The Passion and the Glory

by Christopher Nicole

  ‘Oh, shit,’ grunted Kowicz, and they heard the noise of propellors above them.

  ‘Another thirty feet, Mr Crossby,’ Larter said. ‘Stop engines. I want absolute quiet from all hands.’

  The silence was uncanny, broken only by the whirring noise. But that was growing fainter.

  ‘Fooled the bastard,’ one of the enlisted men said.

  As he spoke they heard another sound.

  ‘What the hell … ‘ asked a second man.

  ‘There’s something brushing the hull,’ said a third. ‘Must’ve hit bottom.’

  ‘In six thousand feet of water?’

  ‘That’s a depth charge,’ Kowicz snapped. ‘Shaddup!’

  The scraping continued for a couple of seconds longer, then stopped. Walt took a long breath of relief. Before he could expel it, the entire submarine seemed to leap in the sea: he thought his ear drums might have been punctured by the noise of the explosion, was thrown violently against the various pipes which lined the bulkhead and cut his lip. His men were scattered like ninepins, but before he could tell if any of them were seriously injured all the lights went out. He reached down, gasping in the sudden acidity from the batteries, and was hit in the face by a jet of water. Oh, God, he thought. We’re sinking. We’re entombed, and are going to go down … six thousand feet? Kowicz had said. Holy Jesus Christ!

  He wanted to scream, and the lights came on again. ‘Damage report,’ came Larter’s quiet voice. ‘Mr Hogan?’

  ‘Making water from two leaks, sir.’

  ‘Undertake repairs. Mr McGann?’

  There was another huge bang, and the ship again vibrated violently. But this was further off, and the lights merely dimmed and then brightened again. Walt had to swallow before he could speak; to his relief his voice was steady. ‘One leak, sir. But severe.’ There was water round his ankles. ‘And there is some battery damage.’

  ‘Repair crew needed aft,’ Larter said. ‘Remember we still need to be as quiet as possible, gentlemen.’

  Walt helped his men back to their feet. Like himself they were more scared than hurt. And the repair squad were already with them, wielding huge spanners to tighten nuts. They could not seal the leak absolutely, as they were unable to use any heavy gear which might make a lot of noise, but they reduced it to a trickle. While they worked there were two more bangs, but these were fading into the distance. Yet the sub was now starting to creak as she sank lower.

  ‘Two hundred feet, Mr Crossby. Level her out. Start engines.’

  The reassuring hum of the motors seeped through the ship. ‘Stand by,’ Larter said. ‘We’re going up to have a look.’

  The repair gang departed, and Walt and his squad gazed at each other again.

  ‘Are you reloaded, Mr Hogan?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Are your tubes ready to fire, Mr McGann?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  The ship rose and rose. ‘Steady, Mr Crossby. Steady. Thirty feet. Steady.’

  Walt found he was holding his breath. The periscope was just breaking the surface. He looked at his watch. It was ten past six. It would be just about dark up there. That made him feel better.

  ‘One down, one burning. Good shooting, Mr Hogan. Now for the other two.’

  Surely we’ve done enough, Walt thought. For Chrissake, what about the destroyer …

  ‘Range one and a half miles, bearing three five one.’ While escaping the destroyer they had moved to the east of the convoy. ‘Fire!’

  The tubes hissed as they discharged the torpedoes. ‘One and two gone, sir,’ Hogan said. ‘Three and four gone. Five and six gone.’

  ‘Hard left rudder, Mr Crossby,’ Larter said. ‘Stand by aft. I want that destroyer.’

  Walt could feel himself sweating.

  ‘Here he comes,’ Larter said. ‘Range three eight two, one and a quarter miles, closing rapidly. Fire.’

  Walt pressed the button. ‘Seven and eight gone, sir. Nine and ten gone.’

  ‘Reload. God damn! Missed. Bring her about, Mr Crossby. Stand by forward.’

  Walt and his men were frantically working the hoists to reload their tubes, while the ship trembled as she was thrown about. ‘Range half a mile, bearing zero zero seven. Fire.’

  ‘One gone, two gone,’ Hogan said. ‘Three gone, four gone. That’s my lot, sir.’

  There was a huge boom, and they shook as if depth charged. A ripple of cheering ran through the sub.

  ‘That, gentlemen,’ Larter said. ‘Is a God damned clean sweep. Now let’s get the hell out of here.’

