One Man's War

by Thomas J. Wolfenden

  “Alright then,” Johnson nodded. “I’ll plot out a course for Lima right now while you do that, but I won’t make any course changes until I hear back from you.”

  With a curt nod, Jerry left through a hatch into the interior of the ship. Johnson went to the coffee pot and poured himself another cup. He sat in the captain’s chair and looked out the front windscreens contemplatively.

  A few minutes later, Suplee came onto the bridge, poured himself a cup of coffee and came up to Johnson.

  “What’s the story?”

  “Harry, why aren’t you asleep?”

  “I was about to turn in when I heard Jerry’s announcement. What gives?”

  Johnson gave him a brief rundown on what had transpired in Arizona, and Suplee let out a long whistle.

  “Now we are going to sail to Washington, DC,” Johnson told him.

  “Who came up with that bright idea?” Suplee asked incredulously.

  “Me. We have to do something, don’t we?”

  “That’ll take a month or more!”

  “I know, but it might take them that long to get Tim back to DC also. Jerry’s going to down to talk to the men and see if they all agree. If it’s not unanimous, we’ll turn around and head back to Pearl.”

  Suplee caught the helmsman’s eye. The man had heard all of the conversation between Johnson and Jerry and now this one with Suplee. He shrugged at the old-fashioned ship’s wheel. “If you don’t mind me saying so, I’m all for it. That Sergeant Major guy saved us in Pearl, and I think we owe him.”

  “I agree,” Johnson said. “And I don’t have to remind you what he did for us back on Volivoli. He could have just as easily left us there.”

  Suplee stared at Johnson for a few moments, and then a smile split his face. “Okay, I agree, San Diego or Washington, DC, what’s the difference?”

  “Several thousand nautical miles,” Johnson said.

  “Eh, in for a penny, in for a pound my mom always said. It’s not like we have to be anywhere else.”

  “I guess. Now go back to your cabin and get some sleep,” Johnson told his first officer.

  “I’ll let Beth know our honeymoon cruise has been extended,” Suplee grinned. “So, Skipper, do you think we can do it?”

  “I don’t see why not. The lady may be old, but she’s built well, and she’s just as seaworthy now as she was in 1943. Besides, I have the best First Officer a man could ask for, and a great crew. Yes, we can do it.”

  “I guess that’s settled. It doesn’t matter, I’d sail anywhere with you,” Suplee told his friend.

  “I appreciate that, Harry. The feeling is mutual. But we won’t know until Jerry talks to the troops.”

  “Let me know, will you? I’m going to turn in. It was a boring mid-watch and I’m bone tired.”

  “And, Harry? Get some sleep, okay? I know how you and your blushing bride like to make up for all the dry years.”

  Suplee winked at Johnson and disappeared through the rear hatch. Johnson looked at the new chart on the table, scratching his chin, deep in thought.

  Below decks, Jerry burst into the dimly lit hold and climbed up on top of one of the Bradleys that were securely chained to the deck. Standing on the 30mm chain gun’s turret, hands on his hips, he looked around at the mass of faces looking back at him. Clearing his throat, he asked in a booming voice, “Is this everyone?”

  A voice from the back called out, “Some are still asleep; they were working overnight in the engine room.”

  “When I said everybody, I fucking meant everybody, goddamn it! Go and get them up! I’ve got something important to say!”

  The man who had shouted out scurried away, back into the next hold where the bunks were set up. Feeling very tired all of a sudden, Jerry sat down on the turret, the long barrel of the chain gun sticking out lewdly from between his legs.

  He scratched his head and the back of his neck, and when he looked up, the man he’d sent to get the others came back into the hold followed by several men who were yawning and rubbing the sleep from their eyes.

  “I’m glad you ladies could join us. I’m sorry that I disturbed your beauty sleep, but I’ve got something to tell you all!” he shouted, standing on the turret again. He looked around with a scowl, then softened and let out a sigh. “I’m sorry. I know you’re all volunteers, and you didn’t have to be here. I keep forgetting this isn’t the army anymore.”

