The Dogs of War - companion AAR to Howlin' At The Moon

[vettim89]

19 December 1941, Southeast of Amani Shima

LT(jg) DJ Haskins is standing his usual mid-watch on the bridge of Swordfish. Suddenly a flash of light catches his eye off to the north

“Did you see that?”, Dan asks Seaman Torres who is on the bridge next to him.

“Yeah”, replied Torres. “What was it?”

“I think it was a blinker light”, Haskins replied as he was peering in the direction from which it came. He focused on the bit of ocean that was the source and finally could make out the shape of a ship.

Dan leaned over to the sound tube that lead to the control room and pratically shouted, “Captain to the bridge, enemy ships off the port bow”.

Almost instantly the ship came to life as Dan could hear the movement of men below him. It only took a few minutes, but by the time LCDR Smith reached the bridge Dan had identified the Japanese force as containing at least three destroyers escorting either a tanker or an oiler. As the skipper took Torres' place beside him, Dan directed him to the direction of the enemy ships.

“There, sir”, Dan pointed. “I caught the flash of a blinker light a few minutes ago. “

“Good job, Dan”, Smith replied as he scanned the seas to the north. “Looks like a fleet oiler being escorted by some tin cans. “ He leaned into the sound tube and barked, “Control Room, make your course 315. Sound Battle Stations, torpedo and prepare to dive!”

Instantly the bridge crew began securing all the top side gear and rushed below decks as the sub heeled over to the port. LCMDR Smith was the last man down the ladder as Torres dogged the hatch.

“LT Phelps take us down. Make you depth 0-6-0 feet, course 315, speed 7 kts”, Smith ordered calmy.

“Aye, sir. Depth 0-6-0, course 315, speed 7 kts”, replied Phelps. The 1MC blared the dive warning as Chief Schmidts directed the opening of valves and the proper angle of the boats's bow planes. In a matter of just a few minutes, Swordfish had settled in at 60 feet.

“Up scope”, ordered Smith. “There she is: fat and sassy. LT Phelps......” he said as he backed away to allow the XO a chance to see the target.
Phelps whistled, “Fat and sassy. Indeed. Thats an oiler for sure and a big one to boot”.

Swordfish was almost perfectly positioned for the attack . Two of the three destroyers were on the far side of the oiler as she approached. The destroyer on the engaged side had just reversed course and was trailing away from the sub passing left to right. Smith ordred the boat in to 3000 yards before ordering the torpedos to be fired. Stop watches were watched intently as the nearly two minutes it took for the torpedos to travel to the oiler slow passed. Chief Stevens was standing next to the sonarman who was listening closely through his headphones. The anticipated explosion didn't occur as the calculated moment of impact passed in silence.

“Two of the torps stopped running, sir”, the sonarman called out. “I thought I heard something, though. Kinda like a bell ringing”. Suddenly he shouted, “The destroyers have all sped up, sir. I think the spotted the torpedoes. Bearing of the destroyers changing. They are turning towards us!”

“Down scope”, Smith blurted with frustration. “Mr Phelps make your depth 3-0-0, course 2-8-0, speed 5 kts”. LT Phelps repeated the skipper's order back and the sub settled into the depths. The destroyers began dropping depth charges far off to Swordfish's stern. LCDR Smith had to make a few course adjustments to be sure, but it was not long before it was obvious that the Japanese had no idea where the sub really was. Still, it was the boat's first depth charge attack ever and the shock of the explosions even at a distance gave more than one man the worst scare of his life.

In twenty minutes, it was over. Smith ordered the boat back up to periscope depth only after he was sure the destroyers were at a safe distance. Unfortunately, the AO was no longer in sight. The skipper ordered the boat to the surface and once he was sure everythign was secure withdrew with Lt Phelps to his cabin. Dan knew what they were talking about. The Swordfish had attacked a lightly escorted cargo ship two days ago with similar results. Despite what seemed to be flawless calculations, all their torpedos had missed. And what was that “bell” sound the sonarman had heard?

[vettim89]

20 December 1941, South of the Fiji Islands

Enterprise was steaming west towards New Caledonia. News of the previous nights engagement by a combined force from three navies (RAN, RNZN, and Free French) had made its way through the ship. Even though the communications unit aboard ship was not supposed to blab about what they heard over the air waves, it was almost impossible to keep anything quiet. It was said the three quickest ways to communicate were telegraph, telephone and tell a sailor. Out here in the middle of the vast Pacific, it was unlikely any one was going to be able to leak any vital information any way. Who were they going to spill the beans to, the sea gulls?

