by M L Maki
“What?”
“How you’re reacting. How you’re hurting. It tells me something profound. It tells me you have not lost your humanity.”
“I’m a mess.”
“So? You can be a mess with me. Lord knows, I was a mess with you. In that way, we need each other, you and I. Do you recall that night in Rota?”
“Yeah, Dad. You were a mess. It was after you lost your daughter.”
“It was after my daughter was murdered and I…I murdered her killer.”
“You didn’t murder him.”
“I did. I took the law into my own hands. He taunted me, admitting he killed her, and he was going to get away with it. He was trying to intimidate me. He was a right bastard.”
“You told me that police detective knew you killed him.”
“Yeah, the detective knew more than the dude thought. He told me they were considering his killing as gang related, and, that I should wear gloves for a while. The point is, darlin, you have me to lean on and I know I have you.”
Sam leans over and hugs Lee. She takes a deep breath and sits up straight, “Thank you, Dad.”
CONTROL ROOM, RAF KENLEY
Vice Admiral Lee and Commodore Hunt walk into control and the watch officer says, “Galahad flight is engaged east of Dover over the Channel. Percival is covering the area around York. The Germans have begun hitting the supply chain south of York and the allied artillery positions. Maid Mary and Robin are covering there and battling twelve ‘262s. The Germans have broken through at Leeds. Patton is falling back from York to prevent being flanked. Gulf Charley Victor is covering the retreat.”
Spike, “What is Gulf Charley Victor?”
“It’s a Lancaster gunship, Commodore. LT Hammond is on board.”
Spike smiles, ‘Good. Admiral, York held for a couple of days. We’re slowing them.”
“Whose idea was the gunships?”
“Mine. It made sense.”
“It does. Good call. Are we making them?”
“Eisenhower asked the Air Corps for them. I put in the specs.”
“Do you think the Humber line will hold?”
“For a while. We are exchanging lives and land for time.”
Lee nods his head, “Spike, you were right to move your operations here.”
“Thank you, sir.”
A Marine LT Colonel in dress green enters and salutes, “Admiral, Commodore, Lieutenant Colonel Peter Andrews reporting for duty.”
Spike looks him over. His uniform is sharp and tailored. He has a square jaw and an open honest face. “Where do you come from, Colonel?”
“Commandant’s staff, ma’am. General Eisenhower sent for me.”
“Do you know him?”
“Yes, ma’am, but only in passing.”
“So, you’re recommended as my chief of staff?”
“It seems so, ma’am.”
“Okay, first, stop calling me ma’am. I’m Spike, Commodore, Hunt, Yankee, whatever. Just not ma’am.”
“Yes…Commodore.”
“Do you know your job?”
“Per the direction I received from Admiral King and Vice Admiral Lee, my job is to run the staff and base so you can focus on war fighting.”
She looks at Dixie then back to the colonel, “I see. Well, there are a million details to it. First priority is the fuel, ammunition, and parts our aircraft need to fight. Next is security. This base has to be safe and the aircraft and ordinance protected. Third is crew comfort. I need the guys rested and ready to fight. That includes me. Fourth is ground crew. They need the tools, parts, places and time to keep our birds flyable. They also need to rest. Exhausted people make mistakes. With me so far?”
“Yes, Commodore.” He’s taken out a notebook and pen and is busily writing.
“Okay, we have four squadrons and three detachments flying for us. Commander Stephan ‘Swede’ Swedenborg commands the Black Knights and has been my chief of staff. He’ll not be a problem, he’ll be relieved. Major Floyd ‘Sparks’ Park commands the Devil Dogs. LCDR William ‘Book’ Leonard commands the Iron Angels.”
Dixie gives her a sharp look.
“What are the Devil Dogs and Iron Angels?”
“A-10 Warthogs. They fly ground attack missions and support our ground forces. Squadron Leader Richard ‘Mister’ Maugham commands the Merry Men, a British unit under our command.”
“The British are letting you command one of their squadrons?”
“Colonel, basically, I command all the air assets in the UK at this point in time. So, now, the Merry Men fly the Griffin jet fighter. We have a helo detachment, commanded by LCDR Sandra ‘Cargo Britches’ Douglas.”
