“How soon do you plan to get her under way?”
The white-hot spark of a welder’s torch flew up from the Bokken’s still dented, V-shaped bow, as Henry Walker tentatively answered.
“How does a week sound to you?”
Stanley’s eyes opened wide in astonishment.
“A week you say? Just because you’re an Admiral doesn’t entitle you to ask for miracles. Henry.”
Walker’s tone softened.
“I’m not asking for a miracle, Stanley. Just do me a favor and look over that engine room real good. Whatever you need to get it back in shape, just ask for it and it’s yours. And to give you a hand, you’ve got a group of Commander Slaughter’s best and brightest at your service.”
“I don’t suppose you’re going to share with me exactly where it is you’re in such a hurry to get to-and why it’s got to be on this particular Romeo,” questioned Roth.
“You’ll begetting a full briefing as soon as you’re settled in,” promised Henry Walker.
“Though I can tell you right now that the voyage we’ve got in mind should only last fourteen hours each way at the most.”
“That sounds a bit more reasonable,” replied the portly master chief, who looked at his ex-shipmates and added, “Did Henry talk you two old salts back onto the company payroll for this one?”
“Let’s just say that both Pete and myself have decided to volunteer our services as consultants,” said Bill Brown diplomatically.
“While you’re doing your thing in the engine room, we’ll be passing on our wisdom to the lads who will be operating the rest of the boat.”
“Who knows, perhaps if we behave, Henry might even allow us to go along for the ride,” offered a grinning Pete Frystak.
“Things must have gotten awfully dull at that resort of yours, Frystak,” teased Roth.
“Does Kathy know what you’re considering?”
The veteran weapons officer grimaced.
“You’ve got that three-week winter’s stay on Big Pine Key you’ve always wanted in exchange for keeping your trap shut, Stanley.”
“That’s a deal!” Roth sealed the agreement with a handshake.
“You know,” Stanley reflected.
“This might not be such bad duty after all. So before I go and get sentimental, I’d better have me a look at those diesels.”
“I’ll expect that preliminary report from you tonight at eighteen hundred hours,” instructed Henry Walker.
“Not only does he want miracles, he’s a slave driver as well,” playfully muttered the potbellied Master Chief ashe turned to make his way over to the drydocked Romeo.
“See you shortly, Stan,” said Pete Frystak, who remained alongside Henry Walker, Bill Brown, and Chris Slaughter at the aft hatchway.
“Stanley seems as fiesty as ever,” observed Brown.
“The years sure haven’t changed him much,” Frystak reflected.
“We’re lucky to have him aboard,” said Walker.
“If anyone can pick apart the Bok ken’s engine room and make it tick, it will be Stanley.”
“But can he pass along his knowledge to my men?” asked Slaughter.
“When we’re out at sea a week from now, they’re the ones who are going to have to do the majority of the work in that engine room.”
“Relax, Commander,” advised Henry Walker.
“Chief Roth’s last assignment was as senior instructor at the Basic Enlisted Submarine School in New London. The way I hear it, he got his boys so motivated they practically jumped all over themselves to volunteer for duty inside the wet trainer.”
“I always said, next to his technical knowledge, Stanley’s best quality was his ability to work with other people,” said Pete Frystak.
“He’s the ideal man for this job.”
“I’ve certainly got full confidence in him,” added Bill Brown.
“I remember those days on the Cubera. If Stanley couldn’t fix something, you could consider it permanently broken.”
The Hawkbill’s captain appeared distracted ashe looked at his watch and queried, “What’s the schedule for the rest of the afternoon?”
Walker momentarily eyed Brown before answering.
“After your men get settled aboard the Bokken,
I thought they’d take a general tour of the boat.
We’ll exclude the forward torpedo room, where most of the yard work is being done. Pete, would you mind organizing this tour?”
“Not at all, Henry,” replied Frystak.
“Afterward,” continued Walker.
