“Have my orders been changed, sir?” Tremain asked carefully.
“I haven’t taken that step yet, Jack. I owe you that. I’m asking you to take Mackerel and turn her around. Just one patrol. After that, I promise I will personally speak to Com-SubPac about placing you on the priority list for the next pre-comm boat. Whatta you say?”
Tremain sighed as he ran his fingers once through his hair. He stared at the wall. He hated to be manipulated like this, by a call to duty, the same old trick his father had used on him all his life. He thought: This decision was not really his. His career pivoted on what he did here. Be a good sailor and his rising career was assured. Be difficult and his status was fixed as static for the duration. He would go no higher.
“By the way, Jack,” Ireland said, suddenly in a somber tone. “I forgot to tell you. I’m sorry about the Seatrout. She was a good boat.”
The remark struck a nerve in Tremain. He shot a glance at Ireland, whose eyes quickly went to the floor. Tremain knew Ireland had not really forgotten to tell him. Tremain knew how he operated. He had saved that little tidbit for just the right moment.
“What’ll it be, Jack?” Ireland said, all business again.
Tremain closed his eyes and nodded. “Is there really a choice, Captain?”
“Not for good men like you, Jack. Thanks. When can you take over?”
Tremain rose. “I suppose I can get over there this afternoon, sir. After I place a call to Judy and break the bad news, that is. I’ll need your support to do this. My own run of the roost.”
Ireland patted him on the back.
“You’ve got it.”
They shook hands and Tremain headed for the door. “The yeoman outside has the official orders typed up and everything has been cleared with ComSubPac. Ask the yeoman to arrange a priority line for you to get through to Judy.” “You certainly have thought of everything, sir.” “Wouldn’t think of operating otherwise. Good luck, Jack.”
“Thank you, Captain.”
After Tremain had left the office, Ireland returned to sipping his coffee by the window. From his office he could just see the USS Mackerel sitting at her moorings at the end of the jetty.
And good luck to you, he thought. I’m sending you a shining star.
Chapter 2
Jack Tremain took a long drag on his fourth cigarette while standing beneath some shady palms in the courtyard near the headquarters building. He had intentionally chosen the spot so that he could enjoy his cigarette out of the flow of pedestrian traffic. He did not feel like saluting three or four times a minute — or at all for that matter.
He tugged a little at his khaki jacket. The humid air did little to soothe his perspiring skin in the heat of the afternoon sun. The heat seemed to disturb him more than it had when he first stepped off the plane. Perhaps the meeting with Ireland had made him sweat more. Or perhaps it was the thought of going back to sea so soon. He had fully been expecting to hold Judy in his arms in a few hours. Now, who knew when he would see her again? The emotional strain was taxing, as it had always been. They had been through unexpected delays before at various times throughout his naval career and had grown accustomed to the everpresent “needs of the navy,” but this time hurt worse than the others did. The other separations had not been during wartime. They had not been after he had suffered the loss of a boat. And a crew. Judy had always helped him sort out the senseless. She had always helped him to see the silver lining. He needed her now. He needed her to confirm that there was a still a reason for living. To confirm that there was still something left worth fighting for.
In his nostrils he caught the aroma. An aroma seldom missed but never forgotten. That distinct smell that accompanied his profession. The heavy muggy stink of diesel fuel oil. It came from the boats at the pier, just across the courtyard. It permeated everything it came in contact with.
The scent brought to mind different things in different people. In the far reaches of his mind it represented death. He felt a cold shiver and suddenly the sweat felt icy on his skin. He closed his eyes and he could see their faces. Was it years ago, or only weeks, when he had received word of their loss?
Lieutenant Commander Robert J. “Jack” Tremain came from a different stock than Captain Ireland. Like Ireland, he was a graduate of the Naval Academy. Unlike Ireland, he had been the first in his family to wear the naval uniform. Most of the male relatives had served in the army at some time or other but none had ever made a career out of it. Tremain’s love of engineering had led him to join the navy. Then his love of the navy led him to stay and make it a career. From his earliest days at the academy, he had no doubts about which branch he would choose. Submarines were the vessels of the future. They appealed to his passion for all aspects of engineering. Strange that he would later find out that his real strength lay in leadership.
As an ensign, he served in his first sea tour out of Manila on an old S-boat built during the First World War. The little submarine displaced barely more than nine hundred tons and bobbed on the surface like a cork. She was extremely slow on the surface. So slow, in fact, that most of the shaft horse-power produced by the diesel engines was used to fight against the stiff currents around the Philippine Islands. He learned a great respect for the power of the sea during that tour. In later years he would often say “there really is nothing quite like standing on the twenty-foot bridge of an S-boat with a forty-foot wave about to hit you.” All in all, it had been a good tour for him. With less than nine months on board he had qualified to wear the coveted “Gold Dolphins” of the submarine officer society. He made Lieutenant (Junior Grade) while on board as well. It was basically a run-of-the-mill submarine junior officer tour. Run-of-the-mill — except for one event that happened toward the end of his tour.
After an extended overhaul and drydock period in Pearl, the S-boat had put to sea to conduct a routine dive to test depth to test the rivets and seals, standard operating procedure for all submarines coming out of a maintenance period. This dive, however, turned out to be anything but routine. On the initial dive, the boat submerged with an uncharacteristically high rate of descent and it soon became apparent to everyone on board that the shipyard engineers had grossly miscalculated the amount of negative ballast needed to keep the ship on a level trim. They had loaded several thousand pounds too much. The captain immediately ordered the ballast tanks blown, but the ship’s momentum was too great and she dove straight for the bottom. The bottom was at four hundred feet, well below an S-boat’s test depth, but the little boat’s hull held together. The boat hit the ocean floor nose first and quickly settled into the sand.
Tremain was in the engine room when it happened. Men were seriously injured from the shock, pipes ruptured everywhere, and the compartment began to flood with seawater. The ship was rigged for deep submergence, so Tremain and the crew in the engine room were isolated from the rest of the ship and thus had no hope of any assistance in their efforts to fight the dozen leaking pipes and valves. The flooding seemed insurmountable and the men in the engine room, believing their efforts to be in vain, gave up and prepared to meet their fates. But Tremain kept a clear head and snapped them out of their delirium, taking over the damage control coordination. It took more than six hours to finally bring the flooding under control. Eventually, the flooding stopped and the hull held out at 408 feet. Then they were able to pump enough water off the ship to give her a small positive buoyancy, just enough to get her off the bottom. This allowed the powerful electric motors to propel her to the surface.