“What’s a helo?”
“Helicopter. It’s going to take time for you to get up to speed.” Cooper joins them, handing Spike and Dixie plates of food. “Thank you, Radar. YN1 Cooper, this is our new chief of staff, LT Colonel Peter Andrews.”
The two men shake hands, and Radar says, “Welcome aboard, sir.”
Andrews, “Thanks,” and looks back to Spike. “Are there any other units?”
“There is. We have an electronic warfare bird commanded by LCDR Mike ‘Too Tall’ Mohr and an anti-sub and refueling detachment commanded by LCDR Fred ‘Piper’ McCrimmon. Finally, a US submarine stationed in Scotland is under my command. It’s currently deployed on a special mission.”
“Should I know what?”
“No, not yet. Do you feel like you’re drowning yet?”
“It will take a bit to sort out, but I’ll get it.”
“So, YN1 Cooper is my right-hand man. He can get you most of what you need. He knows where all the bodies are buried, and he knows how the system works. I hope you two can work together.”
Cooper smiles, “Boss, eat. I’ll show him around.”
“Okay, Radar. Colonel, set up whatever meetings you need, but schedule them around the flight schedule.”
“Yes, Commodore.” He salutes and the two men leave.
She turns to Lee, “You didn’t mention him.”
“What we were talking about was way more important than a chief of staff. He’s a Yale graduate with a bachelors in English. His family is New York money, but he knows his business. He did a tour in the Philippines as a JO, so he’s not a beltway warrior.”
“Okay, if he can run this place without driving the guys nuts, I couldn’t care less how rich his folks are. When do you need to leave?”
“In a bit. If possible, I want to attend the memorial for Parley, Jedi, and Stinky.”
“I’ve no idea when we can break long enough for a service. I fear it will be a service for more than those three.”
“Just keep me posted. Next trip, the transport will have new ground crew and additional security Marines. By the way, your friend, Hughes, was in a hell of a battle off Guadalcanal.”
“Is he okay?”
“He’s not on the list of the dead. A SAG led by the Washington and North Carolina were jumped by a couple of Japanese units. They’re calling it the Battle of Savo Island.”
“What did we lose?”
“The Minneapolis and a couple of destroyers sunk. The Columbia got hammered. But we hammered the Japanese back pretty good; a battleship and some cruisers. They’re calling it a draw. That’s all I know.”
“Thank you. Any word on the fighting ashore?”
“Yeah, the Marines have mopped up. Oh, and your dad was field commissioned. Did that happen before?”
“He was offered a commission on another island, but turned it down. I’m glad he took it. You know, they were ‘mopping up’ that island for six months. What changed?”
“Helicopters and the Vinson. They’ve the Blue Diamonds there now. They don’t have field lighting yet for night flying, but that’s coming. That reminds me, Cargo Britches should have new SH-60s and H-60s coming soon, by C-130.”
Smiling, she asks, “What’s going on everywhere else? Like who is CAG on the Vinson?”
“The old air boss,
Charley Forrester. Groovy is PCO for the Enterprise and Frosty is PCO for the Yorktown.”
“Wow.”
“Darlin, we have new air crew in the pipeline, but they’re still flying F-1 War Eagles. It’s a solid, well behaved, gen 3 fighter. I’ve got a couple dozen hours in it. It turns like a dream under 15. Up high, it turns like an ocean liner. It can be a little finicky in a stall. It has radar, but it can only swing 15 degrees. Reminds me a bit of the T-45. It’s bigger and supersonic, but feels similar.” He sees the bemused look on her face, “Oh, sorry. You know me, I get carried away. Anyway, once you have your birds, I’ll be helping the school at the Grumman plant in New York. We don’t have the luxury of a full training cycle, so how green do you want them?”
“Dad, I’d like them fully trained and ready to fight, but I need them now. Are they learning ACM?”
“In the Eagle, yes. Walker and Klint are their teachers.”
“Okay, they’re a good choice. So, how are they doing?”
“Getting better. It will be a while before either of them can fly combat again.”
“Do you have a F-14 simulator?”
“No.”
“How are the RIOs learning their job?”
