INTO A FORBIDDEN SEA: BOOK THREE: HUNTER/KILLER SERIES OF THE FIGHTING TOMCATS

by M. L. Maki

  “Klindt asked me to come up with it three months ago when I was working sub projects. Electric Boat designed it and did the pressure test. After that, we had to fit it out, set up all the equipment, and test it. I had them put on the nose as an afterthought to make the sub quieter. Did I do okay?”

  “Yes, very well. We’ll see what the SEAL’s say. Do you want to come with us?”

  “I would, yeah. I don’t even know where you’re going, but I want to go, too. The thing is, we’re in the middle of building the new sub.”

  “Will it be good?”

  “It will be the Albacore, more or less. Big, but smaller than the San Fran. Klindt wants to name it Groton.”

  “No more fish names?”

  Mallory, “Yeah, to confuse the enemy.”

  “Thank you, Mallory. I wish you the very best.”

  FISHERMAN’S QUAY, WARNEMÜNDE, GERMANY ON THE BALTIC SEA

  1800, 10 September, 1942

  SS-Hauptsturmführer Erik Seidel, wearing fisherman’s garb, watches as the last basket of fish from this load gets lifted out of the hold.

  SS- Oberführer Von Bergan, in a suit walks aboard, “Seidel, show me the map.”

  They go into the cabin and Seidel pulls out the map and lays it on the table, “We have found a great many wrecks and anchors. We have also found an ancient wreck. The sensor picked up the iron cannon. We will continue to work to the east.”

  “I agree. We must find this. Our leaders are growing impatient.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “We must not fail.”

  USS SAN FRANCISCO, IN DRY DOCK

  0912, 11 September, 1942

  The crew is making final preparations to undock the Frisco. The bottom of the dock is cleared and clean. They tied down all the forklifts, and other dock equipment, on a barge forward of the dry dock bow. The cables, utilities, and brow are still installed from the dock to the submarine. Maki hangs a rope across the brow entrance on the deck of the sub. CDR Morrison shouts down, “How soon?”

  “This is the last step, sir. I don’t want anyone crossing the brow until we know boat is stable.”

  “Agreed. Proceed.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  LCDR Backes climbs up from control, “Are we ready for the half flood?”

  “Yeah. How are you doing, Greg?”

  “Good, I. Um. I have a question for you.”

  “Okay.”

  “Will you stand up for me?”

  “Yes. Of course.”

  “We’re inviting you for dinner tonight.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Catherine Rose Glenlean-Campbell.”

  “A hyphenated name. That’s unusual in Scotland.”

  “She’s a widow. Her mom and daughter help her run their estate. John, she’s amazing. She’s smart, kind, and, oh my God, beautiful.”

  “Estate? Is she a high lord muckity muck?”

  “Her father is the Baron Glenlean. He’s currently a guest of the Japanese. Her first husband went down in the blitz, and her brother died in North Africa. The family has been through so much pain.”

  Maki, on the radio, “Commence flooding.”

  “Have you asked her?”

  “Not yet. I think I’m ready. I tell you, she’s incredible.”

  “Greg, I will be the friend you were for me. I want you to be happy, but I want you to be certain you are not making a mistake. I have no doubt she is a wonderful person. Are you over Carol enough to be clear headed about someone else?”

  “I think so. Am I screwing up?”

  “I doubt it. You have a level head. I’m asking to make sure you have asked yourself this question, ‘Can you retire here?’”

  “Yeah. I like it. I like the people. I like Europe. I could fly home from time to time and visit my grandparents and folks. It’s just, at home, I would feel like an interloper. Here, I would have a family. Little Trisha is adorable. Please come tonight.”

  The dock and submarine slowly sink into Holy Loch. Morrison still marvels at its size. It’s almost as big as a small aircraft carrier. It has a flat floor, like a barge, with side walls rising eighty feet above its floor. The bow and stern are open to the sea. The dry dock functions by adding water to ballast tanks to sink the floor below the water’s surface, when docking and undocking ships. To refloat the dock, it pumps the water out of the tanks. As Morrison watches, the dock rises and soon is awash, the water lapping the bottom of the sub.

  John, “I will. We still have a few days until we get underway. It’s going to be three or more months before you transfer.”

