Pusan. That’s where we need the concentration. From what I hear, everywhere else will be pretty much controlled by the North by then. I got a message this morning saying we can use Sasebo for our refueling and replenishment. That should make a quick turnaround.”
“I’m still worried about that. I could empty this thing in a day of hard shooting. By the time we get to Sasebo and onload, then come back again and shoot then onload again, my guys are going to be dead. I can’t keep them going forever,” Hammond said.
Thacke nodded. “I know, it may take a little bit, but once the landings are completed and the Army gets its act together we should have time for some rotation and crew relief. I figure the first thirty days will be a bear, but then slacken off considerably. I’m also counting on a few things I know are coming that will give us a break. Sorry I can’t share, but it will help a lot.”
The bitch box crackled to life in front of the men. “Bridge, main control, we have a Class Bravo fire in number two fireroom. I say again, we have a Class Bravo fire in number two fireroom.”
The OOD pressed the button. “Is this a drill?
”
“Negative, this is not a drill goddamnit!”
The OOD turned to the Bos’n’s Mate. “Boats, Class Bravo fire in number two fire room, sound general quarters!”
The Bos’n flipped the switches and blew his call. “This is not a drill, this is not a drill, fire, fire, fire. Class Bravo fire in number two fireroom. Away the damage control parties Repair Four provide. General quarters, general quarters, all hands man your battle stations. Set Condition Zebra throughout the ship.” He turned the switch on a red painted box next to the console. The general quarters alarm sounded throughout the ship and from everywhere, men dropped what they were doing and sprinted to their general quarters stations.
Thacke stood back out of the way as Hammond was on his feet calling down to main control via the phone. The Cheng immediately answered.
“Cheng, what have you got?
“A fuel line to the number three burner head ruptured and started spreading oil everywhere, Captain. As the Chief was calling it in, the stuff ignited. They got the fuel shut down to the boiler, but the remainder is burning in the bilges and along the boiler facing. I got burn casualties,” the Cheng said quickly.
“The DC parties should be there pretty quick. I’ll get the docs to take care of your guys. Go ahead and have your guys isolate number two and cross connect until we have the fires out and a boiler back online. Do what you need to do, Cheng,” Hammond said.
“Hang on, the fires are out, Captain. The twin agent system worked. Let me get some things taken care of and I’ll get back to you,” he said. The telephone line went dead.
“OOD, call sick bay and have them ready for some burn casualties. If they need the wardroom, it’s theirs,” Hammond barked. He turned to Thacke. “Fuel line burst. Fire’s out, but there’s some oil in the bilge and some burn casualties. We’ll be okay.”
“Quick action, Captain. You’re going to need help with those burn casualties,” Thacke said.
“Yeah, but I need to find out how bad it is.”
“DC Central reports the fire is out, four casualties, all on the way to sick bay. Reflash watch is set. The DCA recommends we shut down number two fireroom until they can clean it up and inspect the other fuel lines. Blackie says there’s not much oil in the bilge and has put a layer of foam on it just in case. He said he is getting the wicks from the spill kit to get the oil out. He also said the boiler itself is probably not damaged,” the OOD reported.
“Very well,” said the Captain. He glanced at the Admiral and gave a little sigh.
The XO entered the pilot house. He was blackened with soot and sweating like a horse, but his eyes were blazing from the adrenaline. “Fire’s out, Captain. The Chief and three other guys got second and third degree burns. The rest were singed but okay. Petty Officer Owens got it the worst. He was trying to staunch the oil flow with a rag when it went off. The top watch hit the cutoff valve to stop the fuel flow, but not before it really ate up Owens’ hands and face. Fireman Maxwell grabbed the twin agent hose and let her rip. That snuffed the fire. Repair 4 is on scene and overhauling it,” he said. “We were lucky. The guys caught it very quick. I was down in Main Control when it happened. They did good,” he said with a grin.
The bitch box crackled again. “Bridge, Main Control. Is the Captain there?” It was the voice of Commander Kimberlain, the Chief Engineer.
Hammond pressed the button. “Go ahead, Cheng.”
“Okay, everything is under control down here. We’re bringing 1 Bravo boiler online to compensate and have cross connected the forward group to maintain propulsion and electricity. We’ve got most of the smoke out now and the DCA is checking it all out. It appears there’s not much damage. I’ll have a crew on it right after Blackie says go. The Chief and two of the guys have second degree burns, but Owens is pretty bad. Doc is working on him now. We may need to get him ashore captain,” CHENG said.
Hammond looked at Thacke. “Tomorrow evening I can have the helo fly him in early,” Thacke said.
“Taken care of, Cheng. The XO is here and giving me a brief. Let me know whatever else you need.”
“Will do, sir.”
“I’m going down to Sick Bay. Go ahead and secure from general quarters,” he said to the OOD as he left the bridge. The XO was right behind him. Thacke watched them go and asked the OOD to let his staff know if they needed anything.
