The Passion and the Glory

by Christopher Nicole

  There had been other, less auspicious occasions: his marriage to May Gerrard, which had turned out to be such a disaster in itself — and which yet had given him three such splendid children … of whom only one survived. Nothing had been heard of Joan since the fall of Singapore, and she had to be presumed dead. While Clive had officially been posted as missing, believed dead, following his failure to arrive in Ceylon to rejoin the British fleet. Only Walt was left. And Walt was in the most dangerous service in the world. Equally he was a young man with a remarkable talent, it appeared, for emotional involvement. But he was also a hero.

  Brenda had been devastated by the news of the deaths of Joan and Clive, perhaps more so than himself. Lew McGann came from a family of fighting men, had always known that sudden death stalked at his shoulder, and therefore, at the shoulders of his family: he had virtually watched both his mother and his sister drown. Brenda, at whose shoulder sudden death had also taken its turn, regretted her inability to give him children of her own. But he would not have wanted it any other way; she had always been more of a mistress than a wife.

  So it was left to him, and Walt, to carry the family name forward. He did not doubt his own prospects, at the least. He was one of nature’s great survivors. He had survived the sinking of the Lusitania, which had cost the lives of his mother and sister, he had survived the worst the Germans could do in the first war, he had survived the anger of a Chinese war lord between the wars, and then the best efforts of the kempei-tai when he had been playing the spy in Tokyo, and he had even survived the assault of the Japanese air force on 7 December the previous year, when his first important command had been reduced to a blazing, capsized hulk in minutes.

  Nothing like that was going to happen to Florida, he was determined on that. Standing high on the upper bridge, he looked down on six hundred and eighty feet of gleaming steel. Which displaced all but forty-five thousand tons. Beneath him was the reassuring rumble of nine Babcock and Wilcox boilers, which could develop one hundred and thirty thousand shaft horsepower to enable the four-shaft General Electric turbines to drive the ship at twenty-seven and a half knots; at half-speed, fifteen knots, she had the capacity to stay at sea for fifteen thousand nautical miles.

  Twelve inches of armour-plating protected Florida against enemy bombs and shells, and to reply she was armed with nine sixteen-inch guns as well as twenty five-inch and some two dozen anti-aircraft guns in groups of three and four. She also carried three aircraft.

  Under his command were one thousand, seven hundred and ninety three officers and men, all eager for battle. But even more reassuring was the thought that however powerful she was, Florida was not yet the ultimate American battleship. Monsters like New Jersey and Missouri were very nearly completed; they would displace fifty seven thousand tons, fully loaded. Not quite in the class of Yamoto or Mushashi, perhaps, but there were only two of the big Japanese ships, and there were going to be six of the Iowa class to add to the existing five of the South Dakota class — of which Florida was the latest. The ships the Japanese had sunk here in Pearl, and which he could still see, were truly like the dragon’s teeth sown by the enemies of Jason, and had sprung from the waves several fold.

  Best of all, he was back to take his part in the fight, with his son — and to avenge his son and daughter.

  *

  ‘Lew!’ Chester Nimitz shook hands. ‘Am I glad to see you. And Florida.’

  ‘I had got the idea you didn’t really need me, or Florida,’ Lewis said.

  ‘Don’t you believe it. There are still one hell of a lot of Japanese ships out there. Far more than we have. But we’re all done sitting on our asses waiting for the enemy. We’re going to start rolling him up, right now. Lew, I want you on your way the moment you’ve fuelled.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ Lewis said happily. ‘Which direction?’

  ‘South west.’

  ‘Australia?’

  ‘Only as a base.’ Nimitz grinned. ‘The Japanese have moved into the Solomons. They’ve occupied all the islands, and are putting down air strips. We can’t allow that; their land based bombers would straddle the supply route between Australia and the West Coast. But they don’t seem to have any great force in the southern islands, as yet, although one of the strips is on Guadalcanal, according to our reconnaissance. Our idea is to throw a marine division ashore there and seize the island. That’ll not only halt the enemy’s plans to cut our lines of communication, it’ll mean we can cut his, if we can maintain ourselves there. Like putting a knife into his side. He’ll have to get us out of there or we’ll be sitting over all his troop movements with a hammer.’

