Battle Stations

by Roger Jewett

  “You wouldn’t be Jacob’s friend,” his father answered, “if you weren’t a good man, and if you’re a good man, there’s no reason for you not to write to my daughter.”

  Tony grinned.

  “Thank you, Papa,” Miriam said in soft but strong voice.

  Mr. Trapasso asked for the check and insisted on paying it before they left the restaurant.

  A few minutes later they were at the train gate.

  “I guess this is it,” Jacob said.

  His mother began to sniffle.

  He hugged her to him and kissed her forehead. “I’ll be all right,” he whispered.

  “Don’t do anything foolish, promise me.”

  “I promise.”

  She kissed him on the forehead, then on his lips.

  He let go of her and turned his attention to Miriam. “Take care of them and take care of yourself,” he said.

  She nodded. There were tears in her eyes.

  He put his arms around her.

  “You’re the best brother a girl could have,” she told him.

  “Now that I’m going away you tell me that,” he said, trying to bring a smile to her face.

  “Come home safe,” she said.

  “I’ll do my best,” Jacob answered; then he turned to his father. “Papa —” he faltered. There were tears in father’s eyes. “Papa —” he began again, but couldn’t continue. Suddenly he found himself in his father’s arms.

  “I love you,” his father said in Yiddish.

  “And I love you, Papa,” Jacob answered in the same language.

  “Take good care of yourself.”

  “I will.”

  “Come home safely. Do what you must do to survive. But don’t do anything that you would be ashamed to tell your son, God willing, you should father one.”

  Jacob nodded.

  “Then go with my blessing,” his father said, patting him gently on the back.

  Jacob separated from his father and took a few moments to shake hands with Mr. Trapasso and Mike, while Tony did the same thing with his mother and father. But when he came to Miriam, Tony put his arms around her and, gently kissing her on the lips, he said, “I’ll write as often as I can.”

  “I’ll answer,” she said.

  “Keep well.”

  “I will,” Miriam answered.

  He kissed her again, let go of her, turned, and said, “Okay, fly-boy, if I stand around here any longer, I’ll be the one to cry.”

  “Ready,” Jacob said, picking up his valise.

  Tony lifted his.

  They nodded at each other, turned, and walked through the gate and onto the station platform.

  Jacob had to clear the knot in his stomach before he could say, “You took my father by surprise.”

  “I took me by surprise too,” Tony said.

  “That’s what I thought,” Jacob responded.

  CHAPTER 16

  The Klaxon on the AKO-96 screamed.

  “General Quarters… General Quarters,” Rawlins said on 1MC. “All hands… All hands man your battle stations.”

  Warren was already on the bridge when the RO reported that radar at Cavite and Subic Bay picked up enemy planes in the area.

  Hacker rushed onto the bridge.

  “Enemy planes coming in from the northwest,” Rawlins said.

  Warren checked the status of the ship’s two guns. “Mounts one and two ready, skipper,” he reported.

  “How far are we from port?” Hacker asked.

  “Approximately 20 miles, at the very most,” Warren answered.

  Hacker picked up the mike, switched on the 1MC and said, “All hands now hear this… Now hear this… This is the Captain… Enemy aircraft are in our area and are approaching. Mount number one, cover the starboard side. Mount number two, the port side. Fire at will… Repeat, fire at will…” He switched off the 1MC and commented, “A few 50s and 20s would come in handy now.”

  Suddenly the lookout on the bow shouted, “Bridge, sky forward, plane two points on our port bow, elevation zero six zero, moving right.”

  Warren clicked on the telephone. “Mount number two, target approaching port bow.”

  “See him,” the other end answered.

  Dull claps of thunder rolled out of the northeast, and within moments huge plumes of smoke appeared in the direction of the Cavite naval station.

  A phone rang. “Troost here.”

  The RO reported. “Cavite is under attack,” he said.

  “Roger,” Warren answered and relayed the information to Hacker.

  Another lookout picked up a second plane coming in on the portside.

