by M L Maki
“I’ll let them know.”
TOPAZ INTERNMENT CAMP, WEST OF DELTA, UTAH
1610, 17 May, 1942
Himari Nakamura brings the mail into her hut. Her husband is training with the Army and her daughter is in the camp school. She sits at their rickety table and lays the envelope down. It is addressed by hand from John Morrison, with a US Navy return address. “I do not know a John Morrison.”
After a long time, she picks it up and carefully opens it. There is a hand-written letter and a photo. She looks at the photo first. “Oh, he is handsome.” The man is wearing an officer’s white uniform, and he is, unmistakably, Japanese. She turns it over. On the back the writing says, ‘LCDR John Morrison, February 11, 1942, Sydney, Australia.’
She unfolds the letter:
Dear Grandmother,
My name is John Morrison, and I’m your grandson. I am the executive officer on the USS San Francisco. Please, let me explain. First, I, with my carrier group, traveled back in time from December, 1990, to December, 1941. Before I go into an explanation as to how we’re related, I must first tell you that the history I’m sharing, my history, is not set in stone. Our time travel has changed everything. The tragedy I’m about to share may not repeat itself. In truth, in all likelihood, will not repeat itself.
You, I know, are currently in internment in Utah. Your husband, my grandfather, is being trained as part of the 100th Infantry Battalion. He served, and fell, in Europe. I remember you, but never met my grandfather.
Your daughter, Kinuko, my mother, marries an Irish-American, Joseph Fallon, my father. Joseph joined the Navy after college and rose to lieutenant. I lost both my parents in a car accident outside of Norfolk, Virginia in 1956. The Morrisons were my parent’s best friends. They, Mitchell and Amanda, adopted me with your blessing. It’s for that reason, I grew up a Morrison. Grandpa Henry Morrison is currently serving as XO on a destroyer. His father, Peter Morrison, retired as a captain, having commanded a battleship during WWI.
From what I remember of our family history, you and grandfather were born in California. I think it was your parents who immigrated.
I hope that the tragedies that followed our family do not repeat. I also hope, very much, to meet you and my mother someday soon. I, and some friends, are also hoping to end the internment camp system. It was, is, a blight on America’s history. I hope you are well. Once I’m certain of connecting with you, I will send what I can to help. My address is below. I hope we can stay in contact.
Your Grandson,
John
She carefully folds the letter and puts in flat on the table and places her hands on it. She stares at the wall, startling when she hears a knock on her door.
A neighbor comes in, “Himari, what is it that? Is Riku well?”
“I believe so, yes. I have received a strange letter.”
“May I?”
Himari hands the letter to her friend, who reads it. “Himari, this could be good news.”
“Why. I lose all I love.”
“Oh, Himari, think. Because of this grandson it may not be so. He says so. He comes back so your family may live.”
USS BEAVER
0710, 18 May, 1942
Morrison is already eating when Cumberland comes in sporting a huge shiner. Cumberland orders breakfast and gets a cup of coffee. He sits down at Morrison’s table, “I understand there was a brawl?”
“Yes, sir. There was. Some construction workers from Glasgow attacked sailors from the Frisco, Livermore, Beaver, and the British ships. The pretext was a sailor flirting with a waitress. The police, and our command, ruled it self-defense. There were no serious injuries. Hunt closed the town down for last night. What happened to you?”
Cumberland’s food is brought to the table and he tucks in. After a few bites, “I want the full report. Some of them, no doubt, need to be disciplined.”
“The Chief of Staff was clear. There is to be no discipline. What happened to you, sir?”
Cumberland lowers his head, “I got in a bar fight.” He sighs, “We’ll drop it.”
STEWART FARM
1810, 19 May, 1942
Mike and Laureen walk in the field, holding hands and talking. She asks, “What do you wish to do after the war?”
“I want to leave the Navy and settle down.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know. He faces her, “What are we, Laureen?”
“I should ask you.”
“I’m asking you. I need you to decide for yourself. Am I messing up your life?”
“No, Michael. My life was messed up before. Now, it feels more whole, not less.”
“Laureen, I’m no saint. I’ve a terrible sense of humor. I need time alone sometimes. And, I’m way older than you.”
“What is your sense of humor?”
He grins, “Okay, you asked for it. An American, a Frenchman, and a Russian all die and are in line together to get into heaven. As there is no language barrier in heaven, they get to talking and realize it was automobiles that caused each of their deaths. The American was racing up a mountain road in his sports car and ran off the road, plummeting to his death. The Frenchman was having sex in the back seat of his car with a lovely woman next to the river Seine when the brakes failed and they rolled into the river and drowned. And the Russian, well, he always wanted a car, so he saved and saved and saved…and he starved to death.”
