Jack stood, leaned over and kissed me.
“You’re just saying that because you love me, Ashley.”
“Actually I’m saying that because you’re not just my husband and lover – You’re my best friend.”
“You have nothing to worry about, Ashley, nothing at all.”
Jack reached down to his briefcase pulled out a large notebook. He opened it and swung it around for me to see. It held hundreds of neatly typed pages, separated by dividers.
Without even glancing at the notebook, Jack then told me about the size of the crew on each of our ships, their armament, maximum speed, fuel capacity, and call signs, the code names for each ship. He discussed our cruisers USS Vincennes and USS Quincy, and Destroyer Squadron 11, or DESRON 11 consisting of four destroyers. He then went through each plane on the Wasp, giving me the minutest of details, including one plane with a landing gear problem. After he completed his technical review of Carrier Division Three, he then spoke about each of the senior officers on every ship, with details from their personnel records, including the executive officer on one of our destroyers who had a drinking problem.
So in four months, Jack had turned himself into an authority on naval ships, personnel, weapons, and tactics in 1941.
“Oh, and another thing,” said Jack. “I recommend that I be your liaison with all commanders, especially if a problem needs solving. It’s easier to come from your aide than from you. As a former managing editor, I figure that if I can browbeat editors and reporters, I can handle these guys.”
“I figured out who the replacement for my Chief of Staff is going to be, Jack.”
“Who?”
“You, Captain Thurber. Now give me another kiss.”
Chapter 80
In my 24 years in the Navy, I’d never been through the Panama Canal. It was Thursday, June 12, 1941, and Carrier Division Three approached the Eastern locks of the canal. I didn‘t even think an aircraft carrier could fit, but Jack told me that his research showed that an Essex Class carrier like the Wasp could fit and often did.
The temperature was 98 degrees and humidity was 100 percent. Thank God the office spaces on the ship were air conditioned.
The Wasp was towed into the first lock by the little locomotives ashore that ran along tracks parallel to the waterway. I thought her sides would scrape the walls of the lock. After 10 hours of lovely but monotonous scenery we sailed into the Gulf of Panama and then out into the Pacific Ocean. Our journey to Pearl Harbor would take between six and a half to seven weeks allowing for a division cruising speed of 18 knots. It could be slower depending on sea conditions.
***
Carrier Division Three arrived at Pearl Harbor on July 23, 1941. Jack and I stood on the flag bridge and took in the sights that we knew only from movies and history books. Battleship Row loomed in front of us, as impressive a sight as we had ever seen. As we passed the USS Arizona, I recalled my most recent visit to Pearl Harbor in 2010. Then, the Arizona was a sunken hulk, over which hung a bridge that served as a memorial and a museum. The Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor was less than five months away.
Jack and I talked about history, past and future, as only a couple of time travelers can.
Jack,” I said. “When we return to 2016 what do you think we’ll find if we visit Pearl Harbor? Do you think the Arizona will still be a memorial?”
“I was about to say, ‘of course not; we’re going to change that,’ ” said Jack. “But then I think about the Empire State Building and the Capitol Building, and suddenly I’m not the opinionated time traveler I once was. Not to mention my suddenly discovered concert pianist skills, and your fluency in a language you’ve never spoken.”
Chapter 81
All of the ships of Carrier Division Three tied up to their piers by 1630 (4:30 PM). I met with Captain Burton and reviewed our activities for the following week. A messenger knocked at the door of my office and handed me an envelope. Jack and I were invited to the home of Admiral Husband Kimmel, Commander-in-Chief of the United States Pacific Fleet.
***
Kimmel’s house was a Victorian mansion on a hill, with a panorama of the harbor as well as a spectacular view of Diamond Head. The temperature was 81 degrees, with typically Hawaiian low humidity and a gentle breeze. Our driver took us to the admiral’s house at 7 PM. I recalled our sweltering trip through the Panama Canal a few weeks ago. A young Asian woman, who appeared to be Japanese, welcomed us at the door. I wondered if, in the alternate history of the 1940s, she would spend the war in an internment camp. I walked over to her and we chatted for a few minutes, in Japanese of course.
