Ship of Steel, Men of Valor - Cuttlefish (A) versus Cribtop (J)

[Cuttlefish]

April 17, 1942

Aboard USS Gridley

Location: Pearl Harbor
Course: None
Attached to: TF 123
Mission: Surface combat
Ship's Status: No damage
Fuel: 525 (100%)


“Our forces,” Stickney tells his officers, “have decided to establish a forward base here.” He indicated a spot on the chart spread across the wardroom table. “It’s called Espiritu Santo, in the New Hebrides. From here we can mount attacks against Japanese bases in the Solomon islands. To that end over 20,000 soldiers and engineers are going to begin boarding transports tomorrow.”

“And we’re going to escort them?” asks Lieutenant JG Cameron, the gunnery officer. Stickney shakes his head.

“No indeed,” the captain says. “We are assigned to a cruiser force that’s supposed to cover the operation. Rear Admiral Shafroth is going to be in command.”

“Big Jack!” says Steubens, and there are smiles around the table at the friendly nickname, though not from Stickney. Shafroth is an enormous man, rumored to tip the scales at 280 pounds.

“His flagship is going to be heavy cruiser Portland,” says Stickeny. “We are specifically assigned to Destroyer Division 11, with Porter as the lead. We are going to form up with the cruisers and leave at dawn tomorrow. The transports will follow us down there.”

“What about the carriers?” asks Cameron. “Any of them coming along?”

“Not that I know of,” says Stickney. ”Those are our orders, gentlemen. Let’s get this ship ready to sail.”

[Cuttlefish]

April 18-20, 1942

Aboard USS Gridley

Location: 75 miles south of Palmyra
Course: Southwest
Attached to: TF 123
Mission: Surface combat
Ship's Status: No damage
Fuel: 451 (85%)


The first three days out of Pearl are uneventful. The task force consists of heavy cruisers Portland, Louisville, and Chicago, light cruisers Raleigh and Detroit, and destroyers Porter, Mugford, Gridley, McCall, Cummings, and Case. The task force shapes a course that will take them well south before turning west, out of reach of Japanese bases in the Gilbert and Ellice islands. A day behind them comes the long lines of freighters and troop transports, well screened by destroyers, carrying the men and supplies bound for Espiritu Santo.

There have been no reports of Japanese activity in this part of the Pacific lately, and few submarine sightings. If anyone in the US Navy knows where the dreaded Japanese carriers are they have not told Gridley’s crew. But it does not seem likely to the men that the Japanese would be encountered out here. The real danger, they believe, will come when they reach the New Hebrides and are called upon to protect the transports and their important cargo.

So they think, at least, during the first few days of the voyage. But they are about to be proven very wrong.

[Cuttlefish]

April 21, 1942

Aboard USS Gridley

Location: 380 miles southwest of Palmyra
Course: Southwest
Attached to: TF 123
Mission: Surface combat
Ship's Status: No damage
Fuel: 427 (81%)


Captain Stickney stares at the message flimsy in his hand, his bushy eyebrows climbing slightly.

“Sound general quarters,” he says calmly. As the klaxon begins blaring he hands the flimsy to Lieutenant Steubens. Steubens takes it and reads:

[font="Courier New"]PBY reports three Jap carriers and escorts 75 miles SW your position.[/font]

“Where the hell did they come from!” says Steubens.

“A better question is, why haven’t we been attacked?” comments Stickney. Men can be seen bursting out onto the decks of other ships around the task force. “If this report is accurate we might be in for a little trouble.” Steubens smiles grimly at the understatement.

“The cloud cover?” says Stuebens dubiously. There is some light overcast but it is not thick and has plenty of holes. Stickney looks at the clouds, then glances across the water towards Portland.

“I wonder what Admiral Shafroth will decide to do?” he says. The answer isn’t long in coming. A pennant is soon hoisted aboard the cruiser. Prepare to attack! Further orders are transmitted via blinker; radio silence is enjoined and the task force accelerates to 30 knots.

The Japanese are directly ahead. No deviation from the task force’s current course is needed. If the contact report is accurate the American ships will reach the Japanese position shortly after nightfall.

