B018R79OOK EBOK

by Unknown

  USS Iowa

  They began pulling away from the pier early in the morning. Captain Doug Rhodes watched the evolution from the port bridge wing. One thing about the Iowa class, there wasn’t a way to see aft from the bridge because of the superstructure, so he relied on the pilot and his phone talkers to get him the information. It made no difference. The tugs pulled the 58,000 ton vessel from the pier before the ship’s engines began backing the ship into the channel. The tugs began pushing against the starboard bow while additional tugs pushed against the port stern. It took a while. That big a ship didn’t move easily. Once pointed toward the sea, the ship’s engines began pushing ahead.

  Rhodes remembered the first time he had been aboard in the 80s. He had been a humble boatswain’s mate at that time. He had marveled at how big the ship was and how powerful she looked. That feeling hadn’t changed. Now he was the ship’s commanding officer. Something about the grand ship still made him feel reassured that she would get them through anything.

  Sailors often say each ship has her own personality. Rhodes knew this one did. He felt it the moment he stepped aboard. It was a welcoming feeling; a feeling that made you feel warm and confident. Despite the fact the ship was nearing 90 years old, she still had the look of a warrior. She could still scare people to death and her guns could still be lethal to an enemy.

  He looked up at the towers above him. Despite the darker gray Maxwell plates that had been installed, she looked rock solid. There were radars and antennas everywhere, just not moving. The emission controls clearly dictated that no ship give off any electromagnetic energy. Iowa could do that all day and still fire her weapons. The optics in the directors were some of the best in the world, despite their age. Because of that, the gun directors rotated back and forth providing bearing information to the navigator. He could hear the talkers relaying bearings to points the team had selected to make sure the ship stayed in the channel. The navigator reported they were in the center of channel, just as they should be. It was all normal, except that they were going to war. The ships from Norfolk would join up with ships from Mayport and other places, eventually even with the British and German Navies. It promised to be one of the largest fleets since the Second World War.

  Glancing down on the decks below the bridge, he saw familiar sights. Boats Patnaude was still there in his helmet and ever present coffee cup. A number of other faces were the same. Many had been aboard with him in the 80s. Even Father Danner was still there. He had retired years before with at least nine rows of ribbons on his chest, including several “Vs” for valor, the first was awarded in Beirut with the Marines and the latest in Afghanistan. Danner didn’t mind going into the heat of anything as long as he could serve his people. Even now he was aboard going in harm’s way. True, the 80s crew was getting older and fewer could make the trip this time, but they were still there giving help to train a new generation about a battleship and its operation.

  Two patrol aircraft crossed overhead. The overcast made them stand out in the sky. Earlier several anti-submarine patrol planes had made their way to sea. Both felt reassuring. The last thing Rhodes wanted was to get hit by a torpedo. Giving a sigh, he reentered the bridge and climbed into his seat on the right corner. The heaters on the bridge were working overtime trying to keep the bridge crew warm. Unfortunately, the cold winter breeze seemed to cut through Rhodes’ coat. Until they were at sea and the doors closed, the bridge would be pretty miserable.

  The Iowa passed through the last set of buoys and the pilot walked up. “Captain, she’s all yours. I wish you the best of luck,” the pilot said.

  “Thanks, Captain. We’ll see you when we return,” Rhodes said with a firm handshake. “Messenger, escort the pilot to the quarterdeck.”

  The two left the bridge and everyone waited until they had seen the pilot safely aboard one of the tugs. With a toot of its whistle, it moved away.

  “Officer of the Deck, secure from sea and anchor detail. What is the course to our assigned position?” Rhodes asked.

  “083, Captain. At ten knots, we should get there within twenty minutes.”

  “Make it so,” Rhodes ordered.

  The wheel was turned and the ship slowly came left to its new course. Rhodes heard the metal door open and close behind him. Commander Sampson, his XO, walked up beside him.