“I’d like to breakdown the group into smaller segments and begin concentrating on specialized duties such as diving the boat, operating its sonar, radio, and weapons systems. Even though the distance from Alpha Base to Takara Island is only two hundred miles, I want every aspect of the Bokken mastered by sailing time, which remains one week from today.”
“My navigator. Lieutenant Laycob, is fluent in Japanese,” interrupted Chris Slaughter.
“He’ll be able to translate the technical gauges and console labels into English.”
Henry Walker seemed most pleased with this news.
“Excellent, Commander. Get him on it at once. The only way we’re going to succeed is by making this a team effort. So please, don’t be afraid to share your thoughts and ideas.”
This prompted an instant response from Bill Brown.
“I think we’re going to need a detailed work schedule to gauge the men’s daily progress. We should also have a department-by-department list of individual personnel, with a qualification test of some sort to be given before we sail.”
“Admiral, do you have any idea how long we’ll be at sea?” questioned Chris Slaughter.
“If all goes as planned, three days at most,” returned Walker.
“Then, with your permission, I’ll have my galley staff transfer over enough foodstuffs to last us at least ten days,” suggested the Hawkbill’s CO.
Walker nodded.
“That will be fine, Commander.”
“I’d sure like to see some charts of Takara Island and that bay we’ll be penetrating,” Pete Frystak said.
“We should have something stored below in Hawkbill’s chart bin,” Slaughter responded.
“Do you want to have a look?”
Before answering, Frystak instinctively looked to his ex-CO to get permission.
“Go ahead, Pete,” said Bill Brown.
“There’ll be a meeting with the refit people on the Bokken at fifteen-thirty.
Then I’d like to pull together all the department heads and formulate that training schedule.”
“Aye, aye. Skipper. I’ll bethere.” Frystak followed Chris Slaughter back down into the Hawkbill’s hatch.
This left Henry Walker and Bill Brown alone on deck. A moment of thoughtful silence passed as they both gazed out at the drydocked Romeoclass submarine.
“We’re certainly going to have our work cut out for us,” reflected Brown.
“That we will. Bill. But together we’ve faced some pretty dicey situations and met them head on.”
Walker established eye contact with his former commanding officer before continuing.
“I realize it’s asking an awful lot to want you to just put your life on hold and fly out here.”
“Nonsense, Henry. In away, it’s good to be needed, to have areal purpose again. Ever since Mary passed on, all I’ve had is time and plenty of it.
If it wasn’t for my sailboat, I don’t know what I’d do to keep my sanity. And the Arcturus will be wai ing for me back in Longboat when this thing’s completed.”
“Mary was certainly a great gal,” said Walker with a sigh.
“I’ll never forget that surprise luau she threw for your fortieth birthday. Brother, were we socking down the rum that night! And when you put on that grass skirt and began to hula, I thought I was going to bust my gut laughing.”
Bill Brown couldn’t help but grin at this memory.
Yet his happiness soon faded to melancholy.
“I miss Mary so damn much, sometimes I think I can’t get through another day without her,” he admitted, his voice filled with emotion.
“My god. Henry, we shared over two-thirds of our lives, though I spent most of that time at sea. I seemed to be perpetually leaving her on some dock with tears in her eyes. But not once did I hear a peep of complaint from her.”
“Mary had a special way with the wives of the crew,” Henry Walker recalled.
“When we were at sea, she always gave a helping hand to the families that needed one. Don’t forget, it was Mary who drove my Monica to the hospital when our first child was born. And I can’t count the number of times she was over at our house with that blessed tool kit of hers — whenever the plumbing backed up or the fridge gave up the ghost.”
“She did enjoy working with those tools.” Brown’s heavy mood was beginning to lighten.
“Do you know, once I even overheard her discussing the proper way to replace a frayed electrical cord with Stanley Roth, during a dependent’s cruise aboard the Cubera?”
Henry Walker smiled.
