Contact!: a novel of the Pacific War

by DiLouie, Craig

  Charlie grinned. “And you wanted to go where the action was.”

  “That’s right.” Jane poured iodine over the wounds. “You’ll have some lovely scars to impress the girls back home with.”

  Braddock waggled his eyebrows. “Are you impressed?”

  “I sure am, sailor. It’s a very manly wound. In all my days as an Army nurse, I’ve never seen a wound like it.”

  “Then you should marry me, doll.”

  Jane laughed and glanced at Charlie. “I’m afraid my dance card is already full, big boy.”

  Charlie blushed as she took up her needle and thread. Braddock looked away, apparently sickened by the sight of himself being stitched up.

  “Big baby,” she repeated. “Since you’re a friend of Charlie’s, I’ll give you extra stitches.” She glanced at Charlie again. “Maybe you should stay here and rest a few days.”

  “We have to get back to our boat,” Charlie said.

  “Duty calls.” She cut the thread. “Good as new.”

  “Thanks, Jane.”

  “Speaking of duty calling, I can’t stay and talk. There are more wounded coming in than we can handle. Maybe I’ll see you tonight if I can get a break and you’re still around?”

  Charlie blushed again. “I’d like that.”

  “I can’t believe I got the chance to see you again, Charlie.”

  “I’m glad you did.”

  “If I don’t see you before you leave, well…” She blew him a kiss.

  Then she rushed off with her tray, pausing to throw him a final glance over her shoulder before she was sucked into the frantic activity of saving more patients.

  “I remember her from Sabertooth,” Braddock said. “When we had that outbreak of meningitis. She’s one tough broad.”

  “Yeah,” Charlie said. “She’s special, all right.”

  “If you don’t marry her, you’re crazy.”

  “Thinking about the future is a luxury,” Charlie told him and went outside.

  He set up the SCR-300 and hailed Sandtiger.

  The radioman said, “Reading you five by five, Sierra—”

  “Send it, over,” another voice took over. It was Rusty.

  “We’re at an aid station near Charan Kanoa,” Charlie said, providing the coordinates. “Request evacuation, over.”

  “We can pull you out at 2300. Be ready, over.”

  “Roger that, over.”

  “How are you? Over.”

  Charlie took stock of himself but still didn’t know how to answer. “Ready to come home, over.”

  “Can’t wait to see you safe and sound, brother. Over.”

  “You’ll never guess who I just saw. Jane Larson, over.”

  Rusty laughed. “Remember how we used to talk about destiny? I think destiny really likes to mess with you. Over.”

  Charlie smiled. “See you soon, Rusty. Out.”

  “I’ll keep the coffee hot for you. Out.”

  He went back inside and watched the shouting doctors and nurses work to save lives. He spotted Jane several times, once holding down a crying private while a grimacing surgeon sawed off his leg above the knee.

  He bummed a cigarette and went outside. A column of Marines tramped past on their way to the front. They eyed him curiously, wondering what he’d done and seen. Perhaps envying his battlefield experience.

  What I’ve seen and done doesn’t matter, he thought. You’ll see and do plenty yourself before this battle is over. You’ll have your own stories, some worth reliving, most probably not.

  If they survived. Many of them wore hangdog expressions, knowing they might not make it back.

  Charlie surveyed the aid station and smoking terrain and Marines, and he knew he’d take it all home with him. It would never die as long as he lived. For him, the war would never end.

  As night fell, he scrounged up some rations and checked on Braddock. The big sailor lay sleeping on the ground, his good side supporting his weight.

  No sign of Jane.

  Back outside, he found her leaning against a stack of crates. She took a drag on a cigarette and exhaled a long stream of smoke.

  “Can I have one of those?” he said.

  She gave him one and lit it. “Smoke ’em while you got ’em.”

  “I didn’t know you smoked.”

  “It’s a new thing,” she said. “I didn’t know you smoked either.”

  “I saw you working in there. You were amazing. I knew after I left you at Pearl you’d want to get right back to it.”

