“I used to think it was spooky but I don’t anymore,” Rhodes said. “I’ve seen her come up with the right answers to all sorts of problems I didn’t know how to tackle.” He peered through the windshield.
“There’s young Gordy. Better stop, John. I’ll get out here.” He got out of the car and walked toward his older son.
“Mom says to tell you that she put your dungarees and tennis shoes in the car,” the boy said. “I got the bat and the mitts and a baseball and we’re supposed to go over to the playground. Alan is in the car. You can change clothes in the head at the playground. Mom gave me the car keys. Can I drive the car here, where you are, Dad? I’ll be careful.”
Rhodes nodded. “You may. Remember to let the engine warm up a little before you put it in gear.” The boy started to race away and then stopped and came back.
“I almost forgot. Mom says chow is at eighteen hundred and we should be home in time to take a shower. Mrs. Simms will be gone by then, sir.”
“Orders received and acknowledged,” Rhodes said gravely.
Chapter 12
The meeting between Mako’s officers and Captain Mealey was brief. Captain Mealey and Lieut. Comdr. Sirocco appeared at precisely 0900. The new Captain took his seat at the head of the Wardroom table and Joe Sirocco squeezed his bulk into place on the padded seat outboard of the table. A mess steward from the O-Club on the Base appeared with a box of cups and saucers and a big pot of coffee and served it.
Five minutes into the meeting it was apparent to Mako’s officers that Captain Mealey had read every word of Captain Hinman’s patrol run reports on Mako’s first two patrols and had, as well, read every word of each officer’s service jacket. He began by asking each officer to summarize his naval and civilian experience and then he began asking questions about each man’s own department. The questions were pointed and at times savage as Captain Mealey probed for information. When he had talked to each officer he stared at them, his lips thin under his white mustache.
“I will repeat once again what I said yesterday when I assumed command of this vessel.
“I live by the Book, by the rules and regulations of the U.S. Navy. You will live by it. If you do not I will have you detached and recommend that you never again be transferred to sea duty.” He touched the right side of his white mustache with his forefinger and a thin smile came to his lips.
“I know that such a threat means little to a Reservist who is doing his duty to his nation by serving. It means everything to a Regular whose entire career can be blighted. But for those of you who are Reserves I want to assure you that the Navy has some God-awful duty stations, and if you fail to do your duty on Mako you may well find yourself tending weather instruments on the northern slopes of Alaska!
“There is one more thing I want to say. It will be the only time this matter is discussed after this moment.
“I do not sit in judgment on Captain Hinman. I know him. I knew his late wife. I respect her memory. I respect Captain Hinman. I will brook no comparisons, favorable or insidious, about how Captain Hinman handled Mako or her crew and how I will handle my responsibilities. I was given command of this submarine to seek out the enemy and sink him and by God — mine and yours, Mr. Cohen — I am going to do that!
“I would like to see Mr. Cohen for a very few moments. Thank all of you for coming by.”
Captain Mealey looked at Nate Cohen. He touched his white mustache tentatively.
“Mr. Cohen, I want to make several things clear to you, sir.
“One thing is that I have a deep respect for all religions, no matter what their ideology or their method of worship.
“Another is that you have served with distinction on two war patrols. You have the right to ask for a more responsible assignment than Commissary Officer and Radio and Sound Officer. In the case of this ship that would mean that I would have to ask for your transfer so you can be given a more responsible assignment. I hope you do not make that request. I am selfish, Mr. Cohen. I want the best officers and men I can get and your abilities as a Sonar Officer seem to be outstanding.” He leaned back in his chair and stared at Nathan Cohen.
“I do not intend to ask for a transfer, Captain,” Cohen said slowly. “I am not an experienced man at sea but I like this ship, I like the men aboard. If you wish me to stay aboard I will be very happy to do so.”
“Thank you,” Captain Mealey said. Cohen got up and went out of the Wardroom and stopped in the passageway as Pete Simms came up to the green curtain and rapped softly. He went into the Wardroom in response to Captain Mealey’s order.
“Sir,” Simms said, “I have a personal request.”
