by M L Maki
“I doubt it, sir.”
NAVY PIER, SANDBANK, SCOTLAND
1015, 16 May, 1942
Mike Brown, in his dress whites, carries his laundry off the pier. He sees his car, Laureen standing beside it and waving. His grin is uncontrollable.
MMC Jim Giblin walks up next to him, “You got yourself a Scottish girlfriend, Brown?”
“No, Chief. She’s from Marseille in France.”
“But, she’s your girlfriend?”
“I’m not sure, yet. Ask me on our next duty day.”
“What is she doing here?”
“She’s a widow. Her husband was on the Hood.”
“Kids?”
“One amazing little boy, Jean Luc Stewart.”
Giblin laughs, “He needs to make up his mind. Is he Patrick Stewart or Jean Luc Picard?”
Brown chuckles, “I forgot about that. Do you want to meet her?” They walk up to the car, “Laureen, this is one of my watch chiefs, Jim Giblin. Chief, Laureen Stewart.”
Smiling, she offers her hand, “How do you do?”
Giblin, “Well, but not as well as Brown. A pleasure to meet you.”
Laureen, “May I invite you to dinner?”
Giblin smiles at her, then looks over to Brown, “I’m afraid I have an engagement in town. Thank you very much.”
Mike, “Take care, Chief.”
“Oh, I will. You as well.”
Mike and Laureen get into the car and he fires it up.
“Did you get any U-boats.”
“Have you ever gone fishing before?”
“I have.”
“Some days, there are no fish to catch. When that happens, nothing you can do will fix it. Still, the convoys are getting through and that’s the point. How have you been? How’s Jean Luc?”
“He’s been missing you. He keeps asking where his sailor is. He’s so cute.”
“Well, his sailor is home for a few days.”
“Home.” She smiles.
CHAPTER 32
USS LIVERMORE
1621, 16 May, 1942
Cumberland and Huber are at the captain’s table, talking. Nearby, Henry and John are eating and talking. “Well, grandson, did you know that the Commodore’s chief of staff is a woman?”
“Commander Samantha Hunt. Yes, I met her in Australia.”
“What do you think of women in uniform?
“Grandpa, this is an item you do not want to be a dinosaur about. It’s coming. In time, destroyers like this one, will have female officers and crew. In fact, one of the destroyers with the carrier group, the Fife, is skippered by Commander Laura Wakefield. It’s the way of the future.
“When I met Commander Hunt, I think she had 35 kills, though she hates to talk about her kills. If you meet her, don’t ask her. She considers it a barbaric, if necessary, part of warfare. She won’t talk about it.”
Henry, “What’s she like?”
“She’s very athletic, thin, with short blonde hair. She has a grace about her, but she also has steel. Cumberland talked bad about her and she took him to task immediately, and effectively. She doesn’t smile much, but when she does, her face transforms. She’s warm and beautiful. But, Grandpa, she’s very reserved.”
“Do you like her?”
John smiles, “Not like that. I have an enormous amount of respect for her. I told you I was married before we went back in time, right?”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Her name is Lisa, and she was my one and only. There’s no room in my heart for another.” John stops, then tells Henry everything about Lisa and their history.
Finally, “John, may I be frank?”
“Of course.”
“That’s fucking ridiculous. Despairingly foolish. You denied yourself any measure of happiness because you could not have your perfect happiness. It’s the conduct of a fool. Please tell me you are smarter; that you have a heart wiser than that?”
John lowers his head, then looks up into his grandfather’s eyes, “I’ve been an idiot, haven’t I?”
“You have. Romantic love belongs to poets and writers. It will hold a relationship together,” Henry snaps his fingers, “that long. Relationships are built on respect and compatibility.”
“You love Grandma.”
“We do have love for each other, but it comes from a place of respect. We are building a family and a future together. I respect her hard work, patience, and desire to build a better future. She respects my service, hard work, and desire to build a better future. We are compatible. We’re also temperamentally compatible. Perhaps Lisa checked off all of those boxes for you. Great. In this vast world with millions and millions of people, there is, no doubt about it, thousands of women equally compatible. Do not close the eyes of your heart.”
“I’ve been a fool.”
“We’re all fools, from time to time. The important thing is to learn. I take it I did not teach you this lesson forty or fifty years from now?”
“You tried, but I could not hear you. I…I martyred myself to her love. Once on that cross, I got comfortable there.”
“Well, step down, we need the wood.”
ELECTRONICS MANUFACTURING FACILITY, RICHLAND, WASHINGTON
0932, 16 May, 1942
Lt. Andrew Brown parks his Dodge pickup in the front of a huge complex of buildings. There are at least 500 cars in the lot. He gets out and squares away his combination cover. Orders in hand, he walks through the front door. Up four flights of stairs he finds the executive offices. A pretty woman typing at a desk looks up, “May I help you?”
