Ingram and Toliver had a good view of the work from the Wallace’s bridge, where they leaned on the bulwark and drank coffee. Electronics technicians and radarmen working in the pilothouse were installing two new radar repeaters. But a better show was taking place over the length of the ship as gunner’s mates were removing all five of the Wallace’s 5-inch 38 main-battery gun barrels; intense action, especially off Okinawa, had worn out the liners. The black canvas bloomers had been taken off. Then the guns were elevated straight up. After this, the gunner’s mates rotated the barrels a half turn, disconnecting them. Everything was ready to go.
Toliver looked up as the wire cable on one of the Piedmont’s cranes dangled over mount 52 on the 01 level. “You did what?” he asked with mock incredulity.
“I said, we bought a house.”
“You’re still full of Thanksgiving turkey.”
“No, I’m not. We bought a house.”
“How did you find one?” With millions of servicemen and -women coming home, the housing shortage had become acute. Every one of them seemed to be starting a family and clamoring for a house.
“We were lucky. We’re buying the Alma Street house in San Pedro that we’ve been renting since 1943,” said Ingram.
“A house. What the hell for? Your career is just getting started, Commodore. Your next posting will probably be in D.C.”
“We need the room.”
“Huh?”
“Helen’s pregnant. We’re going to have another baby.”
“Hey, number two. Congratulations, Dad. Do you know when?”
“Doc says next May.”
“Amazing. I owe you a cigar.”
The two fell silent amid the cacophony. At length Toliver said, “I miss this.”
“Say again?” said Ingram.
“Shipboard life. It’s simple.”
Ingram said, “Most of the time. But remember, there are occasions when you do get shot at.”
“Don’t I know it? I don’t miss the combat at all. I don’t know how you stuck it out, Todd. I had to get a medical.”
“Oh, horse feathers.”
“Sometimes I think I’m yellow. I really don’t—”
“Ollie,” Ingram interrupted, “you gave it your all. You don’t have to worry about being yellow. I nearly cracked out there too. And you saved my butt. I’m sure you’d do just as well, probably better, if you were challenged again.”
Toliver rolled his eyes. “Wait a minute. You saved me.”
Ingram shrugged. “None of it matters now. It’s over. Ships are going into mothballs. People are getting out and going into civilian life. Gun bosses and ship captains are a dime a dozen and the Navy is kicking them out. But you’re in a very important billet. And I think we’re all a lot safer because of it.” Ingram sipped coffee. “Your dad still angry?”
“Never writes. Hardly speaks to me.” Toliver looked up and smiled.
“A shame he doesn’t realize what a great job his son is doing.”
“Sometimes I wonder about that.”
“Ollie, damn it.”
“Okay, okay, false modesty. Actually, I like ONI.” He tried to stretch. “Except the hip is getting stiff. Could be the weather. Arthritis maybe. They may have to operate again. I’m seeing a specialist at the Orthopedic Hospital in downtown L.A.”
“Hey! Is it close to Wong Lee’s?”
Toliver flushed.
Ingram grinned. “Ollie?”
“Yes, it’s close.”
“Come on, Ollie.”
“Okay, okay. After Jerry’s wedding I popped the question. And she said yes.”
“You’re engaged?”
“That’s what I just told you, knucklehead.”
“Hey. Congratulations.” After a hearty handshake Ingram asked, “Have you told your folks?”
“Can’t do that. Dad is mad enough at me. And when they find out I’ve married a Chinese woman, Dad is going to go through the roof.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Well, the restaurant’s doing fine and I have a good career ahead. So we’ll be okay financially when he cuts me off.”
“You think he’d do that?”
“His lawyers have called me about the first phase—cutting off my allowance.”
Ingram felt a twinge of regret. Toliver’s allowance had come in handy many times. While on liberty in San Francisco they had partied and acted like fools. And Toliver had bought the Packard that Ingram drove to Ramona to meet Helen’s parents. The end of an era.