“I’ll hear it,” Mealey said.
“As you know, I am responsible for the engineering plant. I’d like to have permission to stay aboard for the rest of the overhaul period, live aboard, sir, so I can oversee the repairs and other work we requested.”
“I understand you’re married, live ashore with your wife and daughter, is that right?” Mealey’s face was impassive.
“Yes, sir.”
“Request denied,” Captain Mealey said. “Please ask the Chief Petty Officers to come in as you leave.”
“I am impressed,” Captain Mealey said after the Chiefs had taken seats at the Wardroom table. “I am very impressed by the extraordinary condition of the machinery of this ship. You have had no breakdowns, your repair list was very small, the ship is very clean.” He brushed the right side of his mustache with his finger.
“I expected that Chief Hendershot’s department would be in excellent shape; we served together once before. I am most impressed with the engine rooms, Chief Barber.”
“They gave us good material, sir,” Barber said. “We made sure it was installed right and we take care of it. Hendershot and I work together pretty closely on our gear, so much of it is an overlap. We do all the repairs we can ourselves. I’d rather do the repair work that way, then I know it’s done right.”
Mealey nodded and looked at John Maxwell, the Chief Yeoman.
“Your office records are excellent, Chief. Unusual in a ship of this sort. I note, also, that you served in the Marine Corps for what, eight years?”
“Yes, sir,” Maxwell said.
“You were decorated for gallantry in action in Haiti?”
“Yes, sir,” Maxwell said.
“Why did you leave the Corps? You had a good record.”
“I got tired of field rations, Gunnery Sergeants and getting shot at in peacetime, Captain. After I got paid off at the end of my second hitch I made a liberty with a Chief Yeoman who worked in the recruiting office in Washington, D.C., sir. He talked me into shipping into the Navy. I’m not sorry. I like the Navy. I like my work. I like this ship.”
Mealey nodded. “I have one more thing to say. I run a tight ship. I expect my Chief Petty Officers to keep the ship taut, to make it unnecessary for me to step in.
“I will back you to the hilt in front of your men until you show me you are not worth such support. If that time comes and I do not expect it to come at all on this ship, but if it does, I will put you ashore. Thank you for giving up a morning of your rest period. I’d like to see Chief Rhodes alone for a few moments. If one of you has given him a ride here or if you have driven over with him, it will take only a few minutes.” He waited for the three Chiefs to file out and then turned to Dusty Rhodes.
“I saw you box in the ring a number of times when we were both a bit younger, Chief. Is that how you maintain discipline on the Mako, with your fists?”
“No, sir,” Rhodes’ voice was level.
“How, then?”
“By doing as I was taught to do by Chiefs of the Boat I respected, sir. You and the Executive Officer give me your policy, your orders. I carry them out. The crew carries them out. If I can’t handle a man, if I decide I can’t handle him, sir, then I’ll come to the Executive Officer and ask for his transfer. Or mine.”
Captain Mealey nodded briefly, his face impassive. His finger crept up an
d touched his mustache.
“I’ve read the patrol report on what you did to the torpedoes, Chief. Can you add anything to that report?”
“No, sir. Captain Hinman told the exact truth, exactly what Ginty and I did to the exploders.”
“This man Arnold Ginty,” Mealey said. “I understand that he’s what some people might call a character, that he has a huge blue eye tattooed on the top of his head! Is that true?”
“Yes, sir. When he reported aboard from an S-Boat in the Asiatic Fleet, that was pre-commissioning, sir, I ordered him to let his hair grow. He let his hair grow but Ginty hasn’t got a very thick head of hair and sometimes, if he’s sitting down and someone is standing over him they can see the tattoo through the hair.”
“He got that tattoo on the Asiatic Station?”
“Yes, sir, but I’d like to say this. Ginty is one of the best torpedomen I’ve ever seen, sir. He runs a torpedo room as I think you want it run. A lot of people live in that Forward Room, as you know, sir. You won’t ever find a piece of clothing adrift, a scrap of paper on the deck or a speck in the washbowl. He takes care of the torpedoes the same way. I don’t know of a better man for the job. I think he should be judged on his ability, not on some foolishness he did years ago in Shanghai.”