“Is Captain Richardson in, ma’am?”
“He is. May I have your name?”
“ET1…um…Lieutenant Brown, ma’am. I’m reporting from the Los Angeles class boat, San Francisco. It’s a 1990 anti-submarine platform.”
“Did Admiral Klindt send you?”
“He did.”
She picks up a phone. After a brief conversation, she gets up and ushers him through a door. Inside, Captain Richardson is at a desk and on a call.
While he waits, Brown looks around. The office is smaller than he expected, with a sitting area and a large desk. The desk is clean and very tidy, the work boxes are stacked high with paperwork. There are two book shelves holding scintillating reading like Computer Architecture: A Quantitative Approach, Principles of Compiler Design, Reactor Plant Principles, Design and Repair of Electronic Subassemblies, and Principles of Electronic Engineering. He sees two other doors into the office.
Finally, Richardson puts the phone down, “How can I help you, Lieutenant?”
Brown hands over his orders. “Admiral Klindt assigned me to you.”
“Do you know anything about electronics?”
“I was commissioned in March. Before that I was a nuke ET1 on the San Francisco. It’s a 688 class.”
Richardson leans back, “I asked for a competent ET. If Craig sent me you, then you are up to the task. Do you have a place to live?”
“I can sort that out later, sir.”
Richardson shakes his head, “Go sort it out now. Take the whole day and part of tomorrow, if you need it. You’ll need a comfortable house or apartment. Make yourself a nest where you can recharge, because, Lieutenant, I’m going to work the crap out of you.” His phone rings, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
LONDON ROAD, GLASGOW, SCOTLAND
1820, 17 May, 1942
This time, Cumberland parks his car a few blocks away and walks. He’s in jeans and a flannel shirt. He pays attention, and realizes there’s another house just down the road from the last one. He walks up and knocks. A man answers. “Yessir?”
“Can I find a girl here?”
“Who are you?”
“Does it matter?”
“No to me. Ye a boaby?”
“A what? I’m American.”
“Come in, then.”
The room is dim and there are several women sitting in the lounge. One is Asian. He smiles at her. An old woman
walks up and puts a hand on his shoulder, “Ye wanna beer, ferst?”
He shakes his head. A woman in the corner catches his eye. He hands the madame a ten-dollar bill and walks over to the woman. Her hair is the right brown. She’s the right age. The face is wrong, but she’ll do. She leads him upstairs.
MC AND MAC’S PUB, SANDBACK, SCOTLAND
The pub has expanded into its back yard by putting in a flag-stoned floor and putting a roof up. There are no walls, but the weather is warm enough to be comfortable. Guthrie and some of his watch team, including a couple of nukes, are enjoying a beer. There are a few British sailors off the other tender and its subs. There are also a few American sailors off the Beaver. The locals are clustered in groups, watching the sailors.
Their waitress, Ashley, stops by their table, “Anything more for you, fellas?”
MM1 Jackson asks, “Could we get another round of beer?”
“Of course.”
Guthrie, “May I have a date?”
Ashley smiles, “You’re sweet.”
A local stands and steps toward Guthrie with a cocked fist, “Hey, Yankee Doodle! Ye be keepin yer dick skinners off our lasses, or I’ll be bustin yeer bucket!”
The ten San Francisco sailors stand as one. Another man swings a bottle at Jackson, missing his head and hitting his shoulder. Guthrie ducks a punch from the guy who mouthed off, then punches him in the gut. Other locals wade in, and soon it’s a melee.
MMC Jim Giblin shouts, “KNOCK IT OFFF!” He dodges a thrown bottle, then the man who threw it charges. Giblin brings back his fist and pops the man in the nose. The man drops. “Come to me, guys! Circle it up!”
Another local swings a chair and Giblin ducks. Then he delivers a right uppercut. That man falls, knocked out. The sailors fight their way to Giblin, finally getting to his back. Any man facing Giblin, falls. Most stay unconscious.
ANNIE’S BROTHEL, LONDON STREET, GLASGOW
Cumberland, “What’s your name?”
“Lisa,” she smiles at him, coyly.
“Strip. No talking.”
She stops and looks him in the eyes. Realization hits her and she shakes her head, backing toward the door, “No. Not you.”
He rushes her, grabbing and throwing her onto the bed. He smiles and jumps on the bed and pining her legs. He pushes her dress up. She wriggles up to the head of the bed, and he grabs her arms. He holds her arms over her head, and holds her wrists with on hand, using the other to get under her clothes. “Stop fighting, or I’ll kill you.”
She goes limp. He penetrates, rocking, his head back. He takes his hand from her wrists, and puts his hands around her throat and squeezes. “My XO married a Lisa. I’m fucking Lisa. Beg whore.”
