Fighting Her Father's War: The FIghting Tomcats
Page 35
“What?”
“Which rule are you up to?”
“Oh, Rule 8: Cause no harm.”
“Good one, I like that.”
“I was a jerk and hurt a decent girl to show off.”
Sam looks at him for a moment, and nods.
“Rule 9: Stand against the little tyrannies in life, whenever you see one. It makes standing against the big tyrannies easier. And, Rule 10: Respect the little guy. We are all little to someone.”
“Wow, that’s very cool, Eric. I like your rules.”
“Some seem a little outdated now, but they have served me well so far.”
“I don’t see them as outdated. They make sense.”
“I’m adding new rules, like, ‘Don’t tell your pilot where to go’, and ‘Know thine buttons to touch’.”
She laughs, “You were right. We needed this.”
“I’m working at it, Samantha. I want you to understand that I am.”
“I’m sorry I’ve been such a hard ass.”
“You’ve kept us alive, so far, but I think it’s going to get harder. So, we need to get better.”
“You’re right, that they may have jets and haven’t been able to deploy them yet. It has me worried.”
“You know, I could be dead wrong.”
“Yeah, but erring on the side of caution is a good thing. I mentioned it to Halsey during the check ride, but his intel staff dismissed the whole thing. I’m going to bring it up to Holtz, too, and see what he says.”
“I agree, I just can’t shake the feeling.”
“Ever since you brought it up, I can’t shake it either. It makes sense.”
“More coffee?” and Puck gets up and refills their cups. When he rejoins her, “You know I had a professor ask me about Little Big Horn. I told him I was descended from a survivor of that battle. He told me no one survived that battle.”
“He actually said that?”
“Yep, I told him the Indians did.”
Sam laughs, “That’s too much. It goes to show, doesn’t it?”
“It shows that most still can’t see Native Americans as people.” He pauses, “I guess, I’m not thinking, either. I know you are proud of your family. My tribe didn’t kill any Hunts at Big Horn, did we?”
Sam chuckles, “Not that I know of, we’re from east Tennessee. My family is still getting over the recent unpleasantness with the north.”
“Isn’t the South still getting over that, um, unpleasantness?”
“Yeah, they’re still fighting it, every battle. Going over and over it, worrying it like a dog with a bone. Unfortunately, it’s still fresh for a lot of people. We’re still fighting it, but it’s getting better.”
“Not in this time. I expect you’ll find it is worse now.”
“Do you think?” She pauses, watching his face, “You know, I have a photo of my great, great, grandmother. It’s like looking in a mirror. She held off a detachment of Yankee soldiers with two dogs and a shotgun. They thought they were going to get her last horse and the last of the provisions. They say I’m just like her. Of course, when my mother says that, she doesn’t mean it nicely.”
“You have the grit.”
“I hope so. I would like to think I make her proud.”
“I look up to my grandfather and great-grandfather that way. I only knew my great grandfather when I was little. He played with me. He made learning fun. I remember that.”
“Are you descended from anyone at Wounded Knee?”
“I think so, we sometimes look at descendants a little different, and few people survived the massacre.”
“I read the book, quite an eye opener.”
“We get the story with our mother’s milk.”
“That I understand, sort of like learning about the Civil War battles at the dining table with grandpa.”
“We have a lot in common, Samantha. We both love, and serve a country that tried to destroy our ancestors.”
“I never looked at it that way before, but you’re right. Well, I’ve got a lot to do still before head finds pillow. A busy day tomorrow. Remember, we have ready 5 at 0400.”
“I’ll remember, thanks for dinner, Samantha.”
“Thank you for the conversation. I enjoyed it.”
CHAPTER 42
GYM, 03 LEVEL AFT, 1800, 9 JANUARY, 1942
Sam is sweating, running on a treadmill in shorts and a t-shirt, when Lt. JG Lyle ‘Packs’ Boxter walks in with a towel slung over his shoulder. He sets up the treadmill next to Sam’s and starts running. After a few minutes, “Skipper, I owe you an apology. I’ve been an ass.”