  “Well, we’re finally on the way. Everything is secure aft. I’m not sure about this ten knot restriction, but at least we won’t be burning fuel like crazy. The North Carolina is right behind us on schedule. Looks like the Wisconsin is next after that. It’s going to take forever to get the formation set,” he said.

  “Yea, but I like the Admiral’s thoughts. Leave ‘em guessing. If we’re lucky, they won’t know we’re underway until we enter the Black Sea. Did you make sure all the electronics were turned off?” Rhodes asked.

  “Every piece. I also put out the word to make sure everybody turned off their cell phone and put them away. We are now one hell of a big hole in the ocean,” said the XO.

  “Good. I may go down to Strike and watch this thing come together,” said Rhodes coming up from his seat.

  Sampson grunted. “Wish I knew where the information on the link came from. Nobody is radiating, but we have a detailed display. It’s witchcraft, I tell you,” he said with a grin.

  “Yes, XO, and we are about to become a couple of wizards,” Rhodes said as he walked aft and entered the watertight door.

  On a bus entering Poland

  It wasn’t the job that bothered Petyr, it was the constant moving. It was rare that he got a full eight hours of sleep. After only one night in the Czech Republic, they suddenly found that there was little to do. The Russian defenses had almost evaporated. Then word came down to pick the best operators in the unit and ship them up to Zabierzow, just a few miles from Krakow. Petyr had been the first one selected.

  The old Mercedes bus bounced along the road, swerving back and forth along the hilly terrain. The driver kept focused on the road before him and didn’t care one whit about passenger comfort. Already someone had gotten motion sickness. Petyr had noticed that there were aircraft overhead, and hoped they were ours. There were twenty people in the bus which was designed to carry thirty. It meant some could stretch out between the seats. Petyr kept beside the window and simply watched the scenery go by.

  Master Sergeant Ricks got up from his seat at the front of the bus and began walking along the isle. It was difficult, mainly because the bus was swerving, but also because his legs just didn’t function like real ones. Ricks was used to having to improvise with them. He prided himself for being able to still outrun or outfight some of the best in the Army.

  As he walked down the center aisle, Ricks could see some of the people were scared to death. He wasn’t sure if it was the driving or because they were getting so close to the front again. A few were talking with friends, some were trying to read, and others seemed to stare straight ahead. He noticed Petyr looking out the window and sat in the seat beside him.

  “Getting used to your new rank?” Ricks asked.

  Petyr smiled and reached over instinctively to rub the insignia. “I still can’t understand why this is happening so fast. I didn’t expect it,” he said with a blush.

  Ricks chuckled. “Yea, but in a war we have to recognize talent a little faster than in peacetime. You’re good at what you do, Pete. Don’t worry about it, just keep doing what you’re doing,” he said. “Everything else okay?”

  “I’m fine. It’s all been so rapid I guess I’m a little tired. Being home helps some. I remember this area of Poland. My family used to come camping here,” he said wistfully. Then he turned to Ricks. “Can you tell me what this move is about? All I know is we got thrown into this bus and told we were going back to Poland.”

  Ricks sat back in his seat and shrugged his shoulders. “From what I make out, they are forming a new drone section. Evidently there is a new version we will be using where we can fly during daylight hours. I’m told
it will have a range of about twenty five miles and can carry more ammunition. I’m sure they dreamed up a few more bells and whistles, but I guess we’ll hear more about that later. They are taking us to some place called Zabierzow. We’ll find out more when we get there,” he said.

  With the name of the town, Petyr sat up. “Zabierzow? That’s just outside of Krakow!” he exclaimed.

  “Really,” said Ricks. “I didn’t know that, but it makes sense. After Krakow fell to the Russians, I guess they will want it back. If these things work like I hear, we could help out a lot in that effort.”

  Petyr sat back with a smile on his face. Home. They were going to be near his family and near Freda. Maybe he could at least use his drone to see that they were safe. “Maybe I could see my family,” he almost whispered.

