On Seas So Crimson

by James Young

  “I was wondering why you seemed to know so much about the military,” Adam replied.

  “And you were wondering if there was another fella in the picture since you’d been standing me up for a month?”

  “Yes,” Adam replied, waiting to see what her reaction would be.

  “Well, I am seeing another man,” Norah said simply, taking a sip of her soda after speaking and looking at Adam over the glass. Looking at her eyes, Adam could see a devilish gleam in them.

  “Okay, what’s the part you’re leaving out?” Adam asked.

  “That the other man happens to be my sister’s intended, one Major Mark Price, United States Army Air Corps,” Norah said.

  “Ah,” Adam said. “Let me guess—he’s one of those, ‘don’t associate with the help’ kind of fellows?”

  “Well, no, not actually—but his commander, a lieutenant colonel Perry, seems to take a dim view to the officers and enlisted mixing.”

  “Then the man’s a fool,” Adam said simply. “A unit’s enlisted men work long hours to make sure we all get into the air, and most of them are just trying to serve their country like everyone else.”

  “Well, that’s quite a different approach than most people seem to have,” Norah said. “I’m kind of curious as to why you have it, actually.”

  Adam gave her a strained smile.

  I really don’t think this topic is something fit for date conversation, and I’ve already bared a lot of my soul to you during the train ride, Adam thought, then examined his feelings.

  “That’s either you ‘I just swallowed a hot pepper and I’m trying not to scream’ look or you have a particularly bad memory,” Norah said, her eyes narrowing as she studied him.

  Debbie arrived at that moment with their food. Looking at the plates, Adam suddenly realized he was very, very hungry—which was good, because there was plenty to eat. Norah looked at the food in horror as soon as Debbie moved off.

  “I can’t eat all of this,” Norah said. “I’ll burst out of this dress.”

  Adam looked up, his eyes slightly wider than normal and a hopeful look on his face.

  Let’s hope I haven’t misjudged her sense of humor, he thought.

  “Oh, the horror, the horror,” the Marine officer said mockingly, bringing his hand up to his mouth as if he were aghast. Norah looked at him for a long moment, her face severe.

  Whoops, fucked that up, Adam thought.

  “I don’t know whether to slap you or make a retort,” Norah said finally, breaking into a broad grin.

  “Well, hurry up and make a decision, people gotta eat here,” Adam said jokingly.

  Norah shook her head in frustration.

  “You know, someday I’ll understand men,” she said, starting to cut into her beef.

  “Yes, well, I’m sure that will be long before men start to understand you women,” Adam observed. Norah’s response was immediate, her foot hitting Adam in the shin again.

  “You know, I’m going to be black and blue if you keep kicking me so hard,” Adam said grimly.

  “Maybe you should modify your behavior then,” she replied.

  “Well, you must admit, women are far more complex than men,” Adam said as Norah chewed. Giving him a harsh look and swallowing quickly, Norah took a drink of her soda to clear her throat then started speaking.

  “Only because men care about two things, one of them being fighting and the other one not really mentionable in polite company,” she snapped.

  Adam leaned back against the booth, studying Norah for a few moments. She continued to eat, looking back at him as she chewed until she finally got exasperated.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked, setting down her knife and fork.

  “Just wondering what man was foolish enough to hurt you so badly,” Adam said quietly.

  Norah looked at him, then turned away to look out the window.

  “Oh, so you can pick my brain apart all the way across country yet I don’t even get to find out why you are so bitter against men? That sounds like a really square deal,” Adam chided.

  Norah turned back and was about to answer when a pair of men came into the restaurant, causing a slight murmur to go through some of the gathered individuals. Adam turned to look at the pair and saw why there had been a stir. Either one of the men looked like he could have ripped the place apart with their bare hands. Together they made Adam glad to see their Marine khakis and captain’s insignia.

  Hmm, there’s something about them that’s tickling my memory, Adam thought.

  “Who are those men, and why are they famous?” Adam asked. Norah looked at him like he had been hiding under a rock.