The eleven warships race ahead, picking up speed. Aboard every ship men hunch over radar screens and scan the skies with binoculars. A Japanese air strike could appear at any moment and there are no friendly fighters within hundreds of miles. But no Japanese planes appear. As the sun dips below the horizon the American ships plunge southwest into the gathering gloom, seeking the enemy.

[Cuttlefish]

April 22, 1942

Aboard USS Gridley

Location: 340 miles southeast of Canton Island
Course: Southwest
Attached to: TF 123
Mission: Surface combat
Ship's Status: No damage
Fuel: 403 (76%)


Captain Stickney stands on the bridge. With difficulty he restrains the urge to pace. Instead he remains still, projecting an air of calm. The other officers and men take their cue from him and go about their tasks quietly. Radar continues to show only the eleven US ships.

By midnight it is obvious that the Japanese, if they were really there at all, have been missed. Stickney goes to his cabin to get some sleep. If there really are Japanese carriers out there it might be a busy morning.

Shortly after dawn radio reports are received that show that there are indeed Japanese carriers out there. Canton Island reports an air raid arriving from the east. Soon PBYs pin down the location of what seems to be two or three smaller carriers, 180 miles east-southeast of the island. The Japanese must have slipped westward during the night. Their current location, however, puts them less than 200 miles from Gridley – easily within strike range.

But again no scouting planes locate the American cruiser force. Admiral Shafroth orders his command to maintain course to the southwest. With luck this will take his ships out of danger by nightfall. Well to the northeast the slower troop convoy begins a wide turn to the east to carry them safely out of danger as well.

Aboard Gridley the men are deeply disappointed at having missed the Japanese carriers. For all they know these were some of the ships that hit Pearl Harbor and they long for some revenge. But the primary feeling is one of relief. For two days they have been vulnerable to air attack and only chance and poor Japanese scouting has saved them. They have dodged a bullet, and they know it.

[Capt. Harlock]

For two days they have been vulnerable to air attack and only chance and poor Japanese scouting has saved them.

Well -- that can't have been good for your blood pressure. [:D]

[Cuttlefish]

ORIGINAL: Capt. Harlock

For two days they have been vulnerable to air attack and only chance and poor Japanese scouting has saved them.

Well -- that can't have been good for your blood pressure. [:D]

No indeed. On the other hand, imagine how Cribtop would feel if he knew how close his raid came to finding not only three USN heavy cruisers but a big fat waddling convoy loaded with over 21,000 troops!

[Crackaces]

ORIGINAL: Cuttlefish

ORIGINAL: Capt. Harlock

For two days they have been vulnerable to air attack and only chance and poor Japanese scouting has saved them.

Well -- that can't have been good for your blood pressure. [:D]

No indeed. On the other hand, imagine how Cribtop would feel if he knew how close his raid came to finding not only three USN heavy cruisers but a big fat waddling convoy loaded with over 21,000 troops!

I was really really nervous he would find the USS Gridley ....and then where would this thread go [8D]

Great writing prose BTW ...

[Cuttlefish]

April 23, 1942

Aboard USS Gridley

Location: 300 miles northeast of Pago Pago
Course: Southwest
Attached to: TF 123
Mission: Surface combat
Ship's Status: No damage
Fuel: 378 (72%)


“We should have attacked them,” Rudy Bronkhorst said. He and Bill Bonderman were headed for their duty shift in the radio room. The crisis with the Japanese carriers was apparently over. The American ships were now well out of range to the southwest and the Japanese, after taking one more swipe against Canton Island with their aircraft, were retiring to the west.

“Attacking carriers with a force like ours,” said Bonderman, ducking his tall frame through a hatchway, “that’s kind of like takin’ a shot at a bear with a .22. When you’ve only got one bullet,” he added.

“We could have done it,” Bronkhorst insisted. “Those Japs were blind.” He squeezed his stockier frame through the hatchway behind Bonderman.

“Remind me never to go bear huntin’ with you,” drawled the Texan with a grin.

