Chuck Jaworski pulls back the upper canopy and helps John out of the cockpit. He asks, “Where the hell were you, skipper? Sightseeing? What happened to my drop tanks? And you tore up the nose tire! We can almost see the air in it!”
John’s eyes shoot daggers as he replies, “Sightseeing, my ass! Do something about the governor on that new engine, will you? It’s all over the place… and stick the tanks, please. I’d like to know exactly how much gas is left…and don’t lose the film! Great pictures of the typhoon!”
Now standing on the ground, John looks up at Chuck, who is on the wing examining a fuel dipstick.
“How much?” John asks.
“You really want to know?”
“Of course I want to know!”
“You got less than five gallons, Captain. The gauges ain’t kidding. The engines might have run for another minute or two.”
The cold tremble of calamity averted once again passes through John Worth’s body until a colonel walks up and asks: “Excuse me, Captain, but you didn’t happen to come across my B-25 in your travels, did you?”
The worst devastation on Okinawa is to the food and medical supply depots. Most of their contents were ruined as water quickly saturated the cardboard boxes. Only canned goods survived. Some of the aviation gasoline became contaminated with water leakage, but the damage was isolated to just a few storage tanks. Numerous light vehicles were blown end over end and wound up in ditches and ravines. The Quonset huts that were not perpendicular to the wind direction were mostly blown out and destroyed, their flat ends taking the wind full force and collapsing. Those huts oriented in a perpendicular fashion, like the one Marge was in, survived unscathed as the wind deflected over their arched structures. The soil all over the island had turned into a soft, sticky mud that made movement by foot or vehicle difficult, often impossible. The large amount of Marsden matting--sheets of perforated steel planks comprising the runways, taxiways, and ramp areas of the airfields--was mostly unscathed. Among military personnel, there were 18 deaths and 56 injuries. Of the civilian inhabitants, several hundred perished, more than a thousand were injured, and 80 percent of their lightly-constructed dwellings were destroyed.
Within 24 hours of Louise’s departing Okinawa, the airfields have been cleaned up by Army Engineers and Navy Seabees and are ready to take back their aircraft. The muddy ground begins to harden again. The ships of the Navy stream back to Buckner Bay. Seventy-two hours later, all evacuated aircraft and ships are back at Okinawa. Invasion preparations have continued simultaneously with the clean-up operation.
Logistics depots of the Pacific supply chain at Eniwetok, Kwajalein, and Ulithi atolls begin emergency resupply of fuel, food, medical supplies, additional tentage, and building supplies immediately. One week after the typhoon struck, all US military operations at Okinawa are back on track. The invasion date for Operation Olympic is affected slightly: originally planned for 1 November, it is moved to 7 November to accommodate the logistical catch-up required.
John Worth brings f-stop back to Kadena in the first wave of aircraft to return. His tent has already been restored and cleaned. The sign is up and he finds Marge sleeping peacefully in the hammock, wearing fatigue pants and his football jersey. She looks wonderful to him, though bruised and a bit disheveled, with bandages on her right wrist and forehead. He can hardly contain his joy that she is OK, but he does not wake her. The exhausted nurse will sleep soundly for another five hours, when she is expected back on duty.
Number 49 remained at Leyte a few more days, until the errant prop governor was repaired. John went back to give her a test flight and ferry her to Kadena as soon as she was ready.
And then life returns to normal, or as normal as things could get in war.
General Marshall and Admiral King commend Nimitz for his decision to evacuate Okinawa. He replies that it had been “no big deal, just prudent seamanship.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
The young lovers lay quiet and still in the hammock, their afterglow-induced nap over. Marge is on top, her hands folded on John’s chest, her chin resting on her hands. He props up his head with one arm to look straight at her. Smiling back at him, she opens her eyes, which shine a radiant green even in the pale light.
“I have something to confess,” he says. “I really want to get this off my chest.”
“Uh-oh,” she replies, still smiling, not appearing in the least bit concerned.
