Fighting Her Father's War: The FIghting Tomcats

by M. L. Maki

  “Yes, ma’am, but he’s talking to the Captain.”

  Sam says, “Good, he needs to know about this, too. Would please ask if we may interrupt?”

  The yeoman looks at Sawyer, who nods her head, so he pokes his head into the RO’s office. A moment later Captain Klindt and Captain Johnson step out, Klindt says, “Hi, Lieutenant Hunt. What have you brought us?”

  “Sir, this should be private.”

  “Okay, Petty Officer Cutting, Lieutenant Neyhi, could you please step out.”

  After they leave, Sam says, “Petty Officer Reed built a time machine based on a science fiction book, which itself was based on a physics paper the author found in the Bodleian Library.” She takes a deep breath and tells them everything Reed told her, and where he is now. “We thought it might be a good idea if you were informed, sir.”

  Captain Johnson says, “A Heinlein device, eh?”

  “You’ve read it, sir?”

  “Sure, I read more than reports. But, I don’t know much about the device.”

  Klindt asks, “So, the device is real?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  There’s a knock on the door, and Klindt says, “Enter.”

  Senior Chief Argo and Reed walk in, “Captain, oh, and Captain, we have recovered the time machine.” The device Reed is carrying is about a foot and a half tall, the base spread out to six inches, and the top appears to be melted.

  Klindt says, “Thank you, Senior. Do you have any idea how this thing works?”

  “Not the foggiest, sir.”

  Sawyer says, “Sir, I was an English lit major. I have no idea. Honestly, maybe you should ask her?”

  Sam says, “Sir, we’ve talked about this. Nobody knows if time travel even works, but it appears it did. Petty Officer Reed seems to have a better idea, seeing as he built the thing.”

  Reed says, “Sir, it’s sort of like a cosmic slinky.”

  Klindt says, “Keep the nukese to a minimum.”

  “Yes, sir. As I understand it, basically, when Dr. Heinlein built the original device in the Australian desert and discharged it, he put 1.2 terawatts of energy into motion. The system is elegant. Once he discharged the energy, the receiver or antenna moved forward in time to the point where the energy was to discharge. Like throwing a slinky out, only through time. When it arrived at the right point in time, the receiver acted as a focus of energy, gathering the materials around it and pulling, well, us back to the time of origin, a cosmic slinky.”

  They all just stare at him, and Sam says, “Well, that really clarified everything.”

  Klindt asks, “Why didn’t change the world war we know?”

  “That’s just it. It didn’t work. Nothing happened. What really got my attention when I read the news article, is they discharged over a terawatt of energy, and nothing happened. No explosion, no melting, nothing.”

  Johnson says, “I love science fiction, but this is giving me a headache. If it didn’t work, then why are we here?”

  “Well, going out, well, further out, on a limb, the discharge created a decision point that could not be resolved until the correct time. When that time came, and there was a device in place, it resolved, and we came back.”

  Johnson asks, “Okay, then, I bite. How do we get back?”

  Sam says, “If this is the same technology used in the book, we don’t?”

  Argo asks, “1.21 terawatts is an incredible amount of power. How did they generate that much in World War II?”

  “Dr. Heinlein built a large number of capacitors and used the power plant to charge them all, one bank at a time. Then, when he was ready to use the machine, he discharged them all at once. The original power plant only generated 800 megawatts, if I read the paper correctly.”

  Klindt says, “I guess this could make sense. According to string theory, it is possible for multiple flows of time to exist. When we were hauled back, we could have, essentially, started a new path in time, a new time stream. We discussed that in the brain trust meetings.”

  Johnson says, “Okay, you broke out your inner geek. Can you give it to me in English?”

  “Put simply, it has been hypothesized that more than one timeline exists. In fact, some physicists speculate that there could be millions of different timelines. Rather than drawing the military technology back into the timeline we are familiar with, that is, the time line where the device was actuated, the power surge created a separate timeline and drew us into it because of the…thing Petty Officer Reed here made.” He pauses, thoughtful, “Sir, if that is the case, there probably isn’t any going back, we’re stranded in another time line.”

