One Man's War

by Thomas J. Wolfenden

  He checked his watch, saw that it was only 10 AM, and set forth aft to begin his inspection. It took him a few hours, and he was satisfied that all was going according to schedule with the painting and preventative maintenance throughout the ship.

  He stopped in to speak with Steve, who was happily preparing fresh roast pork for supper in the galley. The aroma teased Johnson’s senses, and made his mouth water. He left the man to his work, and climbed the steps, called ladders on a ship, to the bridge deck.

  Once on the bridge, he prepared a pot of coffee on the drip coffee maker Suplee had set up on the aft bulkhead. While that was brewing, he walked out onto the wing bridge again, in time to see a camouflaged 6x6 truck pull up to the gangplank, and Suplee exiting the cab.

  Several men began unloading the truck at Suplee’s directions. Johnson waved down to his second in command, which Suplee returned with an exaggerated salute.

  Johnson stepped away from the railing, heading back into the bridge, where he found the coffee had finished brewing. He poured himself a cup and headed aft to his office.

  He busied himself going over records of overhauls in the past, double checking to see if there were any hidden recurring problems with the ship. Finding none, he sat back, finished his coffee and waited for Suplee to arrive.

  He heard a knock, and then Suplee’s face peered around the edge of the door.

  “Come in, Harry. Did you speak to Ken?”

  “Yes sir,” Suplee replied. “He’s right behind me.” Suplee planted his butt on the edge of Johnson’s desk and motioned for Ken to take the only other chair.

  “I know you’re wondering why I’ve gathered you here tonight,” Johnson said ominously in a comic voice once they were all seated, and the other two men laughed at Johnson’s theatrics.

  Suplee said, “Ken told me you gave him a special job today, and you wanted to talk to both of us.”

  “I had a visit this morning from Sergeant Williams. He was wondering about the ship’s cranes, and if we might be able to load up some tanks in the hold.”

  Ken laughed, then asked, “What’s he plan on doing, invading someplace?”

  “You’re not too far off the mark, Ken,” Johnson said, then gave a brief rundown of Jerry’s idea.

  When he was done, Suplee said, “I’m all for it, Skipper, if it’s possible.”

  “What’s so special about this guy back in Arizona?” Ken asked.

  “Ken,” Johnson said, “Harry and I owe our lives to that guy back in Arizona. In fact, if you want to get down to brass tacks, everyone throughout the whole Pacific Rim who’s survived the Event owe their lives to him.”

  “Yeah, Bill’s right. You remember our story, where we got saved on that atoll?” Suplee said to Ken. “This guy is the one that saved us.”

  “I get it,” Ken said. “So you want to load some tanks? I know that Abrams weighs something like sixty tons. The two cranes closest, fore and aft, to the superstructure are only rated at fifty tons, so I wouldn’t chance it.”

  “I think he was talking about the Bradley fighting vehicles. He said they only weigh thirty tons,” Johnson said.

  “Okay then. The fore and aft inboard are rated for fifty tons, the outer cranes are only rated at ten tons. So yeah, in theory, we can load up a few Bradleys,” Ken informed Johnson.

  “We’d have to figure out how many he wants, to see if we can fit them all in the holds, then we have to figure out fuel storage for them, and bunks for the crews, and whatever other incidentals he wants to bring aboard,” Suplee said.

  “Then we can do it?”

  “I don’t see why not, Skipper. The number one hold is already set up in troopship configuration. I think the museum staff who maintained her did it for display purposes,” Ken said.

  “Great. Then I can let Jerry know we can do it. Now all we have to find out from him is when he wants to sail, and where to,” Johnson said.

  “I don’t think Arizona has a deep water port, skipper,” Ken said, “unless California finally did fall into the ocean.”

  “Hey, Bill, wasn’t one of those Aussie guys some kinda’ railroad guy? Said he was going to get the trains running?” Suplee asked.

  “That was the idea, for us to have a direct link to Tim in Arizona and Jerry out here on Oahu.”

  “I hadn’t heard any news about that, maybe they got the trains running.”