  Ricks saw the change in the boy. Petyr was much like he was when he joined the army. At first he was kind of lost, but after a while he got on mission and did his job. True, Petyr was better than most of the young men and women in the unit, but he still had a way to go. He couldn’t let something get in the way of the job they were doing. “Pete, you know we can’t use the equipment for personal visits with your family. If we did, there wouldn’t be any left for fighting. Just be patient. We are probably going to be in every section of the city. You’ll get the chance,” he said with a grin.

  Petyr nodded. “Oh, I know, but it would be nice. Besides, then you’d get the chance to see my girl,” he said sheepishly.

  “Wouldn’t miss it. Now tell me a little bit more about Krakow and how we might be able to get in,” he said. The rest of the trip was filled with information, planning and a growing friendship.

  Berlin

  It was a little frustrating. Here he was, the Supreme Allied Commander and could not leave his military compound. All he wanted to do was go out in the city, have a nice meal and see a little bit of one of the most exciting cities in the world. But his security people said no. He was now a target and they couldn’t know all the spies and agents running around the city. He sat in a windowless apartment set up deep within the military headquarters compound near the suburb of Potsdam. It was a nice apartment, but it wasn’t something he wanted to live in for a few years. It was more like one of those sterile medical facilities you would see in the movies when there was a disease outbreak. Hammond was certain that the overhead lights would give him cancer.

  Many would think the situation was pretty good. All he had to do was pick up the phone and almost anything would be brought in to him, from steak to lobster. But what Hammond craved was simple company away from his work. “Screw this,” he said to himself. He went to his closet and took out civilian clothes. If they can’t handle it, it’s their problem, he thought to himself. Putting on slacks and a shirt with a woolen sweater, he was about to call for his driver when there was a knock on the door. He was surprised to see General Moynahan standing there in his own civilian attire.

  “Wanna date?” he asked with a grin.

  Hammond laughed. “Looks like you and I have the same needs.”

  “You bet. My people said no, but I’m the CO and I said yes. What do you say?” Moynahan asked.

  “I say let’s go. Want me to call my driver?” Hammond asked.

  “No, I have a car. I heard about a place that has seafood to die for. The GPS is plugged in and working. I think it’s time we escaped,” said Moynahan.

  “I’m your man,” said Hammond.

  The two men went out and jumped in the car. Hammond informed the guard where they were going and that if they wanted to come along, great, but don’t let him see them. The two jumped into a white Mercedes with a driver and swooped out the drive and down the street. Almost immediately Hammond began to relax. The city was teaming with people going back and forth. Shops were open and they passed several small beer halls overflowing with people.

  After about ten minutes, the GPS told the men they had arrived. The Atlantik Fischrestaurant was on Potsdamer Strasse sitting almost right on the street. The driver pulled up and let the men off right in front. At first glance, it didn’t look much like any fine restaurant, but the outdoor covered eating area was packed. Moynahan led Hammond into the front doors and saw a gentleman who introduced himself as Mr. Yenel. “I called ahead and asked for a small table for two. The name was Albert,” Moynahan said.

  Yenel smiled. “You are just in time. Although I thought…” His face suddenly changed to recognition as he saw Hammond. “Perhaps I better place you around the corner where you will be a little more private,” he said. Yenel led the men around the corner to a small table with two chairs. From there, they could enjoy the atmosphere without attracting much attention. After seating the men he leaned in to Hammond. “It is an honor to have you with us, Admiral. I hope you can enjoy your meal,” he said in a low voice.

  Hammond smiled and shook the man’s hand. “Thanks, Mr. Yenel. I appreciate your help. Just being here is making me feel relaxed,” he said.

  Yenel beamed with pride. “Is there something you were particularly interested in,” he asked.

  Moynahan handed back the menus. Mr. Yenel, we would like to leave the meal to you for tonight. I think we would like a good German beer, then we can order wine later if we want,” he said.

  Yenel grinned. “I hope you are hungry. I will bring your beer out in a minute. Let me know if you need anything,” he said before dashing away.

