Fighting Her Father's War: The FIghting Tomcats

by M. L. Maki

Jackson asks, “Why?”

  With a rueful sigh Hunt says, “So, we can clank when we walk.”

  Klindt says, “I think most of you are missing the opportunity we now have before us. This group, all of right here, are going to decide the future of our great nation. Lieutenant Jackson, what was the biggest mistake our country made during WWII.”

  “Dropping the bomb on Japan, sir. It may have ended the war sooner, but we’ve been dealing with the fallout ever since. Plus, I don’t take kindly to killing civilians by the hundreds of thousands.”

  “I agree, we can prevent that mistake. Commander Hunt, what was the biggest mistake we made in Europe?”

  “The so-called strategic bombing over Europe. It destroyed cultural icons like Dresden, and it didn’t accomplish much except to drive production underground and increase the use of slave labor.”

  “True, I would have said that we needed to do more to liberate the death camps, but you are right.”

  “It actually did more to continue the camps because they moved them into the sticks.”

  Klindt says, “I agree. With our technology, we can precision bomb headquarters, factories, and bridges, without the massive collateral damage. My point is, we can give our country a better future. We can end the war faster, saving untold lives, and minimize unnecessary destruction. What about after the war? Lieutenant Hughes, what was the biggest mistake we made after WWII?”

  Hughes says, “Sir, I thought this was a celebration, not an oral board. We should never let Russia hang onto North Korea, Poland, and Eastern Europe. The invasion of Poland started the whole thing, and we hung those people out to dry.”

  “I’m sorry, Shawn, my enthusiasm gets the best of me, but you are exactly right. We can change that. Anyway, I hope you all get my point. We have a lot of work to do, and it is we few that must do it. Congratulations to you all.”

  Sam turns to Scott Richardson, “Congratulations, Commander. It’s about time. You can’t hide your light under a bushel your entire life.”

  “You knew about this?”

  “No, I’ve just been watching you in these meetings. You’re brilliant.”

  “Congratulations back at you, commander of the Black Knights.”

  “I think condolences are more in order.”

  “What did you say about hiding your light?”

  “It’s not quite the same thing.”

  Warren joins them, sticking out his hand, “Congratulations Scott, Samantha.”

  Sam says, “Thank you,” and someone sticks a glass of punch in her hand. She turn and sees Klindt handing one to Warren. “Thank you, Admiral.” He just smiles.

  With a chuckle, Jackson says to Richardson, “What a way to jump the line, Commander.”

  Sam says, “I don’t think it was on his ‘To Do’ list, Thud.”

  Warren shakes Hughes hand, “Congratulations, Lieutenant, you’re off the watch bill.”

  Shawn grimaces, “Didn’t you hear the Captain and Admiral? My board is this evening.”

  Scott says, “Better you than me.”

  Klindt overhearing, “What do you mean, Commander? You’re standing your board with him.”

  “Why, sir?”

  “Because, I’m not giving up on anyone who is nuclear qualified.”

  Sam and Shawn sit down, “Shawn, you’ll be fine. You know this stuff backward and forward. You just hate tests.”

  “You’re not pissed that I went straight to lieutenant, Sam?”

  “No, no, I think it’s wonderful. I’m always happy when a friend does well and gets the recognition they deserve.”

  “Friends. That’s allowed now, I guess. I just feel this huge divide between what I am and what he wants me to be.”

  “Oh, I totally understand.”

  Klindt hands them each a paper plate with cake and ice cream, “I don’t want to change you. I simply want you to have the authority to change everything else. Don’t let anyone change who you are. Not ever. Not even me. Be the amazing people you are and the world will change to accommodate you.”

  Sam and Shawn look at each other in wonder, and he looks at a smiling Klindt, “Sir, I know I can be an asshole. You want that in khakis?”

  Sam starts laughing, and Klindt’s grin gets wider, “Absolutely, sometimes you have to be an asshole to get things done. The thing about you, Shawn, is you call it straight, and will do so even if the President is asking. I don’t think you understand how valuable that really is.” Turning, “Sam, I know you’re a bit overwhelmed right now. I value your insight. You can look at the big picture and still see the little details in context and figure out how it all connects. You also kick ass. The Navy needs people like you.”

