Run Silent, Run Deep - Страница 58

You got to figure it all out yourself, cause you're all alone on your own. That's what you been trying to teach me, Rich, ole man. I want you to know that I think you're a great man.

You're my best friend, an' you're wunnerful, an' I'm sorry I was such a bastard-an'-an' I already wrote to Laura and tole her so…. Tell her again too…"

The bottle slipped from his hands. He was swaying where he sat on the bed. His voice trailed off into an unintelligible mumble. I laid him back, pulled off his shoes, trousers, and shirt, threw a blanket over him. He wasn't quite gone yet. "Laura," he muttered, "Laura, she's a sweetheart. I'm a bastard, always was.

Never should… never should…"

I quietly went out the door into the hall, turned out the light, and softly closed the door behind me. I felt sorry for him, and oddly at peace.

12

Despite my desire to see more of my old shipmates, our paths for the next three weeks were cast in dissimilar patterns. The three patrols they had made "down under," and the taste of Australia in between, were enough to set them apart, make them somehow different, from the men I had known. And now that they were back again from, patrol, entitled to temporary freedom from care at the Royal Hawaiian, there was a practical barrier too.

I caught a glimpse of Jim once, driving the station wagon issued to Walrus, with the handsome, dark face of Joan beside him. Neither of them saw me. She was sitting rather away from the right-hand door, but even so the breeze through the open window rippled her heavy black hair as she turned attentively in Jim's direction.

Keith I saw a couple of times. Being due for detachment upon Walrus' departure, he had been left in charge of her refit until the regular crew returned from their recuperation period.

This gave us a few opportunities to renew old acquaintance- ship as we occasionally encountered each other around the submarine base, and I came to notice him more particularly than before.

He had changed mightily from the willing but inexperienced youth who had reported to the S-16's fitting out and precommissioning office three years and some months ago. Tanned and fit, as most of us were who were fortunate enough to draw topside bridge watches, he was now poised, confident, sure of himself and his abilities. His wide-set eyes had turned a deep gray from their original pale blue-some of the color of the sea had seeped into them-and the set of his jaw betokened strength fired through experience. His once-boyish face was now a bit finely drawn, his hair bleached to a lighter shade by the sun and salt wind, his voice a perceptible amount deeper. He was the same old Keith, but a stronger, more vital one.

For that matter, Jim, too, had undergone changes. He was decisive, sure of himself, the old wayward immaturity long burned out of him. Probably all of us showed evidences of the passage of time and the effect of the hell of undersea combat.

There had been talk about sending the Walrus back to the States for overhaul, but it was eventually decided that she was in good enough condition to make one patrol before doing so. When the day came for her to depart, Keith and I were there to see her off. She looked beautiful in her coat of new gray paint, beautiful, lean, and deadly. The aura with which she had arrived was still there. Compared to some of the newer boats she might have an old-fashioned look about her, but neither could any of them boast her record of thirty-three ships sunk or damaged. It was hard to appreciate that she was only two years old-the Octopus had been still considered brand-new at the comparable time.

Next day Keith left for the States for a well-merited thirty days' leave, and I returned to my office, to the suddenly hum- drum routine of the Attack Teacher. I could hardly sit still.

That afternoon I sought out the Chief of Staff. "Captain," I. said without preamble, "when may I have another ship?"

He looked at me thoughtfully. "What's your hurry, Rich?

Tired of the routine of Pearl Harbor?"

"Yes. I just saw Jim Bledsoe go out for his eighth consecutive patrol. I've only made four. I've got a few more than that left in me."

"Maybe we'll let you relieve Kane when he brings the Nerka back."

"That's no good, Captain. She'll be going back to Mare Is- land, and Stocker rates bringing her back. I've spent enough time on soft jobs. Besides, my leg is OK now."

"OK, Rich," Blunt surrendered gracefully. "I'll. put your name back on the active list."

Back to the Attack Teacher. Back to making fifteen approaches a day, teaching doctrine to would-be dolphin-wearers, showing the latest tricks of the trade to skippers in for refresher, waiting for my ship to come in. The days passed, one upon another.

Three weeks later I was back to see Blunt. The boats had been going through Pearl steadily. Quite a few changes in skippers had been made, but always, it seemed, there was someone waiting to whom the available boat had already been assigned.