Their eyes locked for a moment, then Toliver looked away. Subject closed. Toliver had taken himself out of inheriting his family’s millions. Ingram decided not to pursue it. He couldn’t. It wasn’t his business.
A gunner’s mate in dungarees shouted from the top of mount 52 that the crane’s wire cable had been attached to its gun barrel. The gunner’s mate held up a fist to signal the crane operator high above on the Piedmont. Then the gunner’s mate slowly twirled his index finger. Slack came out of the cable. It drew taut. Suddenly, the barrel seemed to jump a couple of inches. It was free. The gunner’s mate twirled faster and the 16-foot-long barrel rose in the air like a long, gray toothpick.
“There are some things we should talk about,” said Toliver.
“I figured. You’ve had that obsessed look on your face all morning. What’s up?”
Toliver let it go. He was serious. “I saw our old friend Eduard Dezhnev at the Orthopedic Hospital.”
“What’s he doing there?”
“Same thing as me. Getting patched up by orthopedic experts. Seems we have better doctors here than in Russia, especially when it comes to prosthetics. Remember how he used to limp?”
“He was limping on Karafuto, all right.”
“Sakhalin,” Toliver corrected.
Ingram pressed a fist to his forehead. “Excuse me. Rank reduction to ensign for pissing off the Communists.”
“Except Joe Stalin, not Uncle Sam, footed the bill. And they did a pretty good job. Did you see him dancing with his mother?”
“Yeah, between Ed and Toscanini, she had quite a workout. The son of a bitch even had the temerity to dance with Helen.”
“How’d it go?”
“We don’t talk about it.”
They laughed.
Toliver’s voice dropped a notch. “I saw you speaking with him. What was it about?”
Ingram watched the gunners for a moment. They had moved down to the main deck and were getting ready to pull the barrel from gun mount 51. Ingram knew Toliver. There was something in his tone. “You sound more than just a little interested.”
“Okay, here it is. First you should know that I’m posted out here, Eleventh Naval District, but I’m working for ONI.”
“Terrific.”
“Next, there’s a great deal of interest in what the Russians are doing.”
“I hope so.”
“Seems they don’t want to stop with the territory they’ve already gained. Their troops are still mobilized, and the world is their oyster. They want to keep going.” When Ingram didn’t speak, Toliver continued. “Ugly things are going to happen in Europe with this East Germany, West Germany business. That’s just for beginners. We’ve heard Stalin still wants Hokkaido and is looking for an excuse to get in. He wants to communize Japan and all of Asia. And it looks like he’s moving ahead in China now with Mao Tse-Tung.”
“That’s assuming his army can beat Chiang Kai-chek’s.”
“Mao has the northern provinces whipped up. His forces were fighting Chiang’s before they were fighting Japs. We armed both of them, and the fuse is burning.”
“I’m getting tired of all this.”
“That’s what the Communists are betting on. That Americans will all go home, decommission their ships and planes and tanks, and get fat and complacent while Communists take over the world. And as I said, they’re not standing down.”
Ingram finished the thought with, “Otherwise they get fat and complacent lik
e us. And Stalin and Mao don’t want that.”
“Something like that.” Toliver rubbed his chin. “Look, Todd, did Ed say anything about what happened on Sakhalin?”
“You sound like this is official; not a casual question.”
Toliver exhaled. “Yes, it is an official question. We’re very interested in what this guy is doing.”
Ingram grinned. “You mean this is a real inquiry with a long case number stamped Top Secret? Guys in topcoats peeking between venetian blinds, wearing dark glasses, writing with disappearing ink and—”
“Todd!”
Ingram shrugged. “Okay, okay. We talked a little bit. He said that he directed the fire away from us when we took off. That’s why we didn’t get hit. It wasn’t luck, according to him.”
“Interesting.”
“Our landing was a different story. They fired for effect. Said he had orders to do so but that he didn’t know I was aboard.”