Lt(JG) West was trying to get some sleep in his cabin. Unfortunately, the other pilots did not have similar ideas. Lt(JG) Carey was leading a discussion on how the USN was going to kick Japan's butt all the way back to Tokyo with ENS's Stone and Jaccard. These three were fondly known in the squadron as the “Three Bobs” being as the all shared the same first name. James had decided to opt out of this discussion as it was only about the tenth time he heard it since the war started. Besides James had seen the destruction the Japanese had left behind at Pearl Harbor with his own eyes. He had no doubts left in his mind that the Japanese Navy was a foe to be taken seriously.

Within the next two days, word would slowly make its way through the ship that the USN had lost both Boise and Houston after an encounter with a Japanese battleship near Menado. This news quieted the Three Bobs down for a few days. That development at least meant LT(jg) West could get to sleep more easily even if it meant the sleep was a bit more fitful

[vettim89]

21 December 1941, Washington, DC

Through out the world men were fighting and dieing in places that the majority of Americans had never even heard of just a few weeks ago. Japan reigned triumphant acrossed the Pacific. German U-boats were sinking Allied merchants at an alarming rate. Yet, on this day, many were huddled around radios listening to the NFL Championship Game on the Mutual Broadcasting Network. The Chicago Bears had defeated the Green Bay Packers a week before in the first ever NFL Division Playoff Game. Today, they were facing the New York Giants at Wrigley Field for all the marbles.

LT(JG) Greg Cummins spent the afternoon in the day room of the Bachelors Officers Quarters (BOQ) where he lived. In an organization as large as the US Navy, it was inevitable that there were small groups of fans for both teams gathered to listen to the game. Ensign Martz from Chicago and Ensign Lazzaro from New York were going at each other pretty hard before the game started. Of course each man defended their team ad naseum. And, of course, each man told the other how the Bears/Giants didn't have a snow balls chance in hell of winning the game. And, of course, it all ended with the inevitable, “You wanna put your money where your mouth is?”

Greg watched with amusement from the side. After all, as his daddy would say, “He didn't have a dog in the hunt”. The Bears defeated the Giants 37-9 with the last point coming off a drop kick (a fete that would not be repeated for 54 years). Ensign Lazarro returned to his room duly humbled and lighter in the wallet. For a few hours, the country thought about something besides the war.

Author's note: Two players who appeared in the game, Young Bussey and Jack Lummus, would be killed in action before the war ended.

[vettim89]

22 December 1941, Iceland

1LT Castlebury was on his way back to the barracks having just left BTN HQ. It was official: as soon as the Army could get replacement troops to Iceland, the Marines were heading back to the states and then to the Pacific. He had just been told the rest of the 2nd Marines were already being deployed forward to augment the defenses in the Pacific. His unit would eventually meet up with the Division but it was going to take some time.

In the meantime, Brett was working with the company mess officer to attempt to make Christmas a little brighter for his men. The news of the war was nearly all bad. Morale was not in good shape. The gloomy weather of the Icelandic Winter was not helping things at all. With everything in short supply, Brett didn't have high hopes but the mess sargeant assured him the meal would be one to remember.

Even during the war the Icelanders celebrated Christmas well. The Yule season lasts for 26 days here starting on the 12th of December. The Icelandic Santa Claus are actually thirteen jólasveinn or Yule lads. They started appearing on the 12th and a different one came every day. Brett tried to get the full story from some of the locals but their English was as bad as his Icelandic; ergo not much information was exchanged. Still, Castlebury was sure it helped his men to see the trappings of the season even if they seemed a bit odd.

[vettim89]

23 December 1941, Norfolk NAS

The preparations for VP-51's move west are almost complete. The squadron has stood down, ground crews are going over each plane with a fine toothed comb. Even though most of the trip will be over land, CDR Underwood and all the pilots are concerned about the fact that there would be almost no maintenance support available if a plane had a break down in route.

