The Violent Sea

by Russell Moran

  “I’d be happy to talk to you folks, my favorite Navy couple. There’s something I want to say right up front, if you don’t mind. When you’re a chaplain, information has a way of getting to you from all sources. I’ve heard all about that crazy navigational gadget that Captain Marty was in love with. As we all know, that little piece of junk has gotten us into a lot of trouble. I also heard that you called the captain to your office, presumably for a bawling out. If that’s what happened, you did nothing more than your job. The captain made a serious mistake, and you called him on it. I bring this up in case you’re blaming yourself for what happened.”

  “Thanks, Father. Meg said pretty much the same thing. The pressures of command can weigh on your shoulders like a bucket of shit at times. I really appreciate what you just said. I know you and Meg are right, but my conscience will still give me a problem for a while. The thing I want to talk about is an idea I just came up with. I want you to weigh in on the soundness of it, including its moral implications. I’m talked out. I’ll let my articulate aide and wife explain my idea.”

  “As you know, Father,” Meg said, “we’re stuck on the wrong side of a wormhole. Because of the navigational error we just discussed, we’re really stuck, because we don’t know where we are in relation to the wormhole, our doorway back to where we came from. My husband, with his photographic memory, realized that we’re just two months before the Battle of Leyte Gulf, the biggest naval battle in history. A kind of built-in moral imperative of time travel, as Harry and I wrote about in our book, is that you should not change history. But Harry ran down for me the horrible numbers after the atomic bomb attacks on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Dear God, about 250,000 men, women, and children were killed, not to mention the vast number of American and Japanese lives that will be lost in the final battles of the Pacific war. Harry doesn’t want to change history, but to nudge it, as he says. Japan loses the war. That’s history. They refused to capitulate until we nuked them, and they finally broke down, realizing they couldn’t win. Harry wants to put the Ford at the disposal of Admiral Halsey, and convince Japan that it’s over, without killing so many innocent people, not to mention the lives that will be lost in the remaining battles of the war. So that’s it in a nutshell, Father. What are your thoughts?”

  “I’m a priest, not a line officer, so I’m not usually asked for my opinions on military doctrine. But I must be honest with you. Your plan is exactly the right thing to do. How can we shorten the war and save lives, and how can we avoid using those terrible weapons on innocent men, women, and children? I think Halsey will welcome the Ford and her firepower with open arms. I’m sure Admiral Spruance told him all about you and the Ford. So, I say let’s shorten this terrible war, Admiral Harry, and then go wormhole hunting.”

  Chapter 30

  “They’re under strict radio blackout, I’m sure,” I said to Commander Bill Morton, the executive officer.

  “I recommend drone surveillance, admiral. We can send out six at a time with a mile between them and give them just enough time to turn around before their fuel runs out. When we find the fleet, we can get close enough to communicate with signal lamps.”

  “Good thinking, Bill, but make it 12 drones rather than six. I want to find the Third Fleet as soon as we can. Halsey’s flagship is the battleship USS New Jersey. She’s easy to pick out of a crowd. To confuse the Japanese, the Third Fleet conducts operations with the Fifth Fleet under Spruance. I hope I get to meet Ray Spruance again. Okay, let’s launch the drones.”

  “Honey,” Meg whispered to me. “Why don’t we send a squadron of Hornets as well as the drones? They’re a hell of a lot faster.”

  My wife, a mild-mannered securities executive until a few years ago, had become a hell of a naval tactician.

  “Bill, send six F/A-18s as well as the drones. They’re faster.”

  When nobody was looking I pinched her little ass.

  “Hey, don’t even think about flying one of the Hornets and risk getting shot at. I need my aide right here.”

  After an hour, the drones returned. The Hornets would follow in a few minutes. They have a much longer range. We refueled the drones and launched them again. I ordered the Ford to steam at flank speed of 35 knots. When you run on nuclear power, fuel efficiency is not a consideration.

  “Engine room, bridge. All ahead flank.”

  “Lima Foxtrot, Lima Foxtrot,” radioed a Hornet pilot using the Ford’s call sign. “Our friends are in sight.”

  He then radioed his position and we calculated that we’d be on the fleet in 45 minutes.

