“Justine!” I had to raise my voice to get her attention.
She looked up from the pad she was scribbling frantically on, recognized me, said, “It’s war. The Japanese have attacked Singapore, Hong Kong, The Straits Settlements, someplace called Brunei, and the Dutch East Indies.”
“We forgot that one. They have oil. So does that Brunei place. They are winning, correct?”
“There seems to be a huge naval battle in the South China Sea between the Japanese and the British. The situation is not clear.”
“Did you call Hodges?”
“I…” I just reached for the phone, she vacated the seat, the only one in the room, and I flopped down into it.
“USEFS HQ Port Arthur .”
“This is Captain Kapusta. I was ordered to monitor shortwave broadcasts at the Machine Shop. Are you aware of the Japanese attack?”
“On us? Pearl Harbor?” I heard big feet hitting the floor. Whoever it was did not cover the phone when he called “Captain Reynolds!” I heard feet running toward me, they fumbled the phone hand off.
“Miles? Ray. What?” he did not say, “The fuck?”
“We have shortwave reports from…” I grabbed Justine’s sheet of notes, “From the NKH, the Japs, that is, and the BBC, that the Japanese fleets have attacked most of the Brit Colonies in the South China Sea. Hong Kong too. We don’t have reports of American targets being hit. What did your man mean about Pearl Harbor?”
“We have noticed Japanese Fleet mobilization. Pearl is an obvious target.”
“And Manila. I got it. Is it happening?”
“Not over our official channels.” I could almost hear his brain churning over the phone. “This is not the war we were ready for. Hang on. I’ll put a steno on the line, you read him what you have.”
“I’ll put a woman on to read her notes. I have to get this place back in production. Everybody is standing around with their thumbs up their asses.”
“Good. Do it.” It was not easy. I yelled at Ardmore and Hoskins, they yelled at everybody else, we got the shop back in order. I collared Ginger, Frances, had her and another girl unload the truck, got the DAT Crew back banging nails. Justine had another girl, I think her name was Ilda, on the phone, while Cookie turned the knobs on the radio. It was still light, about four, so the radio was picking up only the strongest stations. Come nightfall that would change. Frances dumped that case of vodka on my desk, cocked an eyebrow at me. I pulled out one bottle, popped the cork, took one sip and put it on the desk.
“Here. Take it easy, it is going to be a long night.” I pushed the case under the desk, took the notes and started flipping through them. I wished I had an atlas. Frances took a sip, brought the bottle to the attention of the others. Some passed, Cookie took a Russian-sized pull on the bottle, went back to spinning knobs. Su-mi magically appeared with a plate full of eggrolls, we all ate with one hand while trying to make sense of the chaos that had just erupted.
I finally got smart, took the phone and asked Ray’s steno for a map or two. He just said, “On the way, sir.” I handed the phone back to Frank, and went back to worrying. The pattern was becoming clear. The Japanese must have had advance warning of the peace deal, there was no way they could have lined all this up in the week or so, two weeks since Eppi had told me about the swindle. But then again, he was a lowly Commander. No matter, the Japanese fleets were poised and ready, somebody had given the word, “go” and they went. I had no way of knowing, but there must have been a British fleet in the Atlantic, on anti-submarine duty, the German U-Boats had cost us dear all during the war. There had to be one in the Mediterranean and the Arabian Gulf to protect the Suez Canal and India. So if there was one in Hong Kong, and another in Singapore, then they might well be either gone, or bottled up. The Russian fleet was gone, as we well knew, the Germans had no ships at all out here, except maybe some commerce raiders or subs. So that meant that it was the US and the Japs. That meant they must have known that the US Navy would not join with the Brits in defense.
“I smell a deal.” I said out loud. That meant that we were not at war with the Japanese Empire. They were not that dumb. One war at a time. So World War II started right the fuck now, the Japanese and the Americans against the Germans and the British.
All well and good. What did that mean to my personal ass? Would the Japanese keep fighting in China? Was it true that Chiang Kai-shek was working for Japan? Was this fucked up Chinese war a side show? It did not make sense that Japan would just sit back and let the Germans take over all of Asia. Maritime versus Continental? Did that make sense? What sense did sense make these days?