  Sam says, “I think, perhaps, it would be in everyone’s best interests if nobody outside this room found out that Petty Officer Reed did this. It might get bad.”

  Klindt gives Reed a stern look, “It’s crossed my mind to keelhaul him myself. How many other antennas might be out there?”

  “It was a popular book in geeky circles, sir. It’s a lot of work to make, though. I don’t know. The original is probably still around. I think, sir, anyone around that one, well, they’re back in 1941, too. At least, that’s what I think, sir.”

  “Do you have a copy of the book and the plans?” asks Johnson.”

  “Um, yes, sir, I will bring them to you.”

  “No, son, bring them to Captain Klindt. His brain trust is figuring this all out.” He turns to Klindt, “Thank you, Captain. Please let me know what you find in the papers.” He then gets up, and everyone else stands as he leaves.

  CHAPTER 25

  ORDINANCE OFFICE, 3RD DECK FORWARD, 1510, 23 DECEMBER, 1941

  Lt. Jackson stands outside the door to the ordinance office, lifts his hand to his ball cap, puts his hand down, puts it back to the cap, and grabs it, “Jesus, man, it isn’t the prom.” He Knocks on the door and walks in. Ensign Severn is sitting at a desk in a fairly large office crowded with more desks that are occupied by chiefs and petty officers. When she sees him, she says a guarded, “May I help you, Lieutenant?”

  Crushing his cap, he says, “Um, yes, I owe you an apology. I was a…an, um, my behavior like sucked. Anyway, this is for you,” and pulls a bar of Cadbury chocolate out of his pocket, giving it to her.

  Startled, she takes it, “Thank you, Lieutenant? Um?”

  “Jackson, ma’am, Thud Jackson.”

  She laughs, “Right, I remember now, like James Bond.” He stops crushing his cover and laughs. “Did you come all this way just to give me some chocolate?”

  Turning red, “No, I mean, yes. I needed to apologize, ma’am, and ask for your help with something.”

  She unwraps the chocolate and gestures to the coffee pot in the corner, “Okay, apology accepted. Do you want to share? There’s coffee over there?” Thud gets his coffee and sits in front of her desk. She hands him a piece of chocolate on a napkin, “Here you are. You need my help?”

  “Yeah, you see I’m a member of the brain trust, and we, well, um…”

  “What brain trust.”

  “Oh, Captain Johnson’s. We’ve been figuring things out for him, like what is going on with the war and how good the Japanese planes are and stuff like that. Did you know the long lance torpedo uses liquid oxygen?”

  “Everybody knows that.”

  Thud smiles, “Exactly, that’s what I said, but I guess they didn’t know. Anyway, do you know anything about missile propellant?”

  “Sure, I mean, I have a degree in chemistry and I work with them here. You have to know what you’re handling, right?”

  “Yes, I knew you could help.”

  “Help with what?”

  “We need to make new missiles because we’re running out of the ones we have.”

  “No one knows how to make missiles correctly in 1941. They can’t do it.”

  “You know how.”

  “Yeah, but, um, oh jeeze.”

  FLIGHT DECK ON ALERT 5, 2358, 23 DECEMBER, 1941

  In the cool night air, Spike and Puck, Thud and Sp
eedy sit in their cockpits, canopies up, enjoying the tropical breeze. The ship is steaming on a base line to Hawaii, but as always, there’s a CAP up and Alert 5 and Alert 15 on standby. Puck says, “I saw you talking after the service with those two guys. What was that about?”

  “Um, we may have found our problem.”

  “You solved world hunger, which problem.”

  “The problem concerning how we came back in time.”

  “I apologize for the snide comments, please continue.”

  “We know what happened and who the facilitator is, but that’s all I’m allowed to say right now.”

  “Oh, okay. We haven’t had a chance to talk about the Book thing. Are you alright?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Honest.”

  “I hate it when peoples say ‘honest’. Does it mean they lie to you the rest of the time? After the things he said, you’re okay?”

  Spike laughs, “Puck, in a sense, he set me free. I now know the command trusts me. I actually feel sorry for him. It’s really horrible to have lost Bo-Bo and Klutz, but a weight has come off my shoulders. I feel light.”