  “Yeah, but who knows how long we’ll be gone.”

  “No more than three months. I don’t want to return with nothing but rainbow beef and peanut butter.”

  Greg, “Yeah. If I’m going to do this, it has to be tonight.”

  “Greg, you don’t need to rush.”

  “That’s just it, John. Do you remember ‘When Harry met Sally?’ Billy Crystal was right. When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with someone, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.”

  John smiles, “I’m happy for you.”

  “Dinner tonight? I’ll drive you there. I have a car now.”

  “Okay.”

  The dock and the submarine stop sinking. The water is up the sub’s sides, but not deep enough to float. The crew starts internal equipment, securing the dock services. Greg goes back below.

  Lt. Miller calls up, “We’re ready to start the diesel.”

  John, “Start the diesel.” The rhythmic beating starts, and smoke rises from the rear of the sail. John looks around. His old friend will be leaving. The new crewmembers will be good. Most are. But he will miss having Greg on the boat. “Grow up, John. It’s the way of things.”

  The watch, “Sir?”

  “Talking to myself.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Miller calls up, “Sir, we are on internal services.”

  Morrison, “Thank you, Miller. Send the crew topside to remove dock services.”

  It takes time. They use a dock crane to lift the heavy shore power cables off the boat. Crews in hard hats remove water hoses, communications lines, and sewer hoses. After a time, only the cables and brow connect it to the dry dock. The docking tugs enter from the stern and come along side to tie on to the submarine. Last, the brow is lifted off. They continue flooding the dry dock.

  Morrison call down on the phones, “Commence a low-pressure blow.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Bubbles rise up at the bow and stern as the air pressure ensures submarines ballast tanks are empty of water.

  John feels the first movement as his command lifts off the blocks. The dock continues dropping a few more feet to ensure the blocks have cleared the bottom of the sub.

  On the radio, “San Francisco, Dock. We are well clear and ready to slack lines.”

  John, “Proceed.” They slack the lines and the tugs pull them alongside the Beaver. They moor, hook up services, and secure the diesel. A tarp covers the SEAL contraption.

  GLENLEAN MANOR

  1720, 11 September, 1942

  Greg and John pull up to the manor in Greg’s wine and tan 1936 Dodge sedan.

  John, “Nice. Really nice.”

  Greg, “It is. They have about five hundred acres. Most of it is timber. The rest is farmland for sheep. The Little Eachaig River in the valley runs into the loch. They also have an amazing steam tractor. I’ve been fiddling with it.”

  John grins at his friend, “You’re gonners aren’t you?”

  “Wait until you meet her.”

  They get out and Catherine steps out to meet them. She’s wearing a pale green and rose floral cotton voile dress with modest heels. Her dark brown hair is pulled back into a chignon.

  Greg takes her hands and says, “Catherine, this is my commanding officer and best friend, John Morrison. John, Lady Catherine Glenlean-Campbell.”

  “Welcome, Commander Morris
on, to Glenlean Manor.”

  John smiles, “I’m honored by the invitation.”

  She says, “Please, come in.”

  John follows them into the manor, where Mary and Patricia are waiting in the hall.

  Catherine, “May I introduce you to my mother, Lady Mary Glenlean, and my daughter, Lady Patricia Glenlean-Campbell. Mother, Patricia, this is Commander John Morrison.”

  John, “It’s an honor to meet you.”

  Catherine leads them to the drawing room and a woman brings in a tea service.

  John, “Thank you for welcoming me to your home.”

  Mary, “I understand your father was an Admiral?”

  “Yes, ma’am, he was. He’s only thirteen now, because of the time travel. My grandfather is the executive officer of the destroyer anchored in the loch. In my memory, he retired as a vice admiral.” He turns to Mary, “Lady Glenlean, I understand your husband is in the British Army?”

  Mary, “Yes. I’m quite afraid he’s a guest of the Japanese at this time.”

  Catherine, “Perhaps we may invite your grandfather and the commanding officers of the other vessels. We quite appreciate what you, and your boat, have done for Britain.”

  Greg turns to Mary, “Lady Glenlean, may I speak with you privately for a minute?”

  Mary looks at him, puzzled, “Of course.” She rises and leads him into another room.

  John asks, “May I ask how you and Greg met?”

