by Roger Jewett
“Come in,” Hacker said.
Rawlins entered and closed the door behind him.
“Sit down,” Hacker told him, pointing to the only empty chair in the cabin. “You may smoke your pipe if you want to.” He waited until Rawlins filled and lit his pipe before he said, “The RO copied a coded message that was designated for my eyes only. I decoded it and it boils down to this: the AKO-96 will not continue on its present course. It will remain in the vicinity of Bataan and make itself available for use by the army.” He paused to take a long drag on his cigarette before he asked if there were any questions.
“Too many to figure out which one to ask first,” Warren said.
“That just about scratches our chances of getting out of here,” Rawlins said.
“It certainly minimizes them,” Hacker responded.
“Any other ships —?”
“The oceangoing tug AT-sixty, the Bay,” Hacker said.
“What do we do with the fuel we’re carrying?” Warren asked.
“Pump it into the storage tanks at Corregidor and, if we can’t do that, we’ll dump it out at sea. But we have enough to keep us going for a long time.”
“Skipper, just what are we going to do?” Warren asked. “We’re not built to do anything but deliver fuel to other ships.”
Hacker shook his head. “I don’t know. But my best guess is that we’ll probably be used to transport troops between Bataan and Corregidor. The same probably goes for the Bay.”
“Christ,” Warren exclaimed, “there are hundreds of ships better suited for that than we are!” His voice rose in pitch. “Why us?”
Warren’s eyes met Hacker’s.
“Maybe we’ll get lucky,” Warren said, “and be ordered out of here in a few days.”
“No we won’t,” Rawlins said in a choked voice. “No we won’t.”
“Skipper, we’re going to need some more armament if we’re going to stay around here. A few 50s would be good to have and maybe a 40- or 37-millimeter gun.”
“When we get to Corregidor I’ll see what I can scrounge,” Hacker said. “But don’t expect much. The army is short on everything.”
“Whatever we get will be more than we have,” Warren responded.
“Now for the good news,” Hacker said.
“I didn’t think there was any,” Rawlins commented, puffing on his pipe.
“Mister Troost, as of January one, you will be a lieutenant. Congratulations,” Hacker said, offering his hand.
“Thanks, skipper,” Warren answered.
Rawlins congratulated him, but without any enthusiasm.
Hacker stubbed out his cigarette. “If anyone had told me when you first came aboard that I’d be congratulating you for anything,” Hacker said, “I’d have told them they were nuts.”
Warren nodded. “I would have agreed with you.”
“Before we turn this ship around,” Hacker said, “there’s one more thing. No, two more things I have to talk about. First, we’re going to do most of our sailing at night. During the day we’ll hide in a cove, and there are enough of them for us to use. That means our course must be laid out from cove to cove.”
“I understand,” Warren said, “and if I may make a suggestion?”
“Go ahead.”
“We should paint the ship a camouflage green to blend in with the jungle. We can even cut palm fronds and cover the deck and the bridge with them.”
“See to it,” Hacker said, looking at Rawlins.
“Aye, aye, sir,” Rawlins responded.
“Any other suggestions?” Hacker asked. “None? All right, the next item.” He shook another cigarette out of the pack, lit it, and pushed the pack across the desk to Warren.
Warren declined the offer.
“The crew is going to be upset when I tell them what our new orders are,” Hacker said. “I think we need something to lessen the blow and, since in a few hours it will be New Year’s Eve, I’d like to give the men a New Year’s Eve party. I’ve already spoken to the chief cook about it and he’s going to come up with something. We have a few bottles of whiskey aboard for medicinal purposes that can be used to make everyone feel better.”
“I’ll find us a nice quiet cove,” Warren said. He looked at his watch. “It’s 1300 now. Say we’ll run until 1800. At 16 knots that will put us about 85 miles north of here. Say 90.”
“We’ll lay over tonight and move out just after darkness sets in tomorrow night,” Hacker said.