“Nice people, those Soviets.”
“Well, by that time I was ready to kill him, wedding party or not.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No, I listened to what he had to say.”
“Smart decision. He has diplomatic immunity.”
“Right. Just like the good old days.”
Toliver nodded.
“He did say something interesting: they’re putting him in submarines. I’m guessing that’s the reason for the new prosthetic leg. So he can get around in cramped spaces.”
“Submarines? That doesn’t make sense.”
“It didn’t seem to make sense to him either. But that’s what they want, so that’s what he’ll be doing. He starts submarine school soon.”
“What else?”
“Well, he’s still wearing that damned belt buckle you gave him. Thinks he looks like a movie star.”
“We were drunk that night. I’m surprised he hasn’t thrown it away.”
“He loves it.” Ingram lowered his voice. “There is something else.”
“Shoot.”
“He told me they’re trying to kill me.”
“What? Who?”
“His people. The NKVD. You know, the Russians’ Gestapo.”
“Jesus. Are you taking this seriously?”
“Hell, I don’t know. It all sounds so stupid. People have been shooting at me since 1941. By more than a few small miracles I, no—you and I—survived all that. And now it’s supposed to be over, except now I hear the damned Communists are after me.”
“What the hell for?”
“They think I know too much. That I spent time with Walter Boring and learned all his secrets in sixty-five seconds. They don’t want me around to talk about it.”
Toliver looked away. “I wonder what got them so pumped up?”
“Me too. I can’t figure it out. But the little I did see will last me a lifetime. Sometimes I dream about it. I mean guys with their heads cut off, or just heads, or open chest cavities with nothing in them. Our guys. Healthy guys. Looked like they walked in yesterday. Others too. Chinese, Brits, Aussies.”
“What did Ed say about killing you?”
“He said he was just passing it on. That he didn’t know anything else.”
“Is that it?”
He thinks he’s doing me a favor. He said that he was supposed to bring the order to the United States for ‘others’ to carry out. But someone else is involved.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know. He didn’t seem to, either.”
“You should have told somebody right away.”
“Who?”
“Start with your boss.”
“Jerry? He would have mobilized the squadron and sent us to sea. No, I have been thinking about it. But there was so much going on with the wedding and change of command that I haven’t had time to do anything.”
“Well, I have news for you, Commodore. You don’t screw with these people. If they want you dead, they can make it happen.”
“Oh, bullshit.”
“I’m serious. They’ve been infiltrating operatives into this country for years, just like good old Ed in 1942 up in ’Frisco.”
Ingram fixed Toliver with a stare.
Toliver said, “Really. They can do it.”
“Helen? Jerry?”
“I don’t know, but I’m going to put a tail on you.”
“Shit! You’ll do no such thing.”
Toliver waved him down. “Sixty days. That’s all. You won’t even see him, or her. They’ll be part of the landscape. They’re really good.”
“Not you?”
“Not me.”
“No peering through my blinds?”
“No. I promise.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Toliver tossed a thin smile.
“What?”
“There’s something else. It may be connected.”
Ingram sighed. “Here it comes.”
“No, listen up. It’s serious. The State Department is involved.”
Chapter Forty
27 November 1945
USS Wallace (DD 549), Long Beach Naval Station, Long Beach, California
Ingram and Toliver descended the two ladders to Ingram’s cabin on the main deck in silence. Ingram gestured to a chair, sat at his desk, and leaned back. “What are you selling, Ollie?”
“How about an all-expenses-paid trip to the Orient?”
“Last guy to try to sell me that was Ray Spruance.”
“Who won?”
“He did, but he’s an admiral. Last time I checked you were . . .”
“Yes, I know, a lowly commander.”
“So, tell me about the State Department.”
Toliver straightened. “Okay, here’s the deal. The Red Cross contacted us about Walter Boring’s personal effects. Something is missing.”