  Catherine smiles, “I was in Dunoon with Patricia. As it was approaching afternoon tea, Patricia and I went to one of the cafes. It was she who approached Greg. She asked him a barrage of questions and he patiently answered each one.” She smiles and looks at Trisha, “Were you match making, dear?”

  Trisha smiles at her mom and tucks her chin against her chest, “Yes, mummy. He’s nice.”

  Catherine, “He is. How long have you two known each other?”

  “We met on another boat, the Drum. That was fifteen years ago. He’s my closest friend.”

  “I think he’s wonderful. I recognize he still mourns the loss of his wife and child. We share that loss.”

  Greg, a happy smile on his face, comes back into the drawing room with Mary.

  The serving maid, a local woman hired for the occasion, enters the drawing room, “The meal is ready, M’lady.”

  Greg looks at John, then Catherine, “Before we go to dinner, I have a quick question.” He pulls a small box from his pocket and takes a knee, “Catherine Rose Glenlean-Campbell, will you marry me?”

  Her breath stops mid gasp, her mouth opening in an ‘O’ of surprise. “I will, darling Gregory. Oh, I will.”

  Trisha claps her hands, “Yes, oh, yes!” She dances around the room.

  Mary, “Trisha, manners.”

  “Yes, Grandma. Sorry.” She stops dancing, but even in her stillness, she seems to be moving, so great is her joy.

  Greg stands and takes Catherine into his arms. “I love you, Catherine.”

  GREG’S CAR, DRIVING BACK TO BASE

  Greg, “You know, after the first time I met them, they loosened up a lot.”

  John, “That’s because you’re now part of the family. They’re wonderful people. She’s an amazing woman. I am happy for you, Greg.”

  “You could become part of the family, too.”

  “No. In their eyes, I’m your boss that they must treat respectfully. Patricia is sweet.”

  “Yeah. She is. But she can be a bit of a terror when it suits her.”

  “Yeah. She’s five. So, Lady Glenlean has three months to throw together a wedding, and we need to start getting our deployment faces on.”

  CHAPTER 16

  BEACH, SILVER STRAND, SOUTH OF CORONADO, CALIFORNIA

  2230, 18 September, 1942

  Fronczak’s team gathers around a bonfire, with Issa and Triage. Some of the guys are with their girlfriends. BMC Paul “Grunt” Bruce brought his wife, Elsie, and HMC Larry “Munchkin” Shockley brought his wife, Maggie. Fronczak kisses his girlfriend, Myrna Williams, and tells his guys, “Gather around.” He walks them clear of the others. His five men circle around him, holding their beers.

  “Okay, do any of you have personal stuff that needs to be locked down?” He makes eye contact with each guy.

  Grunt says, “We’re good.”

  “All your money situations are good?”

  Shockley, “Yes, sir.”

  “Paul, Larry, your wives are squared away?”

  Larry, “Maggie has my will, and stuff. I have enough money and my checks go to her.”

  Paul, “Elsie is set up the same way. They have ID. She has her doctor set up, and her mom is close. She isn’t due for six months. I’m good to go.”

  Fronczak, “Good.” He lifts his beer, “To us and those like us, damn few.”

  NAVY PIER, SANDBANK, SCOTLAND

  2234, 20 September, 1942

  The crew say goodbye to their families and girlfriends as they wait out the last minutes before reporting aboard. Sheamus stands besides Mike, whose holding Laureen in his left arm and carrying Jean Luc in his right. MM2 Black talks with a red-headed girl. Lt. Thoreau converses with a brown-haired woman and an older couple.

  Commodore Samantha Hunt walks among them, shaking everyone’s hand and saying a quiet word. She joins Brown, who hands Jean Luc to Sheamus, and crisply salutes. She returns it, “Hello, I know deployments are hard.”

  Brown, “Ma’am, this is my father-in-law, Sheamus Stewart. My wife, Laureen, and my son, Jean Luc. Guys, this is Commodore Hunt.”

  Sheamus shakes her hand like it is a Faberge egg, “Tis a true honor t’ meet you Commodore.”

  Jean Luc puts out his hand, “Hello. What do you do? Are you going on the boat with my daddy?”

  Sam smiles and takes his hand, “No, Jean Luc. I’m a pilot. See those big planes up there? I fly one of those.”