“No, really, it’s not that bad.” He pauses, as if gathering courage. “But I don’t know why I’m telling you this. Maybe I’m just an idiot…”
“That’s probably true,” Marge interrupts, with an impish grin.
He takes a deep breath before continuing. “But that first time we did it…I was upset for a minute that I wasn’t your first.”
“And how exactly did you know that, Farm Boy? Are you a doctor or something?” She is still smiling.
What’s wrong with me? Why the hell did I ever bring this up? Thank God she’s not pissed off…yet.
But he plows ahead anyway. “I don’t have to be a doctor. It was just…so easy…”
“So easy to do what, John? Drive the train into the tunnel?”
John tenses for the assault he feels certain he has unleashed. Being on the bottom like this, he is vulnerable to a knee in the groin, a punch in the nose--but dammit! She’s taking this like it’s some kind of joke!
“Well, yeah,” he says.
She is grinning even wider than before. “So you’ve plundered a lot of virgins in your time, eh, stud? Gee, I am absolutely crushed! And what part of the 19th century were you born in, again, Saint John?”
“Wait a minute, let me finish…”
“I don’t know, Farm Boy, this has to be the strangest case of Catholic guilt I’ve ever heard of. But OK, go ahead,” she says, assuming a quizzical look. “You do remember I’m a nurse and I could deceive you with any number of medical explanations?”
Still tense, he speaks slowly, choosing his words carefully. His gaze wanders to the tent’s roof. “It’s just that I love you so much…you know that…and I never dreamed I’d meet anybody like you, especially not here, in the middle of this damn war. I just don’t want to think that someone was as close to you as I am now.” His eyes lock on hers as he pleads: “Is that so silly?”
Her voice grows stern. “And you’re not looking for an apology or anything, are you, John?”
“No.”
“Good,” she says. “Because I won’t, no matter how much I love you.”
For a few searing moments, he is sure he has shattered their bond beyond any hope of repair. Then Marge begins to giggle and snuggles her face to his chest. The giggling stops with a long sigh. Looking into his eyes, she says, “Don’t try to be my first, baby, just be my last.”
They are both smiling again as they fall back to sleep.
When they wake again, Marge gently touches John’s face and asks, “Baby, I’m not your first, am I? You certainly seemed to know what you were doing.”
John, grinning sheepishly, replies: “No, honey, but you’re real close. I’ve only had one real serious girlfriend…in college…”
Marge rolls her eyes. “My God, Farm Boy…you really are Catholic, aren’t you?”
“But she was just with me because I played football. That’s what she wanted to be, I think…a football player’s girlfriend…just a reflection of him. I got so sick of hearing her talk with her friends, everything Johnny this and Johnny that. Some guys might like that but I couldn’t put up with it.”
She scolds him with mock indignation. “You rotten heartbreaker! And ‘Some guys might like that,’ my foot! How about most guys!”
“Wait! I’m not finished,” he says. “I like a woman with some backbone, who can stand up for herself.” He plants a kiss on her forehead. “Like you.”
Quietly, she basks in the compliment she has just received.
“Don’t feel sorry for her,” John says. “She moved on to someon
e else really quick.”
“That’s it? Just her? What about prostitutes? You’ve been in the Army quite a while. Surely…”
John cuts her off. “Nope, just her. I’ve never had a prostitute. Saved my money.”
With a shy smile, he adds: “It’s amazing I didn’t go blind with all the jerking off…”
Coming from any other guy, Marge would have never believed it in a million years. From John, she accepted it as gospel. But she can’t resist providing the punch line: “And you don’t even need glasses yet!”
It takes a minute for them to stop giggling.
John asks, “Are you going to tell me your story now, sweetheart?”
“Somehow, I knew you were going to ask that. Well, OK…fair’s fair.” After a reluctant pause, she continues. “I’ve been with one other boy, John. I knew him most of my life. He was a bit older… his daddy was some big banker and good friends with my daddy. His family had lots of money.”
“How long did you date him?”