“They got a lot of bears in Texas?” asked Bronkhorst.

“Plenty of black bears,” said Bonderman. “Haven’t been any grizzlies since my granddad’s time.”

“I still think we coulda tried it,” said Bronkhorst.” Bonderman ambled along, turning sideways to let another sailor pass.

“We will,” he said. “And when we do, it won’t be with a .22. We’ll pack along a big-game rifle.”

“I hope so,” Bronkhorst said as they reached the radio room. “I’m tired of running.”

“We aren't running,” said Bonderman. "We're doing the smart thing to do when you see a bear. We're just calmly walkin' away."

[Cuttlefish]

April 24, 1942

Aboard USS Gridley

Location: 40 miles west of Pago Pago
Course: Southwest
Attached to: TF 123
Mission: Surface combat
Ship's Status: No damage
Fuel: 354 (67%)


“We’d clean their clocks, you better believe it,” said Gus Becken as he helped himself to more meatloaf. The dinner mess conversation had turned to how well the US Navy would fare against the Japanese Navy in a surface fight. To this point of the war in the Pacific there had yet to be a significant battle between opposing surface fleets.

“How do you figure?” asked Jake Reedy.

“The Japs have terrible aim,” said Becken, chewing. He swallowed some milk. “Everyone knows that. They’ve got poor eyesight. That’s why all of them wear those thick round glasses.”

“And they’ve got no sense of distance,” added Marbles Jenks. “On account of being carried on their mother’s backs when they’re babies.” Edward Barnecott, who as a rule didn’t say much, snorted.

“Well, it’s what I heard,” Marbles said defensively. Barnecott shrugged.

“And how good can their ships be?” asked another man from down the table. “Hell, they were in the dark ages just a few generations ago.”

“I dunno,” said Reedy. “They learned a lot from the Royal Navy. I talked with a Brit once who knew them pretty well, he said the training their sailors went through was very thorough and really, really brutal.”

“Oh yeah,” said Becken. “They’re tough and mean, I give you that. But that doesn’t mean they can out-shoot us. We probably have better torpedoes, too. If you want something made right you want it made in the good old USA.” There were agreements from around the table.

“You mean, like this meatloaf?” said Earl Herring wryly.

“Yeah, it is kind of dry,” said Becken. “But look at us. We eat meat. What do the Japs eat? Rice and fish. What kind of healthy diet is that? No wonder they have bad eyesight.”

“I guess the only way we’ll know for sure is if we get to fight them,” said Reedy.

“With this mission, maybe we’ll get the chance,” said Jenks.

“I hope so!”

“Be careful what you wish for,” murmured Barnecott. But he spoke too softly to be heard above the general hubbub.

[Capt. Harlock]

But that doesn’t mean they can out-shoot us. We probably have better torpedoes, too. If you want something made right you want it made in the good old USA.” There were agreements from around the table.

[...]

“I guess the only way we’ll know for sure is if we get to fight them,” said Reedy.

“With this mission, maybe we’ll get the chance,” said Jenks.

“I hope so!”

“Be careful what you wish for,”

Amen, brother!

[Cuttlefish]

April 25, 1942

Aboard USS Gridley

Location: 145 miles west-northwest of Vava’u
Course: Southwest
Attached to: TF 123
Mission: Surface combat
Ship's Status: No damage
Fuel: 328 (62%)


It was well after dinner in the officer’s wardroom. The dishes had long since been cleared away and the linen tablecloths removed. Scott, the steward, had just put on a fresh pot of coffee and retired.

Doc Corwin sat in a corner, reading a book. Lieutenants Cameron and Sherwood were playing chess at the table while nearby Ensign Andrew Puhls pored over a stack of dog-eared manuals. Footfalls sounded in the passage outside and the ship’s chief engineer, Lieutenant Joseph Black, entered and headed straight for the coffee pot.

“How are you this fine evening, Lieutenant?” asked Corwin, looking up from his book.

“Fine, Doc, just fine,” said Black, pouring himself a cup of coffee. “I’ve got some good news for you. We got the evaporator back up to ten thousand gallons a day. Showers for everyone again.”

