Ash shook his head in disbelief. “I’ll make certain to double check that myself,” he said.
“Good man,” Commander Fromkern said, showing Ash a broad smile. “And in so far as you can do it, I’d follow that policy about everything.”
“You can be sure, Sir,” Ash said.
“Well, then,” Fromkern said, offering Ash his hand. “I think I’d better be on my way and leave you to it. Good hunting, Mr. Miller, and good luck. Speaking for myself as well as the admiral, we’ll rest easier once you and a hundred other of these chasers put to sea and start doing the job.”
Commander Fromkern might have said more, but in that instant, distress signals coming from a medium-sized trawler half a mile downriver arrested the attention of both men. Commander Fromkern needed only a glance in the direction of the trawler to read the signs before ordering Ash to seal the gates to the yard, allowing no one to enter or leave until further notice. Then, he fairly leapt for Anson’s office and the nearest telephone.
Barking orders to Solly, Hamp, Samarango, and Chief Stobb, Ash himself saw the gates closed and chained. Swiftly making his way back to Anson’s office, Ash, like the remainder of his men, watched with grim astonishment as the wounded trawler approached one of Anson’s docks. The blackened hole through the port quarter of its stern showed clear evidence that a surfaced U-boat had attacked it somewhere nearby, the lines of machine-gun holes across the port side of the little ship’s pilot house and cabin adding a dark and nasty testament to the hard fact.
Fromkern reappeared almost immediately, once more warning Ash to guard the gates until the Navy’s response teams—medical, intelligence, and salvage—could race the 11 miles up from Portland. Then, once Ash had given the order, both he and Commander Fromkern hastened to the dock where the trawler, with Anson’s shipwrights receiving her lines, was attempting to tie up. Even before Ash could register the blood on the trawler’s decks, Chaser 3’s entire crew—save for Samarango, Chief Stobb, Solly, and Hamp who remained on the gates—had run to the dock. In a matter of minutes, they boarded the trawler and helped remove one dead fisherman from the pilot house and two more wounded, one of them badly, from the cabin immediately beneath.
When the trawler’s captain, a grizzled New Englander with the short stem of a pipe still clenched between his teeth, finally emerged from the pilot house, he told Commander Fromkern that he’d been attacked in the midst of a fog bank no more than 8 miles east of Bailey Island. According to what Ash heard, the trawler had been moving ahead slowly through a wall of dense fog, making for Portland, when the fog had suddenly lifted up to a distance of no more than a hundred yards. In the same instant that the captain had spotted the stationary U-boat stopped on the surface, a German machine gun located on the conning tower had cut loose on them, instantly killing the trawler’s helmsman and wounding the two men in the lower cabin. Reacting as swiftly as he could, the ship’s captain had then thrown the wheel hard to starboard in order to disappear back into the fog; seconds later, the lesser of the U-boat’s two deck guns, probably a 40mm, had cut loose and holed the trawler’s stern just as she was passing out of sight back into the fog bank. Fortunately for the trawler, the round thrown out had been a solid, so rather than bursting, it had slammed straight through the trawler’s stern and out the starboard side while doing only minimal damage. Had the U-boat’s 4-inch gun been used, the trawler’s captain imagined that he would have been sunk, if not blown to pieces. The captain ended his account with something that stuck in Ash’s mind. In the second or two that he’d glimpsed the Nazi sub, he’d seen that the sea green conning tower on the U-boat had been distinguished by a single image—not an obligatory hull number but the huge silhouette of an immense black seahorse painted upright on its side.
Chaser 3 did not carry a pharmacist’s mate, so Ash’s green recruits—some of them horrified by the sight of blood and retching but fresh from their boot camp first aid training—did what they could to treat the wounded. As far as Ash was concerned, whatever they did proved useful, because both men were still alive when the Navy’s medical and intelligence teams finally reached the yard. The trawler’s captain and his two uninjured fishermen were removed to a secure location for debriefing, while the medical people raced for the Portland Naval Hospital and a salvage crew went swiftly to work on the vessel to disguise and cover up the damage that had been done to it by the German rounds.