  When he thought he had everyone’s attention he started. “Like I said, we’re all volunteers. You know what we’re on this ship for, and why it’s so important. I’ve just received bad news from Arizona. Really, really bad news,” he said, then went on to tell them of the deaths of Holly and the baby, and how most of the people who had departed Oahu were lost. He also told them of Tim’s capture, and his being transported back to Washington, DC. He let it sink in, before he spoke again.

  “Are there any questions?”

  A man who was standing in the front of the formation, stepped forward and shouted, “So when are we going to go to DC to kick some ass?” and when the last words left his mouth, the crowd erupted with cheers, applause, and shouts of approval.

  Jerry raised his hands. “Okay, okay. I like the enthusiasm! Now settle down! At ease!”

  When there were all quiet enough for him to continue, he did. “That being said, it’s not going to be easy. I know for some of you this short crossing hasn’t been a pleasure cruise,” and there was laughter and joking around, and some good natured teasing of the few who were still seasick.

  “So here it is. I’m going to lay it all out for you, and I won’t sugar-coat it or feed you a load of bullshit. We can’t drive all the way cross-country with the Bradleys. We can’t use the Panama Canal, because it’s most probably choked with derelict ships, and it would take an army of men a few years to clean up any mess that we’d face. So the next question is this, are you all prepared for an extended sea voyage?”

  There were several replies in the affirmative, and more shouts of approval. When the men had settled down yet again, he went on. “I’m telling you right now it’s going to be at least a month, or even longer. We’ll have to sail all the way around South America, and the seas will be at times rough. It’s going to be a long, messy trip, with only a few stops for fuel and food, if we can find it.”

  He didn’t get any replies and there was silence through the hold. “Okay, so here it is. You’re all volunteers, and I can arbitrarily say that we are now going. I need you all to be one hundred percent with me on this, if we have any dissent at all, we turn the ship around and head back to Pearl. Now who is with me?”

  A shout went up so loud from the mass of men it echoed, in a roar, which startled a fruit bat that had somehow stowed away in the hold and was sleeping, hidden in the upper beams in the darkness. The bat screeched noisily at being disturbed, and flitted about high above everyone’s head, making swooping circles, trying desperately to escape the light and the noise.

  They all laughed at this, and Jerry shook his head and muttered to himself, “That’s right, I must be batshit crazy!” Alright. Now that we have a consensus, you can all go back to what you were doing, and I’ll go and let the good captain know we’re going to DC!”

  Another round of cheers, whistles, and catcalls erupted in the confines of the cargo hold. Jerry hopped down from the top of the armored fighting vehicle, and as the crowd of men dispersed, he walked over to one of the men he’d appointed as NCO. “Jimmy, I need you to keep up with the schedule of training.”

  The man nodded. “No problem. I’m on it.”

  “I mean it. I want to keep the men busy. It’s going to be a long trip, and we need to keep everyone occupied. If you see anyone just sitting around, find something for them to do, okay?”

  “I’ve got a new roster posted, and those not assigned to help with the daily operation of the ship I’ve got cleaning weapons and running the Bradleys for a half hour every day so the batteries don’t take a shit.”

  �
��Good. And another thing, check with Mary and Steve up in the galley and see how much food we actually have. We may need to start rationing.”

  “Okay. I’m also going to check how much fresh water we have. We might have to start rationing that too.”

  “Bill said something about salt-water soap. I think he loaded a bunch of it before we left Pearl. If that’s the case, we’d be better off using seawater for showers.”

  “Jerry,” Jimmy asked, “do you think we can pull it off?”

  “Pull what off?” Jerry asked. “The trip around South America or taking care of unfinished business once we get to DC?”

  “Both.” “Only time will tell, Jimmy. Only time will tell.” He slapped the man on the back. Without another word, Jimmy departed into the ship. The bat had disappeared somewhere, and now Jerry stood alone with his thoughts.

  Yeah, he thought they could do it. No problems there. But would they be able to make it in time? He fervently hoped so, for everyone’s sake. He took one last look around and stalked off, making his way back to the bridge to let Johnson know they were prepared for the journey.