“Any news about what’s happening in other places?” Warren asked.
Hacker shook his head. “It’s as if the rest of the world didn’t exist.”
“It’s we who don’t exist,” Rawlins said, “only we’re too stupid to see it. But we don’t exist. We’ve already been crossed off the books.”
CHAPTER 19
Troost excused himself from the table at the officer’s club and went directly to a telephone booth, closed the door, deposited a dime, and dialed Kate’s number.
She answered.
“I want to be with you,” he said.
“Aren’t you supposed to be at the club?” she responded.
“I am there,” he said, pausing before adding, “Everyone is trying hard to have a good time, and the harder they try the sadder the whole thing becomes.”
“Yes, I know that feeling,” Kate said.
“Look, you’re alone and so am I,” he told her.
“I’ll meet you somewhere,” she said.
“I’ll go anywhere —”
“Palm and Anderson,” Kate said. “It’s five blocks from where I live. Stay on Palm Avenue and you’ll come to it.”
“About 30 minutes,” he answered.
“What will you say to the people at your table?” she asked.
“I’ll tell one of the men that I developed a very bad headache. Everyone has been having them lately. See you,” he said.
“Yes,” Kate responded and hung up.
Troost opened the booth door and returned to the table to give his excuse; in less than 30 minutes he pulled up at the corner of Palm and Anderson.
Because of the blackout, the streets were absolutely dark, and even the headlights and taillights of his car and all the other vehicles on the island were painted over with black paint, except in the center of the lens, where a cross-like pattern was left open.
Troost got out of the car. The trees and blacked-out house were darker shadows in the night. But overhead the sky was filled with diamond glistening stars.
He filled his pipe, lit it, and found himself wondering if she’d really meet him. She was 14 years younger than he, a woman in her prime, while he was verging on middle age. But he was never so alive as when he was near her. Then suddenly he heard the rhythmic clicking of high heels on the sidewalk. He took the pipe out of his mouth, smiled, and started toward her.
“Andrew?” Kate called.
“Yes,” he answered, cleaning the pipe’s bowl against the palm of his hand. He could see her clearly now. She was wearing a white blouse and dark skirt.
A few moments later, they came together. Troost put his arms around her, kissed her on her lips, and said, “I’m glad you came.”
“Didn’t you think I would?”
“I was afraid you’d change your mind,” he answered truthfully.
She took hold of his hand, squeezed it gently, and softly said, “I wouldn’t do that to you.”
He kissed the back of her hand and escorting her to the car, he said, “We could go to the Hali Kalani.”
“Yes, it’s the closest,” she answered, settling in the car and moving close to him.
He turned to her, placed his hand on the side of her face, and drawing her toward him, kissed her. “Thank you for coming,” he whispered.
“Thank you for asking me,” Kate responded.
Troost looked at his watch. “Another hour and it will be curfew time,” he said, turning on the ignition and shifting into first.
Kate leaned back. “I was
thinking about you earlier in the evening.”
“Oh, good thoughts I hope,” Troost said, moving into third.
She put her hand on his arm. “Yes, very good thoughts.”
He glanced at her. This was the sixth time they were together. They had kissed; he had caressed her breasts and the insides of thighs through her clothing.
“What are you thinking about?” she asked.
“How much I want to make love to you,” he said, glancing at her again as he spoke.
She smiled. “I was beginning to get that impression.”
“When?”
“The first time you phoned.”
“The afternoon we met and —”
“Then?”
“Then,” Troost answered. “I sensed something. I don’t know what it was, but I felt it.”
Kate was silent for a few moments before she said, “I sensed you were a lonely, almost sad man.”
Troost uttered a deep sigh. “I don’t want pity, Kate.” He’d told her about Gloria’s drinking.
“If I thought that’s what you wanted from me, I’d have gladly given it to you, but I wouldn’t be here.”
Satisfied, he nodded and put his hand between her thighs.