  “I hope so, Harry, or it’ll be a long drive from Cali to Arizona,” Johnson said. “And that, my friend, will be Jerry’s issue. We’ll just get him there.”

  “Are you thinking back to San Diego?” Ken asked.

  “That would probably be the best port. I told Jerry I’d come over this afternoon to his place when I found out about the cranes. I’ll discuss it with him then.”

  “Is that all, sir?” Ken asked.

  “Yeah, that’s it for now. I’ll let you know more when I talk to Jerry.”

  “I’ll head back deck side to finish up the detail then, if you don’t mind, sir.”

  “You go ahead, Ken. We’ll talk after chow tonight. I think Steve is roasting a whole pig.”

  “I can smell it now!” Ken said, getting up to leave.

  “I don’t have to add that this is to be kept quiet for now, do I?” Johnson said.

  “Mum’s the word, sir. Loose lips sink ships, and all that shit. I’ll keep it to myself.”

  When Ken had left, Suplee asked, “Skipper, if your dream was to become the commodore of an amphibious task force, it’s about to come true.”

  Johnson laughed. “Well, a one ship task force is better than a no-ship task force. Not exactly what I had in mind when I took command of this ship.”

  “Do you think Jerry can pull it off?”

  “Now that I know the cranes can lift the Bradleys, I know we can get him there. The rest of it will be up to him. It’s a long drive to Arizona from San Diego,” Johnson said, standing. “I need to go and tell Mary I’m heading over to Jerry’s.”

  “Mary went with Beth earlier to Honolulu. She took Billy with them, some sort of shopping trip,” Suplee said. “Want some company?”

  “Good thing I hid the credit cards,” Johnson said, and Suplee laughed. “Unless you’ve got anything better to do, sure, come along.”

  The men proceeded through the ship, down the gangplank, and got into the cab of the 6x6. Suplee fired up the diesel engine, lit a cigarette, put the truck in gear, and headed out.

  They made it the twenty miles to the western side of the island, to the hamlet of Mákaha. After a few turns, they found Jerry’s modest bungalow at the end of a tiny road that ended at the beach.

  They walked together up a footpath covered in crushed seashells to the lanai, where they found Jerry sitting at a table, notebook open in front of him.

  He smiled as the men stepped up on the porch. “I heard you pull up. I was just making some calculations. Have a seat.”

  Johnson and Suplee both sat at the table and Johnson said, “I talked it over with Ken and Harry here, and they say we can lift the Bradleys with the cranes.”

  “Great! I just spoke with Tim about an hour ago. He says he could really use the help.”

  “I’ll say. How many did he say he was up against?”

  “He’s not a hundred percent sure, he thinks it’s around a company-strength unit coming at him. Not a lot from a purely military point of view, but he reckons he’ll only have about four people left to fight them after he sends Holly and Robyn off with the plane.”

  Suplee whistled. “Shit, only four people? If I was him, I’d just pack up and leave while he can!”

  “I agree, and I told him as much just a while ago,” Jerry said somberly.

  “He won’t, though, will he?” Johnson asked.

  “No. He’s dead set against running. Says he’s got a few surprises for them, and I don’t doubt it, but the odds are stacked way against him.”

  “What’s your idea?”

  “This is what I’ve got so far,” Jerry said
, looking down at his notes. “Over at Schofield, there’s a whole company’s worth of Bradleys and Abrams that just came back from the Ghan a few months prior to the Event. I figure I can get about four of them operating. I’ve got some men working on that right now. Between those four, and about a hundred or so men from here, we can put together a formidable force to deal with anything that’s up against our people in Arizona.”

  “How long before you’re ready?” Johnson asked.

  “I figure about a week. How long do you reckon it will take to sail to San Diego?”

  “About two weeks,” Johnson said. “How long does Tim figure he has before they get to him?”

  “He’s not sure. He said the unit was last seen somewhere near Denver, that was several days ago. At this point, he’s fairly certain they have no idea exactly where he is, so that might buy us some time.”

  “You mean they might spend a month or more tearing around Arizona looking for him?” Suplee asked.