  “Sir, is this all because I’m a woman? Nimitz said he wanted me to have the squadron so he could tell congress about me. Is this all some affirmative action garbage?”

  Klindt replies, “Half the population is female. That means half the potential great pilots, great scientists, great doctors, great leaders are all female. I know some believe women can’t do it. I know many women believe they can’t. You can do it. I recognize the weight it puts on you, and I’m sorry, but it’s yours to bear. It has been since you volunteered for jets. It’s just heavier now.”

  “Yes, sir, I understand. I don’t like it, but I understand. By the way, sir, I was talking to one of the survivors of the Stoddert. He’s in one of your engine rooms. He was grumbling that he couldn’t qualify some watches because only nukes were allowed to stand them. What is that about?”

  Warren interrupts, “We don’t allow anyone who doesn’t understand the reactor to stand a watch that could impact reactor power. It’s too dangerous.”

  “Oh, I understand,” replies Sam, “But, where are you going to get new nukes?”

  Klindt looks and Warren and Hughes, “See what I mean, insight. I’ll talk to the RTA. We need to stand up a nuke school right here, until we can set one up on shore.”

  CAPTAIN JOHNSON’S OFFICE, 0914, 4 JANUARY, 1942

  CDR Holtz walks in, “You wanted to see me, sir?”

  “Yes, sit down.” Johnson hands him a cup of coffee, “Captain Lee will be leaving with Admiral Nimitz and on his way to Washington. The admirals decided to give you his spot, and give your squadron to Hunt. We’ve had some issues with you. Do you understand what we expect as far as female sailors go?”

  “Yes, sir. I know I was an ass, and it took me some time to get with the program, but Lt. Hunt and Lt. Hoolihan are okay. I will toe the line where females are concerned, sir. Is Hunt getting promoted, sir? So, she is at command rank?”

  “Of course. Truth is, she was due for lieutenant commander, anyway.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  CAG’S OFFICE, 1105, 4 JANUARY, 1942

  Sam walks into Lee’s office and his yeoman, YN3 Silverman, says, “He’s in, ma’am, and expecting you. Go on in.”

  “Thank you.”

  When she walks into Lee’s small inner office, he’s packing, “I take it you heard.”

  “I was there when they made the decision, Rick. And, of course, you know what they did to me.”

  “Yeah, moving Holtz to CAG, and giving you the Knights.”

  “What do you think about that?”

  “Sit down. You want a Coke?”

  “Yeah, that would be nice.”

  He pulls two Cokes out of the fridge, opens them, and slides one across the desk to her, “I know how hard this will be on you, Sam. Command is never easy. You don’t think you’re ready, right?”

  “Yes. I’ve only just been promoted to lieutenant commander. Most squadron skippers are full commanders.”

  “A lieutenant commander can take a squadron. It does mean you will promote to commander at the first slot, but it has been done before.”

  “But…but, Rick, am I ready?”

  “Sam, no one is ever ready, not really. When we look up at the wise leaders above us, we all count on their experience, wisdom, and noble purpose. Truth, they’re a bunch
of terrified old guys, hoping and praying they don’t screw things up. It’s how it always is. It’s why the Navy can rebound from horrible leadership and thrive under great leadership. Whatever the category, no one is ready. What counts in the end is character, and you have that.”

  “I appreciate your faith in me, Rick. I just hope I can do as well as you have.”

  He looks her straight on, “I don’t have faith in you, Sam. Faith is believing without seeing, I’ve seen you and I know you can do it. Seeing you agonize over it is even more proof. If you took the position as yours by right, then it would be about your ego, and not about the people you need to lead. You just need to wrap your brain around the fact that you can do this. You really can.”

  “I never looked at it that way.”

  “Well, it’s time to start. I’m off to Washington, so your free leadership lessons are going to stop for a time.”

  She smiles, “Yeah, you know you’re not the only one I’ve been learning from.”

  He gives her a mock stern look, “You mean you’re two-timing with other teachers?” He smiles, “Good, it’s good to learn the leadership styles of several leaders and figure out which tools work for you. There are good ones and bad ones, take care to recognize the difference.”

  “Are you going to be okay?”