  “They’re the Cobb brothers,” she said simply. “They were both awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross for the Battle of Oahu and have been giving war bonds speeches all over the area.”

  “Oh,” Adam said. “I didn’t know that…and how did you know that?”

  “Well, before you decided to try and pry open my brain, I was intending to tell you I got a job at Boeing—I start next week,” Norah said.

  “Oh,” Adam said, surprised. “I thought you were going to be a draftsperson?”

  “I am, but not for ships—they’ve already got all the spots filled at Bremerton,” Norah said.

  Leslie was bringing the two pilots over towards the booths, all of the tables being full. Adam turned back around to face Norah, who was busy looking at the two pilots in obvious admiration.

  Well now I know how every other woman in this place felt when Norah came in the door, Adam thought. Clearing his throat diplomatically, he got Norah’s attention and was pleased to see her color slightly.

  “It’s just I’ve never been around real live heroes before,” she gushed, then reconsidered. “Present company excluded.”

  “Uh-huh,” Adam said, taking a bite. Norah studied him for a moment.

  “You’re not really upset, are you?”

  “Of course not, for I am but a simple creature,” Adam said sarcastically. “Since I would clearly lose if I started a fight with either of those man mountains, and am quite disinterested in committing an act of sodomy, they are of little importance to me.”

  “Excuse me, but are you Major Haynes?” a Southern drawl asked from behind him.

  Adam turned around slowly, sincerely hoping whomever was speaking to him hadn’t heard his attempt at being a smart aleck. He found himself facing the larger of the two brothers.

  “Yes I am, and you are…?” Adam asked.

  “Captain Samuel Cobb, Sir, and I truly hope you can save our lives,” the man replied, his face conveying that he meant every word.

  Fifteen minutes later, as they watched the major leave with his very attractive date, David was still half stunned.

  “I cannot believe you basically begged that man to bring us into his squadron,” the smaller Cobb was saying. “If I were out with some great-looking dame like that, I sure as hell wouldn’t want someone disturbing us!”

  Sam regarded his brother.

  “This bond drive shit is killing me, David,” Sam said. He puffed his chest out and put both his fists on his legs, looking all the world like some poofed up superhero. “Remember, only you can give us the tools to do the job. Buy war bonds—our lives may depend on it.”

  David looked around, aghast.

  “Sam! Are you trying to get us painting rocks?” David asked. “Perhaps being pet captains to some admiral or general? Have you taken a look around? There are far, far worse things than giving bond tours!”

  “Yeah, and I wish I was doing most of them,” Sam replied. “I mean, damn David, our brothers are being shot at, and we’re sitting here doing nothing.”

  “Look, you know neither one of them are getting shot at right now, so calm down,” David replied, looking up as Debbie brought them their food. The waitress gave Sam a lingering look as she walked off, putting a little extra sway in her hips. David turned from watching to see that Sam was not payin
g attention, his head bent in prayer. Fighting down a sigh, David said his blessing also, then tore into his brother.

  “Sam, we will get our opportunity soon enough,” David said archly. “For right now, why don’t you enjoy yourself and do something like watch a movie, or go out dancing, or hey, pick up on that well-formed waitress who’s sending you so many smoke signals Sitting Bull is wondering where is firewood went.”

  Sam stopped with his food halfway to his mouth.

  You know, I think my ‘little’ brother’s gone yellow, Sam thought. Let’s nip that shit in the bud.

  “I’ll ignore for the moment that you’re looking at another woman’s posterior when Sadie arrives in town in how many days?” Sam stated evenly. “Instead, I will point out that there’s something wrong with a man not wanting to get back into the fight.”

  “Look, you of all people should know I ain’t ran from a fight a day in my life,” David said darkly. “Just pardon me if I’d like an opportunity to start a family or enjoy married life before my brother goes volunteering us to get our fool heads shot off.”

  “You know, there are thousands of men who will never get the chance to see their wives again,” Sam replied.

  “Yeah, well, I’m not in a hurry to join them,” David replied.

  “Oh, really? You think I am?” Sam asked.