“Hong Kong,” Captain Mealey said softly. He looked away and then back at Rhodes.
“Mrs. Simms,” he said, very softly. “Is she still at your house, Chief?”
“No, sir. My wife took her home yesterday afternoon.”
“Is she marked up in any way, marked so she can’t appear in public?”
“I can’t answer that, sir. I can say that her face is not marked. My wife said there are some bruises on her body,” Rhodes’ strong face was working, his eyes troubled.
“With all due respect, sir, this is something I have no business talking about!”
“Mary Simms is the wife of a Naval officer,” Captain Mealey said quietly. “An officer under my command. She turned to the wife of an enlisted man for help in a marital crisis. There must have been a reason for her doing that rather than turning to another officer’s wife. You must know that reason, Chief. My point is that you do know about this business, as you call it. I want to know what you know if you will tell me.”
Rhodes sat silent for a moment. “Sir,” he began, “there is a reason for Mrs. Simms’ turning to my wife. Captain Hinman’s wife is dead. If she were alive I know Mrs. Simms would have gone to Marie Hinman. Mr. Brannon is detached. June, my wife, is well-known for her ability to solve problems for the enlisted men’s wives and their girl friends. It’s something she is very good at. I’m sure if Mr. Brannon had been aboard that Mrs. Simms would have gone to Mrs. Brannon.”
“Mary Simms did need help, then?” Joe Sirocco spoke for the first time.
“I have no personal knowledge of Mrs. Simms’ affairs, Mr. Sirocco, again, with respect, sir. If someone puts their confidence in my wife she doesn’t violate that confidence, not even to me.” Rhodes’ voice was stubborn, his face set in grim lines. “I’m sure that some of the officers aboard would be a better source of information, sir.”
“That may be true, Chief,” Sirocco’s voice was matter-of-fact, his heavy face almost devoid of expression. “But Mrs. Simms did not seek out an officer’s wife, she turned to your wife. Which, I think, is admirable. It must be wonderful to know someone to whom you can turn when in trouble.
“My point is that we, as the Executive Officer of this ship and as the Chief of the Boat, might have a problem with Mr. Simms. If Mr. Simms is a troubled man, it could mean some problems for Chief Barber and his Black Gang, it could mean some problems for you as the Chief of the Boat. Do you see my point?”
“I do, sir. If the time comes when I feel that I have to talk about Mr. Simms or any other officer, sir, I’ll come to you. I have no sign at this time that there is any problem with Mr. Simms and Chief Barber or Chief Hendershot or anyone else aboard.”
“Thank you, Chief,” Captain Mealey said. “One more thing, if you will.
“You disobeyed a direct BuOrd regulation when you modified those Mark Six exploders. Captain Hinman, who always has been an excellent shot with torpedoes, had astounding success with his torpedoes. It is my information that those exploders you turned in have been returned to their original condition, that the exploders we are getting for our torpedoes will be in the same condition. Is that your information?”
“Yes, sir, it is. Chief Warrant Haines of the exploder shop already told me that he had been ordered to do that.”
“That means they won’t work?”
“I would say that, sir.”
“We have to make them work properly, Chief,” Captain Mealey said. “Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, sir. They can be made to work.”
“That’s all, Chief. Thank you. Thank you very much!”
After Chief Rhodes left Mealey looked at Sirocco.
“He’s close-mouthed and very damned correct, Joe. I like that. He should be an officer; he handles himself better than most of the recent Academy graduates.”
“I’ve heard he’s one hell of a good man,” Sirocco said. “I heard the same thing about Barber. We threw Rhodes a couple of wicked curves but he didn’t bite once, just let them go by. What I’d like is to meet that man’s wife. She must be an extraordinary woman, don’t you think?”
“I asked Bob Rudd about her,” Mealey said. “Bob said she’s some sort of a mystic. She’s of Island stock, very beautiful as so many of those women are. He also told me that Admiral Nimitz and his wife are very fond of Mrs. Rhodes.” He stood up and stretched and smoothed his mustache.