Sick Bay was deep inside the ship between turrets one and two. As the men climbed through the scuttles and hatches, the air felt thicker and a thin layer of smoke still hung in the air. As they entered sick bay the captain saw Chief Houck sitting at a dressing station. He had some bubbled skin on his hands and arms. A corpsman named Grotke was putting a light bandage on the wounds. Houck smiled at the Captain as he entered. Hammond walked over to him and noticed he had no eyebrows and some of his hair was gone.
Hammond pulled up a chair and sat down next to him. “You going to be okay?”
The Chief let out a coarse laugh. “Shit. It’ll take more’n that to kill me. The damn fuel line just let go Captain. There weren’t any leaks or anything, just one second dry and the next there was oil spraying everywhere. I’m not sure where the spark came from, but we were replacing the burner tips when it happened. There might have been a little blowback. Anyway, Owen grabbed his rag and was wrapping it around the line when it all went off,” he said. He then pointed behind him. “Doc’s looking at him now. Fireman Maxwell saved our bacon. He grabbed the twin agent hoses and let go with a couple good bursts of PKP while he shot some foam along the boiler face. It didn’t take long. The other guys are okay, just some minor stuff. I tried to help Owens and caught a couple of flashes before the fire went out,” he said with a grin on his face.
Hammond looked over at the corpsman. The man was finishing up with the loose bandage. “He’s going to be okay, Captain, but it got his arms and hands. Normal times I would send him ashore,” the corpsman said.
The Chief looked over at the corpsman. “Bullshit. I ain’t leaving this ship. I got to go back and get that fireroom in shape. This will heal up okay,” he said lifting his arms and waving them around.
The corpsman raised his hand. “Hang on, Chief. I’m not saying you have to go. But if you want those arms to stay on, you need to keep them still.” The corpsman placed a sling around his head and eased an arm into it. “You need to let these arms rest. Don’t pop the blisters and don’t put anything on them. They’re going to hurt like hell for a few days. I’ll get you a few pills to take for that. The main thing is you stay inside and in the Chief’s Quarters. Come back every morning and afternoon for us to re-bandage and look you over. For now, I need you to lie down in one of our racks and just rest,” he said.
The Chief started to protest, but Hammond stopped him. “Chief, he’s right. If you follow your instructions to the letter, I’ll see about letting you stay aboard for the show. But if you give any problems the deal’s off. Now lie down and let us get some work done.”
The Chief deflated and said, “Aye, sir.” He was led to a bed to rest. Hammond watched him leave and asked the corpsman, “Can he stay?”
The corpsman grinned. “Probably. The burns aren’t that bad. We can handle it unless he gets an infection. He’s going to hurt for a while, though. Probably won’t help his disposition,” the young man said smiling.
Hammond smiled at the man. “Good job. Where’s the Doc?”
“In surgery. They are using it for Owens. The place needs to be sterile. Come on, sir.” The corpsman took the Captain over, helped him into a sterile gown, and placed a mask on his face. The Captain entered the surgery space. Two doctors and two corpsmen were standing over Owens cleaning where they could and applying sterile dressings over the exposed flesh. He was bathed in light revealing all the terrible details. Owens’ uniform had been cut away and he lay naked on the table. The dungarees protected his legs and torso. Even his chest was red but relatively unhurt. The rest was a different matter. Owens’ face was blackened and peeling. His
arms and hands were much the same. The flames had burned him deeply in several places and his skin seemed to be dripping off him. In some cases, the doctor removed the skin completely. They were covering everything with coated gauze to protect the flesh underneath.
Doc Dickerson had seen a lot in his 40 years of medical service. He had come out of retirement to return to this ship, but he never imagined he would see someone with injuries like this again. Luckily, he knew exactly what to do. He noticed the Captain come in and motioned him over. Owens had patches over both eyes and his breathing was rough. “He’s under, Captain,” Dickerson said quietly as he worked. “I’m going to keep him alive, but he needs to get to a burn center as soon as possible.”
He looked over at the Captain. The eyes said it all – the shock, the concern, the helplessness, and the desire to help one of his own. Dickerson had been through many commands. The good ones always had that look, he thought to himself. “I’m not sure how much he will ever be able to use his arms and hands again. The fingers are pretty much gone on one hand,” he said.
Hammond looked at the man’s fingers. They had been burned down to the bone in four cases. The other doctor was working on his left hand, wrapping each digit with the gauze. Hammond started to feel a little queasy and looked back at the boy’s face instead.
Dickerson followed his eyes. “He will require a lot of cosmetic surgery after this. Skin grafts and a lot of therapy. Luckily the rest of his body is okay. They can get the grafts from there. My big concern is infection. About one fourth of his body is without its protective layer. This gauze helps a lot. It’s coated with antibiotics. But the sooner we can get real skin back on, the better he’ll be. I’m also concerned how much he breathed in. His lungs have some fluid in them. I’m hoping it’s mostly from smoke and not fire. If they’re burned, he won’t last the night. I plan on keeping him asleep. He doesn’t need to feel the pain yet and he’ll be easier to transport.”