Admiral Kimmel greeted us, wearing the standard khaki uniform of the day. Jack and I had been told to dress accordingly. He introduced us to his wife, Dorothy, who was also the sister of Admiral Thomas Kinkaid.
“With a name like ‘Husband,’ ” Kimmel said, “you wouldn’t expect me to be without a wife.” With that he broke out laughing.
I guessed that was his standard dumb joke when introducing Dorothy.
Both Kimmel and his wife had the same confused look that I was getting used to – a woman admiral in 1941?
We had an excellent dinner of lobster, prawns, and assorted seafood delicacies of the Pacific. As if on cue, Dorothy left the table after coffee. Admiral Kimmel wanted to discuss some sensitive security matters.
“Navy Secretary Knox has told me some interesting things about you folks,” said Kimmel. “He said that you’re here from another time, some 75 years into the future, 2016, I believe.”
Jack and I had grown so accustomed to non-time traveling skeptics that we had given up trying to persuade people that we’re from another century. If they buy it, fine. If not, not.
“I hope you understand that I find this time travel story somewhat hard to believe.” Standard stuff.
“Yes, it is hard to believe, but it’s true,” I said. My usual response.
“And what comes along with that package, sir,” Jack chimed in, “is that we are aware of what will happen between now and 2016. In other words, our history is your future.”
“Secretary Knox told me something about your prediction that the Japanese will attack Pearl Harbor in December, December 7 to be exact. That’s less than five months from now. You seem to have persuaded Secretary Knox, a no-nonsense man, so I’m going to suspend my disbelief, if only for a while. Please tell me what’s going to happen – according to your understanding of history.”
I told Admiral Kimmel, with a lot of input from Jack, exactly what happened (will happen) on December 7. I included the well-verified story of a bullet grazing Kimmel as he watched the attack, and his famous statement, “It would have been merciful had it killed me.”
“A lot of people blamed you, sir,” Jack said. “You’ll be happy to know that in the year 2000, long after your passing, a lengthy inquiry in the United States Senate exonerated you of any malfeasance.”
“You folks have just told me that two battleships were completely destroyed, two others were sunk and recovered, one grounded, and three others badly damaged. You also told me about the other ships, including destroyers and cruisers that were lost or damaged. So let me ask you a simple question. In your opinion, as senior naval officers, why shouldn’t I simply order my ships to sea the day before the attack? If your prediction of history is true, wouldn’t that just save the day?”
“In the years after the attack, a lot of people said that you should have done just that, sir,” I said, “even though you and your staff had meager intelligence. But, sir, if you ordered the slower battle wagons to sea against a Japanese fleet of swift aircraft carriers, the ships would have been sunk in the ocean, never to have been recovered. Keeping the battleships at Pearl wasn’t the big problem. Not knowing that the attack was about to occur was the problem. I recommend, sir, and I’ve discussed this with a number of other commanders, that you leave the ships at Pearl. I’m sure the Japanese have spies who would alert their government that the shi
ps left the harbor anyway. But attached to that recommendation is this: send as many carriers and submarines to intercept the Japanese fleet as you can. My husb..., I mean my chief of staff here, has a photographic memory. He even knows the approximate distance and direction of the Japanese fleet on the day of the attack. With an air and submarine attack, the Japanese can be stopped. We will stop them anyway, six months after the planned attack on Pearl Harbor, at an encounter known as the Battle of Midway. In that battle, we’ll sink four of their carriers and one of their heavy cruisers. But what I’m recommending is that we do in December 1941 what we’ll do in June 1942. Maybe we’ll even get the Japanese to a negotiating table.”
“And what is the relationship between us and Japan in 2016, where you folks say you come from?”
