"Uh huh," Thompson said softly.
"We want to hit this location before it goes off the radar, Cam. The U.S. is making overtures to the Taliban government right now for them to turn Bin Laden over to us and they are expected to refuse and delay in order to move munitions and personnel around. Can we count on the Leyte Gulf?"
A long silence ensued. The Captain sat down again.
"You can count on us," he said with finality.
"Excellent."
"I need a cup of tea."
The two men laughed in spite of the situation.
"I need a bourbon," the Admiral replied.
"Perhaps, I'll forego the Earl Grey this once and join you, Dan."
Following a week in New York and a rare opportunity to go ashore before crossing the Big Pond, the battle group got underway and made quick work of wiping the famous New York City skyline from their view.
As the crew stood in mass formation, they felt the winds whipping at their uniforms. The salt air was fresh and pungent. Above them, the Captain stood, poised to deliver orders of some sort. Joe watched in anticipation as they waited.
"Men…I am honored to relay some encouraging words to you. During our brief stay in New York, I received a very special request, not only from the Mayor of New York City himself, but also from each and every New Yorker who wishes us fair winds and following seas on our mission."
The men were enraptured as he began pacing, his hands behind his back.
"We have been asked to take the memories of all those good people who lost their lives on September the eleventh and crush the sons-of-bitches responsible for this cowardly act of war."
A cheer went up from the crowd.
"They…deserve…justice!"
Again, another cheer rose from the crew.
"The Mayor wanted us to take all able-bodied New Yorkers on this trip…said they would all be lined up at the docks. But when I thought about how many people were actually waiting in line, I had to turn them away."
There were boos that followed as Captain Thompson smiled at the enthusiasm of his crew.
"Hell, the Leyte is tough, but that kinda weight would sink her!"
Another cheer rang out and Thompson smirked as he remembered his son, Michael, at that very moment.
"Therefore, as a compromise, we decided …as a symbol of defiance across this great nation…a symbol to show their terrorist mission was a failure in that we are not destroyed, we are not broken…we are now even stronger and stand united, that our nation’s resolve will be represented here on the deck of this ship in the form of…"
At that moment, he nodded to both his XO, Graft, and Master Chief Macleod, who then lifted up a severely tattered and beat-up American flag. The wind caught it and its fabric momentarily shuddered, but then steadied and whipped in the coarse breeze. A cheer broke the sound of the sea around them as Joe smiled broadly.
"This is the flag that flew atop the rubble of the World Trade Center…placed there by a group of New York's Bravest who discovered it amongst the ruins. We have been entrusted with this symbol of the enduring spirit of the great people of this nation, living and dead, and we will proudly fly these colors on our mast as a warning and as a promise. A warning to any damned terrorist that displays the testicular fortitude to cross our path!"
A huge cheer went up again as they saw another smile creep across the Captain's face. Graft and Macleod nodded in agreement as well, as they held the Stars and Stripes aloft.
"And a promise," the Captain continued, "that we will be knocking on the doors of the poor souls responsible and help them to meet ALLAH a little bit quicker than they planned!"
Another burst of cheering arose and the crew lost its formation.
"Stand by, Bin Laden, 'cause we're comin'! And the Big Apple's comin' with us!"
The crowd pumped their fists and chanted "U-S-A!" as the officers watched with pride as their tiny crew displayed such a huge heart.
It was in that moment that Thompson realized he had made the right choice.
Joe woke from sleep in a start. His nightmare from two weeks ago had revisited him and, while he didn't believe in prophecy, the vision certainly began to worry him. When he awoke from the nightmare on September the Eleventh, he would never have lent any credence to foresight or given the dream a second thought in normal circumstances. However, given the events that occurred and those which now catapulted him on this new trajectory in his life, he had to take pause and wonder about the validity of prophecy. Could he, in fact, be envisioning his own future?
Dismissing the thought, he rose and dressed and took the short amount of free time he had to visit with his friends. When he finally found them, they were crowded around the rail along with dozens of other sailors who were snapping pictures with cameras and cell phones. As he approached his friends, he gazed out and saw an amazing spectacle.