  “Well, you’re certainly going out of your way to get us back to flying,” David snapped. “It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to realize where every Marine squadron that has planes is headed, and I think been nearly killed enough to last three wars.”

  “So, you are feeling yellow then?” Sam asked simply.

  “Call me a coward again and there’s going to be an ugly scene,” David growled, his eyes narrowing. Sam looked at him as if considering whether or not to push his brother’s buttons some more.

  I haven’t lost a fight to you since we were ten, and that includes knocking you clean out during plebe boxing, Sam thought. Yeah, Commander Cook was a cruel man to have us fighting each other, but you sure as hell didn’t hold back either.

  “Fine, you’re not a coward, but you must really love Sadie if you’d rather spend time with her than fly,” Sam observed.

  David got a wistful look on his face, nearly causing Sam to lose his dinner.

  Oh, here we go, he thought. Love testimonial number three hundred and…

  “Someday you’ll understand,” David began. “I mean, when I see…”

  “Hey, isn’t that…oh, nevermind,” Sam said, cutting his brother off in the interest of saving his food.

  “Fine, be a smart-aleck,” David replied. “You just wait—someday you’ll get smitten.”

  “Right, and then we’ll have the Second Coming. Let’s just say I’ll believe I’ll get smitten if we show up at work Monday and there are new orders waiting for us, the sun is shining, and there are actually planes.”

  “Well, if you’re begging was successful, perhaps we’ll have a reason to go to church next Sunday,” David said. “Not that you have been to church lately.”

  “I’m not holding my breath that there will be planes,” Sam stated, pointedly ignoring his brother’s chiding.

  “Probably a good thing—you don’t look good blue, and I really hate lugging your big butt around after you pass out from oxygen deprivation,” David replied.

  Sam looked up as the doors opened to admit another four servicemen, all of them in Army uniforms. The oldest of the bunch didn’t look a day over nineteen, and he had serious doubts about the youngest one being old enough to shave, much less go and die for his country. Suddenly somber, he turned to look at David and saw that his brother also had a grim look on his face.

  “Babes to the slaughter,” David remarked.

  “That’s the way it always is,” Sam said. Looking down at his plate, he realized he had suddenly lost his appetite. “Let’s get out of here…we’ve got to go to some place called Yakima in the morning.”

  “Yeah, that we do,” David said, looking at the time. “Remember your coat, it’s supposed to be still cold as hell there.”

  “Well, as long as the sun is shining, I don’t care,” Sam said, leaving enough to cover the bill plus a healthy tip as he got up. Following his brother out the door, he could feel the young soldiers’ eyes upon them.

  I wonder what they think of us? Sam thought to himself. No matter, they’ll know why we look so grim soon enough.

  Tokyo, Japan

  1700 Local (0300 Eastern)

  22 May (21 May)

  These baths always leave me feeling like a wrinkled prune, Vice Admiral Yamaguchi thought to himself. Feeling the hot steam beating upon him, he forced himself to ignore his discomfort as he regarded his host, Admiral Yamamoto. The man was enjoying a vigorous back rub, provided to him by his favorite geisha and mistress, Chioko Kawai. Looking at Yamamoto, Yamaguchi could not help feeling a bit envious. His thoughts were interrupted by the door to the room sliding open, a Navy captain in full dress entering and bowing respectfully to the three men in the bath. Upon rising, the man rendered his report.

  “Respectful Sirs, the building is clear of any listening devices or Army spies,” the slight man said. “My men have secured the perimeter against any future intruders.”

  “Thank you, Captain Mused,” Yamamoto said somberly. Stopping Chioko, he indicated that she should leave. Looking at the two of them, Yamaguchi could see that there was true affection there. The geisha turned and curtsied to Yamaguchi and Yamamoto’s other guest, Vice Admiral Inoue, then left quietly.

  It is so sad that so great a man is unable to marry the woman he truly loves, Yamaguchi thought. However, we must all make sacrifices for the good of Japan, and such scandal would be ruinous at this time.

  “Now then, let us discuss business,” Yamamoto said. “Inoue-san, you first.”