LT(jg) Hank Tyler is in the center of his PBY talking with his flight mechanic Judd Stephens. The flight mechanic sits on a seat buried in the main wing pylon smack dab between the two Pratt and Whitney Twin Wasps. To say it is loud would be like saying there is a lot of water in the ocean. The PBY was noisy enough without being right in the middle of the source of that noise. Hank asks Stephens how he could stand it?

“Shoot Lieutenant”, Judd replied in his deep Georgia drawl. “Taint no big thing. No louder than the pigs used to squeal when we nutted them back home. Man can get used to bout anything if he puts his mind to it.”

Tyler contemplates that for a moment. Stephen was probably right. If it weren't true, why are there so many married people?

[1275psi]

me thinks dan will have a short career in those waters[:(]

[vettim89]

ORIGINAL: 1275psi

me thinks dan will have a short career in those waters[:(]

Oooohh, foreshadowing. Stay tuned folks

[vettim89]

24 December 1941, The Coral Sea

Lt(jg) West was on the fantail of Enterprise taking his turn as Landing Safety Officer. Some of the senior pilots in all the squadrons of Carrier Air Wing 6 (CAW-6) had the additional qualification as LSO's. They had two duties of equal importance. The first was to make sure all the planes in the air got back aboard safely, and the second was to evaluate the junior pilots to help them improve on their landings. Bringing a high performance aircraft back on board a pitching carrier deck was hard enough in peace time. The possibility of having to bring a battle damaged bird back safely only heightened the pressure to make sure the young pilots had the process down pat before the shooting started.

ENS Stone, one of the Three Bobs, was on final approach. He already had been waved off on his first attempt, and the SBD only had so much AvGas in it's tanks. Stone had the problem of coming in at too high of an air speed or “hot”. He had not gotten comfortable enough in the Dauntless to trust the bird at near stall speed. Some pilots got the feel quickly; others did not. Considering landing on an aircraft carrier was nothing more than a controlled crash, it was understandable why some men struggled with it. Stone was approaching “the ramp” again but he was still too hot. With the fuel state so low, the Controlling LSO in front of West hesitated for a moment thinking about waving Stone off again. He should have done so.

The SBD hit the deck hard, and fortunately the tail hook caught the third arresting wire. The bird still had too much forward momentum, though and as it halted the nose pitched downward.

“Hit the deck!”, West screamed as the prop made contact.

Bits and pieces of planking were thrown violently in the air as the prop churned into the wood surface of the flight deck. Mercifully, the SBD's engine clunk to an abrupt stop to end the maelstrom. The plane's prop was distorted beyond recognition. and even from a distance you could tell the main shaft was bent. The entire engine would have to be written off and a replacement installed.

James stood up and was about to turn on the young pilot, but CDR Gallaher had already beat him to it. He couldn't feel sorry for Stone as Gallaher read him the riot act. The kid had better get it right, and he better do it soon. There was simply no time for slow learners. As it was, VS-6 was now down one airframe and likely would be as such for several days while the SBD was being repaired. West looked down at his clip board and wrote, “cut pass” next to Stones name – an unsafe landing with serious deviations from standard

[vettim89]

25 December 1941

LT(jg) Greg Cummins stepped out into the cold night air. Midnight Mass at the Cathedral of St. Matthew the Apostle had just concluded. Greg had joined Ensign Lazzaro and a few other of the younger officers who shared their Catholic faith in the long walk from the Navy Yard to the church northeast of the Mall. Now they were slowly making their way down Massachusetts Avenue in silence. There were plenty of other Catholic Churches closer to the Yard but Greg figured he may never have the chance to see what was truly a work of art. The service was very similar to what he had grown up with but some how it seemed more majestic in this setting. During the service, there was a beautiful performance of Ava Maria that just floated through the beautiful acoustics. Greg looked up and noticed that he was not alone in wiping the tears from his eyes.

They turned off Massachusetts onto Seventh and headed toward the Mall. No one was saying much as they walked. Like Greg they were all lost in their own thoughts. Around the country there would be many tables set for Christmas dinner with empty chairs. Many of them would never be filled again after the war. Thoughts drifted to home, to family, and memories of Christmas mornings filled with much more joy than this one held. The men in this group did not hold to delusions. They knew that many if not all of them they would likely eventually see combat. In fact many of them were aching to fight. While no one thought it would be him, they all knew some would not be coming back.

