One Man's War

by Thomas J. Wolfenden

  Beth’s back was still towards him, and she still hadn’t heard his approach. She was silently looking out over the inner harbor, towards Ford Island Naval Air Station and Battleship Row, where the USS Arizona monument stood, brand new American flag flying over it, no doubt placed there by one of Jerry’s men.

  The USS Missouri was across the water also, looking forlorn, and her entire superstructure was covered in white bird droppings, rust streaks running down her once proud sleek gray hull to the waterline. The sight saddened him.

  He tiptoed up behind Beth, playfully covering her eyes from behind, leaned in and whispered, “Guess who?”

  She giggled and grabbed his wrists, spun, and wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him gently on the lips. “I missed you today. Where did you and the captain get off to?”

  “We went over to see Jerry. We’ll be sailing in about a week,” Suplee told her, hugging her close.

  “Why so soon?”

  “He wants us to take some equipment and men back over to the mainland. It’ll be just a quick hop there and back.”

  “A quick hop, huh?” she laughed, poking him playfully.

  “Two weeks there, two weeks back.”

  “That’s a whole month. What am I going to do?” she asked, pouting.

  “Honey, you are coming with us,” he said.

  “Really?”

  “Babe, I made a promise to myself right after we met that I’d never, ever go to sea again and leave someone I love behind. You’re part of the crew now, and you can steer the ship just fine.” Suplee kissed her, and then placed his forehead against hers.

  Beth gently caressed his cheek, looking deeply into his eyes. She saw the pain that was still there, although he’d never admit it.

  “It still bothers you, eh?”

  “It’ll haunt me for the rest of my life.”

  “I won’t leave you. If you were going to leave me, I was just going to stow away!” she teased, sticking out her tongue. Her face darkened. “I still can’t imagine the things you said happened on that ship.”

  “Bill and I kept ourselves sane by having each other to talk to. If it wasn’t for him, I’d have gone completely crazy.”

  “So tell me,” she said, changing the subject that she knew was painful for her lover to talk about, “what’s the soldier want to take over to the mainland?”

  “Oh, nothing much, just a few tanks and a hundred men or so,” he replied as nonchalantly as he could.

  “Tanks? Men? Please don’t tell me you’re going off to war?”

  Suplee took Beth into his arms and held her tightly, kissing the top of her head. “No, babe. If there’s any fighting to be done, it’s going to be in Arizona. We’re just taking him and his equipment to San Diego.”

  “Good. You’d think that after everything that’s happened, so many people dead, and after what you went through, people would stop fighting.”

  “Yeah, you’d think so.”

  “Why is he going over there?”

  Suplee gave her a brief rundown on Tim, his settlement in Arizona, rehashed what he did on Volivoli, and how everyone here on the island felt about him.

  Beth walked back over to the edge of the gun emplacement and looked out over the harbor again. She sighed deeply. “I guess that some things are still worth fighting for. I don’t have to like it though.”

  “I’m not asking you to like it. But I think it’s important.”

  “It is, Harry. Look out there,” she said, pointing out to where the USS Missouri was moored, and toward Battleship Row. “Every time I look out there, I can still see those old black and white newsreels, the ships exploding, the bodies in the water. A chill crosses over me. I haven’t told you. My great grandfather was here that morning. I only met him a few times, and I was still young when he died. I remember a photo of him in his Navy uniform my grandmother kept on her mantel. He looked so young. He was just a boy then, and it frightens me that unless we stop fighting and learn to get along, even more boys will die.”

  “I want that too. Maybe this will be the last time,” Suplee said, knowing in his heart it wouldn’t. Something he heard Tim say once came to mind: ‘There will always be someone who wants to rule the world’, and Suplee knew he was right.

  “Maybe, maybe not. I had a brother killed in Afghanistan right before everyone died. My mom cried for days and days, and I just kept asking myself what was it all for?”

  “That’s a question I can’t answer, babe. I wish I could.”

  “Maybe you can talk him into coming back here. You said we’re safe here. We’ve got thousands of miles of ocean surrounding us here.”

  “That, I think, is no longer an option.”

  A whiff of something wonderful briefly wafted by their noses, and all thoughts of death and war drifted away from their minds. Suplee’s stomach rumbled, and reminded him he hadn’t eaten since morning chow.

  “That smells wonderful!”

  “Steve is such a great cook. He could whip up dog food and make it into fine dining.”

  “Let’s go get some chow before it’s all gone,” Suplee said, taking Beth by the hand and leading her away.

  “Oh, all you sailors are all alike. Try to win us over with your fancy talk and great food.”

  “I’ll bring some chocolate and nylons next time!”

  Chapter 16: Spies like Us

  John Thompson sat hunched over a notepad in the dim light from the lantern, his finger poised over the Morse key, his other hand holding the earpiece for the headphones tightly to his left ear, sweat pouring off him in the oppressive heat. Washington, DC, he was reminded every summer, was actually built on top of a swamp, and in the summer the heat, combined with the humidity, was almost unbearable without the luxury of air conditioning.

