by M. L. Maki
Gellar says, “Yes, I’m ‘Bobby’. Travis over there is ‘Plow Boy’, Joe Cervella, with the scope, is ‘Mouth’, Lt. Hunt is ‘Spike’, Chief White is ‘Mosey’. We all have names.
Joe says, “He’s a bit young to be a man, let’s call him ‘Fireboy’.”
Gellar says, “Nah, he’s an airman, now.”
AD3 Ernest ‘Hip’ Gnosis says, “He got off the Stoddert before she sank. Let’s call him ‘Sinker’.”
ADC(AW) Paul ‘Mosey’ White walks in, “No, he’s not a sinker. Let’s call him ‘Bobber’.”
“No Chief, that’s too close to ‘Bobby’.”
“Then maybe we ought to call you ‘late’, Gellar. Where are those QA reports?”
“LT has them, Chief.”
“Okay, and seeing as you don’t like ‘Bobber’, let’s call him ‘Duck’, ‘cause they float and fly.”
Joe says, “So do you seagulls.”
“Yeah, but seagulls shit on everything. Newburg’s all right. I like ‘Duck’. Is that okay, Newburg?”
Greg says, “Yes, Chief, um, ‘Duck’ is fine.”
Watching them, Sam realizes just how good White is with their people. Watch and learn, she tells herself, watch and learn.
Joe says, “What the hell? I didn’t get a choice.”
Gellar laughs, “That’s because you ARE a mouth, Mouth.” The crew laughs, then settles down to work. Duck grabs a broom and starts sweeping. Sam straightens the report before she hands them to White. He leans toward her and whispers, “Keep them busy,” and leaves.
Joe asks Sam, “So, it’s all true about going back in time?”
“Yeah, Joe, those were real WWII Japanese planes we were fighting.”
He puts the borescope back down into the engine, inspecting the fans. Starting to tremble, he yanks the scope out, and stands up. “Shit man! I’m never going to taste my momma’s lasagna or her tiramisu again. Oh my God, her tiramisu.”
Bobby says, “Lock it down, Cervella.”
“Fuck you, Bobby. You ain’t never had my momma’s tiramisu. You probably couldn’t tell tiramisu from pound cake.”
“I said, lock it down. We’re all kinda fucked up about this and I don’t need your crap.”
Joe gets red in the face, walks over, and puts his face in Gellar’s, “Really? Really? You’re a fucked up…”
Sam steps in, “Gentlemen! That’s enough! We are all hurting here. We are not taking it out on each other.”
Joe turns to her, “Why not, ma’am? He’s pushing me.”
“And you’re pushing back.”
“Ma’am, you just don’t understand. I mean, my family’s close. I mean really close. Like Italian close.”
“Yes, yes, I do understand, Joe, we’re all we have now. This…these people around you, they’re your family now.”
He stands in front of her, not meeting her eyes. A tear slips down his cheek, and he curls his fists tight, struggling to keep his feet still. Puck starts to walk into the engine maintenance room, sees the confrontation, and stops just outside, watching and listening. Sam says, “I bet your momma’s tiramisu is so good it’ll make your heartbreak, just like my Nana’s peach pie.”
“Ma’am, it’s just, well, my family is close, like real close.”
“You’re worried about them, aren’t you?”
Without thinking, he reaches for her, his tears falling, and with a painful sob, wraps his arms around her, his head on her shoulders. Gellar says, “Umm…?” Sam gives him a sharp look and shakes her head, holding Joe and letting him cry. The rest of her people quietly go about their business, watching. AD2 Argyle ‘Socks’ McCrimmon picks up the borescope and continues inspecting the engine. ADAN Lori “Sass’ Givens picks up a rag and wipes down a work bench. Bobby shakes his head and goes back to his paperwork. Duck keeps sweeping.
Sam hold Joe until he cries himself out. When he runs out of tears, he looks up straight into her eyes, “I’m sorry, ma’am.”
“Shhh, it’s alright. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I think so, ma’am. Ma’am?”
“Yes?”
“Ma’am, you’re alright.”
“Why thank you, Joe. I appreciate that, now go the head and clean up.”
Puck quietly turns and walks away.