  “Me? Yeah. I’m going to miss flying, though. I’m going to miss these talks, too.”

  “You’ve come out of it pretty well. You know, I’ve been worried for you.”

  “In this time line, Melanie hasn’t died. I know she isn’t born, either, but somehow, it’s better.”

  “I see that. So, you have my address Admiral Dixie Lee. Write me.”

  “I will, promise. I see you haven’t put our oak leaves on, need a hand?”

  “No, I’ll take care of it, thanks.” Standing, she puts out her hand. He stands as well, takes her hand, and pulls her into a hug, “Take care, Samantha.”

  “You too, Rick, be careful.”

  “I’m the very soul of caution, and I’ve stopped drinking.”

  “I can live with that,” kissing him on the cheek. She gazes into his eyes for a moment, then steps back.

  CHAPTER 38

  HANGAR BAY 3, STARBOARD SIDE, 1155, JANUARY, 1942

  Sam walks past her aircraft, clutching her oak leaves in her hand, her eyes blinded by tears, and stumbles into Lt. Grant and Lt. Carleton talking. Grant says, “Shouldn’t you be making some guy happy back behind a barn somewhere, instead of playing pilot? How could American manhood sink so low as to draft women into fighting their battles? You don’t belong here. Congress will never countenance an aberration like you, so pack your bags, lady.”

  Carleton smiles and walks away. Wiping away her tears, she cocks her head and takes a step toward Lt. Grant. He smiles, “What? I’ve made the girl cry? Go ahead and cry yourself to your cabin and pack your bags and go home.”

  Sam smiles, looking him in the eye, Lieutenant Grant, you have taken advice from the wrong person. You forget, none of us on this ship has a home to go to.” She steps closer, but he stands his ground.

  “I don’t care, just go away, you don’t belong here.”

  Sam’s smile broadens and she steps into his space, holding eye contact. Her east Tennessee drawl deepening, “Bold words for a staff flunky who has never placed his ass on the line in combat.”

  “Officers should be gentlemen, you are not appropriately equipped.”

  “And you, sir, are no gentlemen at all. No gentlemen would treat a lady as you have treated me. Your mother would be ashamed of you. Now, please excuse me, Lieutenant, I have a war to fight. Don’t you have a memo to write, or something?” Sam turns and walks away.

  Sam walks to the edge of elevator 4 and looks out to sea. The waves slapping against the hull shatter the sun’s rays into a million sparkling crystal shards. She stares out at nothing, then there’s a smudge on the horizon. Knowing no enemy could get this close, she watches as more ships rise above the horizon. She doesn’t recognize the class of destroyers, but sees a larger ship whose guns give it away as a heavy cruiser from the ‘40s. No current ship, save the Iowa class, carries the big guns. Then, she recognizes the profile of the USS Enterprise, CV-6.

  Looking down at the oak leaves in her hand, she clenches her fist, as the ships move closer. Then, she puts them in her pocket, and reaching up, removes her lieutenants bars and pockets them. Pausing for a moment, she smiles, then, puts on the gold oak leaves of a lieutenant commander. She watches the Long Beach approach the new task force, as blinker lights flash on the Enterprise. Smiling sadly, she turns and walks into the hangar bay.

  BLACK KNIGHT READY ROOM, 1215, 4 JANUARY, 1942

  As Sam walks in, Thud is the first to see her. He rushes over, then stops and puts out is hand, “Congratulations, Lieutenant Commander. This, this is so cool.” His new bars are already sewn on his flight suit.

  Gloria comes up behind him, “Hey, Thud, don’t hog her to yourself. You went to a party with her already.” She hugs Sam, “Congrats, honey.”

  The rest of the squadron is gathering around them, “Thank you, Thud. Thank you, Gloria, a bit of a shocker.”

  Holtz walks out of his office, “Hey!” and they all turn to look at him. “Stop sucking up to your new boss, I need to talk to her.” They all turn back to look at Sam, “Yes, that’s right. The CAG is leaving for Washington, so they’re moving me up to CAG, and putting you misfits in her hands. May God have mercy on her soul. Come into the office, Spike, we need to talk.” To the rest of the squadron, “There’ll be a change of command ceremony on the flight deck in an hour. Gather your people for it. Working uniforms.”