The ship was leaving the Atlantic and entering the Mediterranean. As they watched, the famed Rock of Gibraltar rose from a tiny, sandy plot of land up into the blue skies more than a thousand feet. While it would not have been as impressive placed next to the Rockies or, for that matter, next to the Alleghenies in the States, in this position, at the mouth of the Mediterranean Sea with Europe to the north and Africa to the south, it was awe-inspiring.
"Holy shit, that's huge," Joe commented. "What is it?"
"Rock of Gibraltar," Hahn answered with wide eyes. He had already been awake for a few hours in anticipation of this. It was these moments for Hahn that made the long deployments tolerable.
"That is one big-ass rock," Calen commented as he tossed his cigarette butt over the rail.
"British territory for over three hundred years," Hahn continued with the lesson. "We're entering the Mediterranean Sea, gentlemen." He continued to snap pictures.
"Could you send some of those shots to my email, Hahn?" asked Joe. "I want Toni to be able to see them."
"Sure thing, man."
"Hey, guys, look!" Dominic suddenly directed their attention to the rear of the ship where a British frigate, the HMS Warrior, was speeding toward the battle group.
"Who's that?" Calen asked to no one in particular. Before anyone could answer, the Warrior blew its whistle. One of the sentries above, holding a pair of binoculars, shouted, "HMS Warrior!"
Hahn's eyes widened more than before. "It's the Brits!"
The crew quickly moved along the deck as the Warrior approached. The British ship was close enough now where the sailors could actually see each other's faces, ship-to-ship. The Warrior's crew massed themselves along the rail and its sailors suddenly saluted them. The Gulf's crew raised a huge cheer that emerged from the gut.
"That's fuckin' unbelievable!" yelled Calen. "They're salutin' us!"
Joe suddenly leaned toward Dominic and tapped his arm.
"Is that an American flag on their mast?"
Dominic's eyes squinted as he searched.
"Sure is," was all he could reply with a small smile curling his lips.
"I'll be damned," Joe found himself saying as he marveled at the sight in front of him.
Then, to add even more emotion to the moment, the crew of the Warrior let drop a huge white sign along the ship's side that read, "God Bless America! Go get 'em, boys!"
The Leyte Gulf's crew erupted in unfettered pride and a sense of security in the belief that we weren't alone in all this.
"I don't believe it," Joe muttered as the crew around him continued to cheer wildly.
Captain Thompson, from the forecastle, watched with a knot in the pit of his stomach, but with his heart swelling from personal joy of the vindication that was soon to be meted out in Afghanistan.
CHAPTER FOUR
Out of the Mouths of Babes
Joe donned his "civies" and brushed his hair and teeth before making his way to Dominic's berthing. Dominic was strangely giddy and in a great mood, making Joe wonder if he was just happy to be going ashore for the first time in nearly a week or if there was som
e other hidden reason for his excitement. As they made their way through the ship's underbelly, Joe poked fun at his newly adopted positivity.
"You know, I heard that a person with ADD takes the meds to make him more aware," Joe began cryptically. Dominic gave his friend a strange sidelong glance. "You heard about this, right? Like, the guy with ADD acts normal. But, you give his meds to a normal person and that guy acts like he's all hopped up on Snickers' bars."
"What the fuck are you talking about?" Dominic said with a hearty laugh.
"Well, you heard that, right?" Joe pressed further.
"Yeah," Dominic conceded, still smiling, "a normal person who takes ADD meds acts like he's hyper."
"Right," Joe verified. "So…did you get your hands on Sexton's stash or what?" Dominic burst out laughing. "'Cause you're acting 'ka-razy'!"
"There is something seriously wrong with you, my friend," Dominic replied as he slapped his buddy on the shoulder. "C'mon. Let's get off this ship before she leaves port again."
Together, they began jogging along the deck toward the gangway. As they reached the top of the ramp, Calen and Sexton were waiting for them.
