Divided We Stand (The Fighting Tomcats Book 2) Read online

  FLIGHT DECK CONTROL, USS FIFE

  0421, 15 JANUARY, 1942

  Lt. JG Laura Wakefield watches one of her helo’s take off, and on radio, “Thank you, Easy Rider 31. Good day.”

  The phone talker beside her says, “Ma’am, BM1, um, the conning officer wants to order a backing bell.”

  She picks up the phone and hears, “The Long Beach is getting close. I need to go right rudder and back down.”

  She says, “Right full rudder, back full emergency.”

  The ship begins to shake as the Fife turns. When the turn slows because all the way is off, she says, “All stop. Conning officer, you cannot be tentative. The safety of the ship rides on you.”

  BM1 Coates says, “Ma’am, I’ve never done this.”

  “I’ve never been a captain, either. Boats, you’re all I’ve got, so please get it together. The fires are out and we have shipped out the worst of our casualties. Keep us on station while I put together a report for Admiral Halsey. God, I never thought I’d say that.”

  10 DOWNING STREET, LONDON

  Churchill, alone in his office, lights a cigar and picks up his phone, “Put me through to Roosevelt.” A moment later his phone rings, “Franklin, I have a problem. It seems the Krauts have also been blessed with future aircraft. They just laid an egg on my war room. Could you find a way to spare some of those naval aircraft you spoke of?”

  Roosevelt replies, “Good God! You are certain?”

  “I am. I saw them myself. High speed, no propeller, and they were very loud as they passed. There is no doubt.”

  “Indeed. The issue is rather simple. Impressive though they be, they are limited in range. Right now, they are off Japan, half the world away.”

  “I see. Well, my friend. Have you any idea how long before we may be reinforced?”

  “I don’t know, but I can find out.”

  “Please do. I am concerned that, should your Navy dither too long, they may not have an England to defend.”

  CHAPTER 3

  RAIL ROAD YARD, NIZHNY, TAGIL, USSR

  Colonel General Yuri Kryukov stands with his staff officer, Major General Grigory Stepanov, silently watching armored vehicles being loaded on rail cars. It is a huge operation that is being, carefully, but quickly done. Occasionally, one of the soldiers or workman glance at the tall man, impressive in his camouflage uniform. Hundreds of rail cars are needed to move just one of his divisions.

  An aid approaches, salutes, and hands him a folder. Opening it, he reads quickly, signs the paper, and hands it back. As the solder leaves, he turns to Stepanov, “It is as we thought. He is in a dacha near Gzhel.”

  “It couldn’t be better. Gzhel is on the railroad.”

  Yuri nods, allowing himself a brief smile. “Yes. It is good.”

  NUMBER 1 FIRE ROOM, USS SALT LAKE CITY

  0630, 15 JANUARY, 1942

  There are so many fire hoses down the hatches of number 1 fire room that Captain Zacharias has to squeeze between them to go below. He can feel the ship settling down at the bow, estimating it at about 10 degrees. Working his way down between the four large boilers to mid-level, he finds LCDR Flanagan studying a drawing, “How is it?”

  The CHENG looks up, “We’re still fighting. We’ve isolated the eductor system at the forward bulkhead, but that has sprung near the top of lower level. As the level climbed in the store rooms forward, it increased the pressure here. We’re trying to shore below and pack in the cracks.”

  “Can you stop the water here?”

  “We’re trying, sir. The fuel bottoms here are now contaminated with sea water. I was just figuring out how we can fill the day tanks from back aft.”

  “I understand, but there’s another problem. We need to get the fleet moving. We’re backing right now at one third, but we are still in range of additional attacks and two of the missile ships are disabled. Could this bulkhead take the pressure of a forward bell?’

  A look of deep misery passes over Flanagan’s face, “I don’t know, sir. I would like more shoring before we try.”

  SAMANTHA’S AND GLORIA’S STATEROOM

  0640, 15 JANUARY, 1942

  Sam wakes with a start, her mouth feeling like an old wool sock, her head fuzzy and pounding. Trying to sit up, she realizes she’s in the bottom bunk. Hearing movement above her, she croaks out, “Gloria.”

