by James Young
“I think Vice Admiral Halsey underestimated you yahoos when he sent you here,” Adam said. “You probably would have been just fine if you’d stayed in Hawaii.”
Sam shrugged.
“He was trying to do us a favor. Plus, I don’t think the Navy wanted another publicity black eye after losing those brothers on the Arizona and West Virginia. Apparently those five brothers on the Juneau got split up as well.”
“So any idea where your other brothers are?” Adam asked.
“Eric’s off somewhere with the Yorktown,” Sam said. “Last letter we got from him mentioned the Indian Ocean.”
Adam gave Sam a cocked eyebrow at that one.
That’s a bit of a security breach.
“Not in so many words,” Sam hurried to explain, correctly reading his commander’s look. “Toots used to love running around in moccasins when we were kids. He mentioned he was off to get her some new shoes out of the ocean.”
Adam shook his head.
“As for Nick, who knows?” Sam said. “No one’s heard from him since he went aboard Plunger. His fiancée was nervous for some reason, and I heard the sub’s last executive officer cracked up because her captain was insane.”
“Isn’t that like saying water’s wet?” Adam asked, incredulous.
“I don’t follow?”
“You’re talking about a group of men who, of their own free will, get into a big metal can and dive hundreds of feet under the ocean,” Adam explained. “I know I’m not exactly one to talk about rational choices, but that seems a bit mad to me.”
Sam shrugged.
“Nick says it’s not all that crazy unless you screw up. He’s always been kind of vague about what that means.”
“I imagine anything that lets more water into the submarine than the captain intended would be a screw up,” Adam replied. “There’s a reason I prefer flying to anything to do with water.”
Sam looked up at the carrier, then back at Adam.
“So I’m guessing you’re about as upset about this as David and I are?”
“Not quite,” Adam replied.
A young lieutenant exited the Chenango’s gang plank and started looking around. Tall and gangly, the man scanned the dock, his face somewhat concerned. Seeing Adam and Sam, the officer strode over and saluted.
“Major Haynes, I am Lieutenant Palmer, Officer of the Watch,” the man said. “Captain Damon sends his compliments, and understands we will not see any of your squadron until Sunday morning.”
“That is correct,” Adam replied. “By authorization of Rear Admiral Dalton.”
“Understood,” Lieutenant Palmer replied. “Captain Damon also wanted me to pass along that the carrier will be leaving at 1000 on the dot Monday morning. Please have your men sober, aboard, and prepared for that departure, sir.”
Adam smiled at that last bit.
“Tell the good captain we are indeed aware of our duty requirements,” he said without rancor. “If anyone fails to make movement, I understand there’s a procedure involving the keel for that.”
“Aye aye, sir,” Palmer replied. He came to the position of attention and snapped off another salute. Adam returned it, then turned to look at Sam.
“You heard the man,” Adam said as Palmer walked off. “See you Friday night, go ahead and start your pass.”
“I was planning on helping you provide the safety briefing to the squadron,” Sam protested.
“I think I can cover ‘don’t beat your spouse, don’t get publicly intoxicated, please don’t kick the Army’s ass even if they deserve it, and don’t make any babies unless you intended to’,” Adam observed. “Anything else I don’t cover isn’t probably going to be important anyway.
Sam shook his head.
“With that, sir, I’ll see you on Friday afternoon,” Sam said. “I’m going down to Olympia to check on someone.”
That certainly sounded somber. Also not my business, as he’s grown.
“You can bring that someone over to my house Friday afternoon if they can get away,” Adam said. “Going to have a picnic, according to Norah.”
Sam smiled at the mention of Adam’s girlfriend.
“I’ll see, sir,” Sam said.
Six hours later, Sam found himself wondering if this was the best idea he’d ever had as he walked through the early summer evening to a small, nondescript ranch house on Olympia’s outskirts. A single beat up Packard was in the drive, and the house’s well kept garden was seemingly indicative of a meticulous home owner or owners. A child’s bicycle lay carelessly on the walkway, causing Sam to stop and do a double take.