“She was one in a million, Bill. And you should thank the good Lord for allowing both of you the time you had together. But life moves on. And I’m sure Mary would want you to put her passing behind you. As you very well know, life is too short to waste in mourning what will never be again. Just be thankful for the memories you have, and in that way Mary will never really be that far away from any of us.”
A group of young sailors dressed in civvies and carrying seabags emerged onto the Hawkbill’s foredeck and began exiting the sub byway of the gangplank.
Bill Brown’s thoughts changed focus ashe noted that these individuals were headed straight for the dry dock.
“So there goes the first of them, Henry. I pray to God they can pull this thing off.”
“With you, Pete, and Stanley around, how can we fail?” joked the grinning Director of Naval Intelligence.
“We won’t let you down, Henry. Though I hope I can say as much for that toxicologist you introduced us to during the briefing. Assigning her to a SEAL team is like throwing her to the dogs.”
Walker’s handsome face broke out in a full grin, and he shook his head.
“From what I’ve seen of the good doctor, she’s more than capable of taking care of herself. Don’t let her frail frame fool you. Dr.
Miriam Kromer’s a tough one. And in this instance, I’m afraid it’s the men of SEAL Team Three who are going to have their hands full.”
A narrow, earthen footpath had led them up into the thickly forested slopes of the mountain whose hollowed-out core was the site of Alpha Base.
Miriam Kromer was glad to escape the stuffy confines of the cavern and join the SEALs in what was supposed to be “a mere stretching of the legs.”
From the moment they’d left the fenced-in security perimeter, the SEALs had set a blistering pace.
This hike was well into its second hour, and it took a total effort on the lexicologist’s part to keep up with her four muscular escorts, who had the added handicap of carrying fifty-pound backpacks.
Miriam had always prided herself on her excellent physical state. She swam, rode a bike, and jogged regularly. Twice a week, she even attended aerobics classes. Since she always enjoyed agood hike in the woods, she saw no reason why she couldn’t keep up with the SEALs, who’d remained cold and distant ever since Admiral Walker had introduced them to her. It was obvious that it had not been their idea to ask her to join them on this mission, and now they were trying to intimidate her by displaying their physical prowess. If at all possible, Miriam was not going to give them the satisfaction of breaking her.
Their present course took them alongside a dried-out creek bed, its banks lined with lofty pines. The wiry, wavy-haired SEAL nicknamed Cajun led the way, ashe had from the start. Second in line, some twenty yards behind, was the serious-faced giant known as Old Dog. Close on the Texan’s heels was Warlock. He was the brains of the outfit, and Miriam felt very comfortable with the MIT graduate around. Unfortunately, she couldn’t say the same for the blondhaired Romeo who had been incessantly dogging her for the last quarter of an hour. She had met her fair share of guys like Traveler in the past.
Blessed with abundant good looks and motivated by overactive hormones, such men were determined to make every female they met fall in love with them.
Miriam certainly had no intention of falling for such a heartbreaker, yet no matter how hard she tried to increase her stride to escape his pesterings, the persistent commando was right at her side.
“Just yell, honey, if it’s too much for you,” advised Traveler as they crossed the creek bed and began climbing up a scrub-filled embankment.
“I’m fine,” replied Miriam between breaths.
“But I’m glad I usually run at least ten miles a week.”
“That’s great, hon,” returned Traveler with a self-satisfied smirk.
“But we do at least that much every morning, and that’s before breakfast!”
A series of steep switchbacks led them out of the valley and farther up into the forested slopes. The rain that had accompanied them for the first hour of the hike had dissipated, but the humidity remained, and with the temperature hovering in the mid-eighties, Miriam’s fatigues were soon drenched in sweat.
The steeply sloping gradient of the path did not let up, and she could feel the effects of this climb in her thighs and the backs of her legs. She was thirsty, hungry, and out of breath, but determined not to falter.