They turned onto Maine Ave and headed towards they gate of the Navy Yard. Greg wasn't sure who started singing but in a moment they all joined, “Silent Night, Holy Night......” Ensign Lazzaro it turned out had a magnificent tenor voice. He raise the note perfectly to the high note, “Pee-eacccce”. Without thought they all slowed as they approached the gate to be sure the song finished, “Sleep in Heavenly Peace”.

[vettim89]

26 December 1941, South of Shokaku, Japan

Swordfish was spending a rare day on the surface. The boat's normal routine was to submerge during daylight and surface at night to charge the batteries. The constant patrols by Japanese aircraft gave them little choice. They had only spotted a couple of floatplanes at long distance, but LCDR Smith wasn't taking any chances. Today, however, the weather was so bad that there was little risk of being spotted by an aircraft. The clouds were hung low in a solid overcast and the wind was blowing nearly 30 kt. Wisps of scud were pushed across the gray sky as Swordfish plowed through the waves.

LT(jg) DJ Haskins was not looking forward to speaking with the skipper. As the boat's Navigator, he was required to give LCDR Smith twice daily position fixes for the sub's location. It had been two days since DJ had been able to get a good reading from the sky. Navigators relied on one of two celestial readings to fix their position. The could either use the stars or the sun. Using a sextant, a man could calculate the angle to the object he was using. Then by using the time and a series of charts, a remarkably accurate “fix” could be made if the man was good. It was the same method that mariners had been using for centuries. Of course that was all dependent on being able to see the sun and stars. Without a celestial reading, all DJ could do is calculate distance traveled at the indicated course and speed. This was easier said then done as ocean currents, sea state, and human error all played into that calculation.

DJ finished his calculation and made his way to Smith. As far as he could tell they were about 240 SSE of the westernmost tip of the island of Shokaku.

[vettim89]

27 December 1941, Iceland

Brett Castlebury was again supervising the building of some additional beach defenses near the port of Reykjavik. The work was going painfully slow compounded by the combined effect of poor weather and the incredibly short work days that were afforded during winter in deep northern latitudes. At 64 degrees N latitude, there were only four hours of daylight in late December. With mandated blackout rules in place, that meant a lot of time was spent in the dark for Brett and his men.

He was beginning to get concerned for the well being of some of his men. He could see in there faces that a few of his Marines were nearly at there end of their endurance. Growing up in Michigan, Brett had gotten used to long winters. The biggest challenge was not the cold or the wintry weather but enduring the gloom. It sapped a man's strength and motivation. He remembered as a high school student that the one thing that helped him more than anything else to get through the winter was basketball. The daily practices and twice weekly games kept his mind and body sharp. He decided maybe that's what his men needed at this moment.

“SGT Wilson”, he yelled over to his platoon sargeant

“Sir”, Wilson replied as he trudged up the hill towards Castlebury.

“I think the boys need a diversion”, Brett smiled. “You ever play basketball?”

[vettim89]

28 December 1941, Treasure Island Naval Station, San Francisco Bay

Lt(jg) Hank Tyler slowly taxied his PBY towards the pier after the long flight from Corpus Christi, TX. VP-51 had departed Norfolk the day after Christmas and flew to Pensacola, FL. The next day they flew to Corpus Christi. Finally they made their longest leg from Texas to California today. Hank was most nervous about this last leg as it was nearly completely over land. While for most pilots that may have been a comfort, it was unnerving when flying a plane that had no landing gear. The PBY-5 was not an amphibian like some flying boats. This was being changed in the newer -5A models. If they had developed engine troubles on the flight, Hank would have either had to “ditch” the plane on a piece of flat ground or find a large enough body of water to put the bird down. Considering they were traversing the “Desert Southwest”, Hank did not hold out much hope for the latter.

As he finshed securing his plane, Hank looked up to see CDR Underwood gently put his plane down into the bay. The skipper's insistence on having every plane in near perfect condition before they left Norfolk paid off. All twelve of VP-51's aircraft were now either moored at the base or taxiing up to the pier. It was no surprise to Hank that the Commander was the last to land. Even though Underwood was demanding; he also was fair. He never asked anything of any of the pilots in the squadron that he didn't ask of himself. Hank never thought of himself as a leader, but if he ever was he wanted to lead like CDR Underwood.