Do I have the right address? Did she mo…
“I’m sorry, sir, let me get that out of your way!” a harried voice said from the next yard over. Sam turned to see a small, diminutive Asian woman come running over from her front porch, quickly wiping her hands on the apron wrapped around her blue dress. “Harry has been told many times not to leave his bicycle in Mrs. Bowden’s yard!”
“Oh it’s alright,” Sam said, holding up his hands. “I don’t want a young man to catch a tanning on my behalf.”
“No, it most certainly is not,” the woman replied. Sam realized she had a hint of an English accent. “I have warned him several times that our neighbor does not need to come stumbling out of her house in the middle of the…”
The front door opening stopped Sam and the woman both in their tracks. Beverly Bowden stood on the front porch in a terry cloth robe, her mouth wide open as she took in Sam standing there in his Marine khakis.
“I know this is a total surprise, but if a woman writes you a couple times a week, the least you can do is make sure she’s doing okay,” Sam said by way of greeting. Beverly quickly closed her mouth, then turned to her neighbor.
“Myla, please don’t hold it against Harry that he left his bicycle there,” she said breathlessly. “I distracted him by offering him some cookies, then he tore off after Leto.”
Myla looked at Beverly, then Sam, then back at Beverly. The woman’s face started to soften in concern.
“Oh no, Mrs. Bowden,” Myla said, clasping her hands together. Beverly, initially not following, realized what Myla believed was occurring. The American quickly reached out and grabbed her neighbor’s hands.
“No, that’s not why he’s here,” Beverly said, then paused. “I…I’ve already had that visit.”
Myla looked confused, then quickly caught on.
“Oh no…I…I just assumed that when you said your husband was a Marine that he was overseas,” Myla said, clearly embarrassed. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Beverly said gently. “I don’t…I’m still getting used to it myself, so I don’t correct people that I mean he passed. I didn’t want to burden you with my troubles given Ian is still out there.”
Who is Ian?
“I’m sorry, I’m being rude,” Beverly said, as if awakening from a dream. “This is…”
She paused to look at Sam’s rank.
“…Captain Samuel Cobb. He was in my husband’s squadron.”
Myla turned to look at Sam, her smile cautious.
“Greetings Ma’am,” Sam said, nodding and bowing slightly.
“As you can hear, Sam is not from around here,” Beverly said with a slight smile. “Neither is Myla, as you can also tell. Myla’s husband, Ian Ferguson, is a member of Her Majesty’s diplomatic corps.”
“Pleased to meet you, Samuel,” Myla said, extending her hand. Sam took it gently, then was surprised at Myla’s firm grip.
“If you give me a moment to get decent, I’ll have you inside for some coffee,” Beverly said. “I was just getting ready to walk down to the store to grab some fish.”
“I can walk with you,” Sam said. “I think I know exactly what store you’re talking about. I walked by it on the way in.”
“You walked?!” Beverly asked, then caught herself with a laugh. “Of course you mean from the train station. Sorry. I just woke up. Be right back.”
Sam watched as Beverly disappeared back in her house. Turning to Myla, he smiled sheepishly.
“She wasn’t expecting me,” Sam said by way of explanation.
Myla chuckled at that.
“Clearly,” she replied, giving Sam an inquisitive look. “I did not know that there were Marines in Olympia.”
“I’m down from up north,” Sam said smoothly. “She told me that she’d arrived in Olympia about a month ago; I figured I’d come pay my respects.”
Myla nodded at his vagueness, even as her inquiring look deepened.
“I understand the need for security,” she said. “Ian has always been secretive as well. He could be in Tibet, he could be in India.”
“India?” Sam asked, surprised. He pondered asking the follow-on question of what Myla was doing in Olympia.
“Her Majesty’s government is considering moving to Vancouver,” Myla said, apparently reading his expression. “We moved there briefly, then Ian was asked to come down here on a matter he could not tell me about. We’d been here only six months before he was detached to go to India, then the war resumed.”