After a moment of silence, Kate said, “I wouldn’t be here, if I didn’t want to be, and if I didn’t want your hand to be where it is, it wouldn’t be there.”
“I know that,” Troost answered.
She put her hand over his and leaned against him. “Sometimes,” she said in almost a whisper, “I think about you out here on a raft with only you and that young sailor and I want to weep.”
Surprised and deeply touched, he asked, “How did you know about it?”
“The paper carried the story. There was even a picture of you, and then when were you assigned to destroyer and cruiser operations, Peter told me about it.”
Again, he kissed the back of her hand. “We were just two frightened men,” he said. “That young sailor saved my life.” And he told her the story of how he swam to the raft and then how he was goaded into staying alive.
“If you hadn’t survived,” she said, pressing his hand under hers, “I would have been the loser.”
Troost smiled. “And certainly so would I,” he said, turning into the parking area next to the Hali Kalani. “Stay in the car. I’ll register —”
“As husband and wife?”
“Would you mind?”
She shook her head. “No,” she answered, lifting her head off of his, “I’d rather like that.”
Troost leaned over, kissed her, and then left the car. In less than 10 minutes he was back. “There were only two rooms left,” he said, sliding behind the wheel again, “and we have one of them.”
The room was on the far end of the parking area and Troost stopped the car a few feet away from the door. “The restaurant is very crowded,” he said, “and some people in the lobby looked as if they’ll never make it to midnight.”
They entered the room.
Troost closed the door after them and locked it before he switched on the lights. Dull gray drapes hid the window from view.
“If I turned off the lights,” he said, “we could have the curtain open and look out at the water.”
“I want to look at you,” Kate said, moving close to him.
He took her in his arms and, passionately kissing her, moved his hands over her supple body. “Kate,” he whispered, “Kate!”
Opening her mouth, she pressed herself against him.
They undressed one another, and when they were completely naked, Troost knelt down and kissed the warm soft hollow of her stomach.
Arching to him, she gently caressed the top of his head.
Troost stood up and led her to the bed. “You’re beautiful,” he said, looking at her.
“Love me,” she whispered.
CHAPTER 20
“Ten fathoms,” Chief Quartermaster Berk called out from his station at the Fathometer.
“Check,” Warren answered, looking at the chart. He’d found a cove on the coast of Mindoro. “Skipper, we can ease her in another 1000 yards to the north bank. According to the chart, the depth is eight fathoms 100 yards offshore.”
“Helmsman, steady as she goes,” Hacker said.
“Nine fathoms,” the chief called out.
“Check,” Warren answered, taking a bearing on a prominent point on the shore and said, “Now skipper.”
“All engines back one third,” Hacker ordered.
“All engines back one third,” the engine signalman said, at the engine telegraph.
“Stand by to let go port anchor,” Hacker said.
A talker relayed Hacker’s order to the anchor detail.
“Let go the port anchor… All engines stopped,” Hacker said.
An instant later the rattle of the anchor chain broke the stillness of the cove. The ship quickly lost her forward momentum and was brought to a complete stop by the anchor taking hold of the bottom.
“Well done,” Hacker exclaimed, “very well done indeed!”
“Skipper, there’s still enough light for a party of men to go ashore and get some palm fronds to camouflage the bridge deck and the stack,” Warren said.
Hacker nodded. “Mister Bradly, take a half dozen men ashore and collect the necessary palm fronds to do the job. Chief, go with him and make sure all the men are armed.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” the chief answered.
“How’s the camouflaging coming?” Hacker asked, looking at Rawlins.
“We probably won’t have enough paint to complete the job,” Rawlins answered.
“Maybe we’ll be able to pick a few more gallons up at Corregidor,” Hacker answered; then he said, “We’ll maintain our regular watch schedule and mount an additional one for the port and starboard sides — two hours on, four hours off. Rawlins, make up a guard roster. Have it begin at 1800 tonight.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” Rawlins answered.