  Gloria pops her head over the side, “So, like Lazarus, the dead is alive. I’ll get you some water.” Climbing down, she gets a water and hands it to Sam. Sam drinks, coughs, then finishes the bottle, feeling her flesh soak it in.

  “What’s the time, and what the hell happened?”

  “0640, and you tell me. When I got back from ready five, your shower bag was on the floor and you were collapsed on my bed. Fluffy took it on himself to guard our stateroom all night. Puck wouldn’t tell me what’s going on, so give.”

  “Can I have another bottle of water, please?”

  Gloria, sitting on a chair, hands her an open bottle. Sam, swinging her legs off the bed, chugs it, then wipes her mouth, looking at the floor. “Carleton tried to rape me.” She looks up and they exchange a silent look, “Chief White tried to save me. Carleton knifed him. He’s dead.” She feels herself tearing up and wipes them away, annoyed. Gloria hands her some tissues, “I managed to get control and hold him until the MAA showed up, then I flew the mission to Tokyo.”

  “Oh, my God, Sam!”

  “Carleton tried to kill us out there. He tried to shoot us down. The Japanese got a missile into him instead,” and finishes the second bottle.

  “Okay, damn. Okay. Are you up to wardroom 3 for coffee and breakfast?”

  “Yeah, I think I can make it. Coffee, oh yeah, and Gloria?”

  “Yes, honey.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, but Puck’s the one you really have to thank. I didn’t carry you all over the ship.”

  They get dressed in flight suits and leave their stateroom. Fluffy is still standing there with a tire iron is his hand. “Morning ladies. You look a good bit better this morning, Skipper.”

  “Thank you, Fluffy. Have you been up all night?”

  “I was spelled for a bit, ma’am. Shall I tell Swede and Puck that you’re up?”

  “Yes, we’ll be in wardroom 3, and thank you, again.”

  In wardroom 3, Sam gets a full breakfast, coffee, and more water. She’s still damn thirsty. As she’s sitting down with Gloria, Puck and Swede come in and sit across from them. Swede asks, “You okay, boss?”

  “Better, thank you.” Looking at Puck, “Thanks so much. Are you okay?”

  Eric smiles, “Yeah, just another interesting day at war. Halsey, Johnson, and Holtz want to talk to you.”

  Sam grins, “That can wait for now. They have my report from last night. Swede where does the squadron stand?”

  “We have nine birds serviceable, with 733 being the current hangar queen. Glow Rod over G’d the hell out of his bird, so it’s going to be down awhile. We’ve been cannibalizing it to keep the others flying. The admiral and captain are out surveying the damage, so you have some time. As you know, there was no second strike. Nimitz cancelled it. Jedi and Gunner are on ready 5, and the Tomcatters have the CAP. BUG and Joker are still out there. With the damage to the fleet, they haven’t been able to spare too many helos for fishing out flyers.

  “Hopefully, someone finds them. Packs wants to see you, and Carleton is dead. He landed in the water with a broken neck. At least, that’s what the corpsman says.”

  “Thank you, Stephan.”

  WAR DEPARTMENT, WASHINGTON, DC

  1530 local time, 15 JANUARY, 1942

  Admiral King walks into the conference room, followed by Admirals Ren and Lee, and without preamble says, “Well, George, what is the crisis today?

  General George Marshall replies, “We need to move some your fighter jets to England. The Germans seem to have their own jet fighters.”

  Admiral Ren says, “They are off Japan with
some damage. It’s going to take awhile to get the Vinson to England.”

  Marshall replies, “Our friends do not need the Vinson, they need the fighters. How long to ferry them to England?”

  King asks, “How many planes do the Germans have?”

  Marshall says, “We don’t know. The initial attack involved two.”

  Lee says, “I don’t believe most German pilots would willingly fight for Hitler. He is despised.”

  King says, “Perhaps it is Germans from our time flying the aircraft?”

  Ren says, “No, sir. They haven’t had near enough time to train. These have to be from 1990.”

  Brigadier General Walter Altman says, “They can’t be that hard to fly. I’m a pilot. A plane is a plane.”