She folds in half, laughing. When she can catch her breath, she looks up at him, her eyes twinkling, “So, a local woman goes to a monastery and complains to the Abbot that one of the brothers got her pregnant. The Abbot assures her that is quite impossible, after all, the monks swore a vow of chastity. However, he devises a test. He has each monk disrobe and puts a bell on their manhood. He has the woman also disrobe and dance provocatively in front of the row of monks. If any of the bells ring, he will give the woman the compensation she is seeking. So, she dances down the line and the newest monk at the end starts sweating. None of the other monks react to the woman’s alluring dance, but when she gets to the last man, his manhood reacts so strongly the bell rings fiercely and falls off. When the poor man bends over to pick up the bell, all the other bells ring.”
Brown looks at her, his mouth open, then he laughs, “Oh my God, that’s funny. Where did you hear it?”
“My father owned a restaurant. The customers were always telling jokes. So, you see, we just might be compatible. I do not care that you are older. It means you are a responsible person. That, and we all need time alone.”
He looks at her for a long moment, then nods, “Yes. Laureen, will you be my girlfriend?”
“Yes, I want that very much.”
Mike looks into her eyes, “I want you, too. You understand, I will have to leave. I cannot bear to hurt you.”
“Boyfriend is a possibility, not a certainty.”
“You deserve a certainty.”
“Perhaps. But I want you.”
Putting his hands on her shoulders, he draws her close, “How is this going to work?”
“Shhh,” she kisses him. “We’ll figure it out, dear.”
On the back porch, Sheamus is watching them, smiling. Jean Luc is on his lap, “Are they kissing, Papa?”
“They are.”
“Is he my Da now?”
“Na. Not yet, Jean Luc. It does mean he cares.”
“He’s my sailor.”
“That he is.”
KRIEGSMARINE HQ, BERLIN, GERMANY
2000, 19 May, 1942
SS-Oberfuhrer Victor von Bergan is ushered into the office of Grand Admiral Erich Raeder. The admiral stands and greets him, “How can I help you, Oberfuhrer?”
“I believe we have discovered a resource that requires your aid to recover.”
“I am listening.”
“Eighteen minutes after the time event, an American fighter successfully took off from Brendenmeyer. That fighter was seen parked, engines idling, at a special weapons facility. Four to six peop
le worked in that bunker. None of them have been captured. We believe it likely they were killed when the field was secured. Finally, one of the captured servicewomen, a captain, has told us what was in that bunker. It held atomic weapons. These weapons could, with one bomb, destroy a city. As yet, we do not know how many there were. All the records were completely destroyed.”
“What does this have to do with the Kriegsmarine?”
“The fighter turned north and ditched somewhere near Smygehuk Lighthouse, on the southernmost tip of Sweden. Although, the controls for the warheads may be damaged, the bombs themselves should have survived the crash. This is worthy of a serious effort.”
“Perhaps, but you place the wreck within Swedish waters. We cannot barrel into their waters with total disregard.”
“Grand Admiral, what could they do?”
“They could choose to join the allies and invite their aircraft to fly from Swedish territory. We would have to defend on four fronts. It’s impossible. Find a discreet way to do this, or do not do it at all.” Raeder thinks, “I could give you access to some small resources. As you should know, we have much more pressing matters. Thank you, Oberfuhrer. Good day.”
“Heil Hitler.”
CHAPTER 33
STEWART FARM
2307, 19 May, 1942
Sheamus and Jean Luc have gone to bed. Laureen and Mike are on the sofa holding each other and quietly talking. He kisses her, holding her tightly. “You know, you’re an incredible kisser.”
She giggles, “I’m French. Is that not required?”
“Perhaps.” He kisses her again. When they come up for air, he asks, “Should we go to bed?”
She looks into his eyes, “You know I want you, Michael. We cannot. Not under Da’s roof. It would be disrespectful.”
“It would. Darling, I want you, too. But I want to do this right. Respectfully. For that reason, I keep my hands, um…nice.”
She takes his hand and puts it on her breast. “This we may do.” He kisses her, caressing her, causing her back to arch. He comes up for air and smiles, then kisses her again. Then, “It’s time. Bed. Okay?”
“Yes, you are right.” They stand together and go up to their respective beds. She shuts her door and leans against it, lost in the moment. “I love him, and he loves me.” She moves silently to not disturb Jean Luc as she changes into her nightgown. She slips into bed. She can still smell him. She can still taste him. She falls asleep, smiling, contented.
USS SAN FRANCISCO
0845, 22 May, 1942
Cumberland paces, watching the weapons crew unload torpedoes from his boat. Under his breath, “This is so stupid.”
Morrison climbs out, “That’s the last one, sir. We now have eight torpedoes remaining and no missiles.”
Cumberland nods.”