  Hammond took a better look at the place. Though worn slightly, everything was neat and trim. The food at the other tables looked amazing and the others in the restaurant were all having a marvelous time. He leaned over to Moynahan. “Good choice,” he called out over the noise of the crowd.

  Moynahan nodded. “Dortmund said come here. Said he brings his wife and family.”

  Hammond nodded.

  The beers were placed on the table in large mugs. Although he usually didn’t drink, Hammond took a good sip. His eyes opened wide as he looked at the mug and then at Moynahan. “This doesn’t taste anything like what I’ve had before. It’s even better than what I had in Kiel during our round the world trip,” he exclaimed.

  “A lot of these places brew their own or it’s from the small pub next door that does. These basement brewers can turn out some amazing stuff,” Moynahan said.

  In a few minutes the first course arrived. It was a hearty fish soup. The chunks of white fish in a tomato base with herbs melted in your mouth. The flavors made Hammond close his eyes and simply smile as it drifted across his tongue. He looked at Moynahan, whose face was screwed up into a look of sheer ecstasy. He glanced back at Hammond and uttered, “We will come back here again.”

  Instead of a regular meal, the next course had a selection of a number of seafood delicacies. There were prawns, bluefish, sea bass, calamari, mussels, octopus, bonito, sturgeon, and red mullet. Each had been arranged almost like a sampler, but cooked to perfection. A salad was also brought and a loaf of hard bread to go with it. For some reason, it all blended perfectly with the beer. As Hammond finished his last bite a fruit salad was brought in for dessert. All along the way they were aware of people staring at them and talking to themselves, but no one interrupted their meal.

  It had been a perfect evening. The two men put down their napkins and pushed away from the table and simply sat there for a moment. Mr. Yenel came up. “I hope everything was satisfactory,” he said.

  “Mr. Yenel, I have never had such a wonderful meal in such a wonderful place,” said Hammond. “May we have our bill?”

  Yenel waived them off. “It is all on us, Admiral.”

  Hammond shook his head. “Mr. Yenel, I cannot accept your offer. My country says I cannot take such generous gifts. Please give me the bill and I promise I will come back again and again. You have done more for me tonight than I have experienced since I got here. This,” he said waving across the room, “has reminded me of home and what real people are like. It has let me see what it is really like in Germany. More importantly, it got me away from the t
hings I must endure and let me be just a human being. For that, you have my everlasting gratitude,” he said.

  Yenel looked down at the man who was shouldering the entire war effort, yet took the time to be around everyday people. He gave a wink and nodded. “I will return shortly,” he said.

  An old man sitting at the next table turned and addressed Hammond. He patted him on the arm. “I wish I had known leaders like you when I was in the war,” he said. “Except for one of my generals, you would have made serving so much better,” he grinned.

  “Which general was that?” Hammond asked smiling.

  The old man’s face lit up. He patted Hammond’s arm again and gave a wink. “Rommel,” the old man said.

  Hammond smiled again. “Then I feel I am in good company,” he said.

  The old man laughed. “If I had known, we could have shared a few of the old stories. The young ones have no real idea, but we older men know what is going on. If I may, you are doing well, Admiral. Perhaps someday we will share a meal and tell a few tales. Maybe when they can’t hear I can sing some of the old songs,” he grinned.

  Hammond looked at the old man and saw the deep wrinkles of his face and the stress the man experienced long ago. He had survived his war and knew a little about what the new generation was going through. “I would like that a lot, Herr…”

  “Straub, Admiral. Erich Straub.”

  Hammond took the old man’s telephone number then leaned in close to the old man’s ear. “Auf der Heide blüht ein kleines Blümelein und das heißt: Erika.”

  The old man’s face took on a look of surprise. The song was one he had sung as a young man as he marched to war. Few sang it anymore, but the Admiral knew it. A tear came to the old man’s eye and he softly sang along just loud enough for Hammond to hear.

  “Heiß von hunderttausend kleinen Bienelein wird umschwärmt Erika