  The Ford came upon the New Jersey and I ordered the signal bridge to send the message, “We’re here to help,”

  “Please send a representative,” the New Jersey signaled back

  “Admiral Harry Fenton will arrive shortly by helicopter,” we signaled.

  Meg and I climbed aboard one of our Seahawk helicopters and took off for the battleship. The very idea of a woman on a warship is an anathema to the Navy of the 1940s. To hell with it, I thought. They’re about to see 21st Century naval warfare, so they may as well see what else we’re up to. We landed on a section of deck near the stern. As we landed I could see Admiral Halsey on deck to greet me, with a smile as wide as the ship. And who was that guy next to him? It was Ray Spruance.

  We saluted and shook hands.

  “Great to see you, again, Harry. How the hell did you fit the Ford through that little wormhole?”

  “We hit a wormhole in the ocean, Ray. Getting back to it will be complicated, as I’ll explain later.”

  “Ray has told me all about you, admiral,” Halsey said. “May I call you Harry? Please call me Bill—not Bull, Bill. And who is this lovely lieutenant? Could she be your wife and aide that Ray told me about?”

  “That’s me, sir,” Meg said as she snapped a salute.

  “She’s also a hell of a fighter pilot,” I said.

  Halsey was just like all the comments I read about him. A constant bundle of energy, always ready with a joke. The four of us went to the flag bridge of the New Jersey. I had seen this bridge in so many photos from 1944 that I felt as if I belonged there.

  “Harry, Bill Halsey and I have one big preliminary question for you, and I guess you know what it is,” Spruance said.

  “Yes, Ray, but you don’t have to ask the question. The Ford, with her planes and firepower, will help you. I’m putting her at your disposal. That’s why we’re here.”

  I thought the two of them were about to break out into a happy dance.

  “Before we bombard you with our thoughts, Harry, please tell us what you have in mind,” Halsey said.

  “I’ll start with my strategic objective,” I said. “No, sorry, it’s not my place to talk to you two about objectives, that’s your job. So, let me talk about my strategic thinking. My overall plan, if you agree, is to shorten this war, by almost a year if possible, and avoid the need to drop the atomic bombs on Japan that I told Ray about. The atomic weapons showed Japan that they had no hope of winning the war. I think we can accomplish that same objective with the Ford—to convince Japan that it’s futile to fight on. My tactical objective, I mean thinking, is simple. I want to sink ships. I want to sink the few carriers the Japanese have left, then sink the battleships, then the cruisers and destroyers. Then, if I have any ordnance left, I want to sink anything that carries a gun on its deck. The crazy militarists will want to fight on, but I want to make it impossible for them to do so, at least at sea.”

  “And I bet you’re about to tell us what’s coming up, Harry,” Spruance said.

  “I won’t let you down Ray. Within two months you’ll be engaged in the Battle of Leyte Gulf, which will be the biggest naval battle in history. With the Ford’s firepower, I intend to help you sink every enemy ship—every fucking one of them. Again, my thinking is that Leyte Gulf can take the place of two atomic bombs a year from now to convince Japan to surrender. We’ll also save thousands of American lives that will be lost in the
final battles of the Pacific war—battles that won’t happen.”

  Both Halsey and Spruance gave me a slap on the shoulder.

  Halsey looked out the window.

  “My God, look at the size of that thing. I notice that the island structure is located toward the stern.”

  “That’s one of the many innovations on the Ford class Carriers, sir,” Meg said. “Its placement enables us to launch 33 percent more planes than the older carriers in the fleet.”

  Halsey and Spruance just stared at Meg.

  “I think I’ll ask my wife and aide, Meg, to explain the details of the Ford and her capabilities. Meg used to be a securities dealer, but now she’s one of the smartest naval tacticians I’ve ever met. Honey, I mean lieutenant, please tell these gentlemen all about the Ford.”

  “When I took my short time travel trip to the year 2018,” Spruance said, “I visited the Ford, as I’ve told you, Bill. I can’t over emphasize how impressed I was with Lieutenant Fenton’s knowledge of naval armaments.”

  “The USS Gerald R. Ford CVN-78—the “N” stands for nuclear—was named after the 38th President of the United States,” Meg began. “I think it’s interesting that Lieutenant Commander Gerald R. Ford is currently serving aboard the light aircraft carrier USS Monterey here in the Pacific as we speak.”

