A few feet away from Tremain, the sailor who was loading for the .50-caliber machine gun reeled backward from a round that had hit him in the throat. He fell to the deck clutching his neck and quickly gurgled up blood.
The sailor operating the .50-caliber weapon ignored the fate of his shipmate and leveled his gun at the Japanese sailors once more. This time, his burst hit home. Tremain’s stomach turned as he saw one of the Japanese sailor’s head explode from a .50-caliber round, his body continuing to fire the machine gun for several grotesque seconds. The other sailor took multiple rounds across his midsection and was mercilessly chopped in two. When the burst finally ended he was nothing more than an indiscernible mess of bloody rags and flesh.
A large explosion from the patrol boat’s stern signified that the diesel fuel had ignited. The boat soon lost all headway and began to burn wildly only a few yards from Mackerel's side. It was so close that Tremain began to grow worried that a secondary explosion might damage his own ship or injure some of the men on deck. Mackerel's gun crews continued to pound the Japanese boat without mercy, but the fight was over.
“Cease firing!” Tremain shouted.
It took several seconds for all of the guns to get the word but they soon stopped firing. Spent shell casings covered the decks everywhere. Each gun barrel emitted a pale smoke from its red-hot breech and muzzle. The gunpowder flashes had blackened each of the gun crews’ faces and uniforms, and they all stood breathless and wild-eyed after the madness.
The hapless patrol boat showed no signs of life as it bobbed against Mackerel's side. Tremain could see smoking bodies and pieces of bodies littering the deck. The burning and twisted metal that had once been a Japanese boat now resembled a funeral pyre. He smelled the acrid odors of burning fuel oil, burning gunpowder, and burning flesh. Tremain noticed that the men all around him were staring down into the boat, aghast at the grisly spectacle they had created.
The pharmacists’ mate emerged from the bridge hatch and immediately went to work on the wounded man, now in the arms of his gunner. But it was too late for the young sailor. The bullet had severed the man’s jugular vein and he had already bled to death. His blood covered the deck at Tremain’s feet and ran down the bridge scuppers.
Tremain forced himself to turn away. He had to keep a clear head.
“XO, bridge,” Tremain said into the call box. “Start up the engines. We need to clear away from that boat before it explodes on us.”
“Captain, XO. Aye, sir.”
Mackerel's engines started and Tremain piloted away from the burning patrol boat at five knots until it disappeared into the fog and all that could be seen were the flickering fires along her hull. All on deck watched as the roaring fire flared up, then extinguished suddenly as the patrol boat slid beneath the waves. The wind carried a pall of white smoke over to the Mackerel, as if to remind her of what she had done.
Tremain ordered the ship prepared for diving. The crew needed a rest, he thought. He did not know whether the Japanese captain had been able to warn his base before his radio was destroyed. Nor did he know if the noise from the gunfight had reached the ears of the fishermen near the coast. Either way, his men were in no shape to stay at their guns.
Everyone on the bridge watched in silence as Petty Officer Grimes’ body was placed in a bag and lowered below. They would have to bury him when they left Japanese waters. They could not risk his body washing up on the shores of Honshu and alerting the Japanese to their presence. Until then, his body would be stored in the freezer with the food. It seemed grotesque, but it was the only way. It was the submarine way.
With the guns secure, and all hands below, Tremain ordered the ship submerged. Once safely below the surface, the crew did not celebrate the apparent victory. Partly because of Grimes’ death, but also because they realized the gravity of the situation. The evening had been a complete disaster, and now the mission was in jeopardy.
Chapter 23
“What if a Japanese fisherman heard the fire fight?” Tee said from across the wardroom table. “What if one of those charred sons of bitches washes up on the shoreline? What if the patrol boat didn’t sink?”
“That’s enough, Mr. Turner,” Cazanavette said forcefully, putting down his turkey sandwich.
The officers sat around the wardroom table, eating breakfast and discussing the previous evening’s events. Cold cuts were all that was available since the cooks had been manning the guns most of the night. The officers breakfasted on whatever meats and breads were available.
Tremain had decided not to join them. Partly because he needed some sleep, but mostly because he knew that they needed to vent their frustrations. They would never do it in front of him. It was more appropriate for the XO to hear what they had to say. Tee had been the most vocal so far, pushing the edge of Cazanavette’s patience.
“The captain and I have gone over the different possibilities, Mister Turner,” Cazanavette said. “The enemy may know we’re here, and the Kurita may never come out now. But, regardless of those possibilities, we are going to continue the mission. We’re going to stay out here until we sink the Kurita.”
“For how long, XO?” Tee asked belligerently.
Tee had reverted to his old bullying habits, but this time he was directing his venom at Cazanavette. Wright sensed that his tone was more nervous than it was threatening as he eyed him with contempt from across the table.
“We already have one man dead, XO,” Tee continued in the face of the fuming Cazanavette. “We’re lucky we weren’t sunk this morning. This mission is suicide. It was doomed from the start. When is the captain going to—”
“Watch it, Lieutenant Turner,” Cazanavette cautioned him, but Tee seemed to ignore it.
“The captain is not acting rationally and I think you should do something about it, XO. If you don’t I might have to let my father know about this when I see him again. In my opinion Commander Stillsen should take over and get us the hell out of these waters before the Japanese send everything they have after us.”
Wright’s blood silently boiled higher with every word that came out of Tee’s mouth. He hated the man for everything that he was. He was a liar, a cheat, a bully, a murderer in Wright’s eyes, and now a coward. As he listened to Tee defy the XO and defame the captain and threaten to use his father’s pull, Wright could no longer control himself.
“Shut your mouth, you fucking son of a bitch!” Wright snapped and bolted out of his seat.
Sitting in the chair next to him, Salisbury grabbed Wright’s shirt and pulled him to sit back down, but Wright would not budge. Everyone was startled at the quiet ensign’s outburst and even Cazavette was speechless.
Tee appeared stunned at first, but then he looked Wright up and down with apparent irreverence.
“What do you know?” Tee said. “It looks like the ensign’s testicles finally dropped.”
Tee did not see it coming. Neither did Salisbury or he would have stopped it. Wright’s fist curved in an arc and struck Tee across the face in a lightning fast blow. Tee’s head jerked from the blow and he fell back in his chair until his back met the bulkhead. Wright had made full contact, and Tee’s eye was bound to turn black from the punch.
Red-faced and fuming, Tee struggled out of his chair to attack Wright, who was eagerly waiting for him. Before the fight went any further, however, the other officers subdued them both and held them away from each other.
Cazanavette pulled the curtain aside and checked the passage to ensure that none of the ship’s crew had been passing by to witness the event. Then he returned to the room with a menacing scowl on his face.