  “Yeah, though we can’t know for sure.”

  “How did he find out all of this?” Johnson asked.

  “Remember that guy from my group from Volivoli that went over with him?” Jerry asked.

  “Yeah, Sam something or other,” Johnson said. “He was going to find some old Indian and get some buffalo or something.”

  “Apparently he was successful. He was on his way back from Nebraska with a few of them, and just by chance, he stumbled upon the convoy, Tim tells me. He’s been shadowing their movement since.”

  “Jerry, I want to help. I’m thinking it might be too late though.”

  “I agree,” Suplee said. “By the time you guys get out there, it might be all over. I figure three weeks, then another week or so to get to where they’re at overland. That’s a whole month.”

  “Did you find out if that railroad guy was ever able to get a train running?” Johnson asked.

  “No,” Jerry said, shaking his head. “Tim hasn’t heard from him in several weeks. I don’t expect any help from that quarter. The Bradleys use up shitloads of go-juice, and an overland trek with them will play havoc on their tracks. They were never designed to travel hundreds of miles in one shot. They are usually trucked in close on lowboys or by rail to where the action is, and then offloaded. A hundred miles or so in one shot is all they can handle before shit starts to break on them.”

  “So, basically, you’re telling me that even with all the effort we might undertake to get you there, it’s essentially futile,” Johnson said.

  “Maybe so, maybe not. I do know that from the time Tim and I first got the warning from whoever it was back in Washington to the time Sam first saw the soldiers heading that way, it was over two months. Something slowed their progress west, something we don’t know about,” Jerry said.

  “It was probably the roads,” Suplee said. “You should have seen the roads back in Cali. And ‘Frisco was a complete mess.”

  “That’s what I figured myself,” Jerry said.

  “That could hamper your travel also,” Johnson said.

  “That’s a chance I’m willing to take, Bill. I’ve got to do something.”

  Johnson sat there for a few moments in deep contemplation. He let out a deep sigh. “I can get you to San Diego. We can load up as much fuel and ammo you need to take, and the men.”

  “Great, Bill! Thanks!” Jerry beamed.

  “Hell, it’s the least I can do. I’ve got the ship, and we weren’t planning on anything like a couples cruise.”

  “I wasn’t looking forward to the entertainment,” Jerry cracked.

  “Good, because our band sucks,” Suplee said. “They only know two songs.”

  “And the all-you-can-eat buffet leaves a lot to be desired,” Johnson added.

  “I understand. Look, I just wanted to ask you what you thought. I may be setting out on a fool’s errand, but if I sit back and do nothing, I’d never be able to live with myself,” Jerry said, almost as if he was trying to convince himself.

  “Then it’s settled,” Johnson said.

  “Oh, something I should have asked right off the bat— how’s the ship coming along?” Jerry asked. “No sense even planning this if it’s not ready.”

  “Don’t worry about that, Jerry. She’s ready now. Except for a few minor painting jobs, the bunkers are full and everything is ship-shape,” Johnson said cheerfully.

  “The only thing that needs to be done is the bottom, below the waterline needs to be scraped and repainted. There’s a lot of fouling and barnacles that takes a few knots off our blisteringly fast top speed of eleven knots,” Suplee said. “She needs to go into dry-dock, but I guess one more trip to ‘Diego and back won’t hurt.”

  “I can plan on everything being ready a week from today?” Jerry asked hopefully.

  “That would be a safe bet, Sergeant,” Johnson said. “If that’s all you need from us, we’ll head back to the ship.”

  “I think so. If I think of anything else, I’ll be sure to let you know,” the lean black man said, looking at his watch. “Jan will be home soon, and I promised I’d have dinner ready.”

  “Jan?” Johnson asked with a wry smile on his lips.

  “Yeah, you remember her. She was the pretty little blonde dentist who fixed your broken tooth,” Jerry said.

  “Oh, I remember her,” Suplee said appreciatively. “Lucky guy!”

  “Everyone needs someone!” Jerry stood, closing his notebook. The other two men stood also, and shook his hand. “I see you have found someone too, Harry.”