  Both men shook their heads after Meg’s historical note.

  “The Ford launched in 2013 and was formally commissioned last year, well that’s our last year, on July 22, 2017. The ship is the first of the Ford Class aircraft carriers, which will eventually replace the Nimitz Class carriers, named after your boss. Her total cost, including research and development, was about 18 billion dollars. The Ford is the largest ship ever launched, with a length of 1,106 feet and a beam of 134 feet at the waterline and 256 feet on the flight deck. She displaces over 100,000 tons. The ship is powered by two nuclear reactors, which I won’t go into detail about now, but just keep in mind that her cruising range is virtually unlimited. Some experts put her range at 25 years, only limited because of necessary upkeep.”

  “So, you’re telling us that she never has to stop for gas?” Halsey said.

  “That’s right, admiral. While other ships are refueling, the Ford keeps on steaming. That big monster is fast too, cranking over 30 knots at flank speed.”

  “Tell me about those amazing planes,” Halsey said.

  “The ship’s armaments are awesome, to use a 2018 word,” Meg said. “We carry 85 aircraft, including the F/A-18 Super Hornet, my personal favorite, F-35 Joint Strike Fighters, EA-18G Growler electronic attack aircraft, and six helicopters, including the one that flew us here. We also make heavy use of drones, also known as unmanned air vehicles, used both for surveillance and attack. They’re controlled by radio signals. We carry both fixed wing and helicopter drones. Our defensive capabilities are advanced, using a system called Aegis. It’s an advanced radar that can track incoming missiles.”

  “Lieutenant, what would you say is the greatest vulnerability of the Ford?” Spruance asked, his cool analytical mind on display.

  “I think my husband is the best person to answer that question, sir. Honey, I mean Harry, I mean admiral…I mean holy shit, answer the man’s question, please.”

  Halsey and Spruance cracked up. It’s hard to ignore Meg’s infectious personality.

  “Yes, Ray, as big and mean as the Ford looks, it does have a vulnerability. Not only the Ford, but every vessel in the Navy. Right now, by now I mean 2018, not only the Navy, but the entire American military is on a war footing, in a way that might seem strange to you. Hell, it seems strange to me and every other military leader. In the past few weeks in 2018, the Navy has experienced a rash of attacks from within, acts of sabotage committed by naval personnel, all under the influence of radical Islamic fundamentalism.”

  “Radical Islamic fundamentalism?” Halsey said. “Could you explain that a bit?”

  “Radical Islamic fundamentalism, a twisted ideology that has taken over one of the world’s largest religions, is every bit as evil as Nazism, Communism, or Japanese militarism. The group, if you can call them a group, doesn’t fly a flag of any nation and doesn’t wear uniforms. It’s a ragtag mob of fanatics who seek to destroy Western civilization. In 2018, that is our enemy. Collectively we call these people jihadis, plural for jihadi, a practitioner of armed struggle against the unbelievers or infidels, meaning us. We haven’t declared war, because there’s no government to declare war on. For years we’ve seen attacks on soft targets, not hardened military installations. Suicide is the weapon of choice, with the fundamentalist driving a car into a group of harmless civilians or detonating a bomb at a wedding or a funeral. Oh, I should mention, the Battle of Leyte Gulf will see a new thing the Japanese have up their sleeves. It’s called kamikaze, where a pilot commits suicide by steering his plane into your ship.”

  “Do you think those jihadi people learned their suicide tactics from the Japanese?” Halsey asked.

  “Well, a big difference is that a jihadi doesn’t belt down a couple of shots of sake before he comes at you.”

  They both shook their heads.

