“We got him!”
His crew responded with yelps and cheers.
When he checked his optics again, another destroyer was slowing and turning toward the stricken Japanese destroyer. O’Toole was entranced. “They don’t know what happened. Another one is coming in real close and slow.”
He listened as the crew loaded and rammed the next shell and powder casing. O’Toole adjusted his fingers around the training hand wheel and cranked it to line up the shot. He aimed as before. “Mark.”
The gun discharged, and a second later another explosion. Before the cheering stopped, a voice called out, “We gotta get out of here. We’re flooding.”
With water up to his knees, he yelled, “Everyone out now.”
§
The three destroyers were coming north to rejoin the Kamikawa and fall into formation. The lead destroyer disappeared in a ball of flame, leaving Kukuta shocked and baffled. He steadied himself against the shock wave.
From the size of the explosion, he realized the forward magazine had exploded. What happened? Did it hit a mine? Mines made little sense in these waters. A munitions handling accident? That can be the only logical cause.
Kukuta signaled the other destroyers to lend assistance and search for survivors.
The next destroyer slowed, and circled in search of survivors. There was a flash from the American’s aft gun mount, and his second destroyer disappeared in a colossal pyre of white-hot flame and smoke.
Kukuta closed his eyes in grief and took a few deep, slow breaths.
Gathering himself, he looked closer at the American destroyer. She was going down by the bow. The last thirty feet of her stern remained above water. The aft gun mount was one-third submerged, and men were crawling and swimming from the mount. A soot-covered face below a head of flaming red hair emerged from the mount. He was sure he had seen him before off Savo Island.
There was courage in your eyes. You are the gunnery officer who sank two of my ships and plucked our planes from the sky. It appears our lives are intertwined. I shall call you Bushi, warrior.
Kukuta felt Itou standing beside him. “Do you have an updated damage assessment, Commander?”
“Captain, all fires are under control. The torpedo hit on the bow is no problem. The second torpedo hit our stern and flooded the rudder steering room. The rudder is locked at three degrees, but we can steer with our engines.” Itou’s voice was soft and meek.
“Have the remaining destroyer search for survivors. There won’t be many.”
Itou sent the messages and returned to Kukuta’s side.
“What do you think of our glorious victory now, Commander?”
Itou bowed his head.
“It appears a pathetic American you so despised a few hours ago bested us. He is as cunning and deadly as any samurai. I know this man. When I saw him at Savo Island, I sensed he was a man to be respected, and now I fear him. Do not forget him, Commander.”
“As an act of mercy, we stopped firing on his ship. What he did was the act of an ungrateful barbarian.”
“No, Commander, it was his duty.”
17
Shirtless, O’Toole tugged on the line around the edge of the balsa wood life raft and pulled it the last twenty feet to shore.
Pip greeted him. “Are you okay, mate?”
“I think so. I’m more worried about the men,” O’Toole said pointing to the wet scattered survivors on the beach. “Where is Captain Shelly or Doc Strong?”
“The doc is about fifty yards down the beach. Shelly is with him. The doc came ashore with a whaleboat loaded with medical supplies. He’s with his pharmacist mates, setting up a hospital.”
“Help me muster the men over by Doc’s location. I want to get a head count.”
“What about them?” Pip asked, pointing to the Japanese destroyer still searching for survivors about a mile offshore.
“Good point. Tell the men to move into the tree line in case the Japs decide to get even.”
When O’Toole walked into the tree line, the cool shade on his bare skin surprised him. Later, Chief Starret approached him wearing a denim shirt like a diaper.
“What happened to your uniform, Chief?” O’Toole asked.
“A shell went off near me and threw my ass about twenty feet. When I landed, all I had on was a belt and my boots. Tore my cloths clean off.”
“So that’s what happened to my shirt and life jacket.”
“Yeah, and a few others like us are lucky to be alive, clothes or no clothes.”
