by M. L. Maki
Hughes says, “Never mind the nuclear power plant needs, they’re great, but they need specialized maintenance that no one know how to do.”
Warren says, “Not true, we do.”
“Sir, have you ever inspected generator tubes? Ever refueled a reactor? Me neither.”
Klindt interjects, “One thing at a time, folks. This ship has twenty years of fuel left, so we have time to work that out, and Hughes, I have refueled a reactor before.”
Sam says, “The point is, guys, we don’t have to re-invent the wheel. First, we have to contact Nimitz, all the rest is moot for now.”
Klindt says, “Okay, we start thinking about how we’ll drag the 1940’s into the 1990’s and talk about it in another meeting. Right now, let’s divide the problem: Richardson, you tackle electronics; Mohr, you have JP-5; Hunt, you have jet engines. That’s your division, right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Warren, you tackle nuclear maintenance. You’ll need to fly over to Long Beach and figure out what kind of shape they’re in. Denton, Barr, I need a report from you about upgrading all the crypto and communications. We can’t assume that what was used in WWII is secure any more. Hughes, you have metallurgy. We need a lot of stainless and titanium. Did they even make what we need in ’41? You will need to talk to Hunt about metal requirements for making and repairing aircraft. Is there anything else?”
Thud asks, “What do you want me to do?
Klindt says, “Sorry, Lieutenant Jackson, forgot you were here. Do you know anything about missiles?”
“I know someone who does, but I just pissed her off.”
“Well, buy her some chocolate and say you’re sorry. We will need new missiles soon. Questions?”
When no replies, he continues, “Okay, where is the fleet?”
Everybody looks at Richardson, who sighs and digs through his books, “I’m not sure. It’s too soon for Doolittle. I think Halsey had the fleet kicking butt somewhere. They did a lot of raiding after Pearl. There will be pickets off Pearl, though, no matter where the main fleet is.”
“See what you can find. Okay, how do we avoid the pickets?”
“A diversion, sir?” asks Thud.
Mohr says, “Not a good idea. After Pearl Harbor, any hint of trouble will have the place on full alert.”
Warren asks, “What are we going to do when we get there? It would be a lot easier to sneak one boat or a few helicopters in then to get the whole battle group close.”
“What’s the maximum range of our helicopters?
Thud answers, The SH-3’s we fly have a safe range of about 250 to 300 miles. The SH-60’s on the Fife and Jarret have a bit shorter range, but carry more weight.”
Sam says, “Um, sir, I have a solution to your problem of sneaking in.”
“Okay, good. Is it simple?”
“SEALs sir, Lt. Issa’s team. Sneaking ashore is what SEALs do.”
“Okay, I like that idea. Could you give him a call? We still need to figure out how to get them in and out.”
Sam calls the SEAL team office as Warren says, “If we had a sub, it would be easy, but we don’t.”
“If frogs had wings, they wouldn’t bum their asses on the ground. Focus on what we do have.”
Mohr asks, “Where were the radars placed at Pearl in WWII?”
Richardson says, “I found the fleet.”
“Where?”
“One carrier group is returning from an aborted attempt to aide Wake Island, and the other is patrolling west of Pearl looking for the Japanese. The one aiding Wake may bore on if the Japanese don’t invade.”
“Damn, right where we need to go. What about the radars?”
“I saw that somewhere, give me a minute.”
Lt. Robert ‘Abdul’ Issa walks into the room wearing black BDUs with subdued rank and SEAL patches, “So, what is this about, Lieutenant?”
Klindt stands and offers his hand, “Good morning, Lieutenant. I’m Captain Klindt, the Reactor Officer. I asked Lt. Hunt to call you down here. How is it, an F-14 pilot has come to know a SEAL?”
“Well, sir, we met in the water the other night and had a nice chat over a dead guy. What do you need, Captain?”
“We are planning how to make contact with Admiral Nimitz. Please, sit down.”
“How about on radio?”
Mohr says, “Already thought of that, it won’t work.”
“Why not, we have all the codes, don’t we?”
Barr laughs, “Hell no, codes never make it into the history books.”
Issa says, “Okay, I’m starting to not like this plan. What do you want us to do?”
Klindt says, “Get in, make contact with Nimitz and get him out here for a look.”