She looks at him and pulls the head phones off, “What?”
“I owe you an apology, ma’am. I’ve been a jerk, and I’m sorry.”
“No, what do you mean about being a jerk. I haven’t seen it.
“It’s true, and I’m sorry. Any chance I could fly with someone else?”
Still running, she bites her lip, “Okay, after our workout, see me in my office.”
COMMANDER’S OFFICE BLACK KNIGHT SQUADRON
Sam is doing paperwork when Packs walks in, “May I shut the door?”
“Yes, get some coffee and sit down.” Once he’s settled, “Okay, talk to me.”
“Ma’am, I’m Mormon. My church all but outlaws women serving in the military. I bought into the vitriol that Book has been spewing. I know now, it’s crap. You’re a good boss and one heck of a pilot. I’m sorry for what I’ve done, and I would like to fly with someone else.”
“I understand. I’ll see what I can do, but no promises.”
“He has it out for you, ma’am. I don’t understand why, really, but it’s like he’s obsessed.”
She nods, “Yeah, I’m worried about him, and I’m sorry you’re caught in the middle. I wish there were more I could do for you, right now.”
“That’s the problem, ma’am, someone has to fly with him.”
“That is the problem.”
“You know, ma’am, at least the two of us work okay in the air. I’ll put up with him for now, but if he doesn’t come around soon, you’ll have to do something about him.”
“I know, Packs, be careful, and thank you,” standing to shake his hand.
“I will be, ma’am, I will be.”
COMMANDER’S OFFICE BLACK KNIGHT SQUADRON, 0800, 10 JANUARY, 1942
Sam is focused on the paper she’s reading, a proposed test procedure for repairing and testing electronic cards that are normally replaced and sent out for repair. She’s startle by a knock on her door, and a tall, thin, black senior chief in BDUs walk in, “A word Lieutenant Commander Hunt. I’m Senior Chief Hoffman, the ships Chief Master at Arms.”
“Yes, Chief, how can I help you?”
“One of my men caught one of your sailors in a page 13 violation of a direct order.”
“Really, Chief, sit down, and talk to me.”
“I prefer to stand. I will be submitting a full report and requiring that he be brought to Captain’s Mast as soon as possible. Discipline must be maintained.”
“Chief, I said sit!”
The chief sits at attention. “It’s a clear violation, ma’am, nothing for you to do, but discipline your member.”
“Chief, until I know everything that is going on, I’m not doing anything. I want it in detail.”
“One of your sailors, Petty Officer Joseph Cervella, was caught in a fan room with a female from Reactor Department. They were there for sexual purposes in violation of the page 13 order signed by all crew members. He’s being held in the brig now.”
“So, you caught them in the act, Chief?”
“No, ma’am, one of my masters at arms caught them.”
“I see, okay, take me down to the brig. I need to talk to him?”
“Ma’am, we’ve not completed our investigation yet…” and her phone rings.
“Black Knights, Hunt speaking, how may I help you?”
“Hello, Commander, this is Captain Tucker from
Reactor Department. It seems we have a problem.”
“Yes, we do. I have the Chief Master at Arms in my office, and unfortunately, I still don’t have any details.”
“I have the Legal Officer in mine. Can you come down so we can talk this through?”
“Sounds good to me, on my way.” Then, “Shall we continue this conversation down in the reactor office, Chief?”
“That’s not necessary, ma’am, there is nothing to discuss.”
“Let me rephrase, I’m going down to discuss this with Captain Tucker right now. You may join me if you wish.”
REACTOR OFFICE, STARBOARD PASSAGEWAY AFT
Hoffman follows her down the four flights of stairs to the reactor office, aft of the mess decks. As she walks in, Captain Tucker is standing with a small female lieutenant. He turns to Hunt, “Thanks for coming.”
“I hope we can clear this up.”
“I agree,” and turns to the office staff, “Clear the room. Master Chief, you can stay.” To Sam, “I think you’ve met Master Chief Hatzenbeuler?”
“No, sir,” and puts out a hand, “Master Chief, a pleasure.”