“I’m sorry to hear that you are separated by his duty,” Sam said sadly. “That’s really unfortunate.”
“Well, America is a much better place to spend a war than Usurper Hong Kong,” Myla observed.
Sam was saved from responding by the door opening to reveal Beverly in a red gingham dress. She’d brushed out her long brunette locks and applied very subtle make up. In her flats, she barely reached his chest, but exuded a presence that far belied her size.
The head nurse returns. Sam’s eyes burned slightly as he remembered Beverly sneaking Toots, David, Nick, and himself in to see Eric after his younger brother had been injured on Hornet.
“I would hope I don’t look that horrible, Sam,” Beverly said softly. Startled, he looked at her and saw a twinge of sadness in her own brown eyes.
“You don’t look horrible at all,” Sam said, his face warming as Beverly smiled.
“I better get back inside before my pie burns,” Myla said hurriedly, sensing the tenseness. “If you see that son of mine while you’re walking, tell him he better get home, no matter what that cursed dog has them up to.”
Sam looked at Myla and nodded.
Beverly may have saved him from a talking to about the bike, but he’s definitely going to get gnawed on about being late for dinner.
“Will do, Myla,” he said. Beverly put on a hat that matched her dress, then took Sam’s left arm.
“Shall we, Captain Cobb?” she asked.
“Lead on, Mrs. Bowden,” Sam replied, then kicked himself.
A few blocks of companionable silence later, Beverly finally spoke.
“So I was not expecting you to come find me, obviously,” she said. “I just wanted to tell David and you thank you for what you did with gathering the belongings.”
“It was the least we could do,” Sam replied earnestly. “I…we…”
“If you’re about to say you’re sorry, don’t,” Beverly said, her tone edgy. She took a deep breath. “And if you’re going to feel guilty, that’s stupid.”
Sam looked over at Beverly, seeing that her eyes were wet.
“Max told me once that anytime you go up in a plane, you’re taking your life in your hands,” she continued, her voice raw. “I knew what he did for a living, I saw what could happen firsthand after the battle.”
The Battle of Hawaii was an eye opener for a lot of us.
“Knowing and having to face it are two different things,” Sam stated, his own voice catching as he recalled that horrible morning.
“I can only imagine how horrible you feel,” Beverly replied. “I heard the scuttlebutt that you were in the landing pattern when it happened.”
“Yes,” Sam replied. He shook his head as if a mosquito was buzzing around it, trying to stop his mental replay of the Long Island’s demise. Beverly squeezed his arm.
“They told me that Max had just returned to the ready room when the torpedo hit,” she said. “He probably never even knew what hit him.”
Who the fuck told her all those details? Sam seethed, both angry at the security breach and the morbidity of explaining to a widow just how her husband had died.
“I asked,” Beverly said, as if reading his mind. “I begged the chaplain to find out for me, as I had horrible nightmares of Max slowly drowning as the carrier sank.”
Sam patted her hand, then returned the salute of a pair of passing Army soldiers.
“We need to talk about happier tidings,” Beverly said. “How is David? Did they ever finish moving his wife to the States?”
“Sadie arrived really early this morning,” Sam said. “He caught the train down to Seattle to meet her. Haven’t heard from him since.”
“I can only imagine,” Beverly said, giggling. “I hope you won’t think less of me if I admit to that being the part I liked the most about Max coming back from a tour.”
Sam shrugged.
“You were a happy couple,” he said with a smile. “Reminded me of my parents in a lot of ways.”
Beverly swatted his arm.
“I’m not that old, thank you very much,” she said, aghast
“Well obviously not in that way,” Sam replied. “Just two people who clearly loved each other a lot.”
“His mother always believed he could have married better,” Beverly said. “She let me know it, too.”
“Well that’s just stupid,” Sam said. “Maj…Max clearly loved you. I think that’s all that was important.”