  ‘And if he does get us out of there?’

  ‘He’s not going to. Not this time, Lew. Sure, it’ll be tough. That’s where you come in. Everything we have is going to stop his reinforcements getting in. Our strike is timed for 7 August, so you have just on two weeks to get down there, right?’

  ‘Right. We’ll be on our way tomorrow.’

  ‘Orders will be waiting for you in Pago-Pago. I’d invite you to dinner tonight, but I happen to know Walt is in town.’

  ‘Walt? My God! Where?’

  ‘Tecumsah came in from patrol yesterday. Incidentally, I’m sending her south too, with every submarine I can spare.’ He shook hands. ‘But you’d better not tell him that. It’s top secret.’

  *

  They dined at the Club. ‘When do you get your medal?’ Lew asked.

  Walt shrugged. ‘Whenever there’s time, I guess.’

  He was understandably nervous, but Lew didn’t want to rush in. ‘So how’s submarining?’

  ‘Depends who you’re submarining with.’

  Lew raised his eyebrows. ‘Problems?’

  ‘Well … ’ Walt was reluctant to criticise his superior.

  Lew understood. ‘In the strictest confidence.’

  Walt drank some wine. ‘Commander Waite is a cautious man.’

  Lew grinned. ‘You mean he won’t hazard his ship.’

  ‘Heck, Dad, we had Hiryu in our sights all day on June Four. We could’ve torpedoed her at any moment. But Waite insisted our business was observation. The fact is, she had half a dozen destroyers with her and we’d have been sticking our necks out. But that’s what it’s all about.’

  ‘The planes from Enterprise and Hornet got her,’ Lew pointed out. ‘So all’s well that ends well.’

  ‘Yeah, but supposing they hadn’t? And then, it was her aircraft sank Yorktown.’

  ‘Could you have hit her before she launched that strike?’ Walt shook his head. ‘She was too far away. We only closed her to within torpedo range after the planes had gone and she altered course to take them back.’

  ‘Then there was nothing you could have done to save Yorktown. So stop brooding on it. Waite’ll fight, when he has to. Now tell me, do I get to meet Linda?’

  Walt sighed. ‘I guess not.’

  ‘I got your letter.’

  ‘Yeah. Well, you know the score, then.’ He sighed again. ‘Linda won’t see me. This is the second time I’ve come back since, well, that afternoon. Each time I’ve tried to contact her, and she’s been on duty. No messages, either. Not a thing. Absolute silence.’

  ‘Hm. What about the other girl? Janice Te Hota?’

  ‘I have no idea. I’ve not left the base. I’ve been scared to.’

  ‘And no word?’

  ‘A letter. To await my return. Good thing there’s a war on; she doesn’t know when I come and go.’

  ‘What did the letter say?’

  ‘You name it. My name is absolutely mud.’

  ‘Any mention of the child?’

  ‘No. That’s odd, isn’t it?’

  ‘Not so very. I doubt it exists.’

  ‘Heck! But if that’s the case … ’

  ‘You need have nothing on your conscience. Save Linda. Write her again. Keep at it. She’ll soften — if she loves you.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Walt said miserably. ‘Given time. I just don’t have
any. Where are you off to, next, Dad?’

  ‘To fight the Japs. Isn’t that where you’re going too?’

  *

  USS Florida trembled and rolled to the roar of her sixteen-inch guns, and the distant island seemed to be obliterated by the exploding shells, which hurled sand and water high into the sky. Lew’s orders were to smother Guadalcanal with fire, but to avoid hitting the airstrip, if possible.

  Florida was only one of the largest of the forty odd Allied ships which were supporting the landing. With her was another battleship, North Carolina, together with six cruisers and sixteen destroyers. Closer inshore was a British-Australian squadron of eight cruisers and fifteen destroyers, while far out at sea were three carriers, Saratoga, Enterprise and Wasp; their aircraft were overhead continually, bombing as well as providing air cover.

  And presumably, also, invisible beneath the waves, were several US submarines, amongst them Tecumsah; it was a strange, but exhilarating feeling, Lewis thought, to be in action with his son.