Hacker nodded. “I’ll see you gentlemen later this evening,” he said and left the bridge.
“Mister Bradly,” the chief called, “we better move, if we’re going to get those fronds before darkness sets in.”
Rawlins turned to Warren. “I’ll finish out this watch,” he said. “I don’t feel much like celebrating.”
“I know what you mean,” Warren answered.
“How the hell do you know what I mean!” Rawlins exclaimed loud enough to make the other members of the bridge detail look at him.
“I only meant —”
“Don’t you ever say ‘you know what I mean’ to me again,” Rawlins said in a tight voice. “Don’t you ever say that again.”
Warren nodded, took a step backward, turned, and started to leave the bridge.
“Mister Troost,” Rawlins called.
Warren stopped and faced him.
“Please convey my respects to the captain and tell him that I will not attend the New Year’s Eve celebration,” Rawlins said.
Warren approached him. “That’s something I think you should tell him yourself.”
“I gave you an order, Mister Troost,” Rawlins snapped.
“He’s going to ask why,” Warren said.
Rawlins thought for a moment; then he said, “Because I choose not to — because the very idea of celebrating one’s own death is as close to the barbaric as — for Christ’s sakes, just tell him I won’t be there.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” Warren responded; he turned and this time left the bridge. A few minutes later, he knocked on the door of Hacker’s cabin.
“Come,” Hacker called out.
Warren entered the cabin and closed the door.
Hacker was at his desk, where he’d obviously been writing a letter. He was wearing a white cotton bathrobe, and a cigarette hung out of the side of his mouth. “Writing to my son,” he said, “just in case we get a chance to mail a few letters.”
“Maybe at Corregidor,” Warren answered. He hadn’t known that Hacker was
married.
“Maybe,” Hacker agreed.
“Skipper, Rawlins —”
Hacker held up his hand. “He’s got a bad case of the jitters. I have too. But it will pass.”
“He asked me to convey his respects and tell you that he won’t attend the ship’s party,” Warren said.
Hacker squinted up at him. “Did he say why?”
“He said the idea of celebrating his own death was barbaric.”
Hacker stood up, took a deep drag on the cigarette, and stubbing it out in an ashtray made from the back of a five-inch shell casing, he said, “He’s not really that wrong, but he’s not that right either. I never did see any sense in throwing in the towel. What about you?”
Warren shook his head. “I don’t either,” he said.
Hacker smiled. “I guess that’s something they taught you at Annapolis, isn’t it?”
“For those who wanted to learn it,” Warren answered. “But I was lucky: my father taught it to me, or maybe some of his grit rubbed off on me.”
“Either way, you’ve come out ahead,” Hacker said; then he looked down at the unfinished letter. “He’s at Annapolis now. He’ll graduate in June. Maybe you’ll have a chance to meet him. I also have a daughter, Irene. She’s an army nurse.”
“If I meet either one, dinner and drinks will be on me,” Warren responded, not knowing what else to say.”
“Uses his mother’s maiden name Branigan, Sean Branigan,” Hacker said. “His mother and I were divorced years ago.”
For a moment. Warren thought about his own parents. There wasn’t any doubt in his mind that each of them would have been much happier without the other.
Then Hacker said, “Rawlins has a wife and four-year-old daughter back in Norfolk.”
Warren knew that.
“I don’t want to order him to celebrate,” Hacker said. “If you see him again, tell him that if he changes his mind, he’s welcome.”
“I’ll tell him, skipper,” Warren responded.
“Now get out of here and let me finish my letter,” Hacker said.
“Aye, aye, sir,” Warren answered, opening the door and leaving. In a few brief moments, he’d learned more about Hacker than he had known since he’d come aboard the ship.
The party was held on the quarterdeck. Because of the blackout, no lights were permitted, and when a man wanted to smoke, he had to go into the mess area to do it. But by 2300 the men got into the spirit of it and were having a good time.