  Mount number two started to fire.

  The planes bored in.

  Mount number two opened up.

  The plumes of black smoke over Cavite spread black smudges across the intensely blue sky.

  “Helmsman, right full rudder,” Hacker said, maneuvering his ship to enable both mounts to bear on the plane.

  “Right full rudder,” the helmsman answered.

  With its machine guns firing, the first enemy plane on the port side dropped lower.

  Gun mounts continued to fire and their bursts began to surround the approaching planes.

  The plane suddenly veered to the right. The next instant it turned into a ball of fire that continued to move, then slowed and arced into the water not far off the port side.

  Dropping four bombs from its wing racks, the second plane roared over turning the ship. Three exploded harmlessly in the water. But the fourth detonated very close to the stern. The explosion sent a shudder through the ship.

  Mount number one swung around and continued to fire at the departing aircraft.

  “Get a damage control report,” Hacker said.

  Warren picked up the phone. “The skipper wants to know what the situation is down there,” he said, speaking to a repair party talker on the fantail.

  “Damage topside, but nothing too serious.”

  “Roger,” Warren answered and gave the information to Hacker.

  Suddenly the bridge came under machine-gun fire from a third aircraft making a low-level strafing attack from the port side.

  “Hit the deck!” Hacker shouted.

  The helmsman screamed and, letting go of the wheel, slumped to the floor.

  The helm was spinning.

  Warren crawled to the helm, rolled the dead man away, and stopped the wheel.

  The strafing aircraft passed overhead with a roar.

  Hacker, Rawlins, and the rest of the bridge watch pulled themselves upright.

  “What course, skipper?” Warren asked.

  “Make it zero four five,” Hacker answered.

  “Course zero four five,” Warren said, turning the helm over.

  A final attacking plane coming in over the stern raked the ship again with machine-gun fire and then disappeared toward Cavite.

  “Skipper, we have rudder control,” Warren reported, suddenly realizing his shirt was soaked with sweat.

  Hacker acknowledged the report with a grateful nod.

  Hacker went to the phone bank, picked up, and said, “Report damage.” He listened for a few moments; then putting the phone down, he said, “We’re okay down below.” Then he picked up the phone connected to the gun mount positions and asked for a status report. “Two men hit on number one and one on two… They say they can still fight,” he said to no one in particular.

  “Aye, aye, skipper,” Warren answered.

  Hacker walked over to where the helmsman lay, looked at him for several seconds, then said in a quiet voice, “Mister Rawlins, get a detail to remove the body.”

  “Aye, aye, skipper,” Rawlins answered.

  “Port-side gyro repeater is out,” Hacker said. Then looking toward Cavite, he commented, “What they don’t need right now is an AKO tied up anywhere near those fires.”

  He went to the ship’s phone bank and called the signal officer, “If you can raise Cavite, tell them we’ll lay off the c
oast until they’re ready to take us. Tell them that we came under attack and knocked down one of the Jap fuckers.” He put the phone down and walked to the forward part of the bridge. “Exec, get rid of the empty shell cases down there and get the repeater fixed,” he said to Rawlins; then he added, “You and your men gave a good account of yourselves.”

  “I’ll tell them that, sir,” Rawlins answered.

  Admiral Troost read the daily report that came out of the Headquarters of the Commander and Chief of the Asiatic Fleet. Almost at the end of the report, there was a brief account of the attack on the AKO-96. It was bombed and strafed on its way into Cavite, and Warren was mentioned in the report for taking the ship’s helm after the helmsman had been killed and while the bridge was still taking machine-gun fire from an enemy plane…

  Immensely pleased by Warren’s actions, Troost decided to go out for dinner and drink a toast to his son. Usually he worked until 20- or 2100, then dined alone or with some other staff members in the headquarters mess, or in the officers’ club. And a few times, when Hasse was ashore, he was invited to have dinner with him and his wife Kate.