  “The greatest attack of all occurred on September 11, 2001. Two commercial passenger planes loaded with fuel crashed into two of the world’s largest buildings in lower Manhattan, known as the World Trade Center. Almost 3,000 people died. Both buildings collapsed to the ground after the fires raged for a couple of hours. But all those horrors are just the background noise of the 21st century. Recently, in the past few months and weeks we’ve seen a major change in the way the jihadis operate. Yes, they still hit soft targets such as a music concert, but they’ve begun direct attacks on military targets, such as ship bombings. Most recently, my own Ford had part of its flight deck torn off by three bombs. This lady, the love of my life, was coming in for a landing on her Super Hornet when the flight deck exploded in front of her. Meg banked away fast enough to save her life. I watched her coming in for a landing, but then all I saw was a wall of fire. My heart stopped and restarted when I saw her maneuver away from the ship. Meg is one hell of a fighter pilot. So, in a long-winded answer to your question, Ray, that’s where we’re vulnerable—to the enemy within.”

  “Harry, you’ve got my heart pumping,” Halsey said. “What steps have you taken to make sure none of those, uh, jihadis I think you said, strike again?”

  “We operate under a strict adherence to the rubric, if you see something—say something. If you see a package of some sort lying about, don’t ignore it, alert the person up the chain of command. We have aboard a sharp and imaginative guy from the CIA, the Central Intelligence Agency—that’s the successor to the OSS, the Office of Strategic Services. He came up with a simple plan that you may find crazy, but it works. It’s called Operation Escort. Nobody, not even me, can go anywhere without a randomly chosen ‘escort.’ On top of that, every sailor and officer wears a radio microphone so he can report something strange to the OOD or other appropriate superior. So, in a simple way, we place layers of personnel between a potential terrorist and his weapon. I’m confident that we have our shipboard terrorist problem in check, not solved, but at least in check.”

  “You know, Harry, I have to laugh when I think about the time we first met a few months ago. You were a sweaty busted up guy who we thought was a bum, a hallucinating drunk, or a spy. Now I find out that you’re one of the sharpest naval officers I’ve ever met, not to mention a strategic thinker. Yes, you were polite to tell us that your plans were not objectives but just your thoughts. I think I speak for Bill Halsey and myself when I tell you that I adopt your ‘thoughts’ as our objectives. Yes, let’s bring this goddam war to a fast close, and yes, let’s save thousands of innocent lives, Japanese as well as our own. You’re a good man, Harry Fenton.”

  “I recommend that our next meeting, or maybe just a continuation of this one, should be on the Ford. I want to show you guys our capabilities rather than just tell you about them.”

  “My
Fifth Fleet won’t be directly involved in the action,” Spruance said. “It will be the Third Fleet, under Bill here, and the Seventh Fleet under Admiral Tom Kinkaid. According to you, Harry, and I no longer doubt a word you say, this battle will effectively cripple Japan’s naval forces. I love the idea that you want to put an exclamation point behind that, Harry, by sinking as many Japanese ships as we can, with the able assist of you and the Ford. That said, I will join you for the meeting on the Ford. I can see Kinkaid’s flagship, the Enterprise, from here. I’ll signal him that he can be expecting your helicopter to pick him up.”

  “Here is the message, admiral. I just composed it.” Meg said.

  Spruance stared, wide eyed.

  “Get used to it, Ray. You will find that Meg’s brain is a force of nature.”

  “Let’s go sink some ships,” Halsey said.

  Chapter 31

  The Battle of Leyte Gulf is considered the largest naval battle of World War II, and also, by many historians, the largest naval battle in history. It is also the last encounter in history that saw battleships engage one another. In a few short weeks we’ll be up to our eyeballs in some wild shit. The battle will occur in the waters near the Philippine Islands of Leyte, Samar, and Luzon. Our friend, the Australian Navy, will be there to fight alongside us.

  On October 20, 1944, three days before the Battle of Leyte Gulf itself, American troops landed on the island of Leyte. This was part of the strategy to isolate Japan from the countries it conquered in Southeast Asia, and also to cut off Japan from vital oil supplies.

  In a large, complex naval battle, it isn’t like some guy tosses a coin in the air and yells, “play ball.” Some historians insist that the name of the battle should be, “The Battles (plural) “for” (not “of”) Leyte Gulf. They argue that the fight consisted of the Battle of the Sibuyan Sea, the Battle of Surigao Strait, the Battle of Cape Engano, the Battle of Samar, as well as a few other actions. Those historians like to make things more complicated than they need to be. The big slugfest over three days from October 23, 1944 to October 26, 1944, is appropriately known as the Battle of Leyte Gulf, nothing more, nothing less.