by C T Glatte
Gone were the days of subs leaving base and never being heard from again. Comparatively, modern subs were outstandingly reliable. Now, with the war, if they didn’t return it was due to enemy activity not mechanical failures.
Most of the crew had been with Captain Willis for more than five years and trusted him like a father. So far as they knew, the submarine service hadn’t contributed much to the war effort yet. The crew of the Sea Serpent desperately wanted to put a torpedo into the side of the Russian ships and be the first U.S. submarine to score a kill. They’d been chased and harried by the destroyers and cruisers, and now they wanted payback.
Captain Willis watched through the periscope until he couldn’t see any more aircraft being launched. He spun the periscope in a 360-degree search and when he was satisfied there were no aircraft nearby, ordered them to surface again.
He felt the familiar broaching and settling on the surface and heard the hum of the Diesel engines coming back to life. “Give me fifteen knots, COB.”
“Fifteen knots, aye,” repeated Bosun’s Mate Clarke.
Willis went to the ladder leading to the top of the conning tower and spun the top hatch. He felt the intricate mechanism releasing. He pushed hard, breaking the seal and felt sea spray sprinkle his face. He pushed his way through the hatch and climbed onto the deck, making way for LCDR Stavos, Lt. Rodrigues, two Gunner’s mates and a Seaman.
The Gunner’s mates and Seaman climbed down the ladder rungs leading down the mast. Willis watched them run to the forward gun and with efficiency born of practice, uncover and unlimber the 3 inch cannon. They checked the breach and loaded a shell then spun the muzzle toward where they knew the enemy fleet lingered. Beside the big gun was a twin barreled .50 caliber machine gun. GM ‘Smoky’ Smith pulled himself into the seat and started scanning the skies for enemy fighters.
LCDR Stavos leaned toward Willis and showed him the stopwatch. “Two minutes, sir. A new boat record.”
Captain Willis beamed and nodded. “Excellent work. Be sure to commend them on their effort when we’re done out here.” Stavos put the stopwatch away and nodded. Willis put the heavy binoculars to his eyes and scanned the horizon. through the powerful lenses the enemy fleet looked much closer and he felt a tingle rush through his body, but he suppressed it, knowing it was unlikely he’d be spotted unless an enemy plane strayed his way. He handed the binoculars to Stavos. “Looks like they’re done launching aircraft. Hopefully our message got to the flyboys in time.”
Stavos scanned the fleet and noted, “That destroyer is plying the waters in front of the carrier. We have anyone out there, sir?”
Willis nodded, “Commander Voight, but that could be old news.” He looked to Lieutenant Rodrigues who had headphones on with the thick black wire leading back into the sub. “Any transmissions coming through?”
Rodrigues nodded, “HQ confirms our last transmission, but nothing else yet.”
Willis nodded, “Hopefully we’ll get the order to attack these sons of bitches soon.”
The Sea Serpent was safely out of sight from the enemy fleet an hour later with full batteries and orders to ‘standby.’ It was the same order they’d gotten when they first encountered the enemy fleet and it frustrated Captain Willis. They continued to trail the carrier group, occasionally having to divert course when the destroyer swept the area with its active sonar pings. The destroyer was a dangerous vessel, but its actions were becoming predictable. It kept its sonar off while it was moving fast then would slow down and scan the area. It gave Captain Willis plenty of time to divert out of range. It was like a fatal tell from an otherwise skilled poker player. Captain Willis planned to use the predictable movement to his advantage when the time was right.
The sun set and he checked his watch. It was time to check in with HQ. He gave the order and saw Radioman Linden tapping out a coded message.
The night seemed to last forever. The cool outside air was refreshing but soon chilled the sailors and a watch rotation of every two hours was in effect to keep the men from being outside too long.
With dawn only a few hours away, Willis was back outside beneath a moonlit sky full of skittering clouds and dim stars. He preferred nights without the glaring light from the moon, but had to admit it was beautiful. He could clearly see his men manning the deck guns. They looked like gray apparitions. He pulled his heavy wool coat’s collar tight around his neck and chin and took in a deep breath of fresh air.