  Lee looks at him, “Have you ever flown at one thousand six hundred knots? These aircraft perform at a whole different level. The engines require specific management skills. The avionics are very different. It would take a year at minimum to train new pilots. Something else to think of, we had U.S. and British aircraft co-located at many NATO fields. There could be captured servicemen and women and their families in Germany.”

  Altman looks at him, incredulous, “That’s idiotic! Why would you do that?”

  Lee says, “We won the war. Afterward we needed Germany as a bulwark against Russia. Don’t judge a time period you know nothing about.”

  Altman, persisting, “But they are our enemy.”

  Lee says, “So was England, once. Things change. Anyway, they are probably there.”

  Marshall says, “On task, gentlemen. How do we get the aircraft to England?”

  Ren says, “We sail her through the Suez via Australia.”

  Altman says, “We sail your carrier to the Bremerton Yard as planned, then ferry them across the country from field to field. As I understand, they can safely land at a bomber base.”

  Lee says, “True, but we would have to ferry out about 60,000 gallons of jet fuel, parts for possible problems, and ground crew to every stop. The fighters will outstrip the transports carrying everything, making it a logistic nightmare. What do we do if the field maintenance people do not take FOD seriously, and we grenade an engine? No, it’s better to ferry them via ship.”

  King asks, “Could we load them on another ship and ferry them that way?”

  Ren says, “Maybe. Do you have a carrier that can handle the weight on their deck? Each F-14 weighs 48,000 pounds dry.”

  King shakes his head, “No, it will have to be the Vinson. How do we do it?”

  CHAPTER 4

  FLIGHT DECK, SPOT 2, USS CARL VINSON

  0800, 15 JANUARY, 1942

  Halsey and Johnson walk toward an SH-3. Two F-14s are parked at ready 5, and a Red Cock F-18 is launching from cat 3. As the noise drops, Halsey asks, “Do you know this Commander Grey?”

  “No, sir, but Captain Tucker and Captain Tenzar both give him high marks.”

  “I want to meet him first. I understand he was uninjured when he escaped off the bridge of the Long Beach.”

  They climb aboard, put on their helmets, and plug into the communications system, “Yes, sir, just a bump on the head. They plucked him and the bridge crew off the signal bridge by helicopter and landed them on the fan tail. There were some minor injuries, but Commander Grey is fine.”

  Halsey asks, “Who is flying this contraption?”

  “I am, sir. LCDR David Crocker, sir, commander of the Eightballers.”

  “Commander, I want to take a run around the fleet, then land briefly on the Long Beach. From there it’s straight to the Horne. Do we have the fuel?”

  “Yes, sir, no problem. We’ll hot pump on the Long Beach to top off.”

  “Can she spare the fuel?”

  Johnson says, “Sir, the Long Beach is nuclear powered. She keeps aviation fuel for her diesels and for fueling helicopters.”

  Halsey says, “I still don’t understand all this atom hocus pocus. Oh, my Lord!” They are flying across the front of the Salt Lake City. She’s down at the bow to the point that the main deck is nearly awash.

  Johnson says, “It’s amazing she’s still afloat.”

  “They are fighting her and I’m loath to cut her loose or scuttle her. If we steam off and leave her, she’ll be sunk for sure. If we stick with her, we’re all in jeopardy.”

  Then they pass the Fife. There’s still smoke coming from the gaping hole left by the lost superstructure. As they get closer, they can see the hole reaches all the way to the second deck. Halsey asks, “This ship, it’s the one that lost all of its senior officers. It’s being commanded by a female lieutenant junior grade, correct?”

  “Yes, sir, Lt. JG Laura Wakefield. She has damage control well in hand. She transferred the bridge to the helicopter control booth in the aft of the ship because it’s the only place with a radio. They have propulsion, weapons on line, and are trying to put together a temporary bridge. We have a crew on board helping clear debris.”

  “Do you know her?”

  “Not really, sir. I met her once briefly. She seemed bright and cheerful, but it’s only a first impression.”

  Then they circle the Long Beach. It’s clear the box superstructure is leaning forward, and they can see the crew weaving cable through it, trying to hold it in place. Halsey says, “Damn, it’s a wonder she’s still afloat.”

  “The problem is the superstructure, sir. To save weight they made it out of aluminum. After a missile hit, the aluminum burns.”