  Not that this was much of an action, so far. The Japanese appeared to have been taken completely by surprise by the appearance of this very large task force. Their energies were being committed elsewhere. Just over a fortnight previously they had landed at Buna in northern New Guinea, exactly opposite to Port Moresby, and begun a drive across the mountains to the south. The Australians had known they were coming — the Allies seemed to be receiving some very useful information from behind the Japanese lines — and as a result had opted to counter-attack when the enemy communications were stretched to the utmost. Thus the initial Japanese advance had been startling; in a week they had penetrated eighty kilometres into the jungle.

  And there they could stay, Lew thought, as through his binoculars he watched the landing craft rolling at the beach; although he couldn’t see them, he knew the marines would be leaping out and splashing through the shallow water. There seemed no resistance. It was what, he reflected, the British would call a piece of cake. He wondered what Walt thought about it all.

  *

  ‘Landing successful,’ Commander Waite told his jubilant men. ‘Airfield secure. Enemy have retreated to northern jungle. Guadalcanal is ours. The enemy are still holding out on Tulagi, but the end of resistance there is expected soon.’

  ‘Just like that,’ Prosper remarked. ‘I guess these little men ain’t so tough after all.’

  Walt preferred not to comment on that. ‘What are our orders, sir?’

  ‘Stay where we are, keep an eye on the Savo Strait,’ Waite said. ‘Could as well be on manoeuvres.’

  Tecumsah was on the surface, some five nautical miles north of Cape Esperance. The green morass of Guadalcanal filled the southern horizon, and with their glasses they could see the Seabees already at work repairing the airstrip to permit the

  landing of the US planes. To their south east was the chunky island of Savo, separated from Guadalcanal by the Savo Strait, and beyond that, separated by another narrow stretch of water, was the much larger island of Florida; off the coast of Florida was Tulagi, where, as the communique had told them, fierce fighting was continuing, but the marines were slowly gaining ground.

  It had, indeed, been an amazingly successful operation. This troubled Walt, who had a healthy respect for Japanese courage and determination. Perhaps they had just been overwhelmed. Certainly this was a vast fleet, and one of the best things about it was the distant bulk of the battleships, just visible on the southern horizon — the water was too shallow and reef-strewn for them to venture into the narrows between Guadalcanal and Florida. One of those two ships was USS Florida.

  Near at hand, to the south east, and close inshore, lay the fifteen transports of Admiral Turner, still discharging cargo on to the marine bridgehead, twenty four hours after the initial landing. Offshore waited the British-Australian squadron of Admiral Crutchley, guarding the transports. Further north, between Savo Island and Florida, lay the American covering force of three heavy cruisers, Vincennes, Astoria and Quincy, with destroyers further north yet to keep an eye on any possible Japanese movements. The smaller passage, the strait between Savo and Guadalcanal itself, regarded as treacherous for big ships, was overseen by the submarines, of which Tecumsah was one; the waters were even more dangerous for the undersea craft, and so they were stationed north of Savo itself.

  ‘Doing nothing,’ Commander Waite remarked. ‘We might as well be in Pearl.’ He watched the sun sinking into the western horizon. ‘Well, that’s all, folks. I guess we take it easy for ten hours.’

  ‘You’ll keep a sharp lookout, Mr Prosper,’ Walt said before he turned in.

  ‘The Japs won’t try anything in the dark, surely. Not in these waters.’

  ‘The Japs will try anything,’ Walt told him.

  He lay on his bunk, but didn’t sleep. He hadn’t been sleeping well in any event, for more than two months. Whenever he shut his eyes he thought of Linda, and if he did doze off she became mixed up with Janice Te Hota. Of course if Dad was right he had no reason to think of the Hawaiian girl ever again. That didn’t make thinking about Linda any easier. When he remembered that afternoon … and he could remember every detail of it. The thought that he would never know an afternoon like that again, never hold Linda in his arms again, was as confounding as the thought that he might have ruined her life. Which made it so illogical that she should now refuse to speak with him. If only he could have the time to spend a few days in Pearl, and force her to see him — instead of appearing for a few hours and then rushing off again. Once he had looked forward to this war. Now he hated the very thought of it.