  As he made his way through the ship, he saw several people busily working away at various mundane chores, painting rust spots, coiling ropes, mopping the floors…decks he corrected himself; it was a deck, and sailors swabbed the deck not mopped the floor. He smiled, and thought he’d never get used to this life at sea, he’d much prefer to be on dry land.

  He made his way up to the weather deck and walked along the rail, looking out to sea. It was a pretty nice day. He saw a few seagulls approach and circle the ship, realizing they must be close to San Diego. His mind went back to his history lessons, and though of those first brave sailors who had sailed westward from Europe hundreds of years ago. They had still thought the Earth was flat then, and were sailing into the dark unknown. After months at sea, surviving raging storms and other perils, how elated they must have been when they saw the first sea birds in a long, long time, knowing they must be close to land.

  He let that thought slip back into his mind and entered the superstructure, winding his way further upwards. When he passed the galley, he could smell something wonderful cooking, and his stomach rumbled when the aroma passed his olfactory senses.

  He let that slip away as well; his first order of business was to let the captain know that his plan to navigate around South America and into the Atlantic Ocean was a go.

  He finally made his way to the bridge, finding Johnson sitting comfortably in the captain’s chair, sipping on what seemed to be a never-ending cup of coffee. He probably bleeds coffee, Jerry thought as he approached the chair.

  Seeing Jerry come into the bridge, Johnson asked, “What’s the verdict?”

  “I’m surprised you didn’t hear the cheering all the way up here,” Jerry replied. “It’s a go.”

  “They’re all for it?”

  “To a man, Bill.” “Alright then,” Johnson replied, then told the helmsman to steer a new course that he’d already plotted.

  Jerry walked up to the windscreen and looked out over the forecastle and bow and let out a little laugh. “I love the irony.”

  “How’s that?”

  “When I was growing up, I’d hear tales from my granddad. He was a World War Two vet. He hated the water, and couldn’t swim. He didn’t want anything to do with the Navy, so he enlisted in the Army. I’m about the same. Swimming isn’t my forte, you know,” Jerry said, turning away from the window. “It’s why I joined the Army myself. Anyway, he enlisted in the Army, and was trained as a tread-head in the all-black unit, 761st Tank Battalion. He had gotten shitloads of medals in France and Germany before the war was over.”

  “You must have been proud of him.”

  “I was. Pop never did like the water all that much. Myself, I think he was afraid of it. But he wanted to do his part for the war effort, and even though things were a lot different back then, as far a race goes, he went willingly,” Jerry told the skipper.

  Johnson enjoyed these stories, so he motioned Jerry to continue. “So how does the irony fit in?”

  “I’m not sure what his thought processes were, or how he thought he’d get to Europe to fight the Krauts, but boy was he pissed when he saw that they were loading them all up on a troop ship!”

  The ship was heeling to starboard, turning south, and the sun’s rays changed direction, casting shadows behind Jerry as he stood, and Johnson, along with the helmsman, who had been listening silently to the story also, let out a laugh.

  “I’ll bet,” Johnson said. “That’s a good story.”

  “Well, like I said, I love the irony. Here I am, like him, hating the water, heading off to war in a goddamn troop ship,” Jerry said, pearly-white teeth showing in deep contrast to his dark complexion.

  “I’ll make sure your cruise is a pleasant one, Sergeant,” Johnson told him.

  “You’d better. The food is good, but the nighttime entertainment leaves a lot to be desired,” Jerry pointed out in mock seriousness.

  “It’ll be like the Love Boat.”

  “At least it’s not a dry cruise, Skipper,” Jerry replied.

  “But of course. I’ll always ensure the men get their daily ration of grog. And the floggings will continue until morale improves,” Johnson joked.

  “So here I am, going off to war in a troop ship, just like my granddad did. Hell, he might have even sailed on this tub,” Jerry remarked.

  “He might have at that, Jerry.”