“Glad to hear it,” said Corwin, nodding approvingly. “Good personal hygiene is important.”

“Yeah,” said Black, “and so’s not having to work right next to someone who smells like a dogfish left out in the sun.” He sat down next to Cameron and looked over the board. “You’re going to lose that rook, Jimmy.” Cameron grunted, not lifting his eyes from the board. Across the table Sherwood, the torpedo officer, grinned briefly.

“I hear we’re going to make Suva tomorrow,” he said, waiting for Cameron to decide on a move. “We’ll probably anchor there for a few days.”

“We’re going to meet some oilers there,” Cameron said distractedly. “And wait for the troop ships to catch up.”

“I’ve never been there,” said Black.

“I haven’t either, Blackie,” said Sherwood. Cameron shrugged, then reached out and moved a knight.

“I read a bit about the place before we left,” said Corwin.

“So tell, Doc,” Sherwood said. “What’s there?”

“It’s a pretty good-sized town,” said Corwin, falling unconsciously into lecture mode. “It’s the capital of Fiji, which is a British colony. There’s a large native population, a few thousand Europeans, and some Chinese as well. The climate is pleasant, if somewhat rainy. It’s supposed to be quite scenic, with sandy beaches and mountains covered in tropical rain forests rising in the interior.”

“I’ve heard the native girls are beautiful,” said Sherwood. He pushed a pawn forward and Cameron frowned.

“So Captain Cook wrote,” said Corwin. “Of course, he was more impressed by the native’s ferocity and cannibalism.”

“Cannibals?” said Ensign Puhls, looking up from his manuals. He was the newly minted signals officer under Lieutenant Coszyk.

“Don’t worry,” said Corwin with a laugh. “The British put a stop to that a hundred years ago.” He studied Puhl’s earnest face. “Mostly,” he couldn’t resist adding. Black turned and looked at the young ensign.

“Me, I’m too tough and stringy to interest any cannibals,” he said. “But you should be careful, Andy. You’re young and tender.” Puhls smiled, a little nervously. Cameron reached out, drew his hand back, then went ahead and completed the move. Sherwood pounced instantly with his counter-move. He placed Cameron’s captured rook off to the side.

“Told you,” said Black, sipping his coffee.

[Cuttlefish]

April 26, 1942

Aboard USS Gridley

Location: Suva
Course: None
Attached to: TF 123
Mission: Surface combat
Ship's Status: No damage
Fuel: 306 (58%)


The Kadavu Passage lies between the island of Kadavu to the south and Viti Levu to the north. The US warships crossed the eastern opening of the passage in two columns as they neared Suva, which lay on the southeast shore of the northern island.

Suva was now only twenty miles away and already sailors aboard Gridley could see the tops of mountains ahead, rising from the rugged interior of Viti Levu. Condition Two was set; the Kadavu Passage was known to be a favorite haunt of Japanese submarines.

Jake Reedy, at his post on one of the starboard Oerlikons, was looking across the water at destroyer Porter, the second ship in the starboard column. Gridley was the second ship in the port column. Ahead of Porter, Case led the way while behind the two destroyers came Chicago. Reedy was chatting idly with Gus Becken beside him but neither man took his eyes off the water.

Without warning Case suddenly went into a sharp turn to starboard. Reedy could see water boil under her stern and smoke belch from her stack as she went to full speed. The sound of destroyer’s general quarters klaxon clanged faintly across the water.

Reedy and Becken’s conversation stopped in mid-word and the two stared intently across the water. And then Reedy saw them, several faint lines passing close astern of Case and heading in their general direction.

Before he could yell, the cry of “torpedoes!” was already coming from lookouts on the superstructure. Gridley shuddered as her engines came to full power and she leaped forward.

Reedy could do nothing but watch in horrified fascination as the torpedo wakes became more visible, slowly spreading fingers groping towards them. For a moment it seemed that one or more of the lines would intersect Gridley’s hull, but as the destroyer gained speed it became apparent that the torpedoes would pass well astern. Case had obviously been the target and had had a much closer escape.