“Loretta wanted grandchildren,” Beverly said. “The comment came out in a fight about Max wanting to go to Hawaii for his next duty station and me being fond of the idea.”
Gee, what it is it with mothers being mean to their children just because they’re going to Hawaii? Toots and Mom are still really stiff about one another, and that’s been almost a year.
“Mrs. Bowden sounds like a mean hag,” Sam said.
“Well, both of them are,” Beverly allowed, then continued before Sam could argue with her. “I did remind the woman that maybe the problem was her, given how her husband ran off and now her son was running away as well.”
Sam sucked in a pained breath.
“So, tell me, who won the catfight?” he asked, bemused. “I can only assume you, seeing as how you have both your eyes still.”
“I won for two reasons,” Beverly said archly. “One, we went to Hawaii. Two, Max spent his mother’s Christmas gift money on a nice necklace for me the next day.”
“I bet that went over like a lead balloon,” Sam observed.
“She never brought up the topic again,” Beverly said. “I think that Max had a talking to with her as well.”
Their conversation was interrupted by furious barking and laughter coming from below the foot bridge they were standing on. The two of them went to the side and looked over the railing. Below them, they saw two young girls, a half-Asian boy who clearly favored his mother, and a very wet, muddy German Shepherd.
“Oh my word, that boy is going to die when he gets home,” Beverly breathed, then said, louder, “Harry, Leto, your mother says for you both to get home right now.”
Harry looked up in surprise from where he was playing with his two young friends in the mud. Sam was quite certain that the two young girls were sisters, their similar curly hair and freckled faces giving away the relationship more than the matching patterned jumpers.
“Yes, Mrs. Bowden,” Harry said. Leto, recognizing Beverly, sprung out of the mud and began scrambling up the bank towards them while barking excitedly.
“Leto!” Harry called after his companion. The German Shepherd stopped in its tracks, tongue lolling as it looked at Beverly, then back at Harry.
“You don’t need to get Mrs. Bowden muddy,” Harry admonished the dog. The animal lowered its head in submission, wagging its tail slowly as its master caught up with him.
Well-trained dog. Har
ry produced a treat from his pocket, then scratched Leto’s ears. His two friends giggled and also petted the dog, who licked them both in turn.
You’d never realize there was a war on, Sam mused. Which is the point of fighting those bastards out there.
“You left your bike on my sidewalk again,” Beverly called. “You can’t keep letting your mom know I’m giving you cookies like that.”
“Yes, Mrs. Bowden,” Harry said, sheepish. Beverly made a shooing motion, then turned back to Sam.
“Let us not tarry, Sam, it’s getting late.”
“You know, if you’d like, I can buy you dinner,” Sam said. “Probably easier to find a restaurant than to cook at this point.”
Beverly gave him a smile.
“Why Samuel Cobb, are you asking this widow on a date?”
Sam scuffed his feet, then stepped back slightly from Beverly.
“I didn’t mean to give that…” he began hurriedly.
“Well, and here I’d heard all these tales that you were a ladies man,” Beverly said, shaking her head. “I assure you, I will not mistake dinner as anything other than a friendly gesture.”
“I just would not want any likely suitors to think it was anything other than a meal with very pleasant company,” Sam said.
Beverly looked around.
“Who else are we picking up?” she asked, then outright guffawed at Sam’s pained expression.
“I have my shift in a couple of hours,” she stated. “Don’t stand there wondering what to say for too long. Most places are kinda slow now, and I think you actually want to enjoy your food.”
U.S.S. Plunger
0400 Local (1500 Eastern)
Philippine Sea
27 July (26 July)
CLICK…BOOM! CLICK…BOOM! CLICK BOOM!
The rumble of depth charges had persisted for over twenty hours. Cruising at 280 feet and rigged for silent running, the U.S.S. Plunger was far below the Japanese barrage. As he took a shallow breath, however, Lieutenant Nicholas Cobb could tell that the air quality was starting to reach the dangerous stage.