“On and off through high school… never anything serious. When the war started, his daddy got him a war-essential job as a supervisor in a defense plant, building bombers, no less, although he didn’t know anything about it. He just had to show up. I guess student nurses tend to get a little sexually adventurous sometimes…a little knowledge is a dangerous thing. Anyway, we started doing the deed my last year in nursing school. After a while, he really started to get on my nerves…always telling me what to do, what to think…When I graduated and told him I was thinking about joining up, he looked at me with such disdain and said: ‘Don’t be a jerk…let some other slob do it!’ I signed up the next day and never saw him again. I picked the Army because the recruiting office was a block closer than the Navy’s.”
“He sounds like a real asshole, Marge.”
“Yeah, he was.” She begins to rant. “All those rich boys who think they’re so damned entitled really piss me off now. They have those inflated views of themselves, which are completely unwarranted… think they own everybody…”
Her rant over, she kisses him and says, “I guess that’s why I love you so much, John. You’re just the opposite.”
John begins to roll back on top of her.
“Hey! Hey!” Marge says in half-hearted protest. “No more foolin’ around. I want you well rested for today’s mission!”
John replies, “Baby, I can think of no better way to get back to sleep.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Major Kathleen McNeilly was quite pleased with what her nurses had managed to accomplish. Not only had they weathered the typhoon successfully, with patients new and old surviving without further trauma, but their invasion preparations were all current, actually a little ahead of schedule. She decided the nurses could work half shifts for a few days, as the present patient load was quite light. They could certainly use the rest.
Marge and Nancy elected to work their half shifts from 2200 to 0400. As they prepare to leave the hospital and enjoy their extended off-duty time, Major McNeilly announces casually that she is going over to the Navy hospital to see if she can barter some “swaps” of medical supplies.
As McNeilly leaves the tent, Nancy, with a mischievous smile, stage-whispers, “The only stuff the old dyke will be swapping over there are body fluids with her lady friend.”
It is now 1700 as Marge sets out to look for John. Not finding him at mess or in his tent, she heads to the flight line; f-stop is parked with no one around her.
Marge’s next stop is Base Operations. Upon entering the large tent, she runs straight into Captain Harmon Mann, still in his flying clothes and wrestling with some paperwork after another lifeguard mission.
“Well, hi there, Margie!” is Mann’s delighted response. “Looking for Ol’ Harm, are you?”
They are alone in the tent. Marge wonders: Where is everyone? Could the entire Operations Staff all be at mess?
“No, Captain, I am not looking for you,” Marge says, her voice laden with annoyance and distaste. Have you seen Captain Worth, by any chance?”
“Camera Boy? No, haven’t seen him. He must be out with his friends taking pictures of clouds or something…you know, very important war stuff.”
Exasperated, Marge says, “Oh, knock it off, Captain! His airplane is parked right outside. Now if you’ll excuse me.” She heads out of the tent.
Mann rushes up behind her and grabs her by the arm, saying, “Wait a minute, sweetie…where you goin’? Stay and chat a while.”
Tired of this game, Marge says, “Captain, let go of me!”
“I think you ’n me need to spend a li’l time together, Margie… How about we…”
Suddenly, a male voice booms from the other side of the tent. “The lady said ‘let go,’ Mann!”
With a smirk on his face, Mann turns to the voice, but the smirk quickly disappears, replaced by a look of uneasy surprise.
The object of Harmon Mann’s uneasiness is Lieutenant Bob Kelly, US Navy, who had landed his Corsair at Kadena after a rain squall prevented his squadron from returning to their carrier. The carrier’s planes were scattered across several airfields on Okinawa, where they would spend the night.
Kelly and Mann have history.
“Still menacing young ladies, I see. Are you all right, m’am?” Kelly asks.
“Yes, sir, I’m fine. I was just leaving,” Marge replies before scurrying out of the tent.
“Have a nice evening, then,” Kelly says in her wake, then turns his attention back to Harmon Mann. “So tell me, dickhead, why am I so lucky to cross paths with a piece of shit like you halfway around the world? I should have killed you back at Yale. That pretty nurse might not have been looking for you, but I sure as hell am!”