“Okay, I have some questions. First, where does he live?”
Thud says, “Nimitz House on base.” They all look at him, “What? I don’t spend all my liberty in a bar, okay?”
Issa says, “Hey, there’s nothing wrong with bars.”
Klindt, “Okay, so how do we get in and get him out?”
“We’ll have to use helos to get him out. We can get in by helo, or parachute. We could even swim in. We have all our gear.”
“Okay, helo in and out would be simplest. We can’t land a helo near the base, though.”
Issa says, “Drop us in the water a couple of miles out, and we’ll swim in.”
Mohr gets a big grin on his face, “I know how to do it, KISS.”
Klindt, “What?”
“Keep It Simple Stupid – KISS. Swim in, change into sailor uniforms, drive up and knock on the door, simple as that. He has to be used to getting disturbed at all hours. He’s in charge.”
HANGAR BAY 2, STARBOARD SIDE, 1250, 23 DECEMBER, 1941
Sam and Frank are walking to wardroom 3 for lunch, weaving between parked planes, when Lt. Sandra ‘Cargo Britches’ Douglas walks up to them. “Hey Spike. Is this guy with you Thud?”
“Why yes, Lieutenant, good to see you again.”
Cargo Britches walks up to Thud, wraps her arms around his neck, and lays a serious lip lock on him for several seconds. Pulling back a bit, she says, “Hi, I’m Cargo Britches. Thanks for the steer the other night.”
Sam bursts out laughing, as Frank, red, stammers, “Um, uh, um, sure. Un, wow.”
She lets him go, smiling, “You really were my hero that night. We were lost and you showed the way.”
Smiling, even redder, he says, “I was, um, glad to help, um, wow.”
She turns to Sam, “You’re right, terminally shy and a damn nice guy. Take care, Thud. You ever want a date, look me up,” and she walks away, smiling as she looks back at him.
Sam smiles at him, “You ought to take her up on that. She’s a damn nice girl, and one helluva pilot.”
“You set me up, didn’t you?”
“No, not really. We told her about you when she asked that night.”
“And she just happened along here?”
“YES! I haven’t talked to her since that night. She said she’d be looking for you. I’m glad she found you. You know, Frank, I will never plot against you or play games. Real friends don’t.”
He cocks his head, “Why do they call her Cargo Britches?”
“Why don’t you ask her? It’s not going to kill you to talk to a girl, you know.”
“You aren’t going to tell everyone, are you?”
Sam looks him in the eyes, and says softly, “No, Frank, never.”
Her plane captain, ‘Handy’ Washington, approaches and salutes, “Ma’am, you need to come look at your plane. We’re done. You too, Lieutenant Jackson.”
Frank grins, “Are you thinking what I’m thinking, Spike?”
“Oh no. Okay, let’s go see.”
Handy leads them up to the aft part of the flight deck where their planes are parked. On the right side of Thud’s plane, under his and Speedy’s names, are painted seventeen little Japanese flags in two rows. Back of those is a destroyer profile with the Japanese fla
g, and under it, two hash marks for the three destroyers he sank. Thud says, “Wow! Thanks, guys, this is cool.”
Handy says, “Ace three times over first time out. It’s beyond cool.”
Spike smiles, “Very cool, Thud, very cool.” Then they walk to Spike’s plane. Hers is painted the same, with two rows of 10 flags, and one row of two, a destroyer symbol with one hash mark, and a cruiser.
Thud says, “Wingman, you rock.”
“Damn, thanks Joe. You guys did a good job. I’d no idea.”
Handy says, “You should see the island, they painted everyone’s kills there.”
She says, “Shall we Thud?” and turns to Handy, “Again, thank you, Joe.”
Making their way forward, they see Lt. Carleton talking to Lt. JG Lorne ‘Jedi’ Luke. Someone on vultures’ row yells at Spike and Thud, “Hey, get on a float coat if you’re gonna wander around. We’re about to start a landing cycle.” Carleton looks up, sees them, and quickly walks away.
Thud says, “Well, I guess, another time,” and they head inside.
03 LEVEL FORWARD, OUTSIDE WARDROOM 3, 1345, 23 DECEMBER, 1941
Sam is just leaving wardroom 3 after lunch when CDR Holtz calls out to her, “Lieutenant Hunt, could I have a word?”