  *

  The crew was jubilant. They had been blooded, and with a vengeance. Hardly anyone slept that night, but next morning, when they rose to periscope depths they knew they weren’t yet in a position to celebrate. They had only four torpedoes left, aft, and the sea and air above them was humming. Surfacing was out of the question, as planes flew low over the waves, and destroyers criss-crossed in frantic patterns. The search was still a little north of them, but was moving south all the while. Larter immediately ordered them down, down, down. They descended to three hundred feet, and cruised slowly to the south, listening, waiting, while the air, not refreshed now for thirty-six hours, grew foul, and the batteries began to run down.

  It was the longest day of Walt’s life, and he suspected of any other member of the crew’s life either, even the captain’s. Yet it was bearable, because of the exhilaration which coursed through their veins; they knew they had won a stunning victory. Three transports and one destroyer. And it had all been so easy — except for that single depth charge which had found them. They could hear depth charges exploding all day, to the north of them, but suffered no damage. ‘Those Japs’ll have fish for dinner,’ Petty Officer Kowicz said. ‘But no Yanks.’

  By that night they were beyond the immediate search area, and were able to surface and breathe precious fresh air and charge their batteries. Commander Larter had been considering the situation, and now opted to return to base to replenish. ‘And to tell them what we’ve done,’ Crossby said. ‘He’ll get a Silver Star for this.’

  It was a good week for the allies. When they got home they were told of the Doolittle raid on Tokyo, which rather overshadowed Tempest’s exploit. ‘Now we’re carrying the fight to those bastards in a big way,’ Crossby said. But Tempest came in for her share of congratulations, and was given a week to celebrate.

  ‘Now we’re gonna live it up,’ Hogan told Walt. ‘You with me, or not, young McGann?’

  Hogan had not let him forget that he had missed with his torpedoes, while the bow tubes had hit almost every time. Commander Larter had put the matter in perspective: ‘The whole ship is a tube,’ he had told them. ‘Aimed by me. When one hits, we all hit. When one misses, the fault is mine. I’m proud of you all.’

  ‘But you could’ve been a mite slow on the button,’ Hogan pointed out. ‘The old man is just trying to make you feel good.’ Yet Walt wanted to celebrate as much as anyone, and Hogan was certainly the man to show him the ropes, if he was to be believed. They tried another bar this time, and Hogan was on his best behaviour, which was also his worst. ‘You are looking at the guy who sank a Jap destroyer,’ he told the barmaid. ‘And three transports. We’re from USS Tempest.’

  ‘Ooh,’ she said. ‘I read about you in the paper, yesterday, Captain Larter.’

  ‘The name’s Hogan, babe. Larter just steers the ship. Say, this is good beer.’

  It was even warmer than the last lot.

  ‘It’s the best,’ the girl said, and looked at Walt. ‘Did you sink those Japs, too, big boy?’

  ‘I was there,’ Walt said.

  ‘Looking on,’ Hogan told her. ‘Say, baby, how does a guy get some action around here?’

  She eyed him, then looked at Walt again. ‘You serious?’

  ‘I am always serious, baby,’ Hogan told her.

  ‘The bar closes, six o’clock.’

  ‘Jesus Christ! In the morning?’

  ‘No, buster, i
n the afternoon.’

  ‘You mean, no drinks after six?’

  ‘That’s right.’ She smiled at him. ‘You meaning to drink all night?’

  He leered at her. ‘Not if you got a better idea.’

  ‘Could be, seeing as how you’re a hero and all.’

  ‘Have you got a friend?’

  She glanced along the bar at the other girl, who was busily drawing beer. ‘Could be,’ she said again.

  Walt was beginning to go off the idea. It wasn’t that the girls weren’t attractive, but, as always happened when he’d had a drink, he found himself thinking of Linda. Or was it Janice Te Hota. ‘Don’t worry about me,’ he said.

  ‘For Chrissake, if I don’t worry about you, who the hell will?’ Hogan inquired. ‘We’ll have two more beers, baby.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Five fifteen. Shitting hell. Three quarters of a God damned hour to wait.’

  ‘I’d better get back to the ship,’ Walt said.

  Hogan pointed at him. ‘You ain’t going nowhere, mister, and that’s an order. I am going to get your prick wet today if it’s the last thing I do.’

  ‘Charming,’ remarked the barmaid, who had returned from serving other sailors. ‘Hasn’t it ever been wet before, big boy?’