Lieutenant Rodrigues was scrolling away on a notepad as he took in the nightly message from HQ. Captain Willis noticed he was taking longer than normal and he leaned toward him in interest, but knew better than to interrupt him as he deciphered the coded message. He’d give him the scoop as soon as he was ready.
Yelling from the men manning the weapons, grabbed his attention. They were gesturing and pointing at something off the port bow. WO Suman spun his twin muzzles to port and angled them down; something was in the water.
Captain Willis leaned forward trying to see what had grabbed their attention. The sea was relatively calm, but there was still a slight swell. As his boat went up he saw what they were seeing. It was small and at first he thought it must be a piece of flotsam. They’d encountered lots of bits and pieces from the aerial battles over the past few days, but this looked different.
He carefully put the binoculars to his eyes. They were difficult to use at night, even with the moonlight, but he scanned until he found the object. He gasped when he realized it was a person floating with a yellow life-vest around their neck. He ordered LCDR Stavos, “Launch a raft, it’s a person, probably a pilot. We don’t know who they work for, so be careful.”
Stavos burst into action and was down the ladder and sprinting to the forward bow faster than Willis thought possible. Captain Willis glanced down at Rodrigues who was still scribbling away on his notepad, oblivious to what was happening. Willis leaned into the open hatch and yelled down, “All stop, all stop. Prepare for a passenger.” There was a pause as the crew filtered the unusual order, but then the ten knots of thrust dropped to nothing and the wake they’d been producing faded away.
Stavos, Gunner’s Mate Blount and Seaman Conway were finishing unlashing a bundle near the bow. They worked feverishly and Willis saw the black blob suddenly manifest into a fully inflated raft in a matter of seconds thanks to the CO2 cartridges firing and filling the eight-foot raft. The three men half lifted, half dragged it to the edge and put it into the sea, all while GM Smith covered them with the twin fifty.
Blount and Conway jumped into the raft while Stavos held on, then passed them wooden paddles. They pushed off and started paddling toward the the bobbing object. As they neared, Stavos reached for his sidearm and loosened the holster. The forward momentum carried the raft closer. LCDR Stavos could tell it was a person, but as they neared he was sure he was recovering a body.
Stavos used the paddle to nudge the body and nearly fell out of the raft when the body animated into a live person. He recovered and put his hand to his weapon, but quickly released it when he saw the desperate and terrified eyes of a woman. He exchanged a quick glance with Seaman Conway then leaned forward and held out his hand. “You’re okay now, give me your hand.”
She remained still, her eyes drilling into him. She uttered, “Sh - Sharks.”
Stavos felt sudden fear course through his body, but he stifled it and said, “Put me closer. I can’t reach her.” Conway and Blount stroked, putting the raft right up against her. Stavos reached into the cold water and clutched her beneath the armpits and pulled her sodden body onto the bottom of the raft. She stared up at him through dazed eyes, continuing to mutter, “sharks.”
LCDR Stavos propped her into a sitting position. She was like a rag doll, completely unable or unwilling to move her own limbs. In the moonlight her skin looked almost gray. A sudden violent bout of shivering overtook her body and her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she passed out. Stavos impulsively reached out and hugged her shaking body t
o his own, wanting to warm her. “Get us back to the boat, now.”
Blount and Conway reached out and paddled hard. Stavos held the pilot who was still passed out. Her head lolled to the side and he hoped she was still breathing. He roughly rubbed her arms, trying to stimulate circulation to her cold body. When they were close enough, WO Suman tossed a rope and Conway caught it and they were pulled in the rest of the way.
Sailors sprinted across the deck, one carrying a folded stretcher. Stavos handed the unconscious pilot off and they gingerly laid her down on the stretcher. They wrapped her in thick, wool blankets and whisked her away and soon had her inside the submarine.
Stavos watched his men deflating and stowing the raft. They had it well in hand, so he went to the mast and ascended the ladder. He pulled himself to the deck and Captain Willis asked, “Pilot you think?”
“Yes sir. No doubt. A female pilot too, one of ours.”