O’Toole found Strong in a small patch of jungle that was now his hospital. Several men, surrounded by shipmates, were propped up against trees with various wounds. Captain Shelly, Ross, and two other men lay out on the ground in the small clearing. They all appeared unconscious or sedated.
“How’s the captain?” O’Toole asked Strong.
“I think he’s going to be alright.”
“What about Ross and the others?”
“Steam burns mainly, and a smattering of normal combat wounds. They’re on morphine to help with the pain from the burns. I’m worried about infection; this place isn’t too sanitary.”
“You’re a damned adequate doctor. Do your best, and I’m sure it will be good enough.”
Chief Starret approached, “Lieutenant, there are 290 men accounted for with four dead and twenty three wounded.”
Strong broke in, “Five wounded are here, and the rest are ambulatory with minor injuries. I think most of the badly wounded went down with the ship.”
To Starret, O’Toole said, “So there are fifty-seven unaccounted for. Chief, go around and ask the men if they know what happed to the missing.”
“Good idea, XO. I’ll get a couple of men to talk to the crew.”
§
By nightfall, the camp was well organized, and Pip brought in four natives to help and provide water. With the camp quiet, O’Toole sat next to a tree on the edge of the beach. The tree scratched his bare back, and the breeze off the ocean chilled him, but this was a minor distraction. His body was numb and his arms and legs leaden.
The sun had set below the horizon of the western island, turning the sky into a blinding golden fan. Waves the size of a fire hose lapped at the beach as they rolled in from the calm golden sea.
O’Toole scanned the water for debris but couldn’t locate any. Again the sea had healed itself and left no trace to mark the grave of his shipmates and over 600 Japanese sailors. The sea is cruel, uncaring, and heartless.
“Mind if I join you?” Strong asked.
“No, pull up a patch of dirt, and take a seat,” O’Toole said. “Doc, good thinking today. The idea of saving the medical supplies would never have occurred to me.”
“Thanks, but there are still fifty-seven men, dead or unaccounted for, I can’t help,” Strong said.
O’Toole hung his head. “In combat, death is so unjust and capricious. Yet death seems to claim the bravest and the best.”
Strong furrowed his brow. “Don’t blame yourself; this was not your fault.”
“I’m not so sure. I wonder what I could have done or could have done differently. Crap, I’m not smart enough to figure these situations out. There has to be something I should have done, but I’m blind to it. This was like the Green. I chose to follow bad orders, I was the officer of the deck, and the result was the same: a ship lost with heavy casualties. The only difference this time is I did everything short of mutiny to prevent it.”
“And I stopped you,” Strong began. “I should have had my talk with the captain last night and got him to take the morphine. Then fifty-seven men wouldn’t be missing.”
“You don’t know what the Japs did last night. What if the Japs were patrolling the east coast of the island? It could have been worse.”
Strong stared into the golden sunset for several seconds. “This military thinking confuses me. You will follow orders you believe are wrong and could result in the loss of life. Aren’t the lives of the crew
more important than following orders?”
“That’s the way things need to be, or all order and discipline unravels. When discipline breaks down, more men die.” O’Toole said.
“You think in terms of the common good, don’t you? Did Hatfield die for the common good? I think so because he saved the ship. If he had abandoned his gun, many men would have died. He made a sacrifice for his shipmates.”
O’Toole remembered their earlier discussion. “You’re right, Doc. An officer spends the lives of his men like money. I find that a hard pill to swallow.”
“I’m glad it’s a hard pill for you to swallow, otherwise you wouldn’t be much of an officer. I’ve kept an eye on you since Oakland. You’re a different man now. The men are proud of you. You sank two destroyers and beat the hell out of the cruiser.”
O’Toole smiled a bit. “Well, they sure went away licking their wounds. That cruiser will be in the yards for a couple of months at least. I don’t deserve any credit for what we did to the Japs. It’s the luck of the draw when you get a great crew and men like Barnes and Starret. They deserve the credit, not me.”