As Joe leaves, ADAN Louis ‘Deep Fried’ Siemens asks, “Ma’am, if we’re family now, does that mean I can’t date Lori?”
“In your dream, Deep Fried, in your dream,” says Sass, making them all laugh.
Sam says, “Please excuse me,” and leaves. She walks swiftly to her stateroom on the 03 level, well forward from the power plant area. She walks past people in the narrow passageways without seeing them. She walks by Gloria, who starts to say something, then sees Sam’s eyes, and lets her go. In her stateroom, she locks the door, goes to her desk and collapses into her chair, sobbing. “God, this is hard. I think I got it right. Joe needed me. I think I need them as much.”
BLACK KNIGHTS QA OFFICE, 0830, 23 DECEMBER, 1941
Thud Jackson is wearing a clean flight suit and pacing back and forth in front of his desk. An office so small, that he can only take two steps before he has to turn. He looks at his watch, again, and finally there’s a knock on the door. He quickly returns to his chair, picks up a piece of paper, and says, “Enter.”
A pretty blonde female ensign walks in, “You wanted to see me, Lieutenant?”
“Ensign Severn?”
“Yes, sir, Penny Severn, sir.”
“We had three AIM-9s fail to fire yesterday, Ensign Severn. Do you know what’s wrong with the missiles?”
She comes to attention, “No, sir, I was not aware of a malfunction, sir.”
Thud gentles his voice, “Ensign, a bad missile could cost us a pilot and a plane.”
“Sir, is that what happened to Ensign Bolen? Oh God! Oh God!”
“No, Ensign, no, he did not call Fox 2 before he was hit. Because of all the good guys up there, we were only using guns. I had two missiles fall off my plane, though, when I tried to fire them, and I came back with a hole in my plane.”
“I’m sorry, sir. We’ll take every missile down to parade rest, sir. It will not happen again.”
“I know what went wrong, Ensign. Your crew failed to hook up the Amphenol’s properly and they shook loose in flight. I checked the rest of them when I got back, and some of them were loose.”
“Okay, okay, sir, I’ll find out who screwed up.”
He raises a hand, “Just remind your people to be careful, okay?”
“I will, sir, it will never happen again.”
“Okay, um, I…by the way, I’m Frank Jackson. They call me Thud.”
“Not because your missile fell off, I hope,” laughing.
Startled, he laughs, “No, it’s, um, oh never mind. Thank you for coming up.”
SAMANTHA’S STATEROOM, 0930, 23 DECEMBER, 1941
Sam cries herself out, she goes to the head to clean up, and splash cold water on her face. She runs her fingers through her hair and leaves to go back to work. Captain Lee, leaving his stateroom a couple of frames aft, glances at her, then stops and looks more closely, “How are you, Lieutenant?”
“I’m fine, sir, how are you today?”
“Do you have a minute to talk?”
“Yes, sir, I do.”
They walk further aft to his office, just off CATCC. They walk through to the inner office, “Book is on ready 5. In here.” He ushers her in and closes the door, then pours them each a cup of coffee, and sits down. “I know, normally, it’s taboo to shut a door when male and female officers are alone in an office, but I think we need the privacy. You are not okay, and we both know it. Talk to me.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“You lost your family, you’ve had your first taste of combat, you had a ton of pressure put on you as part of the brain trust, you had to deal with a hostile chain of command, you lost two co-workers, you had your XO wish you dead, that about cover it? These l
ast few days have been tough. If you’re fine, then you’re not human. Your eyes are puffy like you’ve been crying. I’m not an idiot, Samantha, but I am your friend.”
Her tears start up again, and she puts her face in her hands. He grabs a handful of tissues and gives them to her, then sits back and waits. After a bit, she blows her nose, wipes her face, and looks up. “Airman Cervella cried in my arms. I have to be strong for my people. I have to be strong. I can’t keep breaking down like this.”
“Your guys are vulnerable, too, Sam. They need you. They need you like I, well, like I did. Now that Carleton has been transferred things should smooth out some, I hope.” He pauses, “I’m not pretending that it isn’t hard. It’s damn hard. Stuff worth doing generally is.”
“Rick, my wall is down and I can’t get it back up.”
“You mean your C.I.B. wall?”