  “Careful what you wish for. I flew to the front in a C47 sitting on boxes of ammo. Flew back responsible for twenty-five GIs either wounded or infected with malaria, beriberi, and other tropical diseases. My first patient had been hit in the spine and had to look forward to spending the rest of his life paralyzed from the neck down. The C47 touched down on an airstrip that was under attack by Jap planes.”

  “I don’t know how you do it. So much blood and death, day in and day out.”

  Jane didn’t say anything for a while. Her body stiffened, as if she were consciously holding herself together. Then she sighed it out.

  She took another drag on her Lucky Strike. “You have no choice. Losing them is hard. When it gets too hard, I think about all the men I saved.”

  “Do you know what karma is?”

  “It’s a Hindu thing, right? What you do now affects what happens to you in the future.”

  “Like a bank, from the sounds of it. You’ve got plenty of it, I think. Me, if I survive this war, I’m going to have a lot to make up for.”

  “I’m not as pure as you think,” Jane said. “I’m here to help you kill Japs. The more you kill, the faster this war is over and the killing stops.”

  “Yeah,” he said. The idea of taking lives in war to ultimately save more lives sounded appealing to him, but he wondered if it was just something he told himself to feel all right with it. “But still. I think if I survive this, I’ll become a doctor and work on getting my ledger in balance.”

  “I’ve missed you, you know,” she said. “Every soldier becomes a philosopher at some point, but you’re the only one I’ve met who really thinks about it.”

  Charlie looked into her eyes and turned away quickly. He’d missed her too, as much as he missed Evie. Strange to love two women for completely different reasons. Jane understood him as a warrior, the man he’d discovered out here in the Pacific. Not surprising, as she was a warrior herself. She represented today, a present where one didn’t dare dream about tomorrow, where tomorrow might never come.

  Evie, however, understood him as a man. The man he was in peace, the man he hoped to become again. Gentle and nurturing, she represented tomorrow, a future where he hoped to put today behind him.

  “Braddock and I are leaving at 2300,” he said.

  “I’m off for a few hours.”

  The right course was to have neither of them. Not until the fighting was done.

  He said, “I should let you rest.”

  Her blue eyes flashed. “I’ll rest when I’m dead.”

  Then she kissed him.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  A DISTANT DREAM

  The sailors hauled Charlie and Braddock aboard in moonlight.

  Reeking of sweat and diesel, Rusty grinned and extended his hand. “You did it. You goddamn went and did it.”

  Charlie shook it warmly. “It’s good to be back.”

  “The captain wants to see you. And I need to debrief you.”

  “I believe you promised me a cup of coffee.”

  Charlie spared a final glance at Saipan glowing red in the darkness. Cannon fire boomed as the Marines fought.

  Somewhere out there, Lt. Cotten fought alongside them.

  The Scout stayed to avenge his comrades, rescue his captive sergeant, and earn the right to come back. Maybe he did it for one more reason. Maybe he wanted to see it through. Maybe he stayed because he’d found himself in combat and no longer knew who he was outside it.


  A part of Charlie wished he’d stayed too. Already, he missed it.

  A strange feeling.

  “I’m heading to my rack, sir,” Braddock said. “If you need me for anything important, do me a favor and ask somebody else to do it.”

  The sailor lumbered down into the hatch. Charlie slid down the ladder after him into the hot and muggy belly of the beast. Red-faced and sweating, Captain Saunders leaned on the periscopes. Percy smirked at him from the plotting table. The crew at their stations.

  He was back on Sandtiger, this hot, stinking, crowded boat with its tense crew, tedious routines, and constant work. He was home.

  Braddock kept going, heading below deck for his rack time. He didn’t care what the Old Man thought of the mission or anything else. Accolades and reprimands alike bounced right off him.

  “Congratulations, Mr. Harrison,” the captain said.

  “Thank you, Captain.”

  “You did an outstanding job. All of you.”

  “I’m sorry to say we lost Chief McDonough. He died saving our lives.”

  “I understand,” Saunders said. “Smokey knew his duty, and he did it right to the end. I’ll be recommending him for the Navy Cross.”