“Good friends, strategic allies, and trading partners,” I said. “The sooner we knock some sense into the heads of the militarists in Japan, the sooner we’ll get to that friendly relationship.”
“Admiral Patterson, Captain Thurber, I thank you for joining us this evening. We’ll be seeing a lot of each other in the coming months. Oh, by the way, Dorothy thinks that you two make a lovely couple, and so do I. Let’s keep that between us,” he said with a wink.
Chapter 82
Kurt Schweitzer here.
It’s amazing to say, but Herman Goering has persuaded Hitler to abandon the impossible plan to steal the American Hornet jet. After the Empire State Building attack, followed by the Capitol Building explosion, Hitler agreed that another incident could force the Americans to declare war, a war too soon.
I am thankful that those attacks occurred, forcing this change in the plan to steal the plane. I tried to persuade Goering that stealing the American jet was impossible. But the unfeasibility of the mission was lost on both Goering and Hitler. It was the other two incidents that persuaded them, not the impossibility of the task.
I contacted Hanse Jurgen of the Kissena Tool Shop to let him know that the project had been abandoned. Jurgen didn’t know the mission itself, only that his job was to make tools to disassemble the aircraft.
Now Goering can get back to his more important mission, looting museums.
But my task, which has not been lifted from me, is to find who was responsible for the attacks on the Empire State Building and the Capitol. The Fuehrer is concerned that there may be more attacks, and that they will be blamed on Germany. I know that Hitler wants war with the United States – it’s an open secret. But he wants to do it on his own terms, not as a result of some crazy people blowing up buildings.
What could possibly happen next? I wondered.
Chapter 83
“Bomb Attack on Golden Gate Bridge Thwarted”
The New York Times
Tuesday, August 5, 1941
By James Budden
A plot has been uncovered to blow up San Francisco’s Golden Gate Bridge in mid-span. Twelve men have been arrested under suspicion of a plan to attack the bridge next Wednesday, August 13, 1941.
According to government sources, the plan called for six large trucks, loaded with TNT, to be simultaneously detonated by the drivers, who would commit suicide in the attack.
The trucks have been captured and impounded. According to engineering experts, the amount of explosives in the trucks would have destroyed the roadway at mid-span, and could have led to a total collapse of the bridge. The amount of explosives involved has not been disclosed.
The suspects are men in their 20s, and all speak Arabic.
Government sources offered no further details, other than to say that the suspects are in jail awaiting legal processing. Their location is unknown.
***
“Buster,” said Bill Donovan, “is there any way that I can convince you to stay here in 1941? If it wasn’t for you, one of America’s most beautiful and vital bridges would have been destroyed. You’re an American hero. I just wish I could announce that to the newspapers.”
“Bill, you know what they call a spook who makes the headlines?”
“What?”
“A dead spook.”
“Okay, Buster, but the people in government appreciate what you’ve done. Any chance you can stay a while?”
“I appreciate what you’re saying, General Bill, and I thank you for your compliment, but I hope you appreciate my position. If you were me, you’d want to do the same thing; to go back to where you came from.”
“But how are you going to pull that off?” asked Donovan.
“Bill, are you sure that you have a need to know that information?”
“Okay, okay, I understand, Buster. From what you’ve told me about 2016, I think the American people will need you just as much then as we do now. You, Ashley, and Jack have had an amazing impact on our security. If this Pearl Harbor prediction is correct, we’ll avoid a horrible defeat. Don’t you want to stay for a while to make sure that your prediction comes true?”
“Bill, allow me to be blunt. The three of us can’t do more than what we’ve done already. We’ve raised a warning flag. It’s now up to the folks from 1941 to make the most of the warning. I’ve given you the information about the Muslim Brotherhood, so now what you have to do is recruit some Arabic speaking agents, and they can do what I’ve done.”
“I doubt anybody can pull it off like you did, Buster.”