I had an idea, got up, took four bottles of booze out to Bobby and Darrell, told them to knock off at the usual time, I would keep them informed, but it did not look like we were in anymore danger than usual. Darrell allowed that there was a slate blackboard he used to keep track of jobs in the back, where he slept, and that it might be a good idea to move it up front, so I could post war bulletins as they came in.
“Good idea. You move it, and I will get one of the girls to post on it. Thanks.” So that gave me an idea, I had Justine type up what we knew, make three carbons, and I had runners take them to the Cannery, the Sisterhood, and the DAT House. About then, some doughs from HQ showed up with a couple of maps and a few battered atlases, a very tired set of the Encyclopedia Britannica, and we were in the Intelligence business.
My little cabin was roughed in, no door, but I moved my blankets and duffle in there, also the stuff I had bought for Cookie. She was still wearing just that shirt, so I brought back a skirt and a pair of shoes, handed them to her. She looked at me like I was a snake or something for a minute, but bowed her head and took them, put them on right then and there. I dumped the cosmetics and toiletries on the desk, let them sort that out. The bunks were made, the blankets in a pile on the floor. Close enough. I got introduced to the crew, the other three were Celia, Lizzie, and Peaches. Peaches was one rough looking bull dagger, maybe not as bad as Ruby, but obviously nobody to fuck with. The tattoos were the tip off.
They all gave me that same disbelieving looks when I handed out the pistols and the holsters, the uniform jackets. I didn’t know if Cookie was going to shoot me on the spot, she took that 1911 Colt like it was a miracle from the saints. She didn’t take long to buckle it on, though. I did notice that. I got a wave, of “what the fuck am I doing?” but that’s not that uncommon.
We stuck the maps and the blackboard up on the raw wood wall of my cabin, ate whatever it was that Su-mi brought us, found some thumbtacks to mark the battles on the maps, and tried to relax. The first bottle got empty, another was opened. That was six down. I took one for me, decided that the rest were dead and gone too. It was sweet, but not bad. Like the strongest brandy ever. We hoped for American stations after night fell, and we found them, but they had no word of the new war, none at all. The Hoovers were trying to figure out how to play that, no doubt.
A while later, Cookie found a Portuguese station, the girls had enough Spanish to figure most of it out, Ilda’s mother had come from Brazil, so she helped fill in the blanks. “Oh, my God!’ She exclaimed. After a chorus of questions and a few tears she got out that German U-Boats had ambushed a convoy of returning American doughboys in the North Atlantic and sunk “um número unkown ” of troop transports. They did not even want to guess at the casualties, but they were “assumido como sendo de alta.” Alta means high. Oh, shit.
I called HQ, they hadn’t gotten the word yet, but as we listened, the story spread over all the stations, the BBC had it in minutes. They could barely restrain their gloating. The Germans didn’t even bother to pretend. They called it the greatest sea victory in the history of warfare. “Meer größte Sieg in der Geschichte der Kriegsführung.” With martial music. We all just looked at each other. I stood, walked out to the shop floor and called for attention. My job. I told them, we knew that we all had lost people today. Lots of people. There had been two million AEF soldiers in
France, and it was clear that damn few of them were going to make it home.
And none of them were going to get here to help us fight off the Germans when they came. Shit sure. No words. Just pain. I didn’t even want to get drunk. I never thought that anything could hurt too much to drink away. Live and learn. I went back in, said, “I want four of you women to lie down. Try to sleep, whatever you can do. I want two people on the radio at all times. Work it out. There is more booze under the desk, of you think that will help. I’m going to lie down and think for a while.”
Cookie caught my eye, pointed at her chest. “You want me?”
I just shrugged. “If you want. Suit yourself. Are you American?”
“No. Serbian.”
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
She shrugged right back at me. “Being a whore.” I went to bed. She followed. She wore me out, but it didn’t do much good. My fucking god, we were so fucked.
>>>>>>>
I guess I passed out for a while, those must have been dreams. Nightmares. They were even worse than reality. Imagine that. A little before dawn, I dragged my ass out of bed, left Cookie lying there. She snored. Frances was on the radio, that rough ass woman Peaches was keeping notes. “What is going on?”