“The RIOs are learning in the class room on bench simulators. We also put them in the back of a modified Dauntless for ACM familiarization. Rascal’s their teacher.”
“Jesus, Dad, they won’t even know their job. Okay, pick the very best aircrews. I want the first five that can safely and effectively fly the Tomcat. We’ll teach them how to fight it.”
“Right, will do. If they can compete, I want to send most of the women to you.”
“That’s fine.”
“Darlin, Jackie Cochran is in the class.”
“Okay, so?”
“You know who she is?”
“Dad, she’s an icon. She opened so many doors for the rest of us. She was the commander of the Women Airforce Service Pilots. She was the first woman to break the sound barrier.”
“Not anymore. She’s a lieutenant in the US Navy and you are the first woman to break the sound barrier.”
“Oh, I see. Is she good?”
“I’m told she’s damn good, but she flies with a chip on her shoulder. Do you want her?”
“Yes, Dad, I do. We need the best.”
CHAPTER 15
PIER 6, PUGET SOUND NAVAL SHIPYARD
0100, 28 September, 1942 (0900 GMT)
Captain Tenzar watches from his new bridge wing as the hammer head crane lowers Mount 2 into its casement. Because of the modifications Maki designed, the below deck ammunition handling room is now only twelve feet deep.
Tenzar asks, “Captain Warren, where is MM2 Maki?”
“Lieutenant JG Maki is in Detroit right now.”
“What the hell is he doing there?”
Warren looks at Tenzar with a slight smile, “Admiral Klindt has him designing a new tank for the Marines.”
“A tank? He’s a nuke.” He stops, thinking, “Well, if I put my nukes to it, they’d design one hell of a tank. Just, they would include room for a keg and an incredible sound system.”
Warren laughs, “And, they would include nooks and cranny’s everywhere to squirrel away contraband.”
Tenzar, now laughing, “And each one would have a custom, incredible, non-regulation paint job.”
“Yep, but you know what? It would run like a top and last for years.”
Tenzar sighs, “True. I’m not getting him back, am I?”
“I don’t know, and that’s the honest truth.”
PROVING GROUND OUTSIDE OF DETROIT, MICHIGAN
0615, 28 September, 1942 (1215 GMT)
Maki runs his jeep a second lap around the course, then stops, the jeep at a precarious angle on a hill. He pulls out a pad and pen and takes notes. The GM engineer with him asks, “What’s wrong?”
“I want this hill to get progressively steeper until the tank rolls. We need a nest of small diameter logs and loose sand so the tank isn’t damaged.”
“You want to roll it?”
“How else can we honestly say what it can take?”
“We roll test vehicles in a roll rig. It’s safer.”
“Our Marines won’t be static when they roll one. They’ll be moving and fully loaded. We got to get it right. Lives depend on it.
TARMAC, RAF KENLEY
1224, 28 September, 1942
Sam takes Lee’s hand, “Take care, Dad.”
“You too, darlin.” They hear the sound of engines and look up. It’s the first of four C-130’s. “Here are the first of your helo’s and crews.”
“I’ll get Sandra. I need to go.”
“Take care, darlin. I love you.” He turns and walks to his transport.
SKEDDERGATE BRIDGE, YORK, UK
1244, 28 September, 1942
Patton’s tanks race south on Tower Street, the Germans in pursuit. The turret is rotated facing over the back deck, his gunner looking for targets. He listens on the command net. The 2nd Armored Division is in full retreat. As they approach the tower, a civilian woman runs from a building waving her hands. “Driver, stop.”
She looks up at Patton, “Sir, we are ready to blow buildings and bridges. Are you the last?”
“In truth, I’m uncertain.” On radio, “Are there any American units in north central York?”
There’s no reply, “General Harmon, Patton.”
“General Patton, Colonel Grunion, the general’s tank was hit a few minutes ago. No survivors.”
“Understood. Brigades, report location.” His units report in and a German round flies by them, “Target, tank.” To the woman, “Blow them and we’ll cover your retreat.”
“All due respect, sir, but we’re staying to bugger up the Germans good.” She smiles when Patton salutes, and runs back into the tower.