“Not that that should make a difference — but it does.”
Walking up the pier toward where John Barber was waiting, Rhodes thought about the two officers and the interview. He couldn’t figure out Joe Sirocco; he’d always had trouble figuring out civilians — they thought differently than Navy people.
Captain Mealey was no problem. He’d served with officers who lived by the Book before. You followed the Book and everything went fine. He wondered what Mealey’s weaknesses were. He’d have to ask Hendershot about him — Hindu had served under him. He recalled Mealey’s habit of touching the right side of his mustache. Once, when the Captain’s finger had touched the hairs a little harder than usual, Rhodes had thought he detected a scar there. Did he have a harelip? No, the Navy wouldn’t take a man into the Academy with a deformity like that.
Maybe the Captain’s habit of constantly touching his mustache was vanity. The fit of his uniform, the knife-edge creases in the heavily starched khaki were a sign of a man with a great deal of pride in his appearance.
Then there was the obvious rapport between Captain Mealey, an Academy graduate known for his toughness, and Joe Sirocco, who was a Reserve. Why did they get along so well? Sirocco’s role in questioning without interference from Mealey had startled Rhodes. He raised a hand as he saw Barber wheel his car toward him.
There was another thing he’d better check on; it was obvious that Captain Mealey had access to a lot of information. He knew too much about Pete and Mary Simms, too much for a new Captain to know about. He knew too much about June Rhodes.
Chapter 13
“The Secretary of War, that’s Henry Stimson, decided the Army should share in some of the glory,” Ben Butler said as he and Hinman walked toward a car that flew a two-star General’s flag from its fender. “Stimson said that once the Navy got you here to Los Angeles, the Army would fly you on the tour. They’re giving you a Dakota, they also call it a DC-3, for the tour. It’s fixed up for a General to fly and work in, got bunks, an office, a little kitchen, the works.”
“Things move too fast,” Hinman said. “I don’t even know which cities I’m going to go to, how long this whole thing is going to last. Do you?”
“Nope,” Butler said cheerfully. “I only thought of the idea. I know you’ll be going to Washington because we see The Man there. I kno
w you’re going to New York and Chicago and back here to the West Coast to L.A. and ‘Frisco and some aircraft factories. But the President’s people worked out the rest of the schedule.”
“I suppose they’d know where the best places to sell war bonds would be,” Hinman said thoughtfully.
“They know that and they also know where the President needs to pick up some votes when he runs again in two years, if he does and I’m sure he will. That man Willkie scared him, you know, two years ago. Willkie got a bigger popular vote than FDR did. The Old Man has been mending fences ever since.” He returned the salute of an Army Sergeant who was standing at the rear door of the car.
“Your luggage is being collected, sir,” the Sergeant said. “As soon as the Corporal gets it here I’ll take you to your aircraft. They’re waiting for you.”
“It comes down to politics, doesn’t it,” Hinman said.
“You say that word like it was something dirty,” Ben Butler said. “You shouldn’t. Politics isn’t a dirty word, it isn’t a dirty profession. Some of the people who practice it are bastards, I’ll admit that. Maybe most of them. You have to remember one axiom, ‘Politics is the art of the possible.’ In the military service you can order a man to do something he doesn’t want to do and he has to do it or be punished. Can’t do that in many places in civilian life. Hard to do it at all in government. So you politic, you do what is possible. FDR is a politician. He had to see this tour as a chance for him to shore up some weak areas in his vote-getting powers. Don’t let it worry you. Now here’s what I got when we arrived, the instructions that were waiting for me.
“You’ll see the President tomorrow morning at the White House and have a private talk with him. Then he’ll hold a full dress press conference and introduce you to the newsreel cameras, the radio networks, the newspaper reporters and the rest of the world. Don’t get upset if one or two reporters take some heavy shots at the Old Man. He may be your Commander-in-Chief and mine but to reporters he’s just a politician who won the biggest race. He knows how to handle those people, you don’t. So while we’re on the plane I’ll give you some pointers.
Final Harbor (The Silent War Book 1) Page 12