“That battle in the South China Sea is over. The goddamn Limeys lost.” Peaches told me. She was a sight, kinky hair turning gray, tattooed like a sailor, maybe five earrings on each side. But fuck it, I’m not a fashion critic. She was here, she was working. Good enough.
“Really?”
“Everybody says so but the BBC. Something about airplanes, aircraft carriers?” She looked into my eyes. “That’s some sort of ship?”
“Yeah. A ship that carries airplanes. They can take off and land… Big flat deck. We have a couple, the Lexington and… I forget. Brits have more, and the Japanese have a lot of them. The French were going to build one, but they ran out of money.”
“The fucking froggies ran out of everything.” She didn’t spit on the floor. Quite.
“You say that like you care.”
“I was over there. I saw. A bunch of bastards.”
“You were in the AEF?”
“I was a fucking nurse. Just a dumb cunt kid. I learned my lesson.”
“ANC?”
“Fuck yeah. Ambulance Corps. Sucked.”
“I was there ’20 to ’22. I get it. You guys were the best.”
“We were dumb shit kids. Got screwed, blued, tattooed, and fucked every which way but the right way. I was on the first ship. I was so fucking proud of myself. Motherfucker.”
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to talk about it.”
“Talk don’t hurt.” She handed me the clipboard. “You want to call this in?”
“I want to wake up and find out this was all a bad dream.” But I took the papers. There was still a battle going for Hong Kong, that seemed to be all the BBC wanted to talk about, probably because they hadn’t lost that one yet. Singapore was gone, something about bicycle troops, and there was a single note that the capital of French Indochina had been, “Occupied Peacefully” by Imperial Troops sometime yesterday. Saigon. Oh. Horses do shit. The rubber capital of the world, if I remembered correctly. Michelin. Oil, rubber, coal from China… Where did they get their iron and copper and stuff? I made a note to spend an hour with the encyclopedia and find out, but that was really far above my lowly pay grade. I called in, gave them the bad news, was told to round up as many spare bodies as I could and send them to HQ PDQ. Or faster. Sir! Yes, sir!
That meant I had to put on my shoes. I did that, yelled until Bobby woke up, gave him the bad news, then humped my ass down to DAT House and woke them up too. Share the pain. I gathered up a few guys to follow me, doubled back to roust Justine out of the rack, Cookie wanted to come along, for her own reasons, if any. Fine. By the time I got them up and dressed, Jimmy Bolton was there with a fleet of flivvers, we loaded up and putted off to the Cannery.
Sovine was up, had his crew tearing out conveyer belts, creating more room, making showers, all that. A few words and he was on his way in most of the flivvers. We had ten left, swung past the Sisterhood, gave them the word. Ruby tried to give me some shit, general principles probably, tried to tell me how busy they were. I just kicked a box of rations that was near the loading dock. Give her credit, she got it. No play, no food.
>>>>>>>
I took the last flivver solo to HQ. On the way, I passed a most impressive armored train on a siding nearby. Unless I missed my guess, they had cannon on there that must have been Naval Caliber, ten or twelve inch. Much like the Paris Gun the Germans had in France. Scary to think that they thought they needed something like that. And they had two of the big bastards.
We all parked, I walked inside, the big room was packed. A slight man, a two star general, looked wry and quietly confident. He did keep working his mouth, as if dissatisfied. I remember that private’s rant about his new false teeth, filed that away. Bradley. Ray Reynolds rushed up to greet me, said “We owe you a big one. You were on the ball. The whole Army was waiting for the Japanese to attack us. How wrong can you get?”
“Don’t tempt me to say ‘Patton’.” I quipped and immediately regretted it, but Ray did not flinch.
“The General wants to thank you, but as you see…”
“I get it. Where to you want all my people…And why?”
“We need to make an airport in twenty four hours. The Japanese are flying in a delegation to confer with Bradley. We have to clean out this park a few blocks away, level the buildings and get it all pretty, right the hell now. The General wants it to look like it has been here for a while, so we get to play stage setting.”
“You heard about the Battle of the South China Sea?”