“Driver, move out.”
TARMAC, RAF KENLEY
1335, 28 September, 1942
Two hundred sixty men and women stand in ranks. Behind them are twelve brand new Blackhawk and Seahawk helicopters. Spike’s smile is huge as she pins the silver oak leaves of a commander on Sandra Douglas’ collar. “Congratulations, Commander. What are you naming your squadron?”
“Helicopter Squadron one, ma’am, the Valkyries.”
“That works. You have a lot to do. Now, we can better support the dust-off mission.”
HUMBER LINE AT THE OUSE RIVER, NORTH OF SELBY, UK
1644, 28 September, 1942
SGT Gains studies the fields on the other side of the river. His tank is behind a six-foot-high berm that’s twenty or more feet thick. The ground is muddy, but the engineers had spread out gravel, making it more manageable. So far, he doesn’t see any movement at his front.
A jeep pulls up behind them, “Is this 2nd Platoon, Easy Company, 2nd of the 1st, 2nd AD?”
Gains turns, “Yeah, part of it. Don’t know where the LT is.”
The Master Sergeant in the jeep asks, “Are you Sergeant Gains?”
Lance swallows, “I am, Master Sergeant.”
“Get in. Patton wants to see you.”
“Um, roger. Should I get my gear?”
“Nope.”
“Roger.” He tells his guys and un-asses the tank.
A silent ten-minute drive and he’s in Selby, pulling up to a pub name the Unicorn. Gains asks, “Master Sergeant?”
“This is headquarters. Go in.”
Gains gets out of the jeep and walks into the low-ceilinged pub. From a corner, General Patton shouts, “Sergeant Gains! Over here,” and motions him to an empty seat.
Gains walks up and salutes. Patton smiles around his unlit cigar and returns the salute, “Sit.” He pushes a paper across the table and watches as Gains reads it. It’s his radio report of the deserters turned into a formal statement.
“You want me to sign this, sir?”
“Is it accurate?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Sign it.”
Ga
ins does and slides it back. Patton says, “Bring them in.”
From a back room, the lieutenant, and the other three crew members from the deserting tank, are brought out. They’re wet and disheveled, but unharmed. Patton asks, “Sergeant Gains, are these the deserters?”
Gains looks each in the eye. They appear desperate and defeated. “Yes, sir, they are.”
Patton, “Thank you. Provost, I find the lot guilty. Get them out of my sight.” The Provost leads them out, their heads down.
Patton turns back to Gains, “I’m told you kept your unit in good order, picked up stragglers, and acquitted yourself well with the British Lancers.”
“My lieutenant’s track broke down, sir. He told me to continue on and find the fight.”
Patton laughs, “And by God, you did. Your lieutenant is well east of your position commanding Delta Company right now, and you need a new platoon officer.”
“So, my company is on line?”
“Easy is mostly west of you. The Brit’s hold the position between you. I’ll have you swap around, but first; we need a new platoon officer. Sergeant, please stand.”
Gains stands and Patton swears him in, “Congratulations, Lieutenant. You’ve much to do. Carry on.”
A shocked 2nd Lieutenant Gains salutes, “Thank you, sir.”
CONTROL, RAF KENLEY
1702, 28 September, 1942
Spike listens to the radio chatter as she reads reports. An aid whisks away her finished dinner. She initials each report, sometimes putting in a comment. She feels better now that the forward edge of battle is delineated on the board. Now, she can help the A-10s. Right now, the US Army is on the Humber line. Over one hundred thousand refugees are streaming south. A US Army Major walks in and salutes. She returns the salute and motions to the chair next to her. He sits and hands her a message:
FROM: COI
TO: COMTFYAN
REG: Operation Sky Hook
Commander TF Yankee. I’ve directed Major Robbins to brief you on the above-mentioned operation. Your cooperation is vital to its success.
Donovan
She nods and rises. To the duty officer, “I’ll be in my office,” and walks out. In the outer room of her new office, Cooper and his assistants are working at their desks. Of the inner offices, one belongs to her chief of staff, one is a conference room, and one is her private domain. “Radar, I have a brief meeting. Is my schedule clear for fifteen minutes?”