  When the beeping of the dots and dashes finished, he picked up a pencil, wrote down a few words, and tapped out a reply. He took off the headset and turned off the radio, looking at the words he’d written. He leaned back in his chair and sighed. The headaches that came and went were now becoming more frequent, and the pounding only accentuated his fear of being discovered.

  He had set up the ancient Heathkit Ham radio in an unused back bedroom of his Georgetown brownstone, the thick coaxial antenna cable snaked out the window up to the roof, were a homemade dipole antenna stretched between two wooden masts that he hoped would stay unseen by any curious and inquisitive passersby.

  He pulled open a drawer on the battered wood desk, and saw the old Webley .445 pistol. He kept that, among other things, hidden from Barbra. She didn’t like guns and he didn’t want her overly worried.

  Satisfied it was still there, he quietly shut the drawer, and was startled by a voice.

  “John, are you coming to bed?”

  He nearly jumped out of his skin, and spun to see her standing in the half open door, old and frayed housecoat wrapped tightly around her, despite the sweltering heat. Her shoulder length chestnut hair was neatly brushed out, but her brilliant blue eyes were tired, face drawn with exhaustion.

  “Just coming now, babe,” he said hoping she didn’t see everything in the room. He kept it locked when he wasn’t there so she didn’t look in; he didn’t want her to worry. However, the proverbial cat was out of the bag now. His heart beat loudly in his chest as her eyes left him and scanned the room for the first time.

  “What is all this stuff, John?” Barbra asked, walking over to a map of the world that was taped to a bare wall, colored pushpins placed in various locations, post-it notes with scrawled notations placed by more than a few of them.

  “It’s work stuff, babe. Nothing to worry about,” he said unconvincingly.

  “John, for a spy, you can’t hide things very well,” she replied, turning away from the map. “Tell me, please. I’m worried about you.”

  “It’s nothing,” he said. “I’m not a spy. I was just an analyst on the European desk before all this.”

  “Maybe so, John, but you’ve been acting like a sp
y for a few months now. And you’re having nightmares. Please, please talk to me!”

  He reached out and took one of her hands, squeezing it gently.

  “Alright. I figure I owe you as much. Let’s go downstairs. I’ll fix us both a drink and I’ll tell you.”

  “Everything?”

  “Yes, babe,” he sighed. “I’ll tell you everything.”

  He picked up the lantern and led her out of the room, locking it behind him. They walked down the narrow corridor and down the stairs to the first floor, lit only by the yellow light from the flame. He wished the solar panels he had set up on the roof would power more than the refrigerator, but he was pushing his luck as it was with the radio every night; there was barely enough juice to power those two, let alone lights and an air conditioner. The house felt like an oven even with all the windows open, and he couldn’t even imagine what it was like in the other hovels that people were living in all over the decaying city.

  He went to the kitchen instead of the living room. It was towards the rear of the house, and it would be less likely anyone would overhear what he was about to say through the open windows.

  He led Barbra to a chair at the table where they shared now infrequent meals, setting the lantern in the center. He silently retrieved two rocks glasses, then a bottle of Jack Daniels from the cupboard.

  John opened the freezer door, and for a second stood there and let the cold air hit his face. He grabbed a handful of ice cubes from the tray and plopped a few into each glass, pouring a healthy double shot of the potent brown liquid into each. He then pulled out a two liter bottle of flat Coca-Cola, and topped off the glasses.

  He sat down across from Barbra, sliding her drink across the tabletop, quiet for a few moments, trying to figure out where to start.

  Barbra took a sip of her drink, set the glass down and asked, “Who were you talking to? The men they sent out west?”

  “No, I was talking to the envoy that we sent to Europe several months ago,” he said, taking a sip of his own drink, feeling it burn on the way down.

  “I thought you had said no one heard anything from them since right after they got to England?”

  “That’s only what I told the general and the president. I’ve been in contact with them for months.”

  “Why?”

  “Because things are coming to a head here, it’s getting dangerous. I warned them not to come back, and to let everyone on that side of the ocean to stay away.”

  “Stay away! John, we need all the help we can get!” she almost screamed.

  “Keep it down!” he hissed, reflexively looking behind him at the open kitchen window.

  “John, I see the suffering daily. We’re almost out of the most basic medical supplies, food is running out, and people are starting to die! If we don’t get some help soon, it’s going to get worse. I know it sounds crazy, that things could be even worse than they are now, but believe me, it will.”

  “I have my reasons,” he stated.

  “Honey, you promised to tell me everything!”

  He looked at her in the lantern light and sighed. She was right, he did promise. He inhaled deeply and held it for a few moments, then let it out in an audible whoosh. He looked down onto the bare tabletop. “I think the president has lost the plot.”

  “Ya think?” she said, words dripping with sarcasm. “John, he promised all these people a whole lot, and has failed us in every way. I don’t have to tell you there’s no food left, there’s no power, no running water, and no sewage. Dysentery is endemic, we’ve had several cases of malaria, and just today the doctor thinks we’ve had our first case of cholera. It’s goddamn medieval!”

  “Not to mention the cases of pneumonic plague,” he said. “All the more reason I’m doing what I’ve been doing.”