  “I never thought I’d be going to war with my own goddamn country is all,” he said. “I just hope we can do what’s right, Bill.”

  “I know what you mean. It’s our whole future at stake now.”

  “I’ve always thought it all wasn’t about what world we live in right now, it’s the world we leave for our kids,” Jerry said.

  “Exactly,” Johnson said.

  “After that terrible night, the night everyone died, I had all but given up hope,” Jerry said.

  “I think a lot of us had. Surviving was our only hope at all, and even then it was pretty grim.”

  “There was no hope, none at all. Most of us had given up hope of a god, because what all loving and omnipotent being would let that happen? I mean what the fuck had we done to deserve that?”

  “Not a damn thing,” Johnson replied.

  “Your captain on that destroyer made life a living hell for everyone along the Pacific Rim.”

  “I’m sorry about that, Jerry,” Johnson said, saddened by his actions on that ship.

  “That’s not your fault, Bill. You were caught with no escape, so don’t even think about that,” Jerry said. “Then, along comes Tim. He had a plan to make everything better. Maybe not the way things were, because we wouldn’t want to go back to that, would we? He wants to live in peace, build society back up, with a firm grasp of what’s right and wrong. Go back to the basics of what our country was founded on. He, like the rest of us who’ve served in uniform, was sick to death of all the fighting. Fighting for something we’d lost sight of years ago. We didn’t want to fight, but we were still willing and able to do so if the cause was right.”

  “And just,” Johnson agreed.

  “And just,” Jerry said, nodding his head. “Sure as shit, once we got rid of your nutty captain and had things well together, along comes some other asshole who wants to rule the world.”

  “Just like that Tears for Fears song from the ‘80s,” Johnson said and Jerry laughed.

  “I haven’t heard that one in years,” Jerry said. “So now we’re faced with a fight for our very survival, it’s our freedom or enslavement. I don’t take too kindly to the thought of being a slave. Too many of my ancestors had to deal with that.”

  “I agree with you. This is our second American Revolution, I’d guess you’d say.”

  “Bill, did you know that only three percent of the colonists were on the side of Washington?”

  “No, I never knew that.”

  “It’s true.
I’ve got almost two hundred men here with me to fight. That’s a full twenty percent of the population of Oahu. The percentages don’t lie. This is, I think, bigger than that first War of Independence.”

  “And our leader, Washington, Jefferson, Paine, Adams, and Ben Franklin all rolled into one, is in trouble.”

  “You know,” Jerry said, “he actually hates being put in the same category. He blushes and gets angry.”

  “Go figure, a brigade sergeant major who’s humble,” Johnson laughed.

  “Here we are, our little one-ship task force, sailing off to make history,” Jerry said.

  “Task Force Resolute,” Johnson said, picking up his binoculars and scanning the horizon.

  “Resolute…that’s a good name for it,” Jerry said and walked out to the wing bridge, letting the warm breeze hit his face.

  Chapter 24: 750 Grains of Diplomacy

  Tim sat with his back against a tree, just outside the ring of light given off by the campfire along the side of Interstate 80, halfway between Lincoln and Omaha, Nebraska.

  The trip had taken them eight long days, and they had stopped for the evening. He tried to block out Colin’s incessant, beer-fueled bragging, and the nightly stories got taller each night, enough so to make Tim want to beat the man unconscious. The sight of him, every day, strutting around so cockily with Tim’s M3 Grease gun, infuriated him.

  He held himself back, because he knew if he did that, he’d surely be killed. The men the sergeant still had were wary of him, even though he’d come along peacefully, almost docilely. He promised them he’d be no trouble, had come along without a fight, without thoughts of escape, and they had left him to his own devices for the most part.

  He sat puffing on his now battered pipe, lost in his own depression, thankful that they’d let him have his one simple pleasure. Waves of emotion washed over him, the thoughts of his infant son, of Holly gone now, of Robyn, lying in her bed bruised, battered, and crying as he left, knowing he’d probably never see her again. He knew it was depression, and his appetite had suffered considerably, but he couldn’t shake it.