When he could tear his eyes away Reedy became aware that his ship’s own klaxon was blaring. Across the water he could see that Porter had peeled off to starboard and was now hoisting flags announcing her intention to drop depth charges. The destroyer swept around in a big figure-8, dropping a pair of charges at the center each time. The attack fell astern, however, as the column sorted itself back out, and presently Porter reappeared to take up her station. The Japanese sub had apparently made good its escape.

“I’m getting tired of those bastards taking pot shots at us,” said Reedy, thinking back to the two submarine attacks against the Enterprise battle group off the coast of Australia.

“At least they keep missing,” said Becken.

“Yeah, but that kind of luck won’t hold forever,” said Reedy gloomily. “I’d like to attack one of them for a change.”

“Stick around,” said his friend. “We’ll get our chance, sooner or later.”

[Cuttlefish]

April 27, 1942

Aboard USS Gridley

Location: Suva
Course: None
Attached to: TF 123
Mission: Surface combat
Ship's Status: No damage
Fuel: 525 (100%)


Early in the morning a five oilers, escorted by a pair of destroyers and a minesweeper, steamed into the harbor at Suva. One of them, Neches, was down at the bow, the result of a torpedo hit from a submarine attack suffered at the west end of the Kadavu Passage in the pre-dawn hours. The damaged oiler limped into the docks while the others set about refueling Admiral Shafroth’s force.

Gridley took her turn patrolling the entrance to the harbor before snuggling up to one of the big ships and refilling her tanks. The operation went smoothly in the calm waters and soon Gridley was ready for the next phase in the operation, the move to Espiritu Santo.

That move, it seemed, would have to wait a few days. The troop convoy was still five or so days out, and Admiral Shafroth’s force would wait for them. In the meantime an Australian Navy cruiser force was already at Luganville, patrolling the waters in case the Japanese decided to occupy the New Hebrides themselves.

There was no sign that they were, not that that necessarily meant anything. Except for submarines the area had been quiet lately. The latest intelligence the Americans had was that the main Japanese carrier force had been sighted in the Java Sea a week or so previously. Its current whereabouts were unknown. For that matter no one knew for sure where their own carriers were. They had been left behind at Pearl but that had been eleven days ago.

In the meantime Gridley’s crew had several days to wait and Suva and the island of Viti Levu to explore. With the Japanese so near and anti-submarine duties to perform it would not be a vacation, but the crew was hopeful that they would get at least a little time ashore. From the harbor, at least, the shore looked green and inviting.

It was too bad there was a war going on.

[Cuttlefish]

April 28, 1942

Aboard USS Gridley

Location: Suva
Course: None
Attached to: TF 123
Mission: Surface combat
Ship's Status: No damage
Fuel: 523 (99%)


In the radio room Rudy Bronkhorst reached out and gently tweaked a dial between his thick thumb and forefinger. He was getting better with the equipment. The sailor listened for a moment, then shook his head.

“I dunno, Bill,” he said to Bonderman, seated right next to him. “I know I should be getting the hang of it, but it still all sounds like damned gobbledegook to me.” Bonderman lifted his headphones for a moment.

“Japanese is a tough language,” he said. Bronkhorst glanced at him.

“Japanese?” he said. “Naw, I meant Australian. Got a station out of Sydney.” He twiddled the dial again. “Ah, there she is.” He unplugged a jack and after some whistling and popping through the speakers a woman’s voice filled the compartment.

“…and music to console you,” came the voice of ‘Orphan Anne’. “But first, the Japanese High Command announced today that the ever-victorious forces of the Empire of Japan have captured Darwin.” The signal faded and Bronkhorst cut of the broadcast with a curse.

“I’d better tell Coszyk,” Bonderman said. “Hold down the fort, Rudy.” Looking grim, he stood and left the compartment.

[House Stark]

“Japanese is a tough language,” he said. Bronkhorst glanced at him.