“I think your training made the difference. It prepared them for this shit and saved lives.”
“Frankly, Doc, the shit is what I can’t get out of my mind. I saw the bodies of the four casualties and thanked God I didn’t have to face the missing still aboard the Able. I can’t stop grieving for those men, and I still feel responsible for them and their deaths. I’m angry as hell they’re dead; they didn’t need to die. Sometimes I think I’m going crazy. Half my head says I’m not responsible for the deaths. The other half says their deaths are on me because I was in charge and I could have done something to change the outcome.”
“You’re not responsible, Pat. This damned war killed them, not you.”
“I hope I figure it out someday and accept it so I can move on.”
“Are you talking about just the Able, or are you including the Green?”
“The Green will never go away, and the roll call of the dead keeps getting longer,” O’Toole said.
“So what do you do?”
“Crap, I don’t know. I feel guilty about the Green. The guilt turned to anger, and I took it out on the crew. I think Admiral Garrett might be right. Lousy leadership up the chain of command sank the Green. The men deserve better; hell, they deserve the best. I didn’t give it to them.”
Strong squinted at O’Toole. “And what about the Able?”
“It’s the same but different. This time lack of tactical training for the captain led to bad decision making. It’s not Shelly’s fault; it’s this goddamned war.”
“Do the men deserve better than Captain Shelly?”
O’Toole didn’t want to answer the question, but he felt Strong knew the answer. “Yeah, they deserve the best in leadership, knowledge, tactics, and decision making. Destroyer sailors are the point of the spear. They’re the ones who bleed in battle. The navy owes them the best captains it can find.”
“How do you find good captains?”
“When will you stop asking open-ended questions I can’t answer?”
“Never.”
“Well then, I don’t know. I just want this war to be over and for the killing to stop. I’m proud as hell of my men. They’re good men; they followed my orders and fought like hell. They did everything I asked without question, and I’m in their debt for their sacrifice. I need a way to repay that debt or the fallen will haunt me till the day I die.”
§
“XO. XO!”
Someone shook him. O’Toole jerked awake and felt the cool jungle floor under him. He jumped to his feet, and his cold muscles screamed in pain.
“What?” he said.
The seaman jumped back in reaction to O’Toole’s sudden movement. “Captain wants to see you. He’s in the hospital area.”
O’Toole hurried toward Strong’s makeshift hospital. His stomach twisted in protest at the lack of food, and he swung his arms trying to warm his muscles.
At the hospital area, Shelly lay flat on his back with Pip and Strong sitting cross-legged next to him. He joined them.
“Pip’s got his radio working and contacted Tulagi. They’re going to start sending in PBYs to ferry us out of here,” Shelly said in a weak voice that trailed off as he spoke.
Pip, broke in, “It’ll take several days. They said the area is too dangerous to send in a ship.”
That’s ironic.
“Seems someone fixed the brass’ rectocranial inversion.”
“Rectocranial inversion?” Strong asked.
“It’s a medical condition, Doc, caused by someone shoving his head firmly up his own ass.”
Pip and Strong cracked a smile. Shelly closed his eyes and seemed to be collecting himself. O’Toole felt guilty for his comment; it made things harder on Shelly.
O’Toole said, “We need to get organized. The motor whaleboat is a half mile down the beach, camouflaged in a small cove. We can use the boat for transport to and from the PBYs.”
Shelly’s face remained placid. O’Toole started to speak when Shelly said, “Doc, I’ll take some of that morphine you keep trying to sell me.”
Strong jumped to his feet, and O’Toole said to Shelly, “I’ll take care of this, captain.”
“When you’re done, come back. I want to talk to you.”
O’Toole gathered up the officers and senior petty officers and went over the schedule Pip received via radio. It took less than fifteen minutes to make assignments and put an evacuation plan in motion. When done, O’Toole returned to Shelly’s side. Shelly was asleep, but O’Toole touched his arm. “Captain? You wanted me to come back and see you.”
