“Gentlemen, my country is a small one and when elephants fight, mice get crushed. The long term health of all our countries depends on stability and that can only come from honest trade and fair, just relations. This makes sense, yes?'“
An attendant arrived with a tray of champagne glasses. The Thai Ambassador took one and looked at the men with her. Could Europeans really be so naive? She had laid the whole plan out in front of them and they still couldn't see it. As Field Marshal Pibul had said to her the night before she'd left “When the village on one side of the river has rice but no fish and the village on the other had fish but no rice, wealth and power go not to the fisherman or the farmer but to the man who builds a bridge over the river.” With these trade agreements and more like them in place, her country would be established as the central trading point for the whole of the non-Japanese Far East. Australia and India would be the starring actors in the years to come, but it would be her government that would be writing their lines.
Sir Martyn was feeling much better now. Originally, the unexpected offer of a parallel trade deal with Australia had shaken him and upset his plans to use Australia's economic plight to Indian advantage. But this way was much better, Australia was being drawn into India's orbit without the need for such an overt application of pressure. His gamble a few years ago was paying off much better than he'd thought possible. The investment of some modern military equipment and political capital had bought him a faithful and reliable ally whose diplomatic skills were greater than he could have hoped. Yes, this meeting had gone much to India's advantage. Champagne was a good way to mark such a welcome development.
For the first time in many months, Sir Gregory felt the burdens of his position lifted from him. He'd come to New Delhi expecting to have to grovel for aid. Instead, he'd had a partial solution for his problems literally dumped in his lap, from a totally unexpected direction. The trade agreement would be a good one and would secure both his future and that of his country. Even before it was signed, he could leverage it into more loans to pay off pressing debts and solve problems. But much more important was the defense issue. The story about Australia defending itself at the beaches was a farce. He knew it because his generals had told him so and the Thai Ambassador knew it because she was a professional soldier whose skills were fast becoming legendary. Sir Martyn was a politician and an economist, he probably didn't. But Australia couldn't be defended at its beaches, it was too big and the population was too small. It had to be defended at a distance, by forces that would engage the enemy before they reached the Australian mainland. Sir Gregory took his champagne gratefully, for the first time he could see his path clearing.
The three looked at each other with mutual admiration. Then, they toasted each other in an atmosphere of warm friendship, comradely respect and mutual treachery.
CHAPTER EIGHT JUDGEMENT DAY
Third Deck, Starboard Side Amidships, USS Shiloh, CVB-41. Position 46.8 North, 4.6 West.
They were beating the Monster, beating it good. They'd taken back all the compartments they'd lost in the early stages of the fire. The next step would take them through the watertight door that lead the scullery. That's where the Monster had been born. Fathered by a German bomb and mothered by circuit breakers that hadn't worked. Maintenance failure. There would be discussion of that issue in the Goat Locker. Still, long experience told The Senior Chief that the battles against the fires were being won on all fronts now; the temperature was dropping, the smoke and that poisonous haze were fading. More importantly, power was becoming more reliable and water pressure was back up. Not as good as it should be but better than before. In addition, the teams on the fire perimeter were getting regular supplies of water and salt tablets. The only problem was that they had run out of fuel for their Handy Billy pump and had to use avgas instead. That was causing the little pump to overheat and limiting its use to five or ten minutes at a stretch before they had to shut it down and let it cool.
“Mr Pickering sir, I need you to check on the men, make sure everybody's had enough to drink and nobody's got dehydrated. Can happen too easily; we don't want anybody passing out when we hit the scullery.”
“You've checked them already, Senior Chief, you know that they've had all the water they need.”
The Senior Chief mentally raised his eyes in despair, Lord have mercy, it was a Senior Chiefs job to raise young officers and set them on the right path to being True Sailormen rather than office warriors or Democrats. But sometimes the patience came terribly hard. “Mr Pickering Sir,” dropping his voice “The men need to know you're looking out for them. I know they've had their water and salt tablets, you know they've had their water and salt tablets but they need to know you're making sure you know. So, please sir, I need you to check.”
The Senior Chief watched Ensign Pickering start checking with the firefighting team. Decided he was doing a good job, making sure that the men had drunk their water and swallowed their salt tablets. Also checked their hands for burns and looked at their eyes for dirt and grit. That was a bit much, everybody was covered with soot and dirt from the fires and everybody was a bit singed. But it showed the young Ensign was getting the message. He wasn't a bad officer, the Senior Chief had known many worse who'd come out all right in the end. Just painfully green and still had so much to learn. Still, he'd lead a team fighting the fires on the Shiloh and that was a story he'd be asked to retell in future years. Right, now was the time to get through the next watertight door and into the scullery. Samoa had been drenching the area with seawater for hours now so it should just be a matter of getting in there, putting out what was left and securing the compartment. Wouldn't do to tell the men that though, they were better off thinking the Monster was still waiting for them.
“Time to go Senior Chief. Let's retake the Scullery.” Of all the men in the damage control team only Ensign Pickering and the Senior Chief realized the words were a question, not an order. “Very Good Sir. Lead men to the front prepare to........Wait One.”
Everybody had felt it. The ship had shuddered suddenly. The Senior Chief frowned, that feeling didn't belong. It had come from the other side of the ship and forward of their position. And below them? It didn't feel right at all and when something didn't feel right it generally wasn't. “What was that Senior?” Some of the older crewmen, the plank-owners who had been with Shiloh since her commissioning had also realized that something wasn't right.
“Don't worry about what goes on up there son, we've got our job to do here. Just concentrate on that and leave everything else to them that's concerned with them.” That remark got the Senior a sharp look from the Ensign, he'd noted that the shudder had come from beneath them as well. Well, the rest was right, they had their own work to do and worrying about the rest of ship would just get in the way. Get the firefighting gear ready and do their job. And, hell's teeth what was THAT??????????? Now there was no doubt something was very seriously wrong. It wasn't an explosion, more of a terrible ripping noise and the vibration was like an earthquake. Shiloh had been listing to starboard for so long now that the roll to port was shocking in itself.
The Senior Chief didn't know why he did it. Perhaps, it was his Guardian Angel, perhaps it was the ghosts of long dead Senior Chiefs, going back to the days of the Roman galleys, coming back to whisper a warning and help out one of their own. Perhaps it was just more years of experience that he cared to think about. Years spent on every type of ship the US Navy operated and every port they'd ever visited that had told him mortal danger was all around them. But something made him dive across the compartment and manhandle the blast- and waterproof hatch closed. Because the explosion that came a split second after the ripping noise was like nothing they'd experienced before. A thunderous ear-shattering roar that seemed to shake the compartment apart and hurled the men from their feet. The lights went down, the air fogged with dust and debris. Only flashlight beams lit the darkness. Now Shiloh was listing seriously to port and was down by the bows.