  ‘Well,’ Walt said, flushing.

  ‘He’s as virginal as a girl in white,’ Hogan told her.

  The barmaid, who happened to be wearing white, giggled.

  *

  They had several more beers, went to the Gents, and came back just as ‘Last orders!’ was being shouted. ‘We have to clean up,’ the barmaid explained. ‘Won’t be long. You go round the back and wait. Oh, this is my friend, Alice.’

  Alice smiled at them. She was somewhat short and thin, and had buck teeth. ‘She’s yours, Walt,’ Hogan told him. ‘And what are you called, honey?’

  The first girl, who was distinctly plump, simpered. ‘Linda,’ she said.

  ‘Oh, hell,’ Walt said.

  She bridled. ‘Don’t you like the name, sailor? You’re with Alice, anyway.’

  ‘I love the name,’ he said. ‘It’s just that … ‘ he decided against confessing he was engaged; he had in fact told no one on board the ship about it.

  ‘I remind you of someone,’ Linda said.

  ‘Ah … ‘ no one could possibly be less like the real Linda. But he didn’t want to spoil Hogan’s evening; he’d never hear the last of it. ‘Yes, you do.’

  ‘Ain’t that nice. Tell you what, we can swop, some time.’

  ‘Oh, yeah?’ Hogan demanded.

  ‘Why not, Lieutenant. Give the boy a chance.’

  ‘She fancies you,’ Hogan grumbled, as they waited outside in the alley. It was still light, and as everyone passing must have known what they were waiting for, Walt felt distinctly embarrassed. ‘That’s the way with dames. Show them a guy more than six feet tall and they reckon he has to have a prick to match.’

  ‘Look, I’d be just as happy going back to the ship,’ Walt said again.

  ‘You’re staying here, buddy boy. I’m gonna make a man out of you if it’s the last thing I ever do,’ Hogan told him. ‘Here are the girls.’

  Alice and Linda emerged, giggling; they had changed into flowery frocks. ‘Still waiting, sailor boy?’ Linda said. ‘Where are you going to take us?’

  ‘It’s where you’re gonna take us, baby,’ Hogan reminded her.

  ‘Well,’ she said. ‘We thought we could talk about that.’

  ‘Over a meal,’ Alice said. ‘I’m hungry.’

  ‘A meal?’ Hogan demanded.

  ‘It’s supper time, isn’t it?’ Linda pointed out. ‘You don’t expect to spend the evening with us and not eat?’

  ‘Holy shitting cows,’ Hogan remarked.

  ‘I thought you was a gentleman,’ Linda remarked.

  ‘Of course we’ll buy you dinner,’ Walt said.

  ‘First,’ Hogan insisted. ‘It has to be first, right?’

  Linda blew him a kiss. ‘If it’s a good dinner, Lieutenant, it’ll be first.’

  ‘So you tell us where you want to go,’ Walt said.

  ‘I know just the place. It’s expensive, mind.’

  Walt looked at Hogan, who shrugged. Linda held Hogan’s hand, and Alice held Walt’s. Alice’s finger stroked up and down his palm. ‘You know what that means, big boy?’ she asked.

  ‘I guess not.’

  ‘It means you and I could get together. I adore big men. After dinner,’ she added hastily.

  ‘There’s a taxi,’ Linda said, waving.

  ‘Holy shit! How far is this place?’ Hogan demanded.

  ‘Just round the corner. But it looks better to arrive in a taxi.’

  ‘For Chrissake!’

  They got into the taxi, the four of them huddled in a seat meant for three. Alice sat on Walt’s knee and wriggled her bottom; despite his reluctance he began to feel randy. Or perhaps he had been feeling randy since leaving Janice Te Hota. Or even Annapolis. The drive was far too short, for he was just working himself up to start touching her when the cab stopped. Grumbling, Hogan paid, while Walt stared at the restaurant, which was distinctly up-market.

  ‘The food is good,’ Alice promised him.

  ‘It’d better be,’ Hogan said, surveying the menu. ‘These are God damned New York prices.’

  Linda led them up the short flight of stairs, smiled at the maître d’. ‘Hello, Mr Sebastiani.’

  He frowned at her. ‘Now look, here, miss … ‘

  ‘You want to speak to my gentlemen friend,’ Linda told him. ‘Lieutenant … ?’ she glanced at Hogan.