  Charlie opened his mouth to tell the captain what he thought of his platitudes but checked himself. Smokey did know his duty. He understood how important the mission was. He’d given his life for it. He’d died so that other men might live.

  “Thank you, sir,” Charlie said.

  In his way, Saunders was also telling him Smokey’s death wasn’t his fault. They accomplished the mission. Smokey died for it. How it all went down didn’t matter. What was done was done.

  “I see a long career in the submarines for you and Mr. Grady.”

  “Thank you, Captain,” Charlie said with more feeling. He’d gone on the captain’s foolhardy mission. In return, Saunders would honor his part of the deal.

  “You’re back just in time. Get your rest. We’ll be in action soon.”

  “Action?”

  The captain turned away. “Helm, come to two-seven-oh. All ahead full.”

  “Come to two-seven-oh, aye, Captain,” the helmsman said.

  Charlie turned to Rusty. “What did I miss?”

  “It’s the big one, Charlie,” his friend said. “The Mobile Fleet is coming.”

  He couldn’t believe his ears. If the report was right, this was it. Kantai kessen. The final battle the Japanese had planned long before they bombed Pearl Harbor.

  “Show me.”

  At the plotting table, Rusty pointed out the Sandtiger’s position and bearing. “Flying Fish spotted a Jap battle group coming down the San Bernardino Strait. Seahorse sighted another group near Mindanao.” These submarines had been ordered to report enemy warship movements before attacking. “They radioed Pearl.”

  Charlie inspected the chart. Apparently, the enemy force was large enough to make Admiral Spruance believe he faced a major battle. Fifth Fleet was moving west from Saipan into the Philippine Sea to get maneuvering room.

  Since 1942, the Americans had fought their way across the Pacific. They’d finally reached an island that put Tokyo in range of bomber planes. The Japanese had no choice but to fight now. Within the next few days, two massive fleets would engage in the largest naval battle the world had ever seen.

  In tonnage, the American fleet was the largest ever assembled. While likely outnumbered in warships, the Japanese had advantages. The easterly trade winds meant Spruance’s careers had to steam east to launch their planes. The Japanese would have the initiative.

  Meanwhile, they could launch planes from nearby islands to augment their carriers. Their planes had a longer range.

  While navies fought with guns, they also fought with airpower, which had proved decisive time and again in naval battles. The Battle of the Philippines might be fought at sea but decided in the air.

  “I see the situation,” Charlie said. “Where do we fit in?”

  Saunders joined them at the plotting table. “Right now, we’re able to act at our discretion. We’re moving west, ahead of the fleet. How would you like to sink another carrier and shorten the war, Mr. Harrison?”

  Charlie smiled. “I’d like that very much, Captain.”

  “Then get some rest and report back at 0600, Number Two.”

  “Aye, aye, sir.”

  “We’re at relaxed battle stations. I’ll call the men to quarters when we sight the Jap fleet.”

  “Come on,” Rusty told Charlie. “I’m buying.”

  They left the conn and stopped in their cabin. Charlie peeled off his grimy commando fatigues and carefully folded them. Then he put on his service khakis, becoming a naval officer again. A great weight lifted.

  In the wardroom, Charlie poured himself a mug of strong black coffee and sipped it with a sigh. Already, the horrors of Saipan seemed like a bad dream.

  Rusty eyed him. “You all right?”

  “Did I miss anything else while I was gone?”

  “The captain got his head screwed back on straight.”

  “He seems rational,” Charlie agreed.

  “After you left, he came to his senses about sending you on that crazy mission. It had him tied in knots.”

  “We accomplished the mission.”

  “It’s a hell of a thing, what you did,” Rusty said.

  “It cost us Smokey.”

  “I know. He was a good man.”

  Charlie stared at his coffee. “He taught me a lot about seamanship and how to read the crew. Amazing instincts. I’d always see him hard at work. He never seemed to sleep. He had a saying, ‘I’ll sleep when I’m dead.’”

  “He’s resting now.”