“Yes…I feel…I feel raw.”
“I hope this doesn’t sound cold, Sam, but you’re better off without it.”
“When do I stop feeling raw?”
“You have to live through it, experience the pain and conquer it, and make it our own. It takes time. You’re strong and you can do it, Sam. Just know, it gets better.”
“All those people I’m responsible for, what if I fail them?”
“You will. We all do. Just do your best every day. At the end of the day, you have to hope you got that more right than wrong. Remember, you’re not alone.”
“Right, it just feels like it.” She looks at him, “You know what triggered Cervella off? His mother’s tiramisu. At that moment, I could taste my Nana’s peach pie. I almost lost it then.”
Lee chuckles, “It’s always something. I was thinking back to my dad’s hunting cabin. He let us kids taste whiskey for the first time after we got our first deer. We have to hold things together, Sam, if the officer corps falls apart, we lose everything.”
She smiles, “You’re right. All I wanted was to be an astronaut.”
He smiles, too, “I wanted to be an ace. As of today, I am, and so are you. The stars might still be in your future, Samantha. Things are going to happen much more quickly.”
“Right, well, we have to survive first.”
Lee shakes his head, “Nope. We just have to our job the best we can. Whether we survive or not is up to the guy upstairs. Don’t forget Him, Sam. He looks after fools and aviators.”
“You’ve you got a point.”
“Okay, now, you’re doing better. Now git. This old codger still has a lot of work.”
“Yes, Rick, thank you.” Sam carefully closes the door behind her as she leaves, smiling.
HANGAR BAY 3, 1000, 23 DECEMBER, 1941
Book and Packs walk up to ENS Wally ‘Nob’ Nelson, who is inspecting the inside of an open radome of a ’14, “Hey, Nob, ya got a minute?”
“Sure, Book, what’s up?”
“I see you’re wearing a pink ribbon. Those broads must be really proud of themselves.”
“We’re all wearing pink ribbons, Book. We lost the bet and a bet is a bet. You two should be wearing one, too.”
Packs says, “Not me. I will not play their game. No way.”
Book says, “Packs is right. No fucking way. The bitches must be insufferable.”
Nob shakes his head, “You got it wrong. The ladies didn’t say a word. The guys, well, pretty much we all decided it was the right thing to do.”
Packs says, “Now, they’re ladies?”
Book snorts, “A lady doesn’t take a job away from a man.”
Nob presses his lips tight, “Still on that kick, Book? Why don’t you preach it somewhere else? I have work.”
“Are you going to shut us down like that?
“Yeah, Book,” looking him in the eyes, “I guess I am. When are you going to let it go?”
“Never.”
Nob turns back to the radome, “Like I said, I got work to do.”
As they leave, they hear the whoosh and shudder of a catapult launch.
CHAPTER 23
POWER PLANT OFFICE AFT OF HANGAR BAY 3, 1045, 23 DECEMBER, 1941
Lt. Hunt sits doing the never-ending paperwork in the office she shares with the DIVOs from three other squadrons. Lt. Warren walks in, “Are you busy, Lieutenant?”
“Yes. Are you going to save me from all this paperwork, Lieutenant?”
“I guess so, Captain Klindt wants the trust together in about 10 minutes.”
“Oh, thank you, Lieutenant,” then to Chief White, “Chief, can you finish reviewing our inventory? I need to go.”
“Yes, ma’am, I got it.”
She picks up the phone and calls Thud.
HANGAR BAY 3
Sam is walking across toward hangar bay 2 when Thud catches up with her, “Hey, Spike, I think I made a jerk out of myself.”
“How so?”
“Well, I called the ordinance division officer up to QA because of those missiles that failed to fire.”
“Okay, well, what happened?”
“I told her they didn’t fire because her guys didn’t hook up the Amphenol’s right.”
“Is that what happened to the missiles? Sounds like you did the right thing.”
“Yeah, but she’s a girl. She’s Ensign Severn, and I chewed her out like for five minutes before I even introduced myself.”
Sam laughs as they get to the ladder down, “Why is it so important that you introduce yourself before you chew her out?”
“Well, it was just rude of me. My mom would kick my butt for treating a girl like that,” as they walk aft to the next ladder.