“Thanks for the compliment, Bill.”
“Buster, you’ve become a friend, and I mean that. Here is a straight promise, and I don’t make promises that I can’t keep. I will do nothing to prevent you three from returning to where you came from, and further, I will do anything I can to help you, not that I have any idea how to do that. You’re the time traveler, not me.”
“I appreciate it, Bill. And I just may take you up on your promise when the time comes”
Chapter 84
It was Wednesday, August 20, 1941. For the previous three days I’d been putting Carrier Division Three through its paces with at-sea training maneuvers. It was 17:45 (5:45 PM) and we’d just tied up to our piers at Pearl Harbor. I sat in my office with my chief of staff, who I prefer to call my honey, Jack.
Exhausted from a trying day – make that a trying three days, we each took a shower and changed into bathrobes.
“How do you think the operation went, Jack?” I asked as I poured us coffee.
“Well, it wasn’t flawless, but I think it was a good exercise. The take-off times for the planes could use improvement, but Captain Burton already knows that. I’d give our gunnery exercises a ‘C.’ We need to do more than fire guns; we need to hit the targets. The torpedo drills from our destroyers get a ‘C+.’ I’ve told all of the captains that I want a report on your desk tomorrow with plans for improvement, not excuses.”
“Jack, you’ve gone from writer to naval war tactician in a few weeks,” I said as I squeezed his hand. “Roosevelt knew what he was doing when he promoted you to captain.”
“Do you want to know what I really think, Ashley?”
“Of course, honey,” I said, as I put my arms around his neck and kissed him. “What do you really think?”
“You and I aren’t needed, Ashley. Your position as Commander of the Carrier Division, and my job as your Chief of Staff is bullshit, if you pardon my bluntness. We’ve done all we can really do just by letting them know that the Pearl Harbor attack is coming on December 7. All the rest can be handled by these able folks who live in this time. The Navy has admirals like Nimitz, Halsey, and Spruance. We don’t belong here, honey. We’re not part of this history. What the hell do they need us for?”
Sometimes Jack nails it on the head. Maybe it’s been the experience of going through our first full Carrier Division exercise, and realizing that we’re part of the run-up to World War II. Jack and I are playing a role that just isn’t needed. His words hit me right between the eyes. What, pray tell, are we doing here?
We walked over to the couch. Jack sat down and I sat with my legs stretched over his lap. We love this position. It makes for
great conversation, among other things. Jack reached over and gave each of my aching feet a deep massage. I don’t think that I had been off my feet for about eight hours. It felt great. I could feel the stress leaving my body. I stroked his hair as he kept his thumbs and fingers busy. How can a foot massage be so erotic? Jack is amazing. He plays my body like he plays the piano – he makes beautiful music.
“In answer to your question, hon,” I said, “I have no idea why we’re here.”
We spent the past few days preparing for war, a war that doesn’t involve us, a war that doesn’t need us. I was finally relaxed, and frankly a bit aroused, especially after Jack’s wonderful foot massage. I sensed that Jack was letting go of his stress too. We wrapped our arms around each other and we kissed, a long, wet, lingering kiss. I felt a stirring beneath my legs. I began to unloosen my robe.
“My goodness, handsome. It feels like you’re happy that I’m here.”
There was a knock on the door of my office.
“Shit!” we both said simultaneously.
I walked over to the door and said, “Yes?”
“Petty Officer Conklin, ma’am. I have a couple of telegrams for you.”
“Just slip them under the door, Mike,” I said. I had begun to adopt Jack’s way of addressing enlisted people by their first names rather than their last, contrary to Navy tradition. Jack always felt, and I agree with him, that using a person’s last name is a sign of disrespect.
I returned to my comfortable position with my legs across Jack’s lap.
“Why spoil the mood, babe?” Jack said. “Why don’t you open the telegrams in the morning?”
“It may be something urgent.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
I opened the first telegram and read it aloud.
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