Trying her best to focus her concentration solely on her leaden stride, she looked up in astonishment as Traveler proceeded to sprint the rest of the way up the incline with apparent case. True to form, he was waiting for her at the top of the switchback, with a Cheshire-cat grin lighting up his sweat-free face.
“Not bad, hon,” he calmly observed, while scrutinizing her body with all the intensity of an anatomy student.
“Hey, are you married?”
Barely stopping to catch her breath, Miriam did her best to ignore this irrelevant query, and hurriedly continued up the next switchback. Traveler was not to be denied, and rushed back to her side.
“I take that as a no,” he said ashe matched her stride step for step.
“Then tell me, hon, are you at least shacked up with anyone?”
Again Miriam increased her pace to escape this pest. And once more the persistent SEAL caught up and addressed her.
“Well, another no. Would you like to be shacked up then? I’ll tell you, hon, a body like yours shouldn’t be wasted.”
This comment proved to bethe proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back, and Miriam halted and vented her anger while looking the commando right in the eye.
“Look, buster, I don’t know what your problem is, but could you please give me some space. And quit calling me honey!”
Warlock was sipping from his canteen when he overheard this outburst. He quickly sized up the situation, and backtracked to intervene.
“Come on, Trav. Give the lady a break!” he firmly warned.
“She’s a special V.I.P guest, not one of your barfly girl friends.”
Traveler calmly replied, “Keep your shirt on. Warlock.
I was just testing the waters a bit. There’s no harm in that I hope. You guys have no sense of humor.”
Shaking his head in mock disgust, he added, “See you later. Doc,” making a special effort to emphasize this last word.
Traveler continued on up the trail, leaving Warlock behind to defend his honor.
“Don’t mind Traveler. He’s really quite harmless.”
“That type usually is,” said Kromer, who had no trouble at all matching Warlock’s steady pace.
They reached the top of the switchback, and she gratefully found that this was the extent of their upward climb. The path leveled out now, and they followed it through a forest of stunted oaks.
“How are you doing, Doc?” asked Warlock, his tone showing true concern.
“Are we pushing you too hard?”
“I’ll survive,” said Kromer.
“Though I’ll certainly sleep well tonight.”
Several minutes of contemplative silence followed as they continued on through the oak grove.
Strange-sounding birds with deep fluid voices called from the twisted branches that gently swayed in response to a soft breeze.
“You know, I’m impressed that an outsider like yourself has volunteered to tag along with us,” Warlock said softly.
“But you know, I’m beginning to wonder if your presence is really that necessary.”
“Admiral Walker seems to think that it is,” snapped the toxicologist.
Warlock sensed her frustration, but pushed on regardless.
“I’m not about to go second-guessing an admiral. Doc. But couldn’t you just draw us a detailed picture of what that BW lab looks like. It would sure save a lot of wear and tear on your part.”
“I wish it were that simple,” replied Kromer.
“But from what I understand, the building complex you’ll be entering has a number of different industries based under one roof. I’ve worked at several different biological warfare labs, and know precisely what to look for. It could take you days to find the lab.”
Warlock’s response to this was simple.
“Not if we take down the whole damn place it won’t.”
The path led them past a massive wall of rock that had several large caves cut into it. Much of the rock face was chipped and blackened, and it was Warlock who explained the significance of this damage.
“See those tunnels. Doc. The Japs hid in them when our invasion force landed here to take the island back in nineteen forty-five. That blackened area — those are scorch marks caused by the flamethrowers that eventually burned those bastards out.”
“I understand there was quite a battle to take this island,” said Kromer.
“One hundred and twenty thousand soldiers never lived to return home,” Warlock declared bluntly.
As they passed the last of the caves, the footpath began to gradually slope downward. They rounded a sharp bend in the trail, and entered a wide, tree-lined valley. The air seemed cooler there, and the gusting wind carried the hypnotic, throbbing cries of forest creatures.
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