“Caution your officers and crew,” Fromkern warned Ash before he departed. “Not a word about what’s been seen and heard here is to go beyond the gates.”
“Understood,” Ash said, saluting his senior as the commander stepped into his car.
Throughout the remainder of that troubled day, after being twice cautioned, no one spoke of the incident, but that it had left everyone in the ship’s company with a staggering impression, no one doubted. In place of doing a mental postmortem on the event, consulting often with Chief Stobb, Samarango, and Teague, Ash and his two junior officers distracted themselves by working furiously on drafts for Chaser 3’s watch bill. Because they were unfamiliar with anything about the men beyond the technical qualifications of the rated petty officers, they could not be sure that they were assigning precisely the right men to the collateral jobs that went beyond what they’d be called upon to do during normal running. Gomez, for example, had tapped two of the new boot seamen, Lipesky and Pierre, for training underway on sonar. Ash felt confident that he would turn both into qualified sonar operators, but Ash also had to determine—if or when he sounded the alarm for General Quarters and sent the crew running to their battle stations—if Lipesky would serve best as a loader for the 3”/23, or if his muscular bulk would make him a strong candidate for one of Chief Stobb’s damage control parties. Would Hill, the yeoman, busily typing to Ash’s side in a cramped corner of the office, work well behind the engine order telegraph in the pilot house during GQ, or should Ash assign him to assist with placing the detonators into the depth charges? The three officers just couldn’t be sure. The best they could hope for was to try to make educated guesses, fix assignments, and adjust them in the light of future experience and the horror on the trawler which they had just witnessed.
An hour before the men were to break for lunch and march off to The Jarvis House, a second consignment of stores arrived from Portland, this one containing the ship’s bedding, signal flags, and a considerable inventory of tools for work on everything from engine maintenance to Chaser 3’s rigging. Samarango and Stobb handled the entire consignment without bothering Ash about it, went through the inventory with meticulous care, and left the officers to their work. Later, in the middle of the afternoon, after seeing everything else stacked and stored in the warehouse, Chief Stobb turned up in the office with the completed inventories and two boxes which he quickly presented to Ash.
“We received one crate of standard medical supplies and stowed it with the rest of the gear,” Chief Stobb said. “These were included, and I’m guessing they shouldn”t have been. I would have expected this stuff to come by guarded delivery. That first box is an alcohol consignment, medical for the crew and two quarts of the technical stuff for cleaning sonar and radio equipment and for floating the compass. The second one contains the ship’s supply of morphine. ’Cause we don’t have a pharmacist’s mate, Captain, I thought you’d best take charge of it.”
“Right you are, Chief,” Ash said. “I had that duty aboard my last ship, so I’m already familiar with the required reports. I’ll lock both boxes in the wardroom safe.”
“Hamp” Ash said, as Chief Stobb disappeared outdoors, “how much first aid did the Prairie State teach you?”
“Multiple hours on several days, Sir,” the ensign replied.
“Good,” Ash said. “Think you could stitch up a gash or close one with butterflies?”
“In a pinch,” Hamp said, “if I have to.”
“All right,” Ash said. “I’m designating you the ship’s physician. These guys are young, so let’s hope
that they’re healthy, but if we do run into an emergency and I’m busy on the bridge, you’ll have to handle it. And just for general purposes, why don’t you keep a bottle of aspirin and a dose of castor oil handy; I’m guessing those will see us through the most of our problems. we’ll have a medical book or two in the stores, so you’ll need to read up on the basics, like how to stitch up deep cuts and treat superficial wounds.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, Sir, what about sea sickness?”
