by Roger Jewett
Jacob shrugged. It didn’t matter to him where they went.
“Have you thought about what you’re going to do after the war?” Blake asked.
Jacob smiled. “Who hasn’t,” he answered.
“Well, tell me, or do I have to wait until the war is over before you reveal the secret?”
“I’m going to stay in the navy,” he said.
“You?”
“Yes, me.”
“That surprises me,” Blake said. “I know you’re Annapolis, but I figured that your going there was for different reasons. I mean, I didn’t think you were the type to be a professional.”
“I don’t really know if I am, as you put it, a professional, but I love flying and the navy is one of the few places where I can continue to do it.”
“You do what you have to do,” Blake said, as he finished his coffee, “but if you ever change your mind, there’ll be a place for you with Blake and Blake. It will always be there, Jake. Five years from the time the war ends, or 25 years.”
“That’s nice to know,” Jacob responded, surprised by the offer. “It really is.”
Blake stood up. “We’ll be getting underway in a few hours,” he said, looking at the bulkhead clock. “Keep the ball pumped up!”
“Thank you, sir. I appreciate your kindness,” Jacob answered and left the cabin.
CHAPTER 54
Two weeks had passed since the Alamo left Pearl Harbor. Jacob’s task group was striking at targets on Luzon in preparation for the planned invasion. The group retired to the east for a day of replenishment, but the sea became too rough to continue refueling. At 1700, on Gower’s orders, it was suspended, and the task group steamed west in an attempt to get away from the growing storm. But the weather only worsened. Rain came down in torrents from low black clouds and tons of water began to crash over the flight deck as the Alamo rolled and plunged into the building seas.
The ship rolled constantly and heavily from one side to the other. Jacob found it almost impossible to lie in his bunk without being thrown to the deck. No one on board the Alamo, from the captain down, had ever experienced a storm of this magnitude. It was a major typhoon!
Just before dawn the following day, the general alarm sounded. Then a voice came over the 1MC. “General Quarters… General Quarters… All hands man your battle station.”
“What the hell is going on?” one of Jacob’s pilots asked, as they filed into the fighter ready room.
“Just sit tight,” Jacob answered; then to a group of pilots, he said, “Lash the chairs together and stow any other loose gear. This heavy weather isn’t going to stop soon.”
“The fucking ship’s plates are screaming,” one of the pilots said.
Suddenly the ship rolled to the starboard side.
Jacob lost his footing and was thrown against the bulkhead. Each time the ship rolled, the sounds of heavy crashing came from the hangar deck below the ready room.
An instant later the 1MC blared: “Fire… Fire… Fire in the hangar deck.”
The ready room phone rang.
One of the men answered it. “Skipper, it’s the bridge.”
Jacob pulled himself up. “Miller here,” he said.
“We have a bad fire in the hangar,” Blake said. “Keep your men where they are.”
“Yes, sir,” Jacob answered, but almost as soon as he put the phone down, heavy smoke from below began to infiltrate the ready room. In a matter of minutes, it became difficult to see for more than a few feet. All hands were having difficulty breathing. “Everyone,” Jacob shouted, “topside to the flight deck on the double.”
The men rushed out of the fighter ready room.
Jacob moved quickly to the torpedo squadron ready room. “Topside, to the flight deck — on the double,” he ordered.
The pilots struggled to maintain their footing on their way to the flight deck as the ship continued to roll heavily. It was impossible for them to stand and Jacob, crawling on his hands and knees, led the way to the base of the Island Structure.
“I think some of our planes in the hangar have broken loose and are crashing back and forth,”
Jacob shouted to his XO. “I hope to Christ the residual fuel in the fighter belly tanks doesn’t go off.”
The wind was gusting to almost 100 knots, and the rain, driven by the wind, felt like machine-gun bullets. Smoke was streaming up from below decks.
“Everyone down on the deck,” Jacob ordered; then to his XO, he shouted, “These guys will die of exposure if we don’t do something fast. Stack them on top of one another. It’ll keep some of them warm.”
Suddenly there was a deafening explosion in the hangar. Then as the ship rolled, the sounds of debris crashing inside the hangar rose above the banshee scream of the wind. Smoke continued to pour from below the flight deck, and the intense heat from the fire bubbled the pitch between the wooden planks on the deck.
“There go our aircraft,” Jacob shouted.
“Skipper,” the XO answered, “I think the ship has gone dead in the water!”
The 1MC came on. “This is the captain speaking. We have lost fireroom one and will be lying-to so that our remaining boiler power can be used for fire and boiler pumps… All hands exercise extreme caution.”
A huge wave struck the ship and she started to roll.
“Christ, she’s going over!” came from several men at the base of the structure.
The wind and the rain tore at the ship and howled around its mast. A radar antenna was twisted off and crashed into the raging sea. As the ship rolled, two torpedo aircraft among those tied down on the after part of the flight deck suddenly broke free and were flung like toys into the sea. Two more went overboard on the next roll.
Wave after wave crashed over the deck.
In a matter of minutes, Jacob’s men were shivering from the cold and the wind-driven rain, while in the hangar deck below, the fire, fed by the fuel in the aircraft’s exploding belly tanks, raged.