  But the war was on his mind as well. Today and yesterday. It had all been too easy. And that wasn’t like the Japanese at all. Although he wasn’t due on watch until two in the morning, he was up at midnight, joining Ensign Jonssen on the conning tower. It was a moonless night, but clear and calm; the stars seemed hardly higher than low lying aircraft. The breeze, coming off Guadalcanal, was warm and humid, and carried with it the sound of tractors; the Seabees were working round the clock.

  ‘You really wouldn’t think there was a war on,’ Jonssen remarked. ‘That could just be a large building site.’

  ‘I guess it is a large building site, right this minute,’ Walt said, and swept the northern horizon with his glasses. There was nothing to be seen out there. ‘I’ll leave you to it,’ he said, but checked as he put one foot on the ladder. ‘What’s that noise?’

  ‘The tractors?’ Jonssen asked.

  ‘I’m sure I heard something else.’ Walt stepped back on to the bridge, again levelled his binoculars to the north. There was all the difference in the world between the grind of a tractor and the higher pitch and smoother rhythm of oil turbines working at speed. And he was sure … ‘Oh, shit,’ he said.

  Jonssen jostled his shoulder as he stood beside him. ‘A sub?’

  ‘A whole God damned squadron.’ Walt refocussed. He could make out the dark shapes of at least half a dozen cruisers, in line ahead, steaming south east — straight for them! He grabbed the intercom. ‘Dive, dive, dive,’ he shouted. ‘Signal enemy in sight to fleet.’

  Jonssen had seen the Japanese warships too. ‘They can’t bring cruisers down this passage,’ he protested, as if it were his front lawn.

  ‘You tell them that,’ Walt suggested. ‘Down, Mr Jonssen.’ The radio message had been sent, and water was flowing over the deck. Walt closed the hatch and slid down the ladder, met Waite emerging from his cabin. ‘What the hell is going on?’ the captain demanded.

  ‘Jap cruiser squadron, approaching from the north west, sir. From Rabaul, I guess. I don’t think they saw us, and I had time to signal the fleet.’

  ‘Jesus, they’ll have heard the signal.’

  ‘They’re not interested in us,’ Walt told him. ‘But we could maybe do something about them.’ He watched the gauges. ‘Periscope depths.’

  ‘Take her right down, Mr McGann. One hundred feet.’ Walt frowned at him. ‘Then we won’t be able to
see them, sir.’

  ‘And they won’t be able to see us. That’s the idea.’

  ‘But if we fired into them, sir, it might just delay them a few minutes. Give our ships time to get under way.’

  ‘I have never met a man so God damned keen on committing suicide. Fire into a whole Jap squadron, on our own? Jesus Christ! We’ve warned the fleet, which is what we were put here to do. We’ve done our bit. We’ll pick off the stragglers when the surface craft have knocked them about.’

  Walt bit his lip, but obeyed. The submarine sank lower. ‘Stop engines,’ Waite commanded. ‘We’ll just hover a while.’ The hum of the electric motors died, and the men gazed at each other. Thanks to their skipper’s reluctance to become involved in the war they had hardly been blooded yet; certainly they had never been beneath the keels of an enemy ship, much less half a dozen of them. The noise of the propellors overhead was very loud; at a hundred feet the submarine even trembled to their wakes.

  The noise began to fade. ‘Take her up, Mr McGann,’ Waite said. ‘Periscope depths.’

  The submarine rose, and the periscope went up. ‘They’re going through the western strait, all right,’ Waite told them. ‘Maybe they’ll hit … hell, they’re opening fire. Our people don’t seem to be returning any. I guess those bastards were all asleep. You sure your message got through, Lieutenant?’

  ‘Check that,’ Walt told a waiting yeoman.

  He returned a moment later. ‘There was no time for an acknowledgement, sir.’

  Walt looked at Waite; there had obviously been no time for the Allied ships to prepare for battle; their only hope would have been if the Japanese squadron could have been delayed. But Waite was back at the periscope. ‘Christ!’ he said. ‘There’s a big one in flames down there.’

  ‘One of theirs, sir?’

  ‘One of ours. They’re turning away. The suckers. They could’ve got amongst those transports and sunk the lot. They’re making up for Florida.’