  The two of them walk into Holtz’s office, “Have a seat, we have a lot to discuss. First things first, I know we’ve had our differences. Truth be told, I’d prefer they move the Tomcatters XO, Lt. Commander Osterman, over because he has more time in the XO position, but the brass have spoken and you have the job. I think they’re pushing you too fast for your own good. I’ll still be around, though, to look out for the squadron and help you avoid any big mistakes. I don’t want any major changes to how things work here unless your clear them with me. Clear?”

  “Not a problem.”

  “Next, I know this is a big shock, as you’ve only been XO a week or so. I expect some of the folks to have issues. If they get out of hand, I want to know about it.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good, okay, we have a pretty good handle on the supply situation, as we have none coming in. I have the electronics division working with AIMD refurbishing control cards instead of pitching them. We need to work with what we have.”

  “You’re right, good move, sir.”

  “It just makes sense, and in truth, it was Thud’s idea. Now, we don’t currently have any discipline cases, as you know, but we do have five guys mess cranking. If the ship gets new people in, we will want to get those guys back. Trained airdales are going to be at a premium. Now, for XO, Thud just got his bars and I don’t think he’s ready. Who do you think, Hot Pants?”

  “No, Swede.”

  “Really. After the fight with Carleton, you don’t think that will cause a problem?”

  “If Carleton had not said and done what he did, Swede wouldn’t have lost it, sir. I think Swede can handle it.”

  “Okay, call him in. He should be down in weapons,” and hands her the phone.

  “Black Knights weapons, killing things and loving it, Senior Chief Bond speaking. How my I help you?”

  Sam laughs, “Hey, Chief, this is Spike. Is Swede there?”

  “Sure thing, ma’am, he’s here, just a second. By the way, did I hear right? Is it Lt. Commander Hunt, now?”

  “Yes, Fluffy, it is.”

  “Okay, then congratulations are due. Here’s Swede.”

  “Thanks, Fluffy,” then “This is Swede, can I help you?”

  “Swede, this is Spike. Could you come up to the squadron office, please?”

  “Yeah, sur
e, XO, be there in a few minutes.”

  “Okay, good.”

  Holtz says, “Our roster and binnacle list.” She skims them briefly, already familiar with the squadron personnel, and who is sick and injured, and sets them down, “Commander, you don’t think I can do this, do you?”

  “I don’t know. It is what it is, so let’s get you off to a good start.”

  On the 1MC, “Carrier Group 2, arriving. Enterprise, arriving.”

  Swede walks in, “You want something?”

  Sam grins, “Lieutenant Swedenborg, how would you like to be the XO of the Black Knights?”

  Swede then notices her gold oak leaves, “You got promoted and no one said anything?”

  On the 1MC, “Long Beach, arriving. Salt Lake City arriving. San Francisco, arriving. Horne, arriving.”

  “It just happened.”

  “Okay, where are you going?”

  Sam sighs, “Swede, I’m not going anywhere. Captain Lee is going to Washington, and CDR Holtz is moving up to CAG. They asked me to be the CO. Do you want it?”

  Swede looks back and forth at the two of the, shakes his head in wonder, then, nodding, “Yeah, sure, I’d be honored.”

  Holtz lets out his breath, “Good, then, all the paperwork goes to you. The squadron is mustering on the flight deck for the turn over. Meanwhile, I need to change offices. Oh, and Commander, Lieutenant, undress blues, please.”

  Sam asks, “May I wear slacks?”

  “Sure, I don’t care.”

  SPIKE’S STATEROOM

  Gloria walks in as Sam is changing. She has on the dress blue pants and white button up shirt. The jacket’s hanging on the open locker door as she tries to square away her tie. “Here, let me help, commanding officer.” She flips up the collar and tightens the tie.

  Sam says, “God, I hate these things.”

  “Yeah, I know, and the hat is hideous.”

  Over the 1MC, “Jarret, arriving. Fife, arriving.”

  “God, yes, a misogynist designed it, for sure.”

  “I know. So, are you moving to Holtz’s stateroom?”

  “No, I’m staying right here for now. I wouldn’t feel comfortable there. Do you mind?”