  Charlie sat at the small table and sighed. Smokey had become a memory. He’d honor it by writing to the man’s family and keeping that memory alive.

  “What happened out there?” Rusty said.

  Charlie told him everything. As Rusty listened, his eyes grew wider and wider. One by one, the chiefs came in to hear the story until a crowd filled the small room. They were devastated at Smokey’s death.

  “After we left Cotten, I took Braddock to an aid station…”

  In his mind, Jane smiled at him. The room dimmed.

  “Percy, help me get him up,” Rusty was saying.

  The crowd broke up as Rusty and Percy draped Charlie’s arms over their shoulders and heaved him from the chair.

  Dead on my feet. Charlie had never understood that expression before now.

  “I saw Jane at the aid station,” he mumbled. “We were…”

  His mind flashed to their kiss. The hours spent in her tent.

  “I hope that sentence ends with you behaving like a gentleman,” Rusty said.

  Percy laughed. “You got the luck of the Irish, Hara-kiri.”

  They took him to his bunk and left him. Charlie curled into a ball. He twitched, jerking awake repeatedly at the nagging feeling he was in danger. Explosions flashed in his mind’s eye. Then sleep overcame him.

  He dreamed of screaming Japanese soldiers charging with their bayonets.

  He dreamed of Jane, kissing him for everything she was worth.

  He dreamed of Saipan.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  KANTAI KESSEN

  Charlie awoke to the battle stations alarm gonging throughout the boat.

  The hard fighting and knocks he’d taken over the past few days caught up to him. His head throbbed, stabbing pain behind his eyes. He sat up groaning, rubbed his face, and checked the time.

  1033! The captain had let him rest. He lurched to his feet and rushed to the conning tower. There, Percy told him the captain and Rusty were topside.

  Charlie glanced at the SJ radar scope, which was clear up to fifteen nautical miles. “What’s the situation?”

  “Not now, Exec,” Percy said and went back to talking to the bridge.

  His eyes shifted to the SV radar. The skies were crowded with planes, all within six miles. />
  “The Japs are attacking Fifth Fleet,” Nixon said. “The sea and sky were clear all around, then all of a sudden there are dozens of planes up there.”

  “Wait,” Charlie said. “We’re still surfaced.”

  “Yes. The captain—”

  Charlie hustled up the ladder, ignoring the aches in his stiff muscles, and joined the captain and Rusty on the bridge. The men aimed their binoculars at the sky. A sailor handed him a pair of glasses.

  “My God,” he said.

  More than a hundred planes battled in dozens of dogfights. Tracers streamed between the fighters. Bursts of black smoke.

  All of it happening almost right over his head.

  “The Hellcats are kicking their ass,” the captain said.

  Trailing a line of smoke, a spinning Japanese plane hurtled into the sea.

  Rusty grinned. “There goes another one.”

  Charlie swept the battle with his binoculars. Tangled contrails. A plane broke into pieces. Saunders was right. The Japanese Zeros were flaming out of the sky.

  Singly or in pairs, some broke free and zipped off toward the east.

  “How far away is Fifth Fleet?” Charlie said.

  “About seventy miles,” Rusty told him.

  Another squadron of American fighters, mere specks on the horizon, emerged from the blue to take on the Japanese survivors.

  “I never saw anything like it,” the captain said. “Our Hellcats tore them to shreds. Their Zeros!”

  The Grumman F6F Hellcat succeeded the old Wildcats, which had been chewed up by the light and fast Zeros flown by experienced Japanese combat pilots. Many of those pilots were killed at Midway and the Solomons, however. And the Hellcats flew faster, were armored, and were now flown by Americans who had gained valuable experienced in numerous combat sorties.

  Charlie thought of the fierce but futile assault against the Marine line. Waves of charging Japanese infantrymen mowed down by automatic weapons. They still had fanaticism on their side, but it just wasn’t enough to beat advancing American technology.

  “We’re better than them at war now,” he said.

  “Damn right,” Saunders said.

  He saw it. The Japanese were defeated, only they didn’t know it yet.

  His thoughts spiraled back to his own survival.