“I’m scared shitless!” one of the men shouted, above the scream of the wind.
“Goddamn it! Shut up and just worry about holding on,” Jacob yelled back, aware that the ship was sometimes hogging across the crests of two mountainous waves with no water supporting it amidships. He could hear the ship groaning in protest as she resisted breaking into two halves.
Suddenly the ship rolled heavily to the port side.
“I can’t hold on!” a man shouted, as he broke free from the pack and slid rapidly toward the edge of the deck. He was going overboard!
The ship was lifted by the sea and she rolled to the starboard.
The man came sliding back toward Jacob. As he came close, Jacob grabbed him, and the two of them crashed against the Island’s base.
The man’s leg doubled under him and he screamed in pain.
As the Alamo hung momentarily and precariously to the starboard, Jacob shouted, “Now.” And crawling, he pulled the injured man back to an arresting cable, and wrapping one arm around it, he wrapped the other around the man’s chest. Exhausted, blinded by the rain, he felt as if his arms were slowly being torn out of their sockets. Nothing he’d ever done required the strength he now used to hold onto the man and the cable.
Suddenly Jacob felt a slight tremor pass through the Alamo as her twin screws began to turn. The bridge regained power. Slowly, she was being eased into the screaming wind. But then another muffled explosion from somewhere below rocked the ship.
Jacob closed his eyes and forced his thoughts away from what now seemed to be certain disaster. His mind was cut away by the knifelike pains in both his arms.
Then someone yelled, “She ain’t rolling the way she was.”
Jacob opened his eyes and looked toward the Island. The arc made by its broken mast was indeed less than before. And the clouds, though still dark, weren’t black. The wind force dropped dramatically, and the seas flattened.
“Good Christ, the wind has dropped,” one of the pilots said.
“I think I can let go of you,” Jacob told the man he was holding.
“Just pull me up so I can grab hold of the cable. I’ll be all right now, skipper,” the man said.
Jacob pulled at him, while he pushed against the wet deck with his feet until he was able to grab hold of the restraining cable.
“Skipper,” one of the other men said, “I think the worst is over as far as the storm is concerned.”
Jacob got to his feet and found he could maintain his balance. He was cold and wet, and his body ached as though he’d been subjected to hours of torture on the rack. But he was alive and his squadron hadn’t lost a man. “All right men, everyone on his feet,” he ordered. “Let’s find someplace where it’s warm and dry.”
The IMC came on. “This is the captain speaking… Fires in the hangar are out and we are underway with good control of the ship. To the last man of you, I say: well done! We are now heading for fleet anchorage at Ulithi. I expect we will then head back to Pearl Harbor for repairs.”
Jacob’s men began to cheer.
“New Year’s Eve in Pearl, can you beat that!” a man exclaimed.
“I’m going to have one hell of a wild time,” his wingman said. “What about you, skipper?”
“Me too,” Jacob laughed. “Me too!”
CHAPTER 55
“There’s a letter here for you, Warren,” Kate said, waving the blue V-letter in front of her. “The nurse at the nurse’s station asked me to bring it to you. From the looks of it, it must have followed you all over the Pacific.”
Warren smiled. He looked forward to Kate’s morning visits. “Read it,” he said.
“Looks like a woman’s handwriting,” she said, sitting down on the white chair alongside the bed.
“I don’t know any woman who’d take the trouble to write to me,” Warren responded.
Kate deftly opened the envelope, took the letter out, and putting on her glasses, began to read: “My Dearest Warren, I am sorry that I did not say good-bye to you, but such a good-bye would have been too painful for me to bear. I did love you —” Kate paused. “Are you sure that you want me to continue?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said.
“I did love you and still do,” Kate read. “‘But all my other doubts are the same. Perhaps our relationship is the best of all possible relationships, or to put it another way, I’ll never forget you and I hope you’ll never forget me. Love, Irene Hacker.’”
Kate refolded the letter, put it back in the envelope, and handing it to Warren, asked, “Is she worth what you’re feeling now?”
He nodded.
“What are you going to do?”
“I have some leave time coming. Maybe I’ll be able to hitch a flight to Australia.”
“She might not be there,” Kate said. “There was something in the newspaper just after the invasion of Luzon about army nurses landing behind the troops with field hospital units. I could do some of the legwork and find out if she’s still in Australia.”
Warren suddenly saw his mother and blanched.
“What’s wrong?” Kate asked, alarmed.
“My mother,” he said tightly.
“Oh dear!” Kate exclaimed.
Gloria slowed her pace, but when she was close to the foot of the bed, Warren forced a smile and said, “Good morning, Mother.”
“Good morning,” she answered.
“Mother, this is Mrs. Katherine Hasse,” Warren said, hoping that she wouldn’t create a scene.
“A pleasure,” Kate responded.
Gloria studied her for a few moments; then she said, “Thank you for taking care of my son. When I was told about the woman who visits him every morning, I knew it had to be you.” Her voice cracked.
“If you want me to leave —”
Gloria waved her hand. “Please no,” she said; then with a wan smile on her lips, she added, “I know Andy would want you here.”