  “Okay, how’s Gloria?”

  “She seems okay. We’re both used to dealing with people not liking us, or at least not wanting us around.”

  “I understand, but it’s bull shit that you have to. Indians deal with that attitude, too. You know, it’s going to be worse when we get back to the States.”

  “Yes, I know. I fully expect to be kicked off flight status and thrown out of the Navy. I know Captain Johnson and Admiral Ren will fight it, but I don’t think they can win this battle.”

  “I’m pretty much expecting the same thing. At best, they’ll make me a cook or something.”

  “Yeah, it’s going to be tough. I don’t know what I’ll do. I can’t go back home, my dad’s just a teenager. It’d mess everyone up.”

  “I at least have the reservation. You’re welcome there. One thing I’m thinking. I’m going to buy some stock in IBM, Raytheon, and maybe, GE.”

  Laughing, “You gotta have a job first. I might take you up on that. I would be the world’s first blonde Indian.”

  “Not hardly, I’ve a second cousin who’s blonde. My tribe is a family and we’re happy to adopt.”

  “Okay, that makes me feel better. How are you with the Book thing? You were right in the middle of it?”

  He chuckles, “I got away with helping Swede. I think I came out good. Hell, so did Swede.”

  “Yeah.”

  “About the money thing, how much cash do you have on board?”

  “I brought a few thousand. Everything I had in savings. You never know what you’re going to need.”

  “Me too. I figured to bring cash and save my pay. How much do you suppose an average working stiff makes in 1941?”

  “Not much, but the cost of living was really low compared to our time.”

  “I looked it up. The average annual income was about five hundred dollars. Now, how far could we go on, say, ten thousand?”

  “Damn, handled properly, that’s a good stake. Invested properly, we’re set for life. That is, if they take our money. Think about it.”

  “We’ll need to get it exchanged, but they have to accept it, it’s legal tender.”

  “No, they don’t. This is all different.”

  “Way to burst my bubble. You could make a clown cry.”

  “Sorry.”

  “You know, it’s after midnight. It’s Christmas Eve. I don’t much feel the spirit.”

  ALL OFFICERS CALL, WARDROOM 1, 0800, 24 DECEMBER, 1941

  Captain Johnson is standing in front of the nearly three hundred officers not on watch in wardroom 1, the formal wardroom, with upholstered chairs and white tablecloths. Spike is with Puck, Hot Pants, GQ, Thud, and Speedy, all in their flight suits, as they could be called at any minute.

  “Thank you for coming. It hit me last night, as I wrote a few more reports which I can’t send to anyone, tomorrow is Christmas. There will be no care packages from home, no letters from loved ones. This is going to be a hard Christmas for all of us, separated by both distance and time from those we love. We in this wardroom must provide the Christmas our sailors will be missing.

  “In that vein, I have ordered the bakery to make 70,000 cookies and other pastries, so everyone can have a care package. I’m also raiding the ships stores to provide each sailor with some toiletries. I want all of you to come up with ideas for small gifts of some sort, be it only a personal card, for each of your people. For those of you with large divisions, you may recruit your chief, but the goat locker is already doing their part. Be creative. Your people deserve it. Thank you. Any questions?”

  Lt. Neyhi from RC division asks, “Sir, what is our budget?”

  “We’re you planning on ordering something from Tiffany’s We have what we have. Be creative and work together. I don’t mind if you raid the Sup-O for materials, but keep it reasonable.”

  Ensign Hagworth from S-2 says, “Us supply officers are being doubled nailed. We’re already making cookies.”

  “Be honest, your guys are making the cookies, you’re making gifts for your guys. I would also like to decorate the place a bit and make it more festive.”

  Lt. JG Rick ‘Jail Bait’ Funk from the Red Cocks asks, “Sir, do we have to make the gifts ourselves?”

  “Funk, I’m not going to hold your hand. They are your people and they deserve your best. You’re an officer, figure it out?”

  Lt. Hunt raises her hand, “I have a small division. I have no problem helping some of you guys with large ones.”