Morrison sees two launches coming, “They’re here, sir.”
“Okay.”
The launches pull up to the barge and SEALs scramble off, unloading their gear. Captain Holtz gets off one launch and walks up. They salute and Holtz returns it, “Are you critical?”
Cumberland, “Yes, sir. Once they’re loaded, we can get underway.”
“Here are your orders.”
Cumberland takes the paper:
FROM: NAVFORUK
TO: 711
REG: Operation Hand Off
Deliver Seal Team 1 to the mouth of the L’Elorn River estuary no later than 0630 GMT, 25 May, 1942. The SEAL team will disembark, perform their mission, and return to your submarine. It is absolutely essential that the SEALs are back on board no later than 1430. If insufficient time is available, the mission will be aborted.
Holtz
Cumberland looks up, “I see. Yes, sir. Morrison, go below and make sure the SEALs stow their gear properly.”
“Yes, sir.”
Brown is in sonar going over the equipment and doing pre-underway checks. Giblin comes in and sits in the other chair, “I didn’t get a chance to ask. Is she your girlfriend now?”
“Yeah, Chief. She is.”
“We’ve served together for quite a few years. You’ve been divorced for what, thirteen years?”
“Yeah, Chief.”
“How is this one different?”
Brown, “She’s loyal, strong, sweet, smart, and funny as shit. Am I fucking up, Chief?”
“Don’t know her. It was nice that she invited me to dinner, when she obviously wanted to spend her time with you.”
“What was your engagement, Chief?”
“It was with a beer. You two needed alone time.”
“She has a kid and lives with her father-in-law. Time together can be a challenge.”
Giblin smiles, “Do you like the star ship captain? Excuse me, I mean the kid.”
“Yeah, he calls me his sailor. The little guy has already decided I’m the one.”
“Is there a down side?”
“One. She’s adamant that she will not leave here. She will not separate Jean Luc from his grandfather. Jean Luc is all Sheamus has of his son who was lost on the Hood. Like I said, she’s loyal.”
Giblin looks at him, smiling, “Could you live here?”
“I don’t know. It’s beautiful. The people are nice. Do you think I would have to give up my citizenship? For me, that’s a hard no.”
Giblin, “No. No way. Being an expat means returning to the states once in a while and renewing your visa, but it should be fine. I don’t know how far an E-6 retirement will get you here.”
“Hopefully, I can make chief.”
“I thought you declined chief?”
Mike, “Yeah, but I was alone then, and I didn’t want to give up my panel. Now, I can see I’ll need a better retirement check.”
Giblin, “Okay, you’ve fallen hard. What will you do when you retire?”
“I’ll help run the farm. There’s about thirty acres.”
“Thirty acres isn’t much.”
Mike, “True, but I’ll have my retirement, and if need be, I have some skills.”
“Not a big call for sonar technicians in Scotland.”
“You’re forgetting the North Sea oil boom.”
“Right. Fair point.”
“I also know more than a little about electronics, and even mechanics. You know I take care of my own Jeep. I’d get by.”
“It sounds like you’ve made up your mind.”
“Maybe, but then, I keep second guessing myself.”
“If she was not in the picture, would you consider living in Scotland?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t know I wanted a family before I met her.”
“Seems to me you have one”
Morrison puts his head in, “We’ll be setting the watch in a bit.”
“Yes, sir.”
STEWART FARM
Sheamus, Jean Luc, and Laureen watches the San Francisco being pushed away from the barge by the tugs. The tugs back off, and the big grey submarine gathers speed and disappears behind the headland. Jean Luc starts crying, “Mama, my sailor is gone.”
“He’ll be back, my love.”
“You promise?”
She looks up at Sheamus, then bends down to Jean Luc, “Yes. I promise.”
U-BOAT BUNKER, BREST, FRANCE
1300, 24 May, 1942
Admiral Donitz walks down the line of submariners. Heinrich Bleichrodt stands in front of his crew. Behind them is their boat, U-109. Donitz, “Kapitanleutnant, are you confidant in the repairs and changes made to your vessel?”
“Yes, Herr Admiral. We inspected all the work the yard did. We will miss the guns, but we understand the change in tactics.”
“You understand that the Americans will hunt you by aircraft, helicopter, and ship?”
“It is the game, Admiral. A game in which we know no peer.”
Donitz, “Unfortunately, the guided torpedoes are not ready yet, but we must send you out. Let us inspect your crew.”
USS SAN FRANCISCO, 100 MILES WEST OF BREST, FRANCE
&
nbsp; 2314, 24 May, 1942
Backes quietly watches and listens to his watch standers as they get back into the routine. On a sub, everything has a rhythm. “Conn, Sonar. New contact. Bearing 092. It’s a submarine diving. Designate Sierra 1.”