[vettim89]

29 December 1941, 600 NM East of Sydney Australia

Lt(jg) James West was guiding his SBD on his assigned search zone southwest of Enterprise. He knew it was best to not assume anything but he sincerely doubted that the Japanese Navy would venture this deep into Allied territory. The bits and pieces of infromation that had leaked from the communications section seemed to indicate that the Japanese were mostly occupied far to the northwest in the Dutch East Indies. Enterprise and Lexington were tasked with blocking any moves the IJN might make towards the south Pacific. As of yet, they had only taken Rabaul, the southern tip of Bougainville, and some bases in New Guinea. This area, for now at least, was the backwater of the war.

Suddenly, the radio crackled in James' ear. One of the SBDs from Lexington's Scouting Two had spotted what it thought was a submarine to the northwest. From the chatter, James was pretty sure that the sub had not gotten close enough to threaten either of the carriers. Still, this was bad news. If the sub's commander was able to identify the aircraft type, it wouldn't take a genius to figure out the American carriers were in the neighborhood. There is no way a SBD could make it this far out to sea from a land base

[vettim89]

30 December 1941, Newport News Shipyard, VA

Captain Lawrence was conducting a meeting with some engineers from Newport News. They were going over the requirements for upgrading the Sims Class Destroyers. This class would be the first of the USN DD's to be upgrade during the war. In truth, the changes to this particular class were modest. The two Y-gun depth charge projectors were to be replaced with four K-gun, and an air search radar was to be added. At present, the discussion centered around modificatiosn to the mast structure to accomate the new radar.

Greg Cummings had already concluded his presentation on the requirements of the K-gun placement. His work on the Fletcher Class made him ideally suited to that task. During a break, one of the engineers approached Greg to discuss the project. Greg was able to explain to him the advantages of the K-gun over the Y-gun both in weight and required space. The engineer remarked that he hadn't really considered the problem of the centerline mounted Y-gun until they had begun discussing the needs for the new radar. Greg explained that the Royal Navy had made that discovery a while ago and that the USN was really in catch-up mode right now. As the meeting restarted, the engineer thanked Greg and made the comment that he was surprised a Navy officer understood so much about the fine points of naval architecture. Cummings realized for the first time that Capt. Evans was right: he was where the Navy needed him the most at this point in the war.

[vettim89]

31 December 1941, near Shokoku, Japan

LCDR. Smith had moved Swordfish in closer to mainland Japan in hopes of finding something to shoot. The sub had been patroling the waters between the two outlets of the Inland Sea for nearly two weeks. Unfortunately they had not found a thing since the ill fated run in with the AO. The men were chomping at the bit but the Japanese were not cooperating.

Lt(jg) Haskins was sitting on his bunk trying to warm up after finishing his watch. Even though everyone wore heavy slickers while on deck, the sea had a way of finding its was around any man-made attempt to ward it off. DJ stripped to his shorts and peeled off his soaking socks. Just getting the wet clothes off already was having a positive effect. Unfortunately, the sub's salt water evaporator was being a bit balky. This meant fresh water was in short supply and the ships laundry was shut down. DJ carefully hung his wet clothes on the makeshift line he and his bunk mates had rigged up before heading to the ward room for some coffee. He wasn't looking forward to putting them back on later, but he really had no choice

[vettim89]

1 January 1942, Iceland

It is amazing how resourceful men can be when they put their minds to it. 1StLT Brett Castlebury and MSGT Wilson found a warehouse near the barracks that proved suitable for a basketball court. After getting permission from his company commander (who of course had to get permission from BTN), they cleared a space large enough to serve as a reasonable fascimile of a regulation court. At first they just scrimmaged within the platoon but it didn't take long for word to spread about the games.

So Brett found himself as coach of 3rd Platoons team against a team from 2nd Platoon. MSGT Wilson was acting as his assitant coach. While he was no Benjamin VanAlstyne, his high school experience helped him get the best from his men. It didn't hurt that he has CPL Riggs who was a star guard for his high school team in St. Louis. He finished the game with twelve points as they won easily 26-10. While Brett was certainly happy with the victory, he was even happier to see his platoon as a whole have both pride and considerable more energy.

[vettim89]

2 January 1942, San Franciso, CA

All LT(jg) Hank Tyler knew about San Francisco was that there was an earthquake here in 1907. He had seen pictures of the destruction in his history classes, and remembered there was a terrible fire after the quake. The squadron had been stood down for a few days and the men granted “shore” leave. Hank mused to himself how men who never boarded a ship were granted shore leave, but then trying to make sense of the Navy was a futile exercise.