  Troost rested against the back of the swivel chair and, opening the side drawer of the desk, he took out Gloria’s last letter to him. It had arrived two days before and, though he read it as soon as it came, he hadn’t as yet answered it. The letter was full of complaints and a demand that he pull the necessary strings to get her and Lillian out to Pearl. “If you don’t take any action,” she wrote, “I will use what influence I have…”

  Troost returned the letter to the drawer and shut it. Suddenly, he found himself thinking about Kate. There was something about the woman that made him very aware of her whenever she was close. Two days ago they had accidentally met on the street. She was on her way to the commissary and he was taking a few minutes for himself away from his desk. She was behind him and called him by his given name. Surprised to hear a woman call him, he turned and was even more surprised to see her. She was wearing a simple dress. White with small red roses on it, he remembered. She was smiling. Her long red hair glistened in the sunlight.

  “I’m on my way back from the university,” she said, “and I decided to stop and pick up a few things in case Peter comes back for the weekend.”

  “I needed some fresh air,” Troost said, as they started to walk together. He knew that Peter wouldn’t be back for at least 10 days. Task Group Eight was scheduled to be refueled and resupplied at sea. To avoid having to answer any questions about Peter, he asked, “And what are you doing at the university?”

  “Finishing my education,” she answered proudly. “I have another 15 credits and I’m done: I’ll have my degree.”

  “In what?”

  “English literature,” she answered. “Modern American and English literature is my field.”

  “Wonderful!” he exclaimed, as they stopped in front of the commissary.

  She smiled. “Do you really think so?”

  “I wouldn’t say so if I didn’t,” he answered.

  For several moments, she stared straight at him. “No, you wouldn’t,” she said.

  There was a strange, almost conspiratorial, expression on her face, as if she’d just shared a secret with him. There was also something in her blue eyes that made him look straight into them.

  “If I asked you to have dinner with me would you go?” He spoke even as he thought over each word. For an instant, he felt himself to be in limbo. He was ready to apologize. Ready to accept her rejection with as much dignity as he’d be able to muster.

  “Yes,” she said quietly. “I’d like that.”

  Troost nodded.

  She looked over her shoulder at the commissary and then at him. “Thank you for the lovely walk,” she said.

  “The pleasure was all mine,” he answered, saluting; then he said, “I’ll call.”

  She smiled. “Please do,” she said.

  As he watched her walk into the building, he realized how much he wanted her.

  Troost picked up the phone, asked the operator for an outside line, and dialed the Hasse’s number. He was certain she’d find some excuse to avoid going to dinner with him. The phone rang several times and she didn’t answer it. Suddenly he was caught between not wanting her to answer and being disappointed that she wasn’t home, even wondering where she could be.

  “I’ll let it ring two more times before I hang up,” he said, as if he were offering a challenge to some unseen being.

  After the next ring, Kate said, “Captain Hasse’s residence.”

  Troost panicked. He couldn’t find his voice.

  “I know someone is there,” she said.

  Troost cleared his throat. “It’s Andrew,” he responded.

  “I was beginning to wonder if you would ever call,” she said.

  “Are you free for dinner tonight?” Troost asked.

  “Yes,” Kate answered. “Yes, I’m free.”

  “Good,” Troost said. “Very good. I’ll pick you up in a half hour.”

  “That will be fine.”

  “See you,” Troost said, and smiling to himself, he put the phone down. He felt boyishly happy.

  CHAPTER 17

  Jacob and Tony were at the bar in the club car. It was almost midnight and the barkeeper was getting ready to close down.

  Tony looked around. There were two soldiers at the far end of the car, a marine second lieutenant and a bleached blonde woman were seated opposite each other at a small round table, and a man, about their own age, dressed in civvies, occupied a club chair close to the bar.

  “When did we leave St. Louis?” Tony asked.

  “At 2000,” Jacob answered.

  Tony shook his head. “Slow,” he commented. “Slow … slow.”