Ash laughed. “From what I understand about these chasers, It’s going to be rampant, particularly during our first times out. Mr. Anson told me that he would leave some empty paint buckets for us. The short of it is that the men will have to work through it, because we have no other choice. If we have a chronic case, and the man ever spits up blood, he’ll have to go ashore, and that will be permanent. I’ve known of such cases, but I’ve not yet seen one and hope I don’t. Let me know at once if something like that turns up. I won’t have a man’s health ruined because his body betrays him.”
“Nothing medical that we can do for a man like that?” Hamp asked.
“No,” Ash said, “not in my experience.”
In the evening, following supper, and after another warning about keeping their silence regarding the day’s events, liberty commenced with a number of the men heading toward the movie house and whatever other pastimes Yarmouth had to offer. By prearrangement and beneath a light snow falling crisply from the dark sky, Ash, Solly, and Hamp returned to the yard where the night watchman unlocked the warehouse for them so that they could return to work in their office. There they remained, as Ash had foreseen, struggling through the watch bill and a growing variety of reports until 2300, when they finally admitted exhaustion and went back to the hotel. There, Stobb reported the crew had turned in with no men absent and no troubles in town.
Ten days later, after having worked the same schedule non-stop for the duration, Ash realized that regardless of the complexity of what theyd been doing and in spite of his considerable earlier reservations, things were starting to take shape. Bit by bit, no matter how confused the first days had been, Ash, Solly, and Hamp were getting to know the men with whom they would serve. The immense paperwork that accompanied the commissioning of a ship had begun to sort itself out, the actual construction seemed to be moving ahead faster than either Mr. Anson or Ash had anticipated, and with Anson’s full cooperation, the stacks of stores staged in the warehouse were diminishing at something like light speed as the crew carried them aboard in order to stow and equip the ship. By that time too, the Navy salvage crew had repaired the damage to the trawler so that it could be inconspicuously towed down to Portland. Ash had no idea how the Navy had silenced the trawler captain and the two uninjured fishermen; he never saw them again.
“Mr. Miller,” Anson said to him on a Saturday morning. “I don’t know quite how we done it, but if your people are ready, I’ll turn the ship over to you next Thursday. we’ve still got work to do on the tillers, and I expect to complete work in the pilot house on Tuesday, but in all other respects, she’s as ready as she’ll ever be”
Ash couldn’t help himself. For a moment, his face lit up like a beacon.
“Thought that might please you,” Anson said. “Ain’t quite the three weeks I promised when you got here, but I didn’t think you’d mind.”
“The Navy, Mr. Anson, will be overjoyed,” Ash said, “and I can’t thank you and your men enough for all of the hard work you’ve put in. she’s a thing of beauty, and I’m more than pleased with the attention you’ve lavished on her. we’ll plan for trials on Thursday, the minute we commission and I take command, and then if adjustments are required, I’ll hope that we can complete them on Friday or over the weekend. Sound good to you?”
“Sounds fair enough,” Anson said.
“Hill,” Ash said to his yeoman the minute Anson left, “go find Teague and ask him to report to me at once”
Hill bolted for the door; five minutes later, Teague came into the office showing a daub of grease over the corner of his cheek and bleeding across one knuckle. Hill followed behind him.
“You all right, Gunner?” Ash asked. “haven’t injured yourself, have you?”
“I’m fine,” Teague laughed. “Stumbled against the breech block on the 3-inch.”
“Well,” Ash said, “take care of yourself, Teague. can’t afford to have you injured, you know; you’re essential aboard this ship.”
“I’ll take more care, Sir,” the man said, showing Ash a broad grin. “Happy to report, Sir, all guns are operational. The 3-inch took some time, but that old rascal and the Oerlikons are in perfect working condition and ready to fire, long as the depot gives us something to shoot. I’ve been drilling the gun crews; they ain’t up to speed yet, but they will be, and if you’ll give me permission, Sir, I’d like to rope that chubby boot, Zwick, as a striker. He’s done good work helping me put the guns into condition, and he seems to be sharp about the mechanics involved and shows an interest in taking them on. I think he might have a fine eye for distance too; I’ve made him pointer on the 3-inch, and every time I give him a target, he estimates the range the same as me.”
