Watkins turned to the window. He had a great view of a half empty parking lot. "Right after the world ends."
"Too bad. The medal ceremony will be in a few days. I don't know which one you're getting, but if I have a vote, it's likely going to be the Order of the Royal Pain in the Ass with Oak Leaf Clusters."
Despite himself, Watkins laughed. "Good one."
"Actually, I understand it'll be either the Silver Star or the Coast Guard Distinguished Service Medal."
"Semper paratus," Watkins said, quoting the Coast Guard motto, "Always Prepared." Well, hell, he hadn't been prepared. If he had been prepared, his ship would have fought back more effectively, and he couldn't claim crummy radar as an excuse since it was his responsibility to ensure that everything on the Willow was in working condition no matter what. "Seaman Vitale will be getting one, too," Ackerman continued, "because of how he worked and saved so many lives, maybe including your own annoying butt. Yours will be for your lifesaving efforts in rescuing the crew of that destroyer and for doing everything you could to put out the fire at great risk to you and your ship before and after the destroyer sank. Lord, I sound like I'm reading the commendation. Also, the ship is getting some unit citation."
She stood and straightened her uniform. He noticed that she had nice full breasts. "Commander, I will not let you feel sorry for yourself. I will not let any of my patients feel sorry for themselves. I know what they're going through and I know that you and they can get through it."
"And just how the hell do you know what I'm going through?" he snapped.
To his astonishment, tears welled up in her eyes and he immediately regretted what he'd said. "Because of the guilt I felt when I lost my husband, that's why. He was a marine pilot and he was killed in Korea when something caused him to fly a perfectly good plane into a mountain on a bright sunshiny day. I felt so guilty because I'd decided I didn't want to be married anymore to him, and he knew it because I’d written and told him. He was so obsessive and domineering and, yes, sometimes he hit me, which made him a shit, but not one who had to die for it. He told me he couldn't deal with the idea of me leaving him, so what do you think made him fly his plane into a mountain? His monumental ego, that's what. His pride couldn't stand the thought of failure in marriage or flying a plane, or anything else, and now you can't deal with your own situation."
"I'm sorry," Watkins said weakly.
"Don't be. I felt guilty for a long time. The navy sent his remains home a year later in a tee-tiny box that I could have put in my purse. I thought I'd lose my mind, and then I realized I wouldn't and I thought that was worse. Insanity would have been so helpful, such a nice dark place to hide. But no, I had to recover and go out and face the world. And so will you Commander Watkins."
He took a deep breath. She was right. Women were always so damned right. "All right, I'll recover, but only one on condition. You go out to lunch with me."
She nodded and smiled. "But only if you walk. Crutches are okay, but no wheel chair. A cane would be great. Men with canes look so dapper and distinguished, especially if it's a man in uniform with a chest full of medals. Oh yes, I want you to tidy yourself up and lose some weight. Show me you have pride in yourself. You lose twenty pounds and I'll lose ten and we'll see how we like each other's refurbished bodies."
"Agreed," he found himself saying and meaning it. "And tell the guys that if they're dumb enough to want to talk to me, I'm dumb enough to let them. Oh yeah, when we go out, will it be a date?"
"If you want it to be," she said. Lord, it had been a long time. Maybe she would take him home. She was a nurse after all and the sight of an amputated leg wouldn't be shocking.
Watkins grinned. "One last thing, will alcohol be permitted?" She touched him gently on the cheek. "Only if taken internally."
Chapter Fourteen
The rumble of exploding bombs came from only a few miles away. The actual site being hit was obscured by some low hills and the dense foliage in which Ross and the others were hidden, but they could clearly see the smoke billowing and could feel the ground beneath their feet quivering. If this was what it was like so far away from the bombs' impact point, Ross thought, what was it like up close, like right on the target? He decided he didn't want to know. Shelling by Russian-made Cuban tanks during the takeover had been bad enough, but this had to be a hundred times worse to the Cubans on the receiving end.
"We should've done it sooner," Ward said to Cathy.
"You mean a few weeks ago?" she said.
"Naw, we should've done it when Castro came to power and we found he was a commie. That would've saved everybody a lot of sweat and aggravation."
Andrew pretended he really wasn't paying attention. Ward was directing his comments to Cathy because she was a civilian and he could speak more freely to her even though everyone knew his commanding officer was listening in. The games people play, he thought.
"It would've been nice," she said, "but it was never going to happen. Since I'm a teacher, let me give you a history lesson. World War II, which we won overwhelmingly, ended seventeen years ago and the Korean War, which was something less than an overwhelming win, ended less than ten years ago. Remember, Korea cost more than fifty thousand dead Americans and many people feel it accomplished nothing."
"So what's that have to do with Cuba and Castro," Ward asked.
Cathy smiled and continued. "Because the country isn't ready for another bloodbath that doesn't accomplish very much. That and the fact that we are so vulnerable all over the world deterred us from doing anything to topple Castro other than that farce at the Bay of Pigs. We've got responsibilities in Korea and a lot of men staring at the North Koreans, we've got Berlin with a garrison surrounded by the Soviet army, and there is our commitment to protecting the Chinese Nationalists on Formosa, and now we've got our people started moving into Vietnam. Ward, do you know where Vietnam is?"
Ward grinned. "Not really."
"It's just south of China."
Ward brightened. "You mean what used to be French Indo-China?"
"Exactly," she said.
"Yeah, I've heard of that place. It's where the French got the crap kicked out of them by the little yellow locals. What're we doing in that rotten little country? I've heard it's a nasty place no matter what they call it?"
Andrew decided to answer. "The president has decided to send advisors to help the South Vietnamese train their rotten little army to better protect their rotten little country. Vietnam is divided into two parts. The north is already commie and he doesn't want the south to fall as well. It's supposed to be a small mission but we all know how these things grow when the federal government gets involved."
Ward laughed. "Yeah, we sure know that, lieutenant. All we gotta do is look around at the mess we're in right now. We all sucked up to Batista and now Batista's history and the Cubans hate us. Thanks for the info Cathy, lieutenant. Hey, Cathy, how'd you learn so much? I thought you were an English teacher?"
She stuck out her tongue. "I am, smart-aleck, but I also have a minor in history and I love to read. You ought to try it some time."
A secondary explosion shook the ground emphasizing the incongruity of their holding deep discussions during a bombing raid. Dark clouds of smoke billowed from over another hill. Tongues of flame licked within it. Another explosion and more flames billowed up.
"Gas or ammo?" Ward asked.
"Maybe both," Andrew said. "Or possibly we dropped napalm. I'm not too sure it matters just so long as we hit the target."
"And think what horrible things are happening to the people on the ground." Cathy said and shuddered. Her eyes were fixed on the terrible and angry clouds that seemed to be alive.