  “The train will be 14 hours late when we reach San Diego, that’s if there aren’t any more delays,” Jacob said.

  Tony smiled. “10 bucks says we’ll cut it to 12,” he said.

  “You’re on,” Jacob answered.

  Tony leaned close to Jacob. “That guy there in the club chair has been looking at us for the past 10 or 15 minutes.”

  Jacob looked over his shoulder. “He’s getting up. He’s coming —”

  “I can see what he’s doing,” Tony responded. “Christ, I’m only half-crocked.”

  “Excuse me,” the man said, “but I’d like to buy you gents a drink before the bar closes.” He spoke with midwestern twang.

  “He wants to buy us a drink,” Tony commented.

  “Why?” Jacob asked.

  “I —”

  “My momma told me to beware of strange men who offer to buy me drinks on the train,” Tony said.

  The man’s face turned red. “I’m an officer — I mean I will be an officer as soon as I finish my time in San Diego.”

  “NROTC?” Jacob asked.

  “Yes. Iowa State.”

  Tony started to laugh. “I thought —”

  “I guess if I were you, I would have thought the same thing.”

  “What the hell is your name?” Tony asked.

  “Glen Lascomb.”

  “Glad to have you aboard, Mister Lascomb,” Tony said, highballing him.

  “Glad to be aboard,” Glen answered, responding with a salute.

  “Let’s celebrate Glen coming aboard,” Tony suggested.

  “I’m buying,” Jacob said.

  “No, that pleasure is mine,” Tony insisted.

  “Gents,” Glen told them, with exaggerated dignity, “the first round is mine. After that, it’s up to your individual conscience and sense of honor.”

  “Hey, I like this corn grower,” Tony said, slapping Glen in the back.

  “An officer and a gentleman,” Jacob commented, making room for him at the bar.

  CHAPTER 18

  Cavite and Subic Bay were reduced to rubble. Manila was abandoned and declared an “open city.” General MacArthur’s troops were moving toward Bataan.

  On December 31, the AKO-96 was moving
south off the east coast of Mindoro. She was on her way to join up with the remnants of the Asiatic Fleet. She still had fuel in her bunkers. Twice in the last two days she’d delivered bunker to other ships, rendezvousing with the destroyer Perry at twilight to transfer the fuel under cover of darkness; then she met the submarine tender Holland at 0300 and completed the operation before first light.

  Warren was plotting a course that would bring them into Javanese waters within four days, if they didn’t stop to refuel any more ships. And that was a big if.

  “What do you think, Chief?” he asked, leaning away from the chart table and at the same time, using a handkerchief to wipe the sweat off his brow and the back of his neck.

  Berk studied it. “Looks good to me,” he said.

  “The tricky part is going to be when we get close inshore,” Warren said. “Our charts just don’t have enough detail.”

  “Maybe we’ll get a set of new ones,” Berk offered.

  “Not likely.”

  One of the phones rang.

  A yeoman answered it, listened, then responded with, “Aye, aye, sir. I’ll pass the word.” He put the phone down and said, “Mister Troost, the skipper wants to see you in his quarters.”

  “Another rendezvous?” Berk asked.

  Warren shrugged. “Might be,” he said, leaving the chart table and checking the gyro repeaters and then the binnacle.

  “Anything wrong?” the OOD asked. A raw-faced young man, Ensign Donald Bradly was new to the ship. He’d come aboard the day they arrived in Cavite.

  “Nothing, Mister Bradly. You’ll hold the present heading for another two hours, then change to the heading indicated on the chart. Be sure to notify the skipper before you make the change.”

  “Aye, aye, Mister Troost,” Bradly answered.

  Warren left the bridge and reported to Hacker.

  “Sit down,” Hacker said, holding out a pack of Luckies to him.

  Warren took one, lit it, and blew smoke up toward the ceiling, where a small fan circulated air through the cabin.

  Hacker lit up too before he said, “Mister Rawlins will be here momentarily.”

  Even as he spoke, there was a knock on the door.