“Thank you,” Kate answered.
“I often wondered how I’d react when I met you,” Gloria said. “But here I am face-to-face with you over my son’s bed, and all I can feel, and I’m not sure feel is the correct word, is that you must have loved Andy a great deal to be here now.”
“I did,” Kate said honestly.
“I envy you, but not because Andy loved you, but because I never felt toward him, or, for that matter, any man, what you felt.”
“I’m sorry for you,” Kate said. “I’m truly sorry.”
Warren realized that his mother was graciously acknowledging Kate’s right to be there.
The wan smile came back to Gloria’s lips, and looking at Warren, she said, “Andy would have been very proud of him.”
“He certainly would have,” Kate agreed.
“Do you think between the two of us, Katherine —”
“Kate, please.”
“Kate, do you think between the two of us we might get him up and around soon?” Gloria asked.
“I’m sure we could,” Kate said.
Warren reached out and taking hold of their hands, he gently kissed the back of each of them.
“Well, Admiral, you certainly do have a way of getting your name in the newspaper,” the woman said.
Jacob didn’t even have to look in the mirror behind the bar to make sure it was Connie.
“What, no answer?” she chided, sitting down on the stool next to him. “Or are you still pissed about what happened in New York? Bartender,” she called without pausing for a breath, “give me something — whatever the admiral here is drinking.”
“That’ll be bourbon and branch water,” the barkeep told her.
“God, that’s awful! Give me a gin and tonic,” she said.
Jacob faced her. She was still very desirable. He put his drink down on the bar. “Forget about the lady’s drink,” he said. “This should cover mine and hers.” He put five dollars down and took hold of her wrist.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she asked, trying to pull her hand away from him.
He bent close to her. “I’m taking you to a hotel room!”
“What?” she questioned, her eyes opening wide.
Still close to her, he said, “I’m going to fuck the brains out of you.”
She grinned. “Didn’t the navy teach you that’s not where you fuck?”
“I know —”
“Yes,” she said quietly, “I really do know you know.”
“Are you going to come?”
“I hope so,” she answered, getting off the stool.
“There’s a place not far from here,” Jacob said, squinting in the bright sunlight.
“I have an apartment 10 minutes from here by cab,” she said.
“All right, your apartment,” he answered, after a moment’s hesitation. He hailed a cab and Connie gave the driver her address. Neither one of them spoke until Jacob closed and locked the door to the apartment; then taking her in his arms, he said, “I never was able to get you out of my mind.” And he kissed her fiercely on the lips.
She responded by opening her mouth.
His hands moved over her breasts, down her flanks, and over her buttocks.
“Undress me,” she said, loosening his tie.
Leaving a trail of clothes in their wake, they moved into the bedroom and, finally naked, faced each other.
Jacob drew her to him and kissed the tip of her nose, then her lips, her chin, and the side of her neck.
She raised her head and gently moved her hands over his chest. “I thought about you often,” she told him. “I was sorry about —”
He put his finger across her mouth. “It’s gone, over with… The only thing that really matters is that you’re here with me now.”
She kissed his finger and said, “Yes, my darling.”
Jacob suddenly scooped her up and put her down on the bed.
Connie raised her arms to embrace him. “I want you inside of me, deep inside of me.”
Entering her, Jacob whispered, “I want to love
you.”
“And I want to love you,” she answered, caressing his back.
Jacob reveled in the exquisite sensations that coursed through his body, and the feel of her naked body totally belonging to him drove him to a frenzy of excitement that suddenly exploded into a searing orgasmic climax.
She thrust her body against his and raking his back with her nails, she uttered a wordless cry of delight.
“Marry me,” he said, kissing her closed eyelids.
“Yes,” she whispered, looking up at him.
Jacob smiled and kissed the tip of her nose.
Tony was on the Manta’s bridge. The OOD was Lieutenant (JG) Ned Jackson, the boat’s radar officer. This was Jackson’s second patrol with Tony.
“Skipper, just how far away are we from the coast of China?” Ned asked.
“Shanghai is 300 miles due west of here,” Tony answered, looking at the stars. The sky was absolutely cloudless and a thin crescent moon was just rising in the eastern sky. He looked at his watch: it was 0300. The Manta had been on the surface since 1700 the previous evening. More than enough time to get a full charge on her batteries.
“Target, two points off the port bow,” the lookout called out.
“There it is,” Ned said, pointing to a dark shape.
“Bridge, target, bearing two zero degrees… Range, 15,000 yards… Speed, one five… Course, one one zero,” the radar operator reported.
“I have the conn,” Tony said.
“Aye, aye, sir,” Jackson answered.
Tony hit the klaxon button.
The XO came up through the open hatch to the bridge.
Tony switched on the 1MC. “Battle stations… All hands, battle stations,” he ordered; then turning to Jackson, he said, “Go below to the radar.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” Jackson said and dropped through the open hatch.
“Come to course one one five,” Tony ordered.
“One one five,” the helmsman answered.
“Full ahead,” Tony ordered.
“Full ahead answered,” the engine room signalman responded.
The noise made by the Manta’s diesels increased, and the ship’s bow created a white arc on either side of it.