  “Oh. I like you.” His smile blazes, lighting up his eyes.

  Startled, she really looks at the little boy, “I like you, too, Jean Luc. Thank you.”

  She turns to Laureen and takes her hand, “Thank you for lending us Ensign Brown.”

  Laureen smiles, “It’s all right. Just give him back in one piece.”

  “We’ll do our best.” She turns back to Brown, “I don’t want to monopolize your last few minutes. I just wanted to say that I very much appreciate what you’re doing for us. And Brown, I heard about what you did in London.”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am. I didn’t know what to say to reporters.”

  She smiles and shakes her head, “Not that. I don’t care at all about that. I was referring to climbing up a house to save a baby.”

  “Ma’am, what else could I do?”

  “And be who you are? Nothing. I understand. Still, you need to know your actions are appreciated.” She walks to the next sailor.

  Sheamus, “We’ve met a hero true, today.”

  Brown, “I would follow her anywhere.”

  Backes shows up with Mary, Catherine, and Trisha.

  Sheamus says, “I’ll be. Thar’s Lady Glenlean yonder wi yer XO, lad.”

  Mike, “Who’s she?”

  Sheamus, “They’ve an estate nine or so miles up loch. Glenlean Manor ‘tis. Her father is a Baron, lad. Nobility.”

  Mike, “Does that sort of thing mean anything anymore?”

  “Aye, lad. It does. Ave ye tried the local whiskey, lad?”

  “Yeah. It’s good.”

  “Aye. She owns the distillery. I’ve heard she runs it, too.”

  “Okay. I’m happy for Greg. He lost a wife and son with the time travel.” He looks at Jean Luc, “Now no giving your mum and papa a scare while I’m gone, Okay?”

  “Okay, Daddy.”

  Samantha joins Greg and the Glenleans.

  Greg salutes, “Good evening, ma’am.”

  “Good evening, Commander Backes.”

  Greg, “Ma’am, may I introduce you to Lady Mary Glenlean, my fiancé, Lady Catherine Glenlean-Campbell,
and her daughter, Lady Patricia Glenlean-Campbell. Ladies, Commodore Samantha Hunt.”

  Mary, “It’s such an honor to meet you, Commodore.”

  Samantha, “I am honored to meet you.” She shakes each of their hands, “I know how hard deployments are. I wanted to come up here and say thank you.”

  Greg, “Thank you, ma’am. We’re going to make you proud out there.”

  “I know you will.”

  Lady Mary asks, “May we invite you to the wedding?”

  Samantha, “If my flight schedule can support it, I would love to attend.”

  Catherine, “Thank you, Commodore.”

  Samantha smiles at her, “You’re welcome. If you could excuse me.” She walks to the next sailor. She speaks to every single one. Then she walks up to the SEALs, “Can we gather around?” She bows her head. They follow her lead. “Lord above. Please be with these frogmen as they go into harm’s way. Grant them success as they do your work in keeping the world free. Amen.”

  Fronczak, “Thank you, Commodore.”

  “Thank you. I know how crazy your mission is. I’ll be praying that it goes well.”

  As the time to go aboard gets close, Mike says, “I love you Jean Luc.” He kisses Jean Luc and passes him to Sheamus. Then he wraps both arms around Laureen for a proper kiss. He says, “Remember, you have Navy ID. If you need anything, come down to the base and talk to the watch.”

  “Do you know where you’re going?”

  “No. Only the skipper knows.”

  “I love you, Michael.”

  “I love you, too.” He holds her tightly and kisses her a last time. He picks up his bag and walks onto the boat.

  Jean Luc starts crying. Trisha tries hard not to. She feels the tears coming and looks up to her mother. Catherine smiles and nods, tears on her face.

  USS SAN FRANCISCO, BOTTOM OF THE FIRTH OF CLYDE

  0545, 21 September, 1942

  Lt. Fronczak, “Request to enter and speak.”

  Morrison, “Enter.”

  “Sir, we’re all back aboard. The dive went well. The equipment checks out. The outer door is secured. Everything is stowed and we’re ready to go.”

  Morrison, “Very good. Cutting, if it’s okay with you, I would like first crack at this.”

  “Yes, sir.”