The city showed no sign of the disaster that had struck it just 35 years ago. It did, however, show signs that there was a war on. First, you couldn't turn around without seeing a man in uniform. The streets were filled with sailors and soldiers on leave with a healthy present of MPs and Shore Patrol to keep every one in line. Windows were all coverd with blackout curtains.

There was a tension here too. Hank didn't buy into the “invasion” hysteria that had gripped the entire West Coast. His knowledge of geography and naval operations allowed him to hold a more reality based view of the situation. Certainly the Japanese were running wild in the Far East but the sheer distance from Japan to the USA really made invasion nearly impossible. No, if the US were to be threatened, it would be Hawaii or maybe Samoa not here in California.

[vettim89]

3 January 1942, Sydney Australia

To the dismay of all the sailors aboard the ships in the two USN carrier task forces, shore leave was not granted. They were only there long enough to refuel and replenish vital ship's stores. What the men aboard the ships didn't know is that Admiral Halsey was met by the US Naval Attache to Australia as soon as the ships entered the harbor. The mayor of Sydney had requested that the sailors be kept aboard their ships. He had visions of utter chaos if ten thousand sea weary Americans were turned loose on his city. Halsey had no intention of granting leave in the first place, but had to admit the mayor was probably correct in his assessment of the situation. He was also smart enough to let the man believe the USN was being gracious in honoring his request.

So LT(jg) James West and the rest of the pilots and aircrew of VS-6 stayed abaord and stared longingly at the city of Sydney. They were sure the city held untold pleasures that were being unfairly denied them. They only good news was that flight operations were shut down for 48 hours. The RAAF had dozens of aircraft patroling the waters outside the harbor. In addition there were four old WWI era Four-piper USN DD's on ASW patrol. They had escaped the Phillipines before the Japanese hemmed them in.

James was relaxing on the aft flight deck with the Three Bobs. The weather was quite warm which was normal for December. It was hard to adjust one's mind around the fact that it was Summer here at the bottom of the world. Hell, even the toilets flushed backwards. The Three Bobs were taking turns boasting of their romantic exploits in various ports of call. James was no prude but he didn't join in. His mother's words echoed in his mind, “A gentleman never kisses and tells”. He was sure she'd be stunned if she knew that kissing was far from the most squandalous thing our young officer was guilty of doing with a girl.

[vettim89]

4 January 1942, Washington, DC

LT(jg) Greg Cummins was back in Washington after his trip to Virginia. He was waiting with Capt. Lawrence outside Adm. King's office. Lawrence was going to brief King on the plans for upgrading the destroyers. He had already assured Greg that he would do all the talking. Cummins was only along to provide any important technical materials Lawrence might need during his presentation.

They were waiting outside the Admiral's office at the moment. King was a busy man to say the least, and there was a constant stream of messengers moving back and forth relaying information both vital and mundane to his staff. Greg was watching all the hubbub with great fascination. Suddenly a door opened near him. A rather non-descript, middle aged man in civilian clothing walked out carrying a yellow legal pad and a coffee cup. He walked over to the pot near the Admiral's secretary's desk and filled the cup. He stopped at the secretary's desk and picked up a folder filled with paper and turned his attention to Greg.

“Who are you?”, he asked.

“Cummins, sir. Gregory L, Lt(jg)”, Greg replied reflexively.

“Hmmm”, the man replied as he flipped through the pages of his legal pad. “Ah, here you are: leadership 58, inspiration 52. I'll need you in a couple of years , Lieutenant. Try not to get yourself killed before then”, he said dispassionately as he walked away.

“Who was that?”, Greg asked the secretary

“Oh, that's Dr. Vettim”, she replied. “He's some supposed military genius they sent here to make sure all the orders get made correctly”

“What does that mean?”, Greg ask incredulously.

“All I know is all the outgoing orders get placed in that folder he just took. He picks them up and I never see them again. From what I heard, he spends part of his day over at Gen. Marshall's office and even stops in at British Military Attache's office almost every day”, she replied in a decidedly disinterested tone.

