“I think that’s unnecessary, Warren!” Edwards snapped. He disliked the man more with each word that came from his mouth. “I don’t want that kind of attitude coming from my XO, understood?”
Bloomfield looked at him with ambivalence. “Captain, I’m not saying that—”
“You’re supposed to be an example to this crew,” Edwards interrupted, “I would advise you to just shut up and do your job.”
“As you wish, sir,” Bloomfield said with an overly dramatic sigh.
“Go make arrangements for the rendezvous with the helo.”
Nodding, Bloomfield hefted his big frame out of the metal chair and left the stateroom through the washroom door, his own stateroom lying just beyond another door on the opposite side.
Edwards inwardly cursed his quick temper with Bloomfield. Perhaps he had been at sea too long with him and the prospect of another few weeks had him on edge.
He stood up and walked over to the mirror mounted above the sink in the corner. A dangling picture of a little brownhaired girl of no more than eight years old caught his eye. The sun shined on her hair and her yellow flowery dress. She had a smile that could melt icebergs and she held a sign made of pink construction paper that said “I love you, Daddy.” Edwards smiled every time he saw it, but then his thoughts invariably strayed to his ex-wife and how she was probably at this moment poisoning the little girl’s mind, turning her into a manhater. Would his own daughter hate him someday? Would she blame him for all the separation?
Next to the picture on the bulkhead was a printed sheet of paper, the ship’s plan of the day. It would have to be changed now, Edwards thought. The plan of the day ended at 1400 hours because that’s when Providence was originally scheduled to dock. Instead, after traveling halfway around the world and back again, the weary Providence would remain at sea. He would have to keep the crew together. A hundred thoughts occupied his mind all at once. He thought about the crew’s readiness, about the maintenance that would need postponing, about the repairs that would have to be done at sea, about the amount of food and stores on board, about the weapons’ status, and about the mission.
He knew Chappell had not told him the whole story. Rescuing single individuals and exercising diplomacy while doing it was not work for a fast attack boat that was designed for spy missions. There was more to this mission than met the eye.
Chapter 3
The Seahawk helicopter appeared just above the northern horizon first as a small gleam among the low cumulus, then steadily grew larger and more recognizable with each passing minute. Electronics Technician First Class Julio Reynoso held his hand to his face to shade the afternoon sun and caught a glimpse of the black markings on the Seahawk’s gray metal skin as it banked briefly then continued on toward the Providence. From the bobbing main deck of the hove-to Providence, Reynoso thought he could see the mountains of Oahu in the distance. It was hard to tell, and he was always disoriented after weeks under water. Only the officers and a few select enlisted men ever got to look through the periscope or stand on the bridge. He seldom got a glimpse of the world above. Even his time on the open main deck was usually limited to the last hour before the ship moored when he performed his collateral duty as a line-handler. Usually by that time the ship had entered harbor and was already in relatively peaceful waters.
Today, however, he would not be handling lines as he thought he would be.
Providence was out on the open sea, and he was on deck to receive cargo from the approaching helicopter. An underway replenishment, as it was called. The navy had a way of trivializing the most hazardous of procedures.
“Reynoso! Quit skylarking and take this thing.” Master Chief Ketterling forcefully shoved a four-foot rod into his hands. The rod had a hook on one end; just the sight of it sent shivers up Reynoso’s spine.
Ketterling, Reynoso, and several other sailors stood on the black rubber-coated deck of the Providence waiting for the helo to arrive. They all wore Sperry sneakers for traction since the deck of a submarine rolling in the open ocean was not a very safe place. Its cylindrical hull, like a large log, extended only a few feet above the water’s surface. Any speed above fifteen knots would immerse the deck completely, washing them off like flies. Although the Providence presently had no way on her and the seas were moderately light, they still kept a sharp eye out for any wave that might be large enough to swamp them.
But at this moment, being swept over the side was the least of Reynoso’s worries.
He checked the lanyard to his safety harness for the third time, pulling it tight to ensure that it was securely fastened to the runner which in turn was anchored to Providence’s towed array housing, a long hump-like shape that ran along the ship’s starboard side. If a wave came over the side he would probably get knocked off his feet, but the lanyard would prevent him from being carried away. He noticed two of the junior sailors fumbling with their lanyards. A small wave smacked against the starboard side, spattering them with heavy salty droplets.
“Tepper, Jorgenson! Are you fucking brain dead?” Ketter-ling shouted at the two sailors, obviously not satisfied with their respect for the sea. “Get those damn lanyards secured, before I beat your ass!”
Reynoso looked up and noticed that the helo was much closer now. He was about to do something very dangerous, something that could kill him, and he instinctively clutched the long grounding rod more tightly in both hands. In stark contrast, Tepper and Jorgenson didn’t have a care in the world and he envied them.
He should have kept his big mouth shut. If he had, he wouldn’t even be up here. He’d be down below watching a movie, or something. He should have kept his mouth shut, but it seemed that he always ended up inadvertently volunteering for things like this. Maybe he was just too damn gullible.
It had happened innocently enough. He had been in the crew’s mess cavorting with his shipmates talking about what they were going to do in Honolulu that night, when Master
Chief Ketterling entered the room and asked if anyone had ever done helo ops before. Like an idiot, he had raised his hand. Like an idiot who wanted to impress his shipmates. Well, he impressed them all right.
Reynoso pulled on the rod to make sure he had enough slack on the heavy-duty cable. One end of the cable attached to the rod, the other end disappeared into the open hatch in Providence’s main deck. The cable connected to the ship’s electrical ground, somewhere down there. He didn’t know exactly where. He left that to the electricians. But he did know that he was about to act as a human switch connecting the thousands of volts of electricity generated by the helo’s rotors to that same ship’s ground.
He should have kept his big mouth shut!
“Get ready, Master!” a wind-muffled voice yelled from Providence’s towering sail, rising out of the deck a hundred feet forward of where they stood.
The voice belonged to the officer of the deck up on the bridge. It was hard to see him in the glare, but he knew that it was Mr. Lake, who also happened to be his division officer. Even with the glare Reynoso could tell that he wasn’t very happy at the moment. Reynoso guessed that he hadn’t taken the news very well, the news about not pulling in to port. He knew that Lake was eager to leave the navy. For the past six months, Lake had reminded every man in the radio division every time he entered the radio room, announcing how many days he had left and how he couldn’t wait to be rid of them and all their troubles.