Captain Willis frowned, “She didn’t look good.”
“She was coherent when I picked her up, babbling on about sharks.”
Willis shook his head, “Delusional. This water’s too cold for sharks.” Stavos nodded, and Willis continued, “We’ve got new orders.” Stavos straightened and looked his captain in the eye. Willis adjusted his hat. “Our pilot won’t be getting back to the mainland for awhile. Command wants us to attack.”
Stavos felt dizzy for an instant before nodding and replying. “Yes, sir. That’s good news. Finally let those bastards know what we can do.”
Sixteen
Jimmy and Hank hunkered in the bottom of the foxhole on the ridge as Russian artillery rained down. The ground shook and Jimmy silently thanked the Russian who’d dug the hole they now occupied. It was deep and sturdy and had a stout covering of leg-sized logs across the top. It didn’t make him feel better to know it would take a direct hit to reach them. It had happened to Harper and Mackenzie’s hole a couple hours earlier during the first bombardment. He didn’t see the results but he’d heard there wasn’t much left of them to bury.
He leaned close to Hank’s ear and had to shout to be heard. “Think it’s lightening up.” Hank glared at him and kept holding his helmet. The shells moved across the ridge like a passing rainstorm, leaving devastation in their wake. Soon the shells were passing over them and impacting the road and main trench line. Jimmy slapped Hank’s shoulder, “told you.”
Hank nodded slightly then looked through the roof slats. The sky was overcast, and it looked like it might rain. “You’re a real genius, you know that?”
Jimmy ignored him and moved to the front of the hole to the firing slot. He stepped onto the cutout and lifted his head above the hole. The road was littered with burning hulks, both Russian and American tanks. The fighting had subsided with each side retreating back to their respective lines and licking their considerable wounds. “It’s a graveyard down there.”
Hank came up beside him. The air smelled like burnt steel and flesh. Smoke swirled from burning tanks and wafted over the battlefield like ghostly apparitions. “Jesus. Those poor bastards.” Amongst the burned out tanks, charred bodies sprawled, some still burning.
“That last barrage must’ve been a cover to break contact. I don’t see where they went.”
Hank nodded, “Back into that valley, I guess.”
The battlefield was eerily silent, a sharp contrast to the past fifteen hours. There was scuffling outside their hole and a knocking on their makeshift roof. “Hey, you guys alive in there?” It was the gruff voice of Corporal Kentworthy. He pushed his head between the slats stretching his face, making him look crazy.
Despite their exhaustion, Hank and Jimmy couldn’t keep from grinning. Jimmy answered, “Yeah, we’re alive.”
Kentworthy’s face disappeared replaced with his hand dangling a pouch of extra ammunition. Hank took it, “Gee, I didn’t know it was Christmas already.”
“Ho, ho, ho.” He stuck his head back through the slats and looked around the hole. “Hey, those Russkies made this hole nice for you, didn’t they? Hope you thanked them with a nice bouquet or something.”
Hank grinned, “Yeah it was something nice alright.”
The corporal’s face turned serious. “Lieutenant Little wants the outpost relieved and you guys drew the short straw.”
Hank’s face changed into a scowl. “I don’t remember that drawing.”
Kentworthy ignored him. “Get some chow, top off your water. I’m gonna visit the other fellas then circle back here and lead you to your new position. We leave in an hour.” He didn’t wait for a reply but pulled back and was gone.
Hank punched Jimmy’s arm. “Dammit. This is bullshit. We took this hill singlehandedly and now we get the O.P.?”
Jimmy opened a K-ration and shoved some kind of red substance into his mouth and stared straight ahead. He swallowed and muttered, “What have you done for me lately?”
Hank nodded and pried a lid off a can with his knife. He nodded, “they’re gonna get us killed out here.” Jimmy looked up from his food and the absurdity of the statement swept over him. At first he grinned but soon laughter swept over him and he couldn’t contain it. Hank looked at him like he’d lost his mind, but the laughter was contagious and soon they both chortled like school boys beneath the stadium seats.