"Where're Hahn and Schmidt?" Joe asked as they approached.
"Those losers got duty," Calen answered as they made their way down the gangway.
"Aw, too bad," Dominic announced. "I got some cash burning a hole in my pocket and I was gonna spring for the first round."
"Wow," Joe sniped, "two weird things to witness tonight, huh? Sexton's first real night out on the town…and Dominic actually paying for something!"
The others laughed as Calen looked over at Sexton.
"Oh, right!" Calen began with a hilarious grin. "Sexton is a drinking virgin!"
"I am not a drinking virgin," Sexton countered in his southern twang. The others waited for the money line. "I've been drunk before."
"Listen, Sexton," Dominic shouted through a guffaw. "Gettin' a buzz off one wine cooler with your second cousin Jolene in the hayloft of your uncle's farm is not being 'drunk'!"
Joe and Calen pushed each other as they stumbled with hilarity.
"Her name wasn't Jolene!" Sexton answered with consternation, which sent the other three into even more rolling laughter. "Anyway, I think you dudes are just scared that I'm gonna give ya'll a run for your money."
"Hey, hey! Did you guys know that A-D-D stands for Alcohol Deficit Disorder?" Calen asked with a cackle.
"It's A-D-H-D!" Sexton yelled as they continued to walk through the old streets of Cartagena. He stopped walking, momentarily considering what was about to be a very strange and alien experience for him. Calen noticed and called back to him.
"Are you nervous, Sexton? A little concerned?" They laughed again.
"The only thing he should be concerned about tonight," Dominic threw out in jest, "is how scary the inside of that Spanish nightclub toilet is gonna be when his head is thrust halfway down into it!"
"Oh, God…" muttered Sexton as he suddenly pictured that scene.
Joe turned back, put a reassuring arm around his shoulder, and pushed him forward.
"Don't worry, Sexton," said Joe in a fatherly way. "I promised the Skipper that I'd keep an extra special eye on you tonight."
"Thanks, Joey."
The karaoke bar near the outskirts of the city was a favorite haunt of sailors from all over the world, but today, they were few and far between . The nightclub was stocked mostly with the typical Spaniard barflies and the highly specialized "bar flowers"; senoritas who were on the payroll of the club management, tasked with posing as everyday patrons who would flirt with the American and British sailors in order to get them to spend more money. It was a common ploy overseas and one that some of the "saltier" sailors had come to discover in their many deployments abroad.
Dominic warned many of his younger counterparts about these girls who were paid to sit at the bar and look pretty. For most young American sailors, the thought of why this youthful attractive girl was sitting all alone in a bar never really occurred to them as much as what amount of alcohol it would take to get her into bed. In fact, the bartenders typically watered down their drinks, or served them soda only, so that they could remain sober nearly all night. As a result, over the course of the evening, they could have two to three sailors spending upwards of four or five hundred dollars before the boys finally reserved themselves to the fact that this girl was never going to leave that barstool. When asked why they were called "bar flowers," Dominic told them that it was because they sprouted roots (figuratively, of course) wherever they were seated and never really moved during the time that you were "watering" them.
As they arrived in the bar, they started slowly with beers, but later began the shots portion of the night. As Calen and Dominic chided Sexton for being behind on his drinks, and Sexton began to show signs that he would soon fall into the realm of the "ossified," Joe excused himself so that he could use the pay phone to call Toni.
Off in the corner of a small, dim, grimy, foul-smelling hallway, Joe held the phone tightly to his ear, leaning his forehead against the wall in front of him as the music thudded dully through the walls of the club.
"Where are you now?" she asked him in a genuinely interested voice. She always inquired of his whereabouts because it always seemed that she imagined these amazingly exotic locations when, ninety-nine percent of the time, he was calling from a place exactly like this one.
"Cartagena," he answered.
"Spain?" she asked with a surprised edge to her voice.
"Yeah," he came back. "Dominic, me, and Calen took Sexton out for his first real drink."
