Tremain drew the curtain to one side and entered his new home. He tossed his bag onto the bunk. It was just like he remembered on Seatrout, cramped and plain, with pipes of all sizes running through it. In addition to the bunk, a fold-out chair and a small desk further crowded the room. The desk was more like a writing board attached to the bulkhead. A sink hung from one bulkhead and a small safe sat beneath it. Though it all seemed like a meager existence, the captain’s dwelling was far superior to that of any member of the crew. He at least had a space of his own.
Tremain sat on the bunk and relaxed for a moment. He opened his bag and took out some Dutch chocolates he had been saving for Judy. A lot of good they would do his beautiful wife now. He might as well eat them. There was no way they would survive this tour of duty intact. He only hoped he would.
This was going to be difficult. The crew was going to hate him for canceling their liberty. Tremain had not needed that. Damn Ireland! Why had he allowed Russo to let them go?
Maybe Ireland did it intentionally, Tremain thought. Maybe he wanted me to have no choice but to play the hard line, the ornery old son of a bitch. He’s going to owe me for this.
There was a small knock outside his cabin.
“Excuse me, Captain.” A burly sailor in dungarees, wearing the insignia of a yeoman first class, poked his head in. “Petty Officer Mills, sir. Mr. Salisbury told me to see if you needed anything.”
Tremain was surprised Salisbury had thought of it. Maybe he would be useful after all.
“Yes, Mills. Bring me a cup of coffee, would you?”
“Aye, sir.”
“And Mills.. ”
“Yessir?”
“Do you know where the XO keeps the service records for all the chiefs and officers?”
“Yessir.”
“Please bring those, as well.”
“Aye, sir.” Mills ducked out and within moments Tremain could hear him preparing to brew up a pot of coffee in the wardroom.
Tremain bit into a chocolate. It tasted bittersweet. Now it was time for him to do his homework.
Chapter 3
Ensign Ryan P. Wright stepped off the darkened navy bus and onto the gravel sidewalk. A low cloud hid the moonlight making the Oahu evening pitch black. Wright could not tell where the bus stop was in relation to the rest of the base, but then it would not have mattered if he could. He had never been to Pearl Harbor before.
Several drunken sailors in white cracker jack uniforms filed off the bus behind him and headed off in one direction. He could still hear their cackling voices after they had disappeared into the night. He considered following them and the realization suddenly hit him that he was already lost.
Wright leaned back into the bus.
“Is this the sub base?” he asked the enlisted bus driver, whose face was lit only by the vehicle’s instrument panel and a smoldering cigarette.
The driver eyed him for a moment then removed the cigarette from his mouth and jabbed it in the direction of an unlit sign near the side of the road. The sign read pearl harbor submarine base.
“That’s it there, sir,” the driver said. “And make sure you keep bearing to the right, otherwise you’ll end up on the fleet base.”
“Thanks,” Wright said, smiling. He still did not know how to get to his boat, but at least he knew the way to the submarine base.
Wright had hardly removed his face from the door before the driver shut it and drove on. Standing in the middle of the street with his bags in both hands, he watched the bus drive away like he had watched his mother drive away on his first day of kindergarten. As the bus lights faded around a distant corner, it became more apparent just how dark it was. The base was under blackout conditions so as not to assist the Japanese aircraft if an attack was ever again attempted. The dark shapes of several buildings became visible as his eyes adjusted. All was quiet and appeared to be devoid of human life.
His plane had landed at Hickam Field just before sunset, so Wright had had a chance to see the layout of the base briefly as the aircraft banked to line up with the runway. Wright recalled the layout vividly and he had noted several landmarks to help him find his way, but he had not considered what little good they would be in the dark. From five hundred feet, he had seen in great detail the different military and naval complexes surrounding Pearl Harbor and he had managed to pinpoint the location of the submarine base in relation to the other bases. The Pearl Harbor naval complex was divided into several sections. He had seen the surface fleet base and the shipyard, which took up most of the western side of the base. The shipyard, with its four massive drydocks, each equipped with one-hundred-foot cranes, had the capability of rebuilding a vessel the size of a battleship. The waterfront there had been crowded with ships of all sizes, some of them moored two and three outboard of each other to save pier space. Aircraft carriers, battleships, cruisers, destroyers, and auxiliaries of all types filled the harbor; so many ships and such a tempting target that he had wondered why the Japanese had not yet tried another air attack.
The submarine base had been easy to distinguish from the rest. Occupying a smaller area than the main base, it was nestled in the far eastern corner of the naval complex on a triangular jetty extending into the harbor. He had quickly identified the long slender hulls of submarines tied up next to two long piers extending from the jetty. From the air the surface ships across the water dwarfed their small sisters, but Wright felt a quiet thrill at the first sight of the small boats.
Wright squinted in the dark. He assumed that the jetty was beyond the sign so he began to walk in that direction. The jetty covered only a few acres but it contained the entire submarine base: headquarters buildings for all of the squadrons, maintenance workshops, barracks for the crews and maintenance personnel, a one-hundred-foot water tower for submarine escape training, a theater, a small exchange, an enlisted club, a chief petty officer’s lounge, an officer’s club, a bachelor officers’ quarters. All of these buildings fit onto the oddly shaped jetty and were pleasantly arranged among a series of grassy courtyards dotted with clusters of tall palm trees.
Ensign Wright’s eyes soon became accustomed to the light as he walked from building to building. He hoped he was heading toward the water where his boat would be. He could hear it and smell it, but he still could not see it yet. He began to see signs of life, too. A few sailors lounged here and there in front of their barracks, but he did not feel like asking them directions. He was green, and desperately trying not to show it. But his dress khaki uniform was fresh from the rack, and if the new gold lace on his single-striped ensign shoulderboards did not give it away, his oversized seabag would. He did not want to call any more attention to himself.
Wright followed the sidewalk as it led between the barracks and up to a large three-story building bordered on one side by a grassy lawn. He stopped in front of the building and found something that looked like a sign but it was too dark to read. The building’s windows were covered with blackout curtains and it would have appeared to be abandoned but for the light coming from the arched doorway. The doors were open and there was light and the sounds of life inside. Wright heard the clink of glasses and the jovial laughter of happy people. Happy or drunk people, he could not tell which.