“Big talk! You can’t touch me and you know it!” Mann says, nervously trying to figure out his best path of escape.
“Now it seems I’ve got another reason to want you dead. Not only do I have that sexual assault on my sister that your Daddy got hushed up but now, you almost get one of my guys killed by fucking up a simple lifeguard mission… poor bastard was hurt and in the water for hours because you couldn’t even mark a position and drop a raft correctly. It’s a miracle the sharks didn’t get him before the Dumbo found him.”
Mann’s eyes are wide with terror now as he says, “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about! Why don’t you kiss my ass…”
“Knock it off, shithead,” Kelly says, stepping closer. “Since I had to land here anyway, I did a little checking. Imagine how thrilled I was to find the lifeguard was you. Your squadron mates don’t have much of an opinion of you, by the way. Sounds like this isn’t the first time you fucked up, either. Your mommy and daddy must be real proud of you, war hero.”
“You and them can all go fuck yourselves,” Mann replies, trying--and failing--to sound tough. “This lifeguard shit is hard work! Like findin’ a fuckin’ needle in a haystack!”
Kelly responds with a withering look of disdain--and a wad of spit that he hurls at Mann.
“Anyway,” Mann says, pretending there is no glob of spit clinging to his life vest, “you swabbies go down in the water, you’re on your own. Don’t expect the Army to come save you…And one more thing, Kelly, like me and Daddy said before…it ain’t rape when they ask for it.”
Before Mann can speak another word, Kelly’s fist strikes him squarely in the jaw. He blacks out briefly as he crashes to the floor, landing flat on his back.
Towering over the prone Mann, Kelly says, “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time. I’d be more careful if I were you, Harmon…this ain’t the Ivy League. You don’t have any friends here. Do you think it’s just chance this tent is deserted except for you and me? They were all thrilled to death when I asked for their cooperation and they don’t even know me from Adam. Better tell your daddy to get you out of here before there’s another accident that nobody manages to witness.”
That said, Kelly kicks Mann’s groggy, supine figure squarely in the
groin, a powerful blow that locks Mann in the fetal position. “Until we meet again,” Kelly says as he leaves the tent.
As he lies on the ground, alone and in great pain, Mann whispers, “I’ll show all you sons of bitches…”
Marge finds John a few minutes after leaving the Operations tent. He had been at the machine shop with Chuck Jaworski, building another of his continuous improvements to f-stop, this time a field modification to the camera switches that would allow him to never take his hands off the control wheel and throttles during a camera run. He is surprised and delighted to see her.
“How come you ain’t at work, honey?” he asks.
“McNeilly gave us half shifts. I’m not due back on duty until 2200.”
“Great! You hungry?”
“I sure am! How about I help you with whatever you’re doing and then we get some chow?”
John replies: “Swell! Shouldn’t take but a few minutes.” Marge’s tenuous relationship with his airplane seemed to be improving lately, to his great delight.
The sun begins to set as the young pilot and nurse walk across the ramp to his aircraft, chatting happily. When they get there, Marge hops up on the tall plane’s wing just like an old pro.
“I ran into our old friend Harmon Mann in the Operations tent, baby,” Marge says.
John bristles. “He didn’t try to bother you, did he?”
“No, not really. He was just being his usual stupid self, but some real tall Navy pilot was there who seemed to know him. Looked like he was going to kill him, too!”
“The Navy better get in line!” John says, as Marge laughs and nods in agreement.
Chapter Thirty-Six
The lone steel tower still rose above the desert emptiness on yet another early morning, three months since the first atomic bomb test failed. General Groves and Dr. Oppenheimer were ready to try again. This time, no tense words, no ultimatums were uttered as the firing sequence commenced. And this time, a split second after the button was pushed in the Control Bunker, there was the blinding flash as bright as the sun, followed by the shock wave and searing wind that incinerated the few living things in its path and would have flattened any structure for miles around. Moments later, after the ear-shattering boom, the mushroom cloud began its climb to the heavens, its top finally flattening at a height of 30,000 feet.
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