Greg looked over at the office door he had just went through. It had a frosted glass window so you couldn't see exactly what was going on in the room. The was an odd blue light that Greg could make out on the man's desk. He also could hear a odd set of clicks, knocks and other noises. For a second there, Cummins was almost sure he heard a ship's bell. He could hear the man muttering to himself through the door saying something about some guy named Larry being a sneaky bastard.

“Odd”, Greg said under his breath. He turned to the secretary and asked, “Is it just me, or did that guy smell like a dog?”

The secretary just shrugged

[vettim89]

5 January 1942, Southeast of Shikoku, Japan

The boat was beginning to stink. There was just no other way to put it. The four weeks the Swordfish had been at sea would normally have led to a certain amount of staleness, but no laundry and no showers only meant it was reaching the level of putrid. Even though the seas had been rough of late, LT(jg) DJ Haskins looked forward to standing watch on the sub's bridge. At least for four hours every night, he could enjoy some fresh air. Of course that meant going back below decks at the end of his watch only meant the asault on his nasal passages was that much worse.

They had not run across a single Japanese ship for more than two weeks now. The men were getting tired and starting to snap at each other. The news of the war was not helping. Clark Field had fallen on Christmas Eve and Manila was being threatened. In the 29 days since Swordfish had departed Cavite almost the entire island of Luzon had been conquered. It seemed like the Japanese were unstopable.

DJ finished his watch and headed below. After a quick change he joined the rest of the officers for breakfast. As had been the case of late it was very quiet. LT Phelps glanced at LCDR Smith and cleared his throat.

“Mr. Haskins, you have family in San Diego?”

“Yes, sir. My mother and two sisters,” DJ replied wondering where the lieutenant was heading.

“You consider what will happen to them when the Japs invade? You heard what they did at Nanking, didn't you?”, Phelps said staring Dan directly in the eyes.

“Excuse me, sir?”, he replied as he felt himself stiffen.

“Well I'm just saying that with the way the Japs are moving right now, they will probably be on the West Coast by the Fourth of July”, Phelps said coldly. “Personally I'd have some concerns if my family was on the West Coast. If the Nips had their way with the Chinese girls, I'd shutter to think what they would do to our California beauties...”

“With all due respect, Sir, you are way out of line”, DJ blurted as he rose from his seat. “Yes, the Japs caught us with our pants down to start this war, but it is only a matter of time before we kick their butts all the way back to Tokyo! It will be over my dead body that any one of those yellow bastards so much as sets a foot on US soil. Quite frankly, SIR, I am surprised you of all people would be talking like this! The men on this boat need leadership not this defeatist crap.“

Phelps smiled a wry smile at DJ

“Exactly”, LCDR Smith interjected. “LT Phelps and I have both noticed the way some of you have been conducting yourselves over this past week, and if we noticed, you can be damn sure the crew has noticed! I not looking for a bunch of Pollyannas here, but I need to see ALL of you show some purpose and determination in everything you do. “ Every eye in the room was fixed on Smith now.

He continued, “No one ever said this war was going to be easy or quick. Its going to take a lot of hard work and grit. There will be set backs for sure, but that doesn't matter in the long run. What I need from each of you from this point forward is a singular focus on making this boat the best fleet sub in the US Navy. I don't really care what the news is from Luzon on anywhere else because that has no relevance on the operation of this vessel. If the enlisted men see this sort of focus on your part they will follow, trust me on that point. Do I make myself clear?”

“Aye, sir”, came the reply from each man in unison.

“Good. Now get back to work. Dismissed”, Smith said sternly.

The officers all stood and made their way out of the room. As he made his way to the door, DJ felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Lt Haskins, a word?”. LT Phelps said softly. Phelps waited for the room to clear before speaking.

“Look Dan, I am sorry for coming at you like that but I was almost sure I would get the reaction I wanted from you. Trust me, you did not disappoint me”, Phelps said with a smile.

Dj smiled as he said, “I get it lieutenant. The skipper is right: we have been walking around with our tails between our legs for at least a week. I am sure the crew has noticed it too. Just do me a favor”, DJ asked. “Next time you need to make a point, could you keep my mother and my sisters out of it?”

“No problem, Dan”, Phelps replied.

“One more thing sir. Any one ever tell you you're a sonofabitch”, DJ said with a cautious smille.

“All the time”, Phelps smiled back. “Most men just don't have the guts to say it to my face”