“Japanese?” he said. “Naw, I meant Australian. Got a station out of Sydney.” He twiddled the dial again. “Ah, there she is.” He unplugged a jack and after some whistling and popping through the speakers a woman’s voice filled the compartment.

Heh, that got a chuckle.

[Cuttlefish]

April 29, 1942

Aboard USS Gridley

Location: Suva
Course: None
Attached to: TF 123
Mission: Surface combat
Ship's Status: No damage
Fuel: 525 (100%)


Night lay over Suva as Gridley slowly steamed back and forth near the entrance to the harbor, her lookouts alert, her sonar probing the black water for enemy submarines. Most of the crew was asleep, lights out having been piped down some time ago. Lieutenant JG Cameron had the bridge.

In his modest stateroom Lieutenant Steubens finished typing another report and rolled the form out of the typewriter. He added it to the stack of completed paperwork and leaned back, stretching, his hands laced behind his head.

A good executive officer needed the organizational skills of a top-flight executive secretary and the personnel skills of a good human resources director. Steubens had room to improve in both these areas, but he was learning. He would have liked to be asleep right now, but there was still work to do. Fred Steubens was ambitious. He wanted his own command someday, and he wouldn’t get it by sleeping. He would only get it through hard work.

He felt Gridley begin another turn as the ship reached one end of the harbor entrance. Steubens wondered whether the captain was asleep. He hoped so. As hard as the Old Man pushed everyone, he pushed himself harder. They had several days to wait still before the troop ships arrived and everyone moved up to Espiritu Santo. It would be good for everyone if Stickney were well rested before they moved that close to the Japs.

It occurred to Steubens that in a way a ship’s XO also served the same role as the Pope – a conduit between God and the masses. God in this case being the Captain, of course. Though Steubens was pretty sure that the Pope never had to urge God to get enough sleep.

But he was confident that if action came Stickney and the rest of the crew would be ready. He was pleased with the way that the officers were coming together as a team. The old hands and the new were meshing well. This was good for the enlisted men. It gave them confidence when their officers were a team and all of them knew their business. Steubens knew that seasoned sailors or petty officers could do anything asked of them if they had confidence in the men leading them.

Stickney could be a terror, but he played no favorites and the men respected him. And he could handle a destroyer with the best of them, a source of pride for the entire ship. It was from him that the other officers took their tone – brisk, fair, no nonsense.

Cameron, the gunnery officer, was coming along well. He had always known his stuff as far as the guns were concerned, but since the start of the war Steubens had been looking for more out of him. He was bright and personable but still young, and he had not taken the job seriously enough. Oh, he was all right when aboard ship but had been too fond of his time ashore, too fond of parties and having a good time. They had had a couple of talks, and since then Cameron had buckled down. Steubens thought he might make a good XO someday. Already he would consider him for First Officer if the position became open.

Cameron had also started taking seriously the mentoring of Sherwood, the young torpedo officer. The two had become friends and Steubens was confident that when the ship saw battle the two men would work well together. Sherwood was a redhead, an impulsive and gregarious man with a bloodthirsty streak. His biggest ambition in life was to unleash one of Gridley’s fearsome torpedo broadsides against an enemy ship. He drilled his men relentlessly against that day, and the torpedomen had picked up much of their officer’s aggressive attitude.

The communication’s officer, Coszyk, was a bit of an enigma to Steubens. The man was intense. He was technically brilliant – Steubens thought privately that he might be the smartest man on the ship – but tended to get caught up in the technical aspects of his equipment at the expense of his division’s organization. Steubens occasionally had to remind him to keep a closer eye on his section. The amount of signal traffic his men handled was enormous, and it was vitally important that it be handled well. Routine signal traffic could easily pile up before it was decoded. Delays made the captain unhappy – he liked to look over all the radio traffic, not just the important stuff.

Steubens thought he might have an answer in Coszyk’s new signals officer, Ensign Puhls. Puhls could speak Coszyk’s language and he seemed to have a knack for organization. He also had become good friends with Ensign Holbrook, the radio officer. Puhls had thrown himself wholeheartedly into the job and Steubens thought that between Coszyk and the two younger men the communications section was probably in good hands.