  “Yeah, I call her my mermaid. She came paddling up to me one day out of nowhere singing her siren song.”

  “I think we all need a little domestication,” Johnson said. “It cleans up our rough edges.”

  “That it does, and gives us a little adult supervision,” Jerry said, leading them back down the path to their vehicle.

  The two sailors climbed back into the truck, and Suplee started it up. Johnson leaned out the passenger window and called out to Jerry over the sound of the diesel engine, “Keep us informed. We’ll make the ship ready for whatever you decide.”

  “Wilco, Captain!” Jerry exclaimed, and waved as they away.

  Suplee turned onto the highway leading back to Pearl. “So, Skipper, what do you think?”

  “What I think is that we have a job to do. Frankly, whether we think it’s a fool’s errand or not, we owe it to him and Tim to help. Besides, we’re not the ones who will be fighting, we’re just driving the bus.”

  “Crazy world, eh?”

  “Insane,” Johnson said, looking out at the passing countryside.

  “I can’t help but think of all the crazy shit that we’ve been through, Bill, all those years on that fucked up ship.”

  “And us launching those Tomahawks at Pearl. I still feel so guilty about that.”

  “You took a big chance when you retargeted those missiles. You do realize what would have happened to you if Ol’ Lead Bottom had found out, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, I do. It doesn’t stop me from feeling guilty about launching them. Hell, about all the shit we’ve done. If by helping Jerry move some men and tanks from here to the mainland helps assuage my guilt a little bit, I’m going to do it.”

  “I’m one hundred percent behind you, Skipper,” Suplee said. “It’ll be a quick hop to ‘Diego and back, like shit off a shiny shovel.”

  “Like what? I’ve never heard that one before!” Johnson chuckled.

  “I heard one of those Aussie guys say it once, and I thought it was funny.”

  “One of the ones who went over with Tim to Arizona?”

  “Yeah, the big guy, balding, kind of a know-it-all,” Suplee said. “I know who you’re talking about. Seemed like a bullshit artist to me.”

  “Yeah, he seemed like he was full of shit to me too. I wonder if the sergeant major feels the same?” Suplee said, deftly steering the truck towards the pier where the Liberty Ship was moored.

  “I’ll ask him next time I see him,�
�� Johnson replied, looking out over the base. He took note of how, even here in paradise, nature was rapidly taking back what was hers. Weeds grew out of every crack of pavement, grass was tall and un-mowed, and vines were creeping up the sides of every building.

  They passed the docks where other ships were moored, ships that were built to go into harm’s way, Man O’Wars, now silent sentinels covered in bird droppings like a bronze monument to a long forgotten war in some town park.

  As they pulled up alongside the ship and parked, Suplee took note of Beth’s Yugo parked near the gangway. They had brought it with them, lowered into the hold next to several World War Two vintage Jeeps and trucks that were put there by the now long dead museum staff who lovingly kept the old girl afloat and steaming.

  “Looks like the girls are back from spending all of our sea pay, Skipper.”

  “I see that,” Johnson said, alighting from the passenger side. “Maybe they found my credit cards after all.”

  “Hell, you’re an officer, you make the big bucks.”

  “I try not to spend it all in one place like a drunken sailor on a Cinderella Liberty like you do, Mr. Suplee.”

  “Don’t laugh, Skipper. I did that in Hong Kong on my first cruise.”

  Johnson chuckled. He let Suplee go first up the gangway, slapping him playfully on the back as he passed.

  When they reached the top of the gangway, Suplee said, “Bill, I’m going to find Beth. I’ll see you in the wardroom later?”

  “Sure thing, Harry, I’ll be in my quarters if you need me,” Johnson replied, entering the hatch and disappearing.

  Suplee saw Beth up on the forecastle, in the armored ring that held the now demilitarized 5” gun. She was leaning on the edge of the armor plating, back towards him, gazing out at something unseen by him. He made his way across the weather deck and passed the closed cargo hold hatches, then up a short ladder to the gun emplacement, minding the ‘WET PAINT’ signs placed thoughtfully by Ken’s paint detail earlier.