  “Our air arm is crippled for the next two to three months, and that is only if we do not undertake any other major operations,” Inouye said quietly. “Due to the heavier-than-expected resistance from the Australians and Dutch, we will have difficulty fielding six full carrier groups and maintaining contingents in the Dutch East Indies.”

  “Admiral Yamaguchi?”

  “You are aware of the damage to the Shokaku putting her out of action until August,” Yamaguchi stated simply. “The Kaga is in desperate need of a refit, which means I have an effective strength of three carriers at this time. If I add Zuiho, I will have the equivalent of four.”

  Yamamoto nodded sagely, processing the information. His brow furrowed in thought, he shifted back in the hot tub. Yamaguchi could see the man was obviously uncomfortable with what he was coming up with.

  “Even with the destruction of the Saratoga, Lexington, and Hornet, the Germans believe the Americans will have six more carriers available by the end of the year,” Yamamoto said heavily. “That will give them a total of nine with the Enterprise, Yorktown, and Victorious.”

  Yamaguchi winced at that news as Yamamoto continued.

  “I promised the Emperor six months to a year of running wild,” the senior officer said. “If we are still fighting this war by 1944, then things will be far worse than I imagined.”

  “Would it be possible to trap the three carriers in the South Pacific while we massed all of our carriers against them?” Inoue asked, brow furrowed in thought.

  “Our German allies, in between their anxious bleating for us to attack the Russians, have indicated that the Allies may be preparing to invade Madagascar,” Yamamoto said. “If they do, they will surely need carriers to cover their attack with South Africa remaining neutral. If this occurs, yes, we may be able to trap whatever forces they use.”

  I am not sure that I would rely on trapping the Allies twice in the Indian Ocean, Yamaguchi thought. Ozawa-san was lucky to sink the Furious while losing only Shoho.

  “The Germans may get their wish soon enough,” Inouye observed, the contempt clear in his voice. “Already those fools in the Army are stating that since we a
llowed the bulk of the Australians to get away, we must help knock Russia out of the war to obtain a possible peace.”

  “I have already discussed the war situation with His Majesty,” Yamamoto replied. “He agrees that the damage done to our battleline endangers the nation, and thus the last thing we need to do is fight an opponent who has bested us once before.”

  Normally, I would argue this point, but with the current carrier weakness, Yamamoto is correct. Vice Admiral Kondo’s woes had not ceased with the Second Battle of the Java Sea’s cessation. In addition to the loss of Kongo and Fuso and severe damage to other vessels, an Allied submarine had put a pair of torpedoes into the Nagato two days after the battle. While not enough damage to sink the battleship, it had been enough to necessitate her diversion to Singapore and reduced the active Japanese battleline to Yamato, Musashi, Mutsu, and Kirishima.

  It is as if the navy is deteriorating before our eyes, Yamaguchi thought. Even if Shinano is completed by the end of next month and worked up by August as the staff states she will, we run the risk of being overwhelmed.

  “Perhaps then it is best for us all if we allow the Army to carry out their foolish ambition,” Inoue observed. “If they succeed, then we will have greatly increased the odds the Germans will finish off Russia, thus requiring the Americans to send more vessels to the Atlantic. If not, then it is likely they will support our desire to conduct a limited expansion of our defensive sphere.”

  Yamamoto grunted in agreement with Inoue’s reasoning, still looking troubled. He turned to Yamaguchi.

  “Do you see a flaw in this, Yamaguchi?”

  “The fact that time does not aid us,” Yamaguchi replied. “If we are to strike, we must do so in the next six months, preferably in such a manner that Australia decides to leave the war. Once that is done, we must turn and strike the Americans with all of our strength in hopes of gaining a great victory before they gather enough strength to shatter our fleet.”

  “How are we to gather enough strength for both of these blows?” Inouye snapped.

  “By careful planning and conservation,” Yamamoto said before Yamaguchi could answer. “Our faith must, as always, lie in the Decisive Battle. Hopefully it will be at the time and place of our choosing.”