I was ready to put up a beef, but he didn't give me a chance.

"Sit down, Rich. I was about to send for you." His voice was grim. "Do you know what day this is?"

"Yes, sir. Tuesday, the twenty-fifth."

"It's the day the Nerka was due back from patrol."

"Was due. What do you mean?" I half-rose again. Not Stocker Kane!

"Was due, Rich. We won't see her again." Blunt spoke gently, sorrowfully. "She was a grand ship, and had a grand crew. Kane was one of the best."

"What happened to her?" I cried. "Where did she go?"

For once the battered pipe lay unnoticed on the desk top. Blunt met my eyes steadily. "He was in AREA SEVEN. That makes six boats that have been lost there."

"Six submarines lost in AREA SEVEN?" I was incredulous. No one I knew had had any idea of this.

"Yes, six. The Needlefish, Turbot, Awlfish, Lancetfish, Sting- back, and now the Nerka."

"But, good Lord, Captain, the Turbot and Awlfish were lost en route to SouthWestPac in Australia! And I never heard of the Stingback!"

"Quite so. Naturally we didn't want to give Bungo any in- formation as to how badly he was hurting us. Incidentally, he thinks he sank several others too, among them the Octopus. But I think he's taken the Walrus off his list; at least, he doesn't mention her any more. He got the Turbot last year and Eddie Holt in the Awlfish several months ago; we made out that they had been sent south, just to quiet the local rumor factories.

Stingback was a brand-new submarine, built at Manitowoc, Wisconsin, but she had a veteran skipper and so we let her go in to SEVEN anyhow. She was the boat just before the Nerka. You were deep in the torpedo problem at the time, and I'm not surprised you don't remember her."

I couldn't believe it. Poor old Stocker Kane! Why, only a few weeks ago he and I had sat up into the wee hours in his room at the Royal Hawaiian chewing the rag over old times. And now he was dead! Poor Hurry! I wondered how she would get the news. "How did it happen, about the Nerka, I mean?"

"We don't really know anything, yet, Rich." The pipe went into Blunt's mouth at last. "He's only been overdue at our new base at Majuro for a few hours, but old Nakame has been claiming him for two weeks. And we've not had a message from him in that time."

"Did Bungo give any hint as to how he sank her?" I was holding a wake, but I couldn't help it.

"The old fellow is too smart for that. The only thing we know about him is that he is still apparently picking up garbage sacks, despite our caution to the boats about them, and is get- ting their names out of them. I guess it's pretty hard to keep all mention of your ship's name out of all your garbage."

I was counting on my fingers. "Good God, Captain! Out of the last six boats that have gone into AREA SEVEN, he's sunk three!"

"That's right. And of the last two, he's sunk both of them.

And Jim Bledsoe is in there now."

My stomach felt suddenly all washed out. "Walrus," I gasped.

"Why did you send the Walrus? Jim's already made seven consecutive runs-the whole ship is tired. They deserve a rest!

Not this! Why, this is suicide!"

"Easy, Rich." Blunt's eyes were steady, but his face looked old, troubled. "ComSubPac has orders to keep the Bungo Suido and Kii Suido under surveillance. Maybe the Jap fleet's in there-I don't know. Some day maybe Admiral Nimitz will let us know why. In the meantime, all we can do is put our best boats in there, let them know what they're up against, and try to prepare them the best we know how. Besides, at the time Jim left Stocker was doing fine. We had a message from him only the day before."

I told him I was sorry for my outburst. "But what can we do?

I anxiously asked him. "We've got to do something We can't just let Walrus run into that kind of setup without some kind of action to help him!"

"We're doing all we can." Blunt fumbled in a pile of papers, "Here's what we sent him."

The message said: URGENT FOR WALRUS X, INDICATIONS EXTREMELY EFFECTIVE ANTISUBMARINE ACTIVITY VICINITY BUNGO SUIDO X, TAKE MAXIMUM PRECAUTIONS THIS IS AN URGENT WARNING FROM COMSUBPAC.

Silently, I handed it back.

"The Walrus has been in the area nearly a week already, Rich, and he's sunk three ships. Two the first night, and one several days later. If there's anyone who can handle themselves in there, it's Jim Bledsoe and your old crew. But that's not why I wanted to see you. I think we've got a ship for you. That please you?"