“Yes, sir.”
He turns down a thwarts ship passageway leading to the flight deck and stops in an alcove, “I just wanted to say I’m sorry for being such a jackass to you and Lt. Hoolihan. I know I fed into Carleton’s idiocy, instead of stopping it. I know, we can’t start over, but I’m sorry.”
Sam puts out her hand, smiling, “Commander Holtz.” Looking confused, he takes her hand and shakes it. “Commander Holtz, I’m Lt. Hunt and I’m happy to be in your squadron. I look forward to working with you.”
Smiling, Jim Holtz gets it, “I’m glad to have you in the most kick ass squadron in the Navy. I know you are a great addition to a solid line up.”
“Well, thank you, sir. I’m going to be happy here.” She cocks her head, her smile lighting up her eyes, “Now, that wasn’t so hard. Oh, and Commander, apology accepted.
Holtz blinks, seeing her as if for the first time, shakes his head, realizes he’s still holding her hand and lets go. “By the way, flight rotations just got posted. We’ll be alternating with the Tomcatters, two on ready five and two in the air on far Cap from here to Hawaii, including Christmas day. I put you and Thud in for tonight, okay?”
“Yeah, it’s fine. I’d have taken Christmas day, sir.”
“I know, but it didn’t work out that way. I’ll see you later.”
CHAPTER 24
HANGAR BAY 3, STARBOARD SIDE, 1430, 23 DECEMBER, 1941
The chaplain, Commander Perry Chandler, a small, thin man with blonde hair and sad eyes, finishes his sermon, then reads the names of the fallen sailors of the Benjamin Stoddert, those who were rescued and didn’t make it, and those whose bodies were recovered from the sea. As he says each name, the board holding the body is tipped up by sailors in dress uniform, and the body is consigned to the sea.
Frank Jackson is praying, garrison cap in hand, head down. Sam stands with Greg Newburg and Oscar Hammond, who’s in a chair at the end of a row of wounded survivors. They can see the Church flag flying above the American flag on the Long Beach. She is also burying fallen from the Stoddert. A radio operator repeats each name from each ship so the survivors can hear both services.
Attending in their working uniforms are the off-duty sailors and airman. Admiral Ren, Captain Johnson, Captain Lee, LCDR Curtis, XO of the Stoddert, the Chaplain and his staff, are all in dress uniforms. After the last Stoddert sailor is named, Chaplain Chandler pauses, “We have one recovered Japanese sailor. Americans have always honored the fallen, regardless of who they fought for. We do not know his name, but may the Lord comfort him, Gentlemen,” and they tip a board covered with a Japanese flag.
Then Chaplain Chandler continues, “There are two more we have lost. Lt. JG Byron Bolen was a great pilot, and to many here, a good friend. His steadfast valor is plain to see in the success he achieved in the air before being shot down. Ensign Christopher Brandt was a fine Naval aviator and a good friend. They gave their last full measure. Each of these noble dead gave their last full measure so that those who follow may live, so that we the living may re-dedicate our lives to the fight ahead. These are the first we have given in a war we did not expect to fight. They will not be the last. Our enemy is merciless, but let us remember to be merciful. The mission before us is great. Let us dedicate ourselves, not to revenge, but to duty. Let us deliver swift blows in defense of liberty, justice, and freedom, and yes, mercy. May God bless you all. Gentlemen,” and the sailors tip the boards of Bo-Bo and Klutz.
HANGAR BAY 3, AFTER THE SERVICE
Walking back to her office, Sam hears voices behind the plane she is next to, “I should bring it up to the Captain, John.”
“No fucking way, man. You know, Mike, you know how much shit you could get into.”
“I don’t care, John. I think it caused us to go back in time. He should be told. I’m kinda responsible for all this.”
Going around the plane, Sam says, “Gentlemen.” They look up, shocked, and their hands shoot up in a salute. She returns the salute, “Walk with me.”
MM2 Mike Reed says, “Ma’am, ma’am, we have stuff we need to do.”
“Do you mind telling me what you two were talking about?”
Reed realizes the cat is out of the bag, and relieved, says, “Um, yes, ma’am, I guess so. Ma’am have you ever read the Talon Sword by Philip Cullen?”