“Pleased to meet you, Commander, though the circumstances could be better.”
The lieutenant, a small woman, reaches out a hand, “I’m Lt. Watson, the legal officer.”
“Pleased to meet you, Lieutenant, I think,” Sam smiles.
Watson says, “Shall we get down to facts? At 0530 this morning, AD3 Joseph Cervella and EN3 Paula Pressman were seen by MA3 Ball entering a fan room on the 02 level, port side. The MA3 apprehended both on a page 13 violation.”
Sam says, “That’s it?”
“Commander, as I’m sure you know, with men and women serving together, copulation has become a problem. It seems the fan rooms are the preferred spot. MA1 Ignatius is interrogating them right now to find out what they were up to.”
Sam takes a deep breath, “Let me get this clear. You don’t even have the facts yet, and you’re already jumping to judgement?”
“I knew you would be a problem. Airdales always want to buck the system.”
Tucker says, “Stand down, Lieutenant! Let me get this straight, and do not bull shit me! When your MA3 Ball opened the fan room door, what exactly were Pressman and Cervella doing?”
“As I understand it, they were fully clothed and talking, but we have reason to believe they were going to have sex.”
Sam and Tucker look at each other, then back to Watson, and Sam says, “Are we the thought police now?”
Tucker calmly says, “I want both petty officers here, right now.”
“I agree,” and gives Watson a freezing stare, “I’m calling my senior chief,” and goes to the phone.
Watson says, “But, Captain, this is a criminal investigation, and we are not done investigating…”
“Enough, Lieutenant. Let me explain this 06, 03 relationship. I order you to deliver up the petty officers, and you say, ‘Yes, sir’, and do so, Are we clear, Lieutenant?”
Sam smiles, “Senior Chief, could you, please, come down to the reactor office ASAP?” a pause, then, “Aft of the mess decks, starboard side. Thanks.”
Watson motions to the CMAA and he leaves. Turning to Tucker, “Sir…” Tucker says, “No.”
Sam asks, “Coffee, anyone?”
Tucker answers, “Yes, please, just creamer.”
Hatzenbeuler says, “Let me help you, Commander.”
“Sure,” then, “Lieutenant?” Watson makes a sour face and looks away.
Senior Chief Bond walk in, takes in the scene, and goes to Sam. She quietly brings him up to speed. A few minutes later, the CMAA walks in with AD3 Cervella and EM3 Pressman. Pressman’s head is down and Cervella’s eyes lock in terror and shame on his skipper’s. She smiles at him.
Tucker says, “Okay, this is how this is going to work. Commander Hunt and I are going to ask the questions, and we want straight answers. I want this to be clear, though, we have a lot to cover, so only answer the questions we ask. Do you understand, Petty Officer Pressman?”
She looks up, her eyes alight, “Yes, sir.”
Sam looks at Cervella, “Do you understand what he said? Answer only the questions we asked. We don’t have a lot of time.”
Cervella looks confused, but says, “Yes, ma’am.”
Tucker starts, “Pressman, what were you doing when the master at arms arrested you?”
“Um, talking to Joe, um, to Petty Officer Cervella.”
“Were you in uniform?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What were you talking about?”
“How I miss my momma.”
“How did you come to know Petty Officer Cervella?”
“We met on the mess decks. He said his mom makes the best tiramisu.”
“Is he your boyfriend?”
“I, um, he’s nice, but, um, not yet, sir.”
“Tucker asks Sam, “May I question your petty officer?”
“Please.”
Tucker asks, “Petty Officer Cervella, what were you doing when the master at arms arrested you?”
“Like she said, we were talking.”
“Were you in uniform?”
“Yes, sir, full flight deck uniform.”
“What were you talking about?”
“About family and home, you know. About how we’ll never see any of them again,” and he tears up.
“How did you come to know Petty Officer Pressman?”
“We met on the mess decks, like she said. We got to talking about home, and I guess I brag about my momma.”
“Is she your girlfriend?”
Joe blushes, “I would like that, sir, um” and turns to Pressman, “Please?”