“We have. We set up our own listening post, but you keep running yours. First priority.”
“Yes, sir. You got it. Why don’t you just get a few bulldozers and knock that field flat?”
“Because, Miles, we don’t have any. All the heavy stuff is up in Vlad, and the Russians are running scared. No cooperation from the Whites. They may have made a deal with the Germans.”
“Let me guess. They hate the Japs more than they hate the Krauts.”
“Right in one. So we have to get our port open, beef up the SMRR to handle more traffic, and establish an airport, all at once.”
“Yesterday.”
“If not sooner. I will send a sergeant to show your where we need your people. You stay here, you need to hear this briefing.”
“Let me go out and introduce your man to Ruby, Darrell, Jimmy, and Red Sovine. Just a minute.”
>>>>>>>
That was easy. The briefing was hard. There were no formalities. Hodges cleared his throat, introduced Bradley, Bradley stepped to the map, pointed with his finger. “Here we are. Vladivostok is closed to our ships as of a few hours ago. This is Peking, two hundred miles west. The Germans are there, but not in force. They have what they call “advisors” there. Who they think they are advising is not clear. The Japanese and the British own Shanghai, what they call a Co-domination, that is four hundred miles south.” He tapped the map, ever so gently. “We have no word from Shanghai, but we can confidently assume that the British there are all dead.” He paused for emphasis. “Or fleeing, but there is no place to which they can flee. Hong Kong, here, is almost eight hundred miles away, and is, as best we can tell, still under siege by the Imperial forces. The Nationalists are in Nanking, two hundred miles west of Shanghai. They are mostly concerned with fighting the Chinese Communists in the South and West. As you know, they are allied to both the Imperial Forces and the USA. The Whites still supposedly own Vladivostok…”
Somebody made a rude noise in the audience, which was ignored. Bradley continued. “We may have to root them out, but it would be bloody, and might well destroy the port and such materiel as we have stored there. Negotiations are in progress.” He reached far to the west, tapped Irkutsk. “Here in Irkutsk, is my headquarters,
and the farthest we can claim to control after twelve years in Siberia. The distance from Vladivostok is slightly less than fifteen hundred miles. The main German spearhead is at Novosibirsk, another nine hundred miles farther west. I can safely say that we are about to fight the longest range war in United States Army history. Twenty five hundred miles is less than the distance from New York to Los Angeles by only four hundred miles.” He paused to let that sink into our hard heads. “So, strategically and tactically, this is almost a one dimensional war. We have to fight this out along the line of the TSRR. That means it is going to be a war of engineers, of trains, of supplies, of tanks, and of airplanes.”
“We have several severe problems along those fronts. We have no port for supplies, we have no tanks, and we have no Air Service. The destroyer carrying the Air Service Staff was destroyed by a German commerce raider, probably the Cormoran. Billy Mitchell, as much of a genius air tactician as George Patton was a genius of armored tactics…” There was no booing, but there was a rustle of disapproval at that name. That told me a lot. I didn’t really want to know that, but stet. New world here. Walking on strange, shaky ground. Bradley paused for a second, perhaps to acknowledge that murmur. Then he said, “However, writing books about tactics for a whole field of war is one thing. Proving and implementing those theoretical tactics is quite another matter. Incidentally, the Italian air power theorist Giulio Douhet died this year in February. I mention that only to emphasize that we are now moving from the age of Theoretical Air Warfare to the age of Applied Air Warfare.” Again he let that concept sink in. Obviously he was a man that respected his audience’s intelligence, did not feel he had to hammer home every point.
“As many of you know from personal experience, air has had three main uses. Observation, bombing, and denial of air space to the first two uses. In the very near future, we can only expect more bombing both from zeppelins and the new larger heavier than air bombers. Gothas. Our job will therefore be stopping the first two tactics and denying our airspace to the enemy. We have no, as I said before, Air Service. We do, however, have a dozen pursuit airplanes. And we have one of the best pilots in the world to train new pilots. Allow me to introduce Colonel USAAS, Amelia Earhart. Colonel, please step forward.”
Polar Bear Blues: A Memoir Of The Endless War (The Endless War. Book 1) Page 11