  “What an idiotic thing to do.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Let’s set down, Commander. We’ll be taking on a passenger, and then on to the Horne.”

  As they flare and land, Captain Tenzar and Commander Grey are standing between the tomahawk box launchers. Halsey asks, “What’s in the boxes?”

  “Tomahawk missiles, sir. Long range cruise missiles with a variety of warheads. The problem is they depend on a satellite system that we no longer have.”

  They step out of the helicopter, running out from under the blades, holding their hats. Tenzar and Grey salute as they approach. Saluting, Halsey asks, “What’s the status of repairs, Captain?”

  Tenzar replies, “We’ll have the box locked down in about an hour. After that we’re ready to go. Mount 2 is disabled, as is 3 and 4 directors. The 48 radar is down, but the 49 still works. Bridge steering is damaged, so we are steering from aft steering. We have full propulsion capability and fifty percent on weapons. Best we can do until we get to the yards.”

  Halsey says, “You’ve done an admirable job, Captain, as has your fine crew. I’m sorry to be stealing your XO, though.”

  “I understand the need, Admiral.”

  Halsey turns to Grey, “Might I have a word before we leave?”

  Grey says, “Of course, sir,” and they step away.

  Halsey asks, “How long have you served, Commander?”

  “Seventeen years.”

  “Where are you from?”

  “A small town in Oregon, The Dalles, sir.”

  “College?”

  “University of Washington, physics, sir.”

  “Alright, I want to explain my command philosophy. First, I expect you to think. I want you to solve problems and take care of your crew. They need to know you care. I believe the commander in the field knows better than I do what needs to be done. But, I expect you to do it. Do you follow me?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Next, I expect your vessel to be ready to sortie and fight at a moments notice. If you need to make repairs or have a casualty, I need to know immediately. Bad news is best served fresh. Your job is to prepare your subordinates for command. Any captain who rules his wardroom like a tyrant is useless to me.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “When it comes to fighting, I want to have to hold you back, not push you forward. Our country is paying us to kill Japs and by God, that is what we will do. Do you have any questions?’

  “Sir, with the Long Beach damaged, the Horne has t
he best radar suite in the fleet. I think I should be AAW commander.”

  Halsey nods and smiles, “I’ll look into that. Tenzar did a good job, but you have a point. Let’s rejoin the others for your pinning. Oh, another thing, can I have your oak leaves after you’re pinned?”

  “Of course, sir.”

  Halsey and Grey walk back and Halsey hands Tenzar captains’ eagles, “Captain Tenzar, would you please pin these on Commander Grey?” After that is done, Grey hands Halsey his oak leaves.

  “Well, that’s done. We have it to do. Thank you, Captain Tenzar.” Tenzar salutes, and the three officers turn to go, Grey carrying his bags. Halsey says to Grey as they lift off, “So, Captain, you know what to expect?”

  “I think so, sir.”

  “You’re right, with the Long Beach disabled, you are the AAW commander.”

  “Yes, sir, thank you for your confidence in me.”

  “Sir, Captain Tucker and Captain Tenzar speak highly of you, and it is on their judgment I do this. Do live up to their expectations, sir.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  In a few minutes, Eightballer 1 is settling on the flight deck of the USS Horne. As they step off the bird, they hear, “Carrier Group 2 arriving, Carl Vinson arriving, Captain, United States Navy arriving.” Captain Rodgers is waiting for them, with Commander Kettrick, his XO.

  Walking up to Rodgers, Halsey hands him his orders. Rodgers reads them and pales. Halsey says, “I can’t have my captains hiding behind defenseless ships while there is a fight on. Captain Rodgers, turn over to your replacement, sir.”

  Rodgers turns to Grey, and Grey salutes, “I relieve you, sir.”

  Rodgers returns the salute, “I stand relieved.” He turns to Halsey, “I need to get my things.”

  “They will be sent for. Come with me.”

  Halsey, Johnson, and Rodgers board Eightballer 1. Halsey gets his crew helmet on and asks, “Commander Crocker, would it be a problem to land briefly on the Fife? I want to meet her captain.”

  “No, sir, not at all.” He calls to inform Fife, and in a few minutes, they are on the helicopter pad.