Tucker turn to Watson, “As you see, Lieutenant, you have a simple case of two sailors that are homesick and embarrassed to talk about it openly.” Palm out, he moves his hand in front of him, “You will drop the charges and move along.”
Watson grimaces, tight-lipped, “Yes, sir,” and leaves with the CMAA.
Once the door closes, Sam says, “Well done, sir.” Then composing herself, “Okay, you two, the Captain got you off the hook. Now, we deserve to know what this is really about.”
Abashed, Joe says, “What we said was true,” he looks down, “but she wanted to see inside the cockpit of an F-14.”
Tucker says, “Okay, and so?”
Joe gets even redder, “Well, we made a deal. I let her sit in number 212, ‘cause its seat is safed right now, and well, she, um, she…”
Pressman, blushing furiously, “I promised him oral sex, but I couldn’t do it.”
Joe says, “She didn’t, honest.”
Tucker and Sam look at each other, desperately trying not to laugh. Tucker says, “Shall the judges retire to my office to discuss this matter?”
Sam nods, “Absolutely.”
Once in the office, Tucker says, “I can’t help but think they are so cute. But, we have to do something.”
“I know, they are cute, and Joe is such a baby. The thing is, they are the tip of the iceberg. We all miss our families.”
“I know I do, but what to do?”
“The punishment has to fit the crime. Oh, by the way, sir, if some of your people are that interested, we can do guided tours.”
“That’s it, we make each of them conduct training for the other department on what they do. Make them work at it.”
“That works for me, sir. I have a question.”
“Yes?”
“Why was Watson so hot to string those two up?”
“You need to keep your ear closer to the rail. I have no facts, but speculation is she is having an affair with someone on board, so she needs to seem tough on sex.”
“Oh my, thank you.”
Tucker puts out his hand, “I know Klindt had a good relationship with you. I hope to continue that good rapport.”
She shakes his hand, “I like the idea of nukes and airdales getting along. I made good friends in the brain trust
and I miss them.”
“Shall we break the bad news?”
“Yeah, they’ve sweated long enough. Good coffee, by the way.”
“You can’t have my yeoman.”
CHAPTER 43
OUTSIDE HUNT’S STATEROOM, 1100, 10 JANUARY, 1942
Sam’s walking toward her stateroom, smiling and humming, when Captain Van Zandt approaches, “Commander Hunt?”
“Yes, sir?”
“I understand you are still sharing a stateroom rather than moving into the squadron’s CO stateroom?”
“Yes, sir, is that a problem?”
“Oh, no, Commander, it’s a solution. Admiral Halsey has a larger than normal combined staff. We parked one of them on the Long Beach, but if we can use your stateroom, that solves everything.”
“Your staff guy is welcome to it.”
“Thank you.” Captain Van Zandt walks away, and she enters her stateroom, “Congratulations, Gloria, you’re officially stuck with…” Gloria, at her desk, hands over her face, is crying. Sam puts a hand on her shoulder, “What is it, baby? Do you want me to leave?”
Gloria blows her nose, shaking her head, “Can we talk?”
“Sure, honey.”
“It’s stupid, I know it’s stupid, but,…I forgot what my Jerry smells like.”
“Yeah, it’s not stupid.”
“It is. If I knew we were going back, it wouldn’t be so bad, but I’ll never see Jerry again.” She struggles to hold back her tears.
Sam squats down next to her, keeping one hand on her shoulder, “Cry. You need to, you’ve been holding back for too long.” Gloria wraps her arms around her friend and lets the tears flow.
After a bit, she pulls back and wipes her face with a tissue, “What a stupid thing this is, my Jerry will be born in a few years and grow up to be just as awesome as I remember. But, by then, I’ll be old with wrinkles and boobs that hang to my knees.”
“Yep, your boobs will get that bad. I understand.”
Gloria swats her, “You’re not supposed to agree,” laughing.
“It’s a good thing being a member of the itty bitty titty committee, I don’t have to worry about that.”
“You don’t now, but a few more years of 9 g’s and you might be able to toss them over your shoulder. Thanks, Sam.”