“Fine,” Ash said. “you’ve told me exactly what I wanted to know. Continue with the drills, tell Zwick that he can strike for gunner’s mate, and when we get down to the anchorage and the lighter comes alongside, be double damn sure that the ammo they send us is the right stuff for our guns. Apparently, they’ve made a mistake or two in the past, and we don’t want that happening to us. That means that you’ll need to check everything from the 3-inch right down to the small arms. It won’t do to try to load .38 rounds into the Thompson or our .45 sidearms. And we’ll be getting a machine gun for the mount on the fantail as well, so That’s going to have to be broken down and cleaned up before we can use it. Give some thought to stowage of the machine gun. can’t have it exposed at sea, but we’ll want it somewhere close where we can mount it in a hurry if we need it. Got all that?”
Teague nodded.
“Good enough, Gunner. And if you see Chief Stobb and Samarango out there, ask them to come up here.”
Chief Stobb and the bosun arrived together no more than a couple of minutes after Teague made his exit.
“Chief, Bosun,” Ash said, acknowledging each man in turn, “Mr. Anson tells me that we can commission next Thursday, so you can pass the word. Dress blues for the commissioning evolution and then working uniform immediately thereafter, because I intend to take us out and go straight to trials. I’m thinking that we’ll transit down to Portland for fuel, water, provisions, and ammunition on Monday. After that, my best guess is that we will start doing escort duty about as fast as COMDESLANT can hand us a set of orders. Warn the men that they’d better be ready. I’m going to expect seasickness once we put to sea for real, but if you haven’t told them already, you might as well tell them now: they’ll have to work through it, barf buckets in hand if they need them, because we have too few men to spare them from their watches. After they go off watch, for the first two or three days, I’ll let them take to their beds. Once they’re through the dry heaves, I’ll look to the two of you to get them working regular.”
Samarango and Chief Stobb both smiled. “For the new ones,” Chief Stobb grinned, “the gentle lapping of the waves will come as a revelation.”
“And let’s not forget the calm serenity of the seas,” Ash added. “Now, Chief, how about the repair parties? Are you confident that they can prevent us from sinking?”
“I’ve run them through every drill that I can dream up,” Stobb said, “and several times. they’ve got the idea, Sir, and I think they can keep us afloat.”
“let’s hope,” Ash said. “What about your engine room crew?”
“They’re as ready as I can make them sitting here tied up,” Stobb said. “Soon as we get the diesels running and head out, I’ll double the effort. Right now, they’re eager, and I think they’ll shape right up.”
“Boats,” Ash said, “what about the deck force?”
“Kaufmann, one of the boots from Great Lakes, ain’t the brightest star in the sky,” Samarango said, “but He’s good with his hands—a hard worker and strong. The rest of them come up to the mark and will make good sailors. Pasoni spent a summer on a tuna boat out of San Francisco, so He’s been to sea. I’ve worked them on line handling drills and rigging, but aside from talkin’ to ’em about mooring and anchoring, I won’t be able to give ’em any practice ’til we actually do it. I assigned that boy from Kentucky, Denison, to help in the galley as mess cook; he said he’d cooked some for a CCC camp in Oklahoma. With regard to Gomez, Polaski, and the other ratings, they’re working up the men to stand watch in their spaces, and Glick, the signalman, seems to know his stuff. I’ve watched him practice with the light and on the key, and He’s fast.”
“All right,” Ash said. “See to the spaces once we’ve finished moving the stores aboard. Make sure everything is tied down tight because you know how this thing is going to pitch and roll. Make whatever advanced preparations you can for going to sea because we are about to enter the lists.”
Later, when Ash, Solly, and Hamp sat down to their evening meal, Ash showed each of the two men sitting across from him a deadly serious face. “I’ll tell you both right now what we are going to do on Sunday,” he said, charging his voice with as much gravitas as he could project.
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