"How many senoritas you got at your table?" she asked with a giggle, but Joe knew that this was not a light moment. When she asked a loaded question like that, he knew he'd better answer that there were none, even if there were girls sitting at the table. He knew that the answer should be "none" even when the girls were there for the single guys only.
"C'mon, Tone," he threw out casually. "You know that you're the only senorita in my life."
"Good answer," she said into the phone sarcastically.
"I would be having a great time right now if you were here," he confessed as he fingered the Spanish coins in his pocket.
"Yeah, yeah, sure," she made fun of him. "You're having a great time 'cause I'm not there with you."
"Are you kidding me?" he answered quickly and genuinely. "I would love for you to be here with me right now. You and me and Liam could walk around the city and see real history. This place is amazing. There are so many castles and fountains and statues…and the churches, Toni! Oh my God, they're gorgeous!"
"Sounds amazing," came her voice in a very small tone.
"I miss you so much," he said in a similar voice into the phone.
"Me, too," she replied as her words broke.
"This trip is a miserable trip…I just wish I was home right now," he explained. "Every day, all I think about is being home with you and the baby. It's so frustrating that all this shit has to be happening now."
"I know, babe," she caressed with her voice. "This is really hard on me, too. And all I keep thinking about is how long it's gonna be until you get home."
"Not soon enough, Tone," he put in quickly. "You still read to him?"
"Of course," she answered.
"Every night?"
"Every night," she reassured him.
"He still make that face when you tickle him under his chin?"
"Yeah, babe," she said with a smile forming on her lips.
"God, I miss that," Joe murmured sadly.
"Sometimes, I look down at Liam and he looks up at me with those big eyes as if he can understand all of this. Like he can actually feel what I'm feeling. Like I can hear him saying inside his head, 'where's my daddy?'…you know?"
"Oh, babe, you're killing me," Joe moaned with misery. "Every time you mention Liam missing me, I just wanna leave the Navy and come home. It's so hard to think about the two of you sleeping all alo
ne and I'm squeezed into this horrible little sardine can all the time. Sucks!"
"I love you," she whispered. Joe's eyes began to well up with tears.
"I love you, too, babe."
"Joe…listen…the mortgage company called today," Toni said in a serious way.
"What?"
"The mortgage company," she repeated. "We're behind on our mortgage."
Joe swore and slammed the small ledge on the wall.
"I'm sorry, Tone," he stammered. "I asked them not to call home."
"Honey, you need to tell me these things," Toni stated. "I can always get a second job, you know? It doesn't have to be –"
"No, no," Joe cut her off. "The daycare costs are through the roof and Liam needs you there at home. Listen, we'll be fine. I've got this figured out. The reenlistment bonus is up to forty grand and --"
Joe cut himself off in mid-sentence and grimaced.
"Babe, my card is running out, so I gotta go. Tell everyone that I miss them and give Liam a kiss for me –"
"Joe, you're not your dad, okay?" she said, which suddenly brought his thought process to a halt. He was silent for a long moment. "I know that you've been sending money to your mom for your dad's bills."
Joe put the receiver to his forehead and squeezed his eyes tightly shut.
"Joseph, I can handle you being at sea for long periods of time…and not getting phone calls for weeks," her voice came to him in echoing sonance. "What I can't handle is you feeling like you sacrificed your dreams for something that's not even your fault."
Joe was still quiet. Then, he found his voice, quiet and full of penance for his sins of omission.
"Toni, I –"
"Listen to me, sailor," she began in a more loving tone. "I know that you've never been the nine-to-five type. If that was what I wanted, I would've married Steve Ellison."
Joe's eyes opened and his eyebrows rose.
"You say that you hate the Navy," she continued, "but we both know that's not true. If you wanna reenlist, you'd better make damn sure that you're doing it for you…not for your father or your mother…or even us. You hear me, sailor?"
A SEA STORY: THE UNTOLD STORY OF THE U.S. NAVY RESPONSE TO 9/11. Page 8