  ‘Purley Hogan, United States Navy,’ Hogan announced. ‘I guess you read the papers. We’re from Tempest.’

  The maître d’ peered at him, and then at Walt. ‘Yes, sir. But these young ladies … ‘

  ‘He doesn’t like us,’ Linda explained.

  ‘He thinks we’re common,’ Alice put in.

  Clearly a discerning fellow, Walt thought, beginning to feel heartily ashamed of himself.

  ‘Listen, fella,’ Hogan said. ‘I came here to eat. Now, you gonna give us a table for four? Or am I gonna bust the place up?’ Oh, Lord, Walt thought; here we go again.

  The maître d’ swallowed. ‘If you will follow me, gentlemen.’ He glanced at Linda and Alice. ‘And ladies.’

  He set off, down a brief flight of steps and on to a floor crowded with tables, most of which were full. Hogan led the group, Linda next, then Alice. Walt brought up the rear, aware that they were being looked at by most of the diners, who were in the main very smartly dressed men and women. He wished the floor would open up and swallow him, because no one in the room would need more than a glance at the two girls to know what they were.

  They were half way across the floor when a voice said, ‘Walt, by all that’s holy!’

  Walt checked, and turned, his jaw dropping as he gazed at his brother.

  Chapter 4

  New Guinea and the Coral Sea — 1942

  ‘Clive!’ Walt shouted.

  Clive had risen from his table, and the two brothers fell into each other’s arms, while the watching diners applauded — everyone could see that they were brothers.

  ‘My God!’ Walt said. ‘We thought you were dead. Does Dad know?’

  ‘He should do. I wrote him. You know he’s getting Florida?’

  ‘Heck, no,’ Walt said. Florida was one of the new South Dakota class battleships, only launched just before Pearl Harbour, and not yet in commission.

  ‘But there was no way of letting you know. No one knew where you were.’

  ‘I’m here, now,’ Walt said happily, still squeezing his brother’s hand.

  ‘What ship?’

  ‘Tempest.’

  ‘A sub? But hey, a famous one. Congratulations, little brother.’

  ‘And you?’

  Clive’s face fell, but before he could reply Hogan had joined them, leaving the girls standing rather forlornly in the centre of the restaurant.

 
; ‘Just what the hell is going on, kid? This guy your brother? He’s in the wrong uniform.’

  ‘A point of view,’ Clive said.

  ‘Purley Hogan,’ Walt explained.

  ‘You fellows must join us,’ Clive said, introducing the three Royal Navy officers he was with.

  ‘Well, the fact is … ‘ Hogan glanced at the girls, who were by

  now looking somewhat annoyed.

  ‘Bring them over,’ Clive invited. ‘I haven’t seen my little brother in four years; I’m not going to let go of him now.’

  ‘Well … ‘ Walt said doubtfully, but Hogan had already acted, and another table was being brought across for the extra four covers.

  ‘Where on earth did you pick up those two tarts?’ Clive whispered to Walt.

  ‘I wish to God I knew,’ Walt said. ‘Clive, what are you doing here? Or shouldn’t I ask.’

  ‘Waiting for employment. I suppose having two ships shot out from under me in a couple of weeks has made me rather unpopular. There is also a distinct shortage of British ships in this vicinity. However … I do have an appointment with top brass tomorrow morning. So … ‘

  Walt squeezed his hand. ‘We’re in this together, now, Clive. With Dad. I’m real glad about that.’

  ‘So am I. I don’t suppose you have any news of Joan?’ Walt sighed. ‘I was going to ask you that.’

  ‘Not a thing. Save for those pretty nasty stories about what happened in Hong Kong when it fell.’

  ‘Yeah. Christ, if those bastards raped and murdered her … We are going to win, Clive?’

  ‘Sure,’ Clive said. ‘You chaps are fighting with us, now, remember? Losing is something we don’t do very well. But … ‘ he grinned. ‘It may take a little while.’

  *

  ‘Sit down, Lieutenant McGann,’ the Rear Admiral invited.

  Clive obeyed, glancing from the man facing him to the two senior captains flanking him; he felt he was about to take an examination. And then he recognised one of the captains: Cornelis Schooten, who had been one of Admiral Helfrich’s aides in Surabaya.

  ‘You know Captain Schooten, I think,’ the admiral said.

  ‘I do indeed, sir.’ Clive shook hands. ‘Glad you got out, sir.’

  ‘I will say the same to you,’ Schooten responded.