Shelly opened his eyes. They were distant and unfocused, but after a second they found O’Toole. “I want you to know, you were right about the training.”
O’Toole interrupted, “Captain, we can talk about this later. You need to rest.”
“No, XO, I need to do this. You were right about coming in at night . . . and about coming in on the eastern shore. I was wrong, and . . . my report is going to say as much. Yesterday, during the battle, you did things . . . I didn’t think possible. I can’t imagine fighting a battle more brilliantly . . . I’m going to say that in my report . . . Well done.”
Shelly closed his eyes. O’Toole wondered if he was still awake. O’Toole didn’t care if he was right, he didn’t care if he had fought a brilliant battle. He wanted to get his men off the island. He wanted to do better next time, to repay his debt to his men and those who had given their lives.
18
The engines of the overweight PBY clawed at the air to eke out more altitude, leaving behind the burning whaleboat from which a vine of black diesel smoke crawled skyward 200 yards off Kogeri. Crammed into the PBY with the last Able survivors, O’Toole sat in the tail section. To Pip he said, “I think I’m going to start making a list of places I never want to visit again.”
“I imagine Kogeri makes the top five,” Pip said.
“Kogeri is nothing more than a bug-infested, miserable pile of sand. I can’t wait for a good meal, a shower, and a warm place to sleep.”
“Well, after you chaps told the Japs where I would be, it’ll take me some time to find another suitable home. I need to make contact with the locals first to be sure I can get their support.”
“Any idea where you’re going?”
“Not a clue. So what’s next for you?”
“First thing for me is to write fifty-seven letters to mothers and wives. None of them will be easy.”
“Right. I’d have thought the letters would be like a form letter or something of the sort.”
“After I lost my first ship, I wound up writing form letters, which was a horrible experience because I didn’t know the men. This time I knew every man, which will make the job twice as hard, but at least I will have something to say.”
§
December 28, 1942
Officers’ Mess; Pearl Har
bor Naval Base
“When I got your invitation to lunch, I figured something was up. What’s going on, John?” Garrett asked.
Admiral Karson reached into his leather briefcase to retrieve a brown half-inch-thick folder marked Restricted in red letters. He dropped the file next to Garrett’s plate. “Your guy, O’Toole, was on the Able. She got sunk by a Jap cruiser before Christmas. Thought you might like to read the action reports.”
Garrett opened the file. On top was Captain Shelly’s action report. When he finished reading the report on the Japanese air attacks he said, “Seems like the money we spent on extra training ammo for the Able was a good investment.”
“What do you mean?”
“O’Toole requested, and I approved, an additional training allowance. They ran well over the allowance I gave them, and I chewed their ass out over it when they got to Pearl. I buried the incident to keep it quiet.”
“Ouch.”
“I left the problem in his captain’s hands.”
“Keep reading, it gets more interesting.”
Garrett read the next few pages and said, “Holy cow.”
Karson took a bite of his fruit salad and after chewing said, “That’s one way to put it. You figured O’Toole right: he’s one hell of a warrior. Two back-to-back grand slams. The Japs sent thirty planes, the Able shot down twenty-six without taking any serious damage. That’s not good; it’s unheard of. Then he snatches victory from the jaws of defeat against a superior force. Sank two destroyers and beat the crap out of a cruiser. This lieutenant of yours is brilliant and aggressive as hell. Hell, he was within a hair’s breadth of getting away and sinking the cruiser.”
“I think I need to put in a good word for him where I can. We need more men like him.”
Karson thought for a second. “Agreed. We can’t let officers like this get lost in the bureaucracy. I’ll make sure Nimitz sees this.”
“So what’s next for you?”
“Despite the itch to get in on the action, I’m joined at the hip to Nimitz for the duration. We work together well, and the work is challenging. I saw your request for transfer to the South Pacific, and Nimitz approved it. Any word on orders?”
Vows to the Fallen: O'Toole (The Marathon Series) Page 15