  “Please explain, because it’s not making any sense to me at all…” Barbra trailed off, taking a gulp of her drink.

  “The president is slipping. The men we sent out west for instance; they’re not going out there to find medical supplies, or food, or solar panels or wind turbines. He’s sent them out there to get one man; who has what he thinks he needs, and he’ll stop at nothing at this point to get it.”

  “That’s insane! What could one man possibly have that he’d want?”

  “You’re going to shit yourself, I’ll tell you that,” he said. Before he continued, he stood, went over to the open window, and stuck his head out. He looked around, and not seeing anything or anyone in the darkness, came back to the table and sat down. “He wants the codes for the nukes,” John said, looking Barbra right in the eyes.

  “He wants the codes for nuclear missiles?”

  “That’s what I said, babe.”

  “This is all a little too much. I don’t understand,” she said, brushing a wayward strand of hair away from her face. “Why the hell would he want those when there are more important things he needs to be having done? Can’t the general do something?”

  “The general is firmly in his camp, so are Tom and the major. I’m all alone with this. I’m not a hundred percent certain, but I think the man found the codes in the wreckage of Air Force One several years ago. He was a sergeant major with the PA National Guard,” he said, downing the rest of his drink. He stood and got the bottle, and then the Coke from the fridge, setting it down on the table.

  He fixed himself a fresh drink, topping her glass in the process.

  “How do you know he has the codes?” Barbra asked.

  “He’s used them,” John said flatly.

  “What?” she gasped and her jaw fell open.

  “You head me. He’s used them to launch one missile we know of.”

  “If that’s the case, he’s just as crazy as our president for Christ sake!” she said incredulously.

  “Maybe, maybe not,” he said, then went on to tell her what he did know, some conjecture woven in, about the rogue ship’s captain terrorizing the entire Pacific Ocean, and how he’d found out that there was a very successful settlement now on Oahu and several of the outer islands in the Hawaiian chain, how this sergeant major had made his way back from Hawaii, and now had an equally successful settlement in Arizona.

  When John was finished, he took a swallow of his forgotten drink, dropping the empty glass on the tabletop as if to put an exclamation point at the end.

  “You found out all of this by listening to the Ham radio and breaking their codes?”

  John nodded.

  “And the president knows all of it?”

  “No, not all of it. I’ve only told them a tiny fraction of what I’ve found out. The president would come unglued if he knew about the launch. In hindsight, I wish I’d never told them anything.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I think they’re doing a great job out west, and frankly, I think they should be left alone.”

  “The thing that keeps nagging my mind is this; why not just get things back together here? Why the quest for the codes? What could he possibly do with them now?”

  “Rule the world. I said he’s lost the plot, on an epic scale.”

  “John, we need help here. Maybe this sergeant general or whoever can help us here, help us get the lights back on, get the water running?”

  “It’s sergeant major and you’re right. We should be sending out an olive branch to him, but we’re not. That nutty major is going out there, and most probably he’ll destroy everything this guy has set up, loot everything else, and bring this guy back in chains so the president can hoist him up on a petard in a public display to show everybody here who’s the boss.”

  “So what are you doing?” she said, getting animated, her fear turning into anger.

  “The first thing I did was warn our good sergeant major and his compatriots on Oahu, though I don’t know what good it’ll do,” he said, pouring another drink. He was starting to feel looser, and the words were flowing easier now. “I think it won’t do any good except to let them know the good major is on the way and not let him
be blindsided. In the end, he’ll either be killed or captured.”

  “What about the envoy?” she asked.

  “Not a lot to tell there. For all the president knows, he’s missing in action since shortly after he landed in the United Kingdom.”

  “What has he told you?”

  “Not a whole hell of a lot at first. When I finally convinced him I wasn’t on the president’s side, he was a bit more forthcoming. He’s contacted two settlements, one in London, and another one in Hastings, of all places. They’re a lot better off there than we are, and they don’t want anything to do with our fantastic leader.” The last word was spat out like it was poison.

  “John, do you remember when we first met?” Barbra asked after pondering all this for a moment.

  “I do,” he said.

  “We thought the world had ended, and we were the only ones left. It was just you and I.”

  “We got along, and survived.”

  “That first horrible winter we worked as a team, stayed warm. We were terrified, but we had food. When we started to meet others, and we came here and found even more people, and that there was a president, we were elated. He promised so much.”

  “Yeah, and we thought that everything was going to be alright then.”

  “That was when there were still plenty of things laying around that we could use. No one thought that all that stuff would someday run out. No one had the forethought to plan for that eventuality.”

  “We were just as guilty, babe. We thought all of it would still be there for years.”

  “We did. Everyone just took it for granted that out leader would take care of our every need.”

  “Yeah, just like before the Situation. People were accustomed to having the government take care of them. No one was self-reliant anymore.”

  “It’s the same now, John. What we need here is someone who’ll get everyone together, to work to get things back on track. Get the power on, get the water running, get farms producing food. Not someone gathering canned spam and beans from ever farther out of the city, only to have what little is brought back be rationed out piecemeal, the best of it going to that asshole in the White house, the crumbs to us unwashed masses.”