“Yes, so?”
“Well, ma’am, do you recall the time machine in the book?”
“Yes. Just say it, Petty Officer, I don’t have all day.”
“Well, ma’am, I’m getting to it. The author was a lit major at Oxford. He didn’t know a time machine from a plowshare, so I did a little digging. That’s what I do, I mean, I’m a nuke.”
She smiles, “Point, Petty Officer?”
“Yes, ma’am, anyway, there’s no way Cullen would know anything about machines like that. At least, I didn’t think so, so I dug into it, and it turns out he got the idea from a paper written by Dr. Heinrich Heinlein.”
“You’re kidding, right?” then stops, “The paper, when was it written?”
“1934, ma’am, and as I was saying, this Dr. Heinlein helped the British build the machine.”
“Build the machine? Sorry, I sound like a parrot. What do you mean?”
“Yes, ma’am, they built it out in the Australian desert and tested it, December 19, 1941.”
“This was in the paper?”
“Well, no, ma’am. But I looked up Dr. Heinlein and found a newspaper report that talked about it.”
“British? Australian?”
“British, ma’am, it was in the London Times Herald.”
“Do you have a copy of the article and the paper? Are they on the boat?”
“Yes, ma’am, but that’s the thing, what I’m talking about. Do you remember how the time machine worked in the book?”
“Vaguely, Petty Officer, it was a few years ago.”
“Well, ma’am, the power for the machine was back in the 1940’s, and they transmitted the power. Then the people in the future who’d built the antenna went back into the past. I got a copy of the paper and I built one of the antennas, ma’am.”
“Oh Lordy, and you brought it onto the Carl Vinson?”
“Well, yes, ma’am, I don’t live anywhere else.”
Sam shakes her head, “Why don’t we go to your Chief’s office. I need to talk to him.”
MM3 John Nolan asks, “Ma’am, I didn’t build anything. Can I go?”
“Does he have anything to do with this?”
“No, ma’am, I showed it to him once. We went to power school together.”
“I see. Petty Officer Nolan, do not talk to anyone about this, clear?”
“Yes, ma’am, clear.”
“Okay, you may go,�
� and he bolts away.
MM2 Reed shows the way to the Reactor Mechanical Division office. Inside are a female lieutenant, two petty officers, and a senior chief. Sam says, “Senior Chief, does this petty officer belong to you?”
Senior Chief Argo says, “Yes, Lieutenant, can I help you?”
Lt. Patricia Sawyer asks, “do we need to clear the office, Lieutenant?”
“Yes, please.”
“Okay, guys, clear out. Ruiz, leave your boards here, I want to look them over.”
Senior Chief Argo asks, “You want me to stick around?”
Sam nods her head, and the room clears. She turns to Reed, “Well, Petty Officer Reed, spill it.” He repeats all he told Sam, the senior chief and the lieutenant silent, not interrupting once.
When he finishes, Sawyer asks, “What’s this antenna made of?”
“Well, ma’am, it had a small iron core coated in platinum that was a perfect hollow sphere, sitting on a glass rod. There was an inner sphere of copper plated with cadmium on its outside and silver on its inside. The space between the two spheres had to be evacuated and filled with chlorine gas. They were held inside another sphere of glass. I coated the outside of that with silicone carbide, then three coats of urethane, evacuated the outer sphere and filled that with argon. The whole thing is set on a glass rod and holder.”
Senior asks, “Where is it now?”
“What’s left of it is down in 2 plant, Senior.”
Argo asks, “Lieutenant Sawyer, and ah, Lieutenant Hunt, can you hang out while I take the culprit down to his locker and take a look?”
“Not a problem, Senior,” answers Sam.
Lt. Sawyer says, “You do that, Senior. I’m going to brief in the RO. Lieutenant Hunt, would care to join me? The RO doesn’t bite.”
Sam smiles, “I know. He’s great.” Sawyer gives her a questioning look.
Outside the RM division office are MM2 Miguel Ruiz and MM1 Hughes. Shawn looks shocked to see Sam walking out of his division office, “What’s going on, LT?”
“Not now, Shawn, later.” And collects another odd look from Sawyer.
When they get to the RO’s office, Lt. Sawyer asks the yeoman, “Is the RO in?”