Steubens spent little time thinking about the engineering section. He didn’t need to. Lieutenant Black was solid, a phlegmatic man who never seemed to become rattled by anything. He was not only good with engines, he was good with his men. His new assistant engineer, Ensign Murray, also seemed pretty sound. Even if he did like to play his ukulele on the fantail when he was off watch.

The other officers all seemed solid. Quince, the navigator, and Bodey, the supply officer, were both seasoned men who knew their jobs and did them well. The only area of concern for Steubens, in fact, came via the First Officer, Reggie Latrell. Oh, Reggie was a good guy, and he and Steubens worked well together. But one of the hats Reggie wore – most of the officers aboard wore more than one - was Damage Control Officer, and one of his new charges was the newly minted Assistant Damage Control Officer, Ensign Courtney.

Courtney was not a stupid man. But he was lazy and one of those people who, in Steuben’s experience, expected things to be arranged for their convenience. Anything else was not “fair”. He came from a wealthy family and had never really had to work for anything his entire life. Steubens and Latrell had not yet gotten it through his head that here, in the US Navy, “fair” had nothing to do with anything.

Steubens wanted to turn the young man into a good officer. He thought it was possible. But he hadn’t yet figured out how to get through to him. A warship demanded men, not spoiled children. Maybe the first time some Jap tried to kill them it would have an impression. Or maybe it would break him. There was no way to tell.

Well, Steubens knew it wasn’t a problem he was going to be able to solve tonight. He unhitched his fingers from behind his head and, leaning forward, rolled another form into the typewriter. With a rapid clacking of keys he went back to work.

[obvert]

Now I can't wait for some action and a serious trial for Gridley's officers.

[DOCUP]

I can't wait for the next post.  I's say it was a real page turner but I have to pages to turn.  Keep it up Cuttlefish.  This is great.

[Cuttlefish]

April 30, 1942

Aboard USS Gridley

Location: Suva
Course: None
Attached to: TF 123
Mission: Surface combat
Ship's Status: No damage
Fuel: 525 (100%)


Chief Petty Officer Odell grinned a slightly fiendish grin – he was good at those – and squinted up at Al Tanner, who stood braced before him. Then he squinted up somewhat more at Joe Beaumont, braced beside him. The two sailors had been summoned by Odell, though neither knew why. Beaumont stood quietly. Tanner, used to being in trouble, looked a little more nervous.

It was morning in Fiji, and at the moment Gridley was anchored in Suva’s ample harbor, some three miles wide and two miles deep. On the east side of the bay was the town itself, dominated by the stately Grand Pacific Hotel, while elsewhere around the harbor the growing military facilities dominated. Palm trees lines the harbor road and a few clouds drifted past the mountains rising to the north.

“Got a job for you fellers,” Odell said after he was done scrutinizing the two men.

“What’s that, Chief?” Tanner asked. Being given a job was not good, but at least he wasn’t being called on the carpet.

“The XO says we’ve got a request to provide three men for shore patrol,” said Odell. “He told me to see to it and to pick two men to help me. You two are it.”

“Me, Chief?” said Tanner, dismayed. “Why me?” Beaumont looked interested but said nothing.

“Because it will stick in your craw,” said Odell, “and I don’t like you.” He pointed a blunt finger at Beaumont. “He’s here because…well, look at him. Who’s going to mess with him? Anyone needs chucking in the harbor, he can do it.” The chief stepped back and addressed both men.

“We’re not out to cause trouble, see?” he said. “We’re out to make sure it don’t happen. We got a lot of Kiwis over there, they handle shore patrol mostly. They’re okay guys but there are a lot of sailors in town right now. So we’re going to lend a hand. You got your Kiwis, your US Navy, your US goddamn Air Force, and your US goddamn Marines all ashore. Might be some fights. Might be some guys don’t know how to hold their booze…”

“You think so?” muttered Tanner.

“…and we’re just going to make sure no one does anything really stupid. Let ‘em have fun, hell, we all like to have fun, right? Just don’t let ‘em do anything too stupid.” He handed each man a shore patrol armband, then bent down and scooped two belts off the deck and handed one to each man. Each held a night stick. He equipped himself the same way.