Jimmy and Hank followed Corporal Kentworthy as he led them past foxholes and dug-in and well camouflaged Sherman tanks. Jimmy remembered hearing their heavy engines lumbering up the ridge but didn’t know until now, where they’d ended up.
Kentworthy stopped beside the last one and crouched. Jimmy and Hank looked at him expectantly. Kentworthy pointed down a gully. “Move down this creek-bed. See that big tree down there?” Jimmy and Hank both looked and Jimmy nodded. “The hole’s to the right of it about twenty-yards. You can’t miss it. Jantz and Cugle are there. You remember the password sequence?” Both nodded. “Okay, there’s a radio. We’ve got commo wire out to it. From there you’ve got a good view of the valley. If you see those bastards coming, radio in. Got it?” They both nodded again. Kentworthy slapped Jimmy’s shoulder. “Good luck. I’ll send relief in four hours.” He looked at his watch. “At 1500.” Without another word he left them.
Jimmy stood and moved around to the front of the tank. The tank commander was leaning out of the cupola behind his mounted .50 caliber machine gun. He had his goggles pulled onto his helmet. His face was blackened from soot and dirt but he had white rings around his eyes making him look like a raccoon. He stared at Jimmy, the deep exhaustion was obvious. Jimmy touched the brim of his helmet and nodded. The tanker continued to stare, ignoring the gesture. Jimmy muttered under his breath, “Fuck you very much.” Hank heard him and guffawed.
They moved down the gully. There was a sliver of water running through, occasionally pooling and sometimes disappearing into the wet soil. Jimmy moved carefully, his M1 ready in case the Russians had a surprise for them.
They finally made it to the tree and Jimmy crouched and looked at the valley below. He could only see a little, the rest blocked by a turn in the ridge. He looked where he needed to go. It was much more exposed but would have a better view. He wished he could stay here in the gully but the view was too restricted.
He looked back at Hank, who gave him a thumbs up sign. Jimmy moved off staying behind the natural cover as much as possible. He scanned the area but couldn’t see the outpost. He stopped and called out in a semi-whisper. “Gulliver, Gulliver.”
He waited and nearly jumped out of his skin when the response, “Lilliputian,” was much closer than expected. In front of him, he saw camouflaged netting pulled back and saw the hole. Private Jantz and Cugle looked up at him. “We coulda reached out and killed you, Crandall.”
Hank shuffled forward, “I woulda killed you both if you tried.”
“Well if it isn’t the Italian Stallion,” chimed Jantz.
Hank shook his head. “Get outta the hole. We’re your relief.”
Jantz nodded, “No shit, Sherlock.”
Jantz shook his head and pointed into the valley. Much of it was obstructed by shrubs and trees from Jimmy’s vantage point. “You can see better from here. The Russkies are out there, we hear ‘em and sometimes see movement in the trees, but they haven’t made any moves this way since they retreated.”
Jantz and Cugle were only too happy to vacate the hole. Jimmy and Hank slid into their spots and situated their gear. Jantz waited until they were settled then pointed at the radio set. “You know how to use that?” Hank nodded. “Okay then. You boys have fun. See ya in awhile.” Jantz pulled the camouflage cover back over them.
The hole was dug to fit two men, barely. The dirt had been shaped so Jimmy and Hank sat as if they were on a park bench. If they sat upright, they could see over the lip perfectly. Private Jantz was right, the view from this level was unimpeded. They were a hundred feet above the valley floor, looking straight down the length of the road which disappeared into the woods. The road was pockmarked with craters and there were a few charred Russian T34s and troop transports. “We’re in a great position, here,” stated Hank.
Jimmy nodded, “Yeah.” He didn’t want to remind Hank just how far out they were. If the Russians attacked, they’d quickly be behind enemy lines. He picked up the binoculars left there by Jantz and Cugle. He slowly scanned the woods beyond the road. “Shoulda brought my sniper rifle.”
Hank shook his head, “That’s not our mission.”
“I know. I’d just like another shot at one of the Scalps. I think I tagged that one earlier.”
“Yeah, and you pissed off the entire Russian Army. I’d prefer you didn’t do that again, particularly while we’re out here.”