She whimpers, fighting to breath, but she gets her hand behind the head board and pulls a cord.
MC AND MAC’S PUB, SANDBANK
The Frisco, and the some British, sailors stay in the circle while they work their way out the door. The locals are avoiding Giblin, but he keeps moving, protecting his men. Finally, the police and shore patrol arrive.
ANNIE’S BROTHEL, LONDON STREET, GLASGOW
Cumberland sees Lisa’s hand behind the headboard and punches her in the face. Suddenly, he feels himself being lifted off Lisa and thrown onto the floor. He scrambles to his feet and swings at a huge man. The man brushes him off, swinging a haymaker. Cumberland slips the punch and walks into the bouncer’s left fist, getting his right eye split open. Stunned, he wavers, and the bouncer hits him with a combination of body and head punches. The last one to his head hits him in the temple and he goes down, unconscious.
OUTSIDE MC AND MAC’S
The police and shore patrol break up the fight, and get the men sorted into groups away from each other. Constable Ann Lochlin asks Giblin, “Can you identify the man who started it?”
“I was behind him and only saw his back, sorry. The guy who threw the first bottle? Him I saw.”
“Did any of your guys throw anything but punches?”
“No. Basic assault is one thing, throwing a weapon elevates it to aggravated assault, or even attempted murder. We just fought by hand.”
“Several witnesses said you were knocking guys out with a single punch. Where did you learn to fight?”
“My dad was in the Army. We moved all over. After I got beat up, he decided I needed to learn how to fight. I tried karate, judo, and aikido. I learned from all of them, but I like boxing. I was a trouble maker in high school, so I continued the training. It kept me out of mischief. I boxed in college, too. I was an amateur, but I won four fights and lost only one. Anyway, that’s how I learned.”
“Where are you from?”
“I was born in West Germany. Raised in Germany, Italy, Korea, Japan, Texas, Washington, and Massachusetts.” He smiles, “Army brat.”
“Where do you call home?”
“Springfield, Massachusetts. My mom lives…um…will live there.”
“The time travel?”
“Yeah.”
Lochlin walks over to her team to conference.
ANNIE’S BROTHEL, GLASGOW
Cumberland wakes to water pouring onto his face. Three big men with clubs are standing over him. Annie, “Well, Commander George Cumberland. You had one hundred and twenty-three dollars in your wallet. You still have twenty-three. If we ever see you in this town again, we’ll kill you and dump your body in the river.”
“You didn’t call the police?”
“We’ve enough trouble with them. Leave and consider yourself fortunate. If you had killed her, your body might never be found.” She smiles and steps back, “Okay, boys. Let him go.”
The men step away from the door. He staggers to his feet and stumbles out.
OUTSIDE MC AND MAC’S
The sailors are sitting with Chief Giblin, waiting. A helicopter circles and comes in, setting down on the road. A woman in aviation greens with the gold leaves of a lieutenant commander, gets out and approaches the police. She talks with them for a moment, then turns and walks over to the men. They stand and salute. She asks, “Which one of you is senior?”
Chief Giblin, “I am, ma’am.”
“Do any of you need medical attention?”
Giblin, “No, ma’am. May I ask who you are, ma’am.”
“Commander Hunt. I’m Yankee’s chief of staff. He’s flying right now. Which command are you with, and, can you explain exactly what happened?”
“The San Francisco, ma’am. Some of us are from the Livermore and Beaver.”
She asks the men what happened, and they each give an honest description of the fight.
Hunt, “Okay, the police are comfortable with letting you go, and I agree. However, I want all of you to return to your commands tonight and let the town cool down some. I’ll inform the OOD and let your captain know.”
Morrison walks up and salutes, “Hello, ma’am. My apologies for this.”
“It isn’t their fault. I want to be clear. We do not discipline sailors for defending themselves. Understood?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Hunt, “Can you share what I said with the other commands?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“One more thing, the drinking establishments are closed to American sailors tonight. The town needs to cool down. I don’t need a total recall. Just keep them out of the pubs.”
Morrison, “Yes, ma’am.”
Constable Ann Lochlin comes over, “We’ve enough to settle this. We want you to know the blokes who started all this are from a construction crew out of Glasgow. They’re not locals.”
Hunt, “Will they be charged with any crimes?”
“Yes. We’re taking care of that.”
“Thank you, Constable.” She turns to Morrison, “Carry on.” She returns their salutes and goes back to the helo.
Morrison, “I’ll inform the shore patrol and the other commands. Thank you, Constable.”
“You’re welcome.”
Morrison turns to the men, “C
hief, get them back on board.”
“Yes, sir.” He salutes and Morrison leaves.
Lochlin asks, “She’s closing the town?”
Giblin, “For the rest of the night, ma’am.”