“Don’t we get guns?” said Tanner. Odell squinted at him.

“I wouldn’t give you a BB rifle, Tanner,” the chief said, “much less a forty-five. These sticks’ll do just fine. Come on, you two. Boat’ll take us ashore.”

“This will be fun,” grumped Tanner. “Can’t wait for some Marine to rip my head off and piss in the stump.”

“On you that’ll be an improvement,” said Odell. “Let’s go.”

[Cuttlefish]

May 1, 1942

Aboard USS Gridley

Location: Suva
Course: None
Attached to: TF 123
Mission: Surface combat
Ship's Status: No damage
Fuel: 525 (100%)


“Come in,” said Steubens in response to the brisk rap on his cabin door. The door opened to admit CPO Odell, who stepped inside and saluted.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” rasped Odell. Steubens nodded.

“Yes,” he said, and picked up two pieces of paper from his desk. “I have here two letters, both pertaining to your assignment yesterday.” Odell was a wily old hand and his face betrayed nothing. Nor did he speak, waiting for Steubens to continue.

“The first,” said Steubens, “is from a Lieutenant Hawkins of the New Zealand Army. It commends you and your men for a job well done yesterday. It’s a little short of specifics, but I gather the three of you did some good work.”

“Yes sir,” said Odell. “Nice of him to say so, sir.”

“The second letter,” Steubens said, shuffling it to the top, “is from the owner of a clothing store, one Mr. Douglas. He is charging us one hundred and fifty dollars for repairs to a wall.”

“Yes sir,” said Odell again. Steubens sighed patiently.

“Chief,” he said, “would you mind telling me what happened?”

“Well, sir,” said Odell, “that would be the wall that young Beaumont tossed the man through.”

“Through a wall?” said Steubens, raising an eyebrow.

“Substandard construction, if you ask me, sir” said Odell.

“Chief,” Steubens said in a restrained tone, “would you mind telling me just what happened yesterday?”

“Yes sir,” said Odell. “Well, it went smooth enough mostly. We broke up a couple of fights, but nothing too bad. Just boys being frisky, sir, really. There were patrols from other ships about, and the Kiwis, so it was no trouble keeping a lid on things.”

“Go on,” said Steubens.

“That was, until the screaming started, sir.”

“Screaming?”

“Yes sir, screaming,” said Odell. “Down at the far end of town, out in the trees. It sounded like bloody murder going on, sir, so the three of us went to take a look. We hoofed it over there in time to see a bunch of people, sailors mostly but a couple of natives too, come running past. They were being chased by a man waving a machete, sir.”

“And they were screaming?” asked Steubens.

“No sir, they were running,” said Odell. “The man with the machete was doing all the screaming. There was a still back there, see, in a tent, run by this local, and god only knows, sir, what was in the stuff he was selling. This fellow, a sailor off Chicago, he was screamin’ that there were giant coconut crabs and that he was going to kill them all. That’s why the people were runnin’, see, because he thought they were the crabs.”

“What did you do?” asked Steubens, fascinated.

“Well, sir, I didn’t rightly do nothing,” admitted Odell. “Beaumont, he drew his stick and stepped in the fellow’s way. Calm as anything, sir. The sailor cut down on him with the machete like he thought he was Blackbeard or something. Beaumont parried it smartly, stepped inside the fellow’s reach, and grabbed him by the throat. Then he just picked him up and threw him against the wall of the building we were next to. The screaming guy hit it kind of upside-down and backwards, like, and just went through it. Ended up sleeping like a baby in a display of lady’s hats. Tanner fetched the local cops and they took him away to sleep it off. And bust up that still. And that’s what happened, sir.”

“I see,” said Steubens, a trifle bemusedly. “Well, nice work, Chief.” He considered for a moment. “We have a day before the troop ships get here, and I figure we owe the shop owner some repairs. Take a few men and see to it, will you?”

“Yes sir,” said Odell. He saluted again and left.