“Thud, it’s ok. It was in the line of duty. Was she cute?”
As they walk into the RT classroom, Thud turns beet red, “Um, well, uh, shit, Spike, that’s not fair.”
Sam chuckles.
Captain Klindt asks, “Do you want to share, Lieutenant?”
“Not really, sir, just a Thud moment.”
“Okay, let’s get back to work. First, the early morning invasion of Wake that was supposed to happen, didn’t. We picked up radio chatter from Wake, and there is no mention of an attack. There is still a Japanese invasion fleet out there somewhere and they may still be planning to attack. We need to know where it is. Also, the command wants to know, what day is it?”
Mohr says, “I thought we worked that out, it’s December 23rd, 1941.”
“That’s the date, what day of the week is it? The chaplains would like to have Sunday services, you see. It’s sort of a tradition.”
They all look at each other, and Mohr asks, “We wouldn’t happen to have a 1941 calendar lying around?”
Chuckling, Klindt says, “No, Mohr, we don’t.
Sam says, “Maybe Senior Chief can find it in one of those books of his.”
Richardson looks at her, “Am I the only one who can read?”
Thud says, “Are you all kidding? The math isn’t that hard.”
Sam says, “Enlighten us, oh great one.”
Thud turns red again, but plows on, “We all know the attack on Pearl Harbor happened on December 7th, 1941. Sunday, December 7th, 1941.”
Klindt rolls his eyes, as Mohr hits his forehead with the heel of his palm, “Duh, and we’re a brain trust?”
Then Klindt says, “Thank you, Lieutenant Jackson. That makes today Tuesday. It will be an eleven day transit to Pearl at a speed of advance of 18 knots. We need to conserve fuel. Christmas will be on Thursday, and the Captain is planning a stand down and party. We need to be looking for the enemy carrier group on the way. But, we should reach Pearl on January 2, 1942, so we need to plan how to contact Admiral Nimitz on the first.”
Sam asks, “Two things, sir. When is the memorial for the men of the Stoddert and for Bo-Bo and Klutz?”
“The chaplains are planning it for this afternoon, part of why we needed to know the day of the week.”
Denton says, “My math has us arriving on the third, sir.”
“You forgot to subtract a day for the date line. I’ve be
en doing this navigation thing for a while.”
“Yes, sir.”
Mohr says, “We also need to figure out where our fleet is right now. It would suck to be attacked by our own guys”
Klindt says, “True, so we need to plan an approach to Pearl that avoids other fleet units while still looking for the enemy. Radio is listening close for mention of Wake. It’s clear the Japanese are doing something different. What do you think it means?”
Mohr says, “It could be they are redirecting the Wake task force to look for us.”
“If that’s the case, we want to be the first ones to make contact. Did the Japanese use their radar much in WWII? I’m sure they had it.”
Richardson says, “Sir, actually, few Japanese ships had radar. Carriers did, as did many cruisers, but I don’t know if they would have it on. Just like now, turning on radar is a beacon for attack.”
“Okay, what was the range of their radar?”
“It doesn’t say.”
Thud asks, “Is there a picture so we can get the rough dimensions?”
Richardson says, “Yeah, I saw one in here, why?”
“With that information, we can get a rough range. If we keep an E-2 up, we will find them before they see the plane, if they illuminate.”
Sam says, “Why don’t we send out a far cap with an E-2 with radar on to cover a wide swathe of ocean? If we find them, we hit them. If they pick up the E-2, they still don’t know our location.”
Klindt nods, “Sounds reasonable. Everyone like it?” They all nod, “Okay, we still need to figure out how to contact Nimitz. Is there anything else on the table?”
Richardson says, “Yes, sir, we need to start thinking resupply.”
“There really isn’t any. Horne, Camden, and Kaiser can get refueled with diesel from this period of time, but they don’t have any JP-5.”
“Exactly, sir, which is why we will need to have it made. They don’t have any of the missiles, electronics, jet engines, etcetera that we will need. So, we’ll need to create the technology to resupply the ship and do it fast.”
Klindt says, “Shit, you’re talking about a whole new industrial revolution, aren’t you?”
“Yes, sir, exactly.”
Barr says, “It took decades to learn how to build this stuff.”