Ingram had a sinking feeling. “What?”
“A crate.”
“A crate of what?”
“Photos. Turns out there were supposed to be two crates, not just one.”
“I don’t like this.”
“Hear me out. This may work to your advantage. The Red Cross contacted the State Department. They tried the OSS, but those guys won’t even admit that it exists, so the State Department kicked it over to ONI. From there, it landed on my desk.”
“What am I supposed to do?”
Toliver evaded the question. “When does DESDIV 77.2 get under way?”
Ingram rubbed his chin. “We finish our tender availability in the next two weeks, give or take a few days. Then Christmas, then some training, and then on 1 February 1946 we leave for Operation Magic Carpet.”
“Where are you going?”
“Yokosuka, to replace DESDIV 77.1. Like them, embark as many GIs as we can, steam in formation with eight GI-filled attack transports, and bring them home. Then DESDIV 77.1 remains here for tender availability.”
“Is that it?”
“Well, yeah, then—” There was a knock at the door.
Ingram said, “Come.”
A dark-complected Navy commander in working khakis opened the door and walked in. He leaned over and made a show of plopping a stack of papers on Ingram’s desk. “Here you go.”
“How you feeling, Walt?”
“Ugly. I came in today to make sure the paperwork was done on your gun barrels. So read ’em and don’t weep.”
“Sorry, Walt. Ollie, say hello to Walt Hodges. He’s the pork chop over on the Piedmont.”
Toliver stood for a handshake, then Hodges waved him back into his chair and turned to Ingram. “That stack, my friend, is for the receipt and installation of five 5-inch 38 Mark 2 mod. 1 gun barrels. I need your signature there, there, and there.”
“We can’t accept delivery unless you have the bullets to go with them.”
“Sorry. That wasn’t in the work order. I hear you can find 5-inch ammo on discount at Louie’s gun shop on Gaffey Street. Better hurry, though; sale only lasts ’til Saturday.”
&nb
sp; “All right, all right.” Ingram signed and handed the papers back to Hodges.
“Thanks,” Hodges said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m headed for the barn.” He held out a hand. “Don’t worry. Sally’s picking me up.”
“That doesn’t sound good.”
“So damned tired.”
“Still have the runs?”
“Like a fire hose. And I’m getting this cough.”
“You better see the doc.”
“First thing tomorrow morning.”
Ingram gave Hodges a closer look. Dark bags hung beneath his eyes, and he seemed to have lost weight. “Okay. See you tomorrow. Thanks for expediting the paperwork. We’d still be shooting with old barrels.”
“You’re most welcome.” Hodges shuffled out.
Ingram said, “He lives a couple of blocks from me. We take turns driving.” Then Ingram sat forward. “Come on, Ollie. Spit it out. What’s on your mind?”
Toliver didn’t beat around the bush. “We’d like to send you back to Sakhalin for a couple of days.”
Ingram felt as if he’d been kicked in the stomach. “Karafuto.”
“Not any more. Sakhalin.”
“Just a couple of days?”
“Well, maybe three or four.”
“And the orders come from?”
“CNO.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I suspect that the State Department is pulling his chain. Somehow, somewhere, you’re famous, and they want you back in.”
“And you got stuck with telling me.”
“I’m sorry, Todd.”
“Right. What else?”
Helen was still in uniform as she whipped up dinner. Ingram was seated at their small kitchen table playing quietly with Jerry, who was strapped into his high chair. The more Helen rattled dishes, the more guilty he felt. Her belly was getting larger by the day and he hadn’t done much to make things easier.
“Cat got your tongue?” she chirped.
“Ummm.”
“I see. Time to feed the beast. I’ll have it up in a moment.”
“Thanks.”
Landa’s absence and his new job made Ingram’s workdays even longer. He just couldn’t manage to get home in time to help Helen. And Toliver’s bombshells today had stopped him cold: spies, death threats, orders for Japan. He didn’t know what to say.
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