  At first a few guys chuckle, but Lt. Warren jumps at the chance, “I have thirty-five nuke electricians I need to gift. I have some ideas. May I join you?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Pulling up a chair, he settles in, “I have copper wire and electrical doodads in the shop, but no ideas what to do with them. Oh, and do you have any females in your division, Sam?”

  “Yeah, I got two, Heidi and Lori.”

  “Cool, I have a perfume sampler set I bought in Pearl for my wife. You could have two. Um, your friend can have some for the girls in her division, too. It’s too weird for a guy Div-O to give perfume.”

  Before Sam can answer, Gloria says, “Hi, I’m her friend, Gloria Hoolihan,” looking at Sam with one eyebrow raised.

  Sam says, “Oops, Gloria, sorry. This is Lt. John Warren. I know him from the brain trust.” She looks around to introduce the others, “Where did they all go?”

  “No idea, maybe Puck went to gather his stock of tomahawks.”

  Sam says, “Anyway, that copper wire, maybe make it into bracelets.”

  Warren says, “I don’t think bracelets will work, it’s too soft. I do have an idea. Electricians have a stock of tape with six different colors. Anything we can do with that?”

  Gloria smiles, “Yeah, make supersized candy canes for decorations.”

  “Good, but we still need gifts.”

  Sam sighs, “I wish I could think of things like that.”

  Warren says, “Yeah.”

  She stares into space, then, “It’s hot down in the plant, isn’t it?”

  “About 130 degrees on feed pump flat.”

  Gloria says, “I got it. We take some plastic bags for ice water and put them into like, maybe, the sleeves of flight deck shirts. Sew one end shut and have the other tied so it can be refilled. They put it around their neck and stay cool.”

  Sam points at Gloria, “See, my brilliant friend.”

  Warren nods, “We have this plastic sheeting stuff that would be better than bags. It’s heavier and we can seal one end with duct tape and fold and use one of those heavy paper clips for the other.”

  Puck walks up carrying a bunch of parachute line, and says, “It won’t work unless you use two bags, one on each side, so the paper clips stay up, holding the water in.”

  Gloria turns to Sam, “Want to help me raid the store room for a box of extra-small shirts?” They
never fit anyone anyway.”

  As they stand up, Sam says, “That’s the truth. Why we stock so many is a mystery to me. Um, Eric, what are you doing with all that para cord?”

  “Making bracelets, it’s handy to have around and a simple gift.”

  “See, someone else who’s creative. It’s enough to destroy one’s self-esteem,” says Sam, laughing.

  Warren says, I’ll get the plastic, clips, and duct tape. If we have enough materials, we can make some for other divisions and swap.”

  Captain Johnson surveys the wardroom, officers from all departments working together, hatching plans; airdales, nukes, supply officers, gunners, staff, ordinance, all working together. Quietly smiling, he says to his group, “We have scotch tape coming out our ears. Let’s us tape instead of glue on the paper chains, it’ll hold better.”

  That evening on the 1MC, “Good evening, Carl Vinson, this is your Captain. As no doubt everyone knows tomorrow is Christmas. The salty folks among us know that traditionally we would stand down on Christmas day, and for the most part, we will. We are also going to break from the routine a bit, tomorrow. First, after mid-rats, we will start setting up hangar bay 2 for breakfast. The whole crew will have a late breakfast, and dinner, in the hangar bay. That means we will need a working party to set it all up and break it down after. Then, though, we are out of contact with Washington, Santa managed to get a message in and he assured me he will be making a delivery tonight. That means I need lookouts and gunners to be especially careful. We don’t want to shoot the jolly guy down after he’s gone through all this trouble.

  “I want all personnel not on watch in hangar bay 2 after breakfast to meet Santa. Uniform of the day will be relaxed. PJ’s are fine with me, as it is Christmas morning. Just keep it appropriate and be sure to have something on your feet to protect from the non-skid.

  “After breakfast, Santa and I would like clean up to be all hands. After Christmas dinner, the goat locker and wardroom will be putting on a talent show. After the show, the choir will lead us in carols. I know we are far from home, and I know it is hard. I want this Christmas to be the absolute best we can make it for each other and I know you will all help. Thank you, and Merry Christmas.”