Admiral Garrett lowered his head. “Do you understand you sank a battleship, three cruisers, five destroyers, and three auxiliaries?”
“No, sir. I didn’t. They did.”
“The plan was yours.”
“No, sir. It was the luck of the draw. You happened to give me seven of the smartest and bravest commanders in the navy. The plan was theirs, not mine. What about the others?”
“I sent three destroyers on search and rescue to retrieve any survivors; they should be returning any moment.”
“What about Durham? I saw his boat go down.”
“Sorry, I don’t know.”
O’Toole had nothing left in him and was unsure he had the strength to face tomorrow. “What’s next, Admiral?”
“I’m sending you to Auckland for repairs. You’ll be refitted and re-crewed in six to eight weeks.”
O’Toole shrugged and started to turn away. Garrett stepped in front of him and said, “Captain, this will pass. You did a good job. Hell, you did the impossible and gave six thousand marines a fighting chance. The navy is in your debt—and theirs. I want you to know that. It’s time to care for yourself. Get some rest. You need it, and by God you’ve earned it.”
“Yes, sir.” He started to turn away but paused and, without looking at Garrett, said, “They’ve given me the strength to stare guilt and grief in the eye and say, ‘Get the hell out of my way, I’ve got things to do.’”
“What was that?”
“Be a warrior. Train anyone who is not.”
38
May 7, 1972
Route 49; north of Matewan, West Virginia
O’Toole’s gray Chevy Impala bounded around a tight turn. Kate wished he would slow down, but he was on a mission, and that called for flank speed. She loved all of him, including the parts she didn’t like. She remained silent.
They had made this trip once before in ’46 after the war. The muddy Sprouse Creek still wound its way through the hills hidden behind trees. A coal train rumbled north on the opposite side of the road. “Not much has changed,” she said.
Today he would keep a promise of twenty-nine years to return the brass balls to Hatfield’s father. She knew today would be difficult for him, but this was a trip he needed to make. She had worried Jayland would pass away before Paddy could keep his promise.
After the war, they had visited Jayland and Sundee Hatfield to return the brass balls as he had promised Seaman Hatfield. On the earlier visit, he told them of Hatfield’s last words, “Keep them just in case. You got big ones, sir, but these are better. Use ‘em to keep the other guys safe.”
Jayland, Hatfield’s father, had refused to take the balls back, insisting that as long as Paddy was in the service his promise to keep the guys safe was incomplete. His time in the navy filled Paddy with pride and a sense of accomplishment. With retirement, she knew he had to keep his promise to Hatfield and his father with the honor it deserved.
They zoomed through a small town, and Kate could see the set jaw and determination in his sea-dog face; he would not rest until his mission was complete.
“This is going to be hard on you, isn’t it?”
“No, it’s my duty. I made a promise, and I’m going to keep it. I marvel at how one man can change your life.”
“He changed the lives of many men because of you. At the retirement party Ron Durham pulled me aside and told me he couldn’t count the number of fine officers you helped shape or the lives you saved.”
“I tried, but I think Ron is overstating it a bit. I was lucky; I always had fine men around me.”
“Bull. In some ways, Ron knows you better than I do. He knows what Terror O’Toole was all about, and he knows the true you.”
They pulled up in front of the Hatfield home, and he said, “I tried to do my best.”
The May morning was bright, and a pleasant coolness hung in the air. Kate stayed a few steps behind and waited as Paddy crossed the wooden porch in somber, measured steps. He paused to gather the songs of birds in the morning sun.
Sundee knew they were coming, and the aromas of coffee and warm cinnamon rolls welcomed them. Jayland’s rocker sat in front of the fireplace, his lap covered by a white knit blanket and the morning paper. Jayland had been ill for some time now, so his gauntness did not surprise Kate, but its depth did. Jayland didn’t try to get up but welcomed them with a halting voice. “Come in, Admiral. Good t’ see ya agin.” He said Admiral with such pride one would assume the title was his own.
Both the home and the welcome warmed Kate. Paddy took three steps across the threadbare throw rug and shook Jayland’s hand by cupping it between both of his. With no place to sit, Paddy took a knee in front of Jayland. He reached in his hip pocket to retrieve a green notebook, now a collection of loose pages between two green covers. He removed the rubber bands holding the covers together and opened the book to the first page. He handed the book to Jayland.
“This book contains the names of the shipmates I’ve lost. They were all good men, and they honored me with their service. Your son is first among them, and his is the first name in the book. He and his brass balls set my life’s course.”
O’Toole reached into his trouser pocket then held his hand out to Jayland, palm down. Kate choked when he wiped a tear from his eye.
Jayland, trembling, moved his hand under O’Toole’s. Jayland’s hand jerked when the two marble-sized brass bearings dropped into his hand.
“To the best of my ability, both promises kept,” O’Toole whispered, and bowed his head to hide his tears.
Jayland wiped a tear from his eye and placed his hand on O’Toole’s head. His voice was thready and halting but full of pride. “My son would be proud. We know your best was good enough.”
Endnotes
The day after the Battle of Mujatto Gulf, Japanese resistance collapsed and marine forces secured the island two weeks later.
Lieutenant Commander Durham went on to serve as the US Navy’s Chief of Naval Operations.
Admiral Patrick Daeg ‘Terror’ O’Toole died February 3, 2002, at the age of eighty-six and was buried in Arlington National Cemetery with full military honors. He and his wife had a son, Patrick, and four grandchildren, Katelyn, Sean, Philip, and Amanda.
In 2004, Kate O’Toole donated her husband’s notebook to the Naval History Museum in Washington. She honored her husband by adding his name as the final and 287th entry. She knew he would want to be with his men.
Ship Shape served with O’Toole until 1954. He died at sea of old age and was buried at sea with full military honors.
The Allies and Japan treated Dragon as their most closely guarded secret. In the United States, Dragon’s secrecy was second only to the atomic bomb. The Pentagon declassified Dragon in 2013, seventy years after the fact. Japan still denies its existence. The capture of the Japanese crypto machine allowed the Allies to read Japanese Navy message traffic until the end of the war. The navy never told O’Toole about the contribution the Farnley made to the war effort.
To my readers
Thank you for reading Vows to the Fallen. I hope you enjoyed it and will recommend it to your friends. As a self-published author, it is tough going up against the big publishing houses. Independent authors like myself rely on reviews and referrals to spread the word about our books. I would be grateful if you would take a few minutes and leave a review on Amazon or other book site of your choice.
Don’t be afraid to email me at the address below. I enjoy meeting my readers and sharing ideas. You can also stay in touch with me on Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn, or my website, LarryLaswell.com.
I post the first chapter of all my books on my website so readers like you can sample the book before buying. I have four novels in the pipeline, and the easiest way to learn about my new novels is to subscribe to my mailing list. You will only get two or three emails a year, and I always run pre-release specials that only my fans know about.
If you liked Vows to the Fallen, you will enjoy the f
irst book in the series, The Marathon Watch.
Thank you again, and good reading.
Larry Laswell
Website: http://LarryLaswell.com
Facebook: http://bit.ly/larryfacebook
Twitter: @larrylaswell
LinkedIn: http://bit.ly/LarryLinkedIn
Amazon: http://bit.ly/LarryAnazon
Email: [email protected]
Vows to the Fallen: O'Toole (The Marathon Series) Page 33