“I remember a time not so long ago, when the waters of the firth before me were filled with hundreds of vessels drawn from ports throughout the free world. These convoys risked death on the cold seas to provide England with urgently needed supplies to fuel its continued war effort. As a young ensign, I was assigned to a frigate whose responsibility was to provide convoy escort, and I personally shared the horror of a German U-boat raid.
“Today the mighty warships that patrol the waters of the firth fear no such attack. In these times of fragile peace, their job is to deter any aggressor from ever again attempting to force their way of life upon ours. Because of this, we enjoy a life of free84 dom and democracy that is the envy of every other nation on earth. We shall always remember the names of those whose lives were taken so that this greatest of all gifts could be ours. God bless you all, and may peace by with you always.”
Issuing yet another salute, the senior officer nodded to the sergeant major, who ordered the column to resume its march. They did so to the strains of such traditional pipe favorites as Captain OrrEwing, Culty’s Wedding, and Farewell to the Creeks.
A blustery wind began gusting in from the northwest, and the crowd wasted little time dispersing. As Susan bent over to zip up the collar of Sarah’s parka, Steven noticed that a familiar duo of blue-uniformed naval officers had gathered beside the war memorial. They were in the process of speaking to the officer who had just given the address, and Steven couldn’t resist going over to pay his respects himself.
“Susan, why don’t you take Sarah and get started with lunch. I see Admiral Hoyt and Bob Stoddard over there, and I just want to say a quick hello before joining you.”
As a veteran Navy wife, Susan was accustomed to doing things on her own.
“Go ahead, Steve, but don’t be too long. I know that you’re dying to find out how things are going on the Cheyenne. But don’t forget that you’re still on leave. And besides, you should have worn a heavier coat if you’re going to be out in this wind much longer.”
Thankful for her wifely concern, Steven glanced down at his daughter.
“Now be a good girl and eat all of your lunch, Pumpkin. And then we can stop off for those cookies that you wanted.”
“Can I have chips ‘n fish, Father?” asked the six year old.
“Chips ‘n fish it is,” laughed Steven, who caught his wife’s eye and playfully winked.
“I’ll meet you at the Old Mermaid. Go ahead and order me a pint of Export. I’ll be there to drink it by the time the head settles.”
Though Susan would have liked to lay odds against this, she smiled, took her daughter’s mittened hand, and began walking back toward town.
Steven watched until they were safely across the street before walking back toward the war memorial.
The taller of the two U.S. naval officers was the first to spot him. There could be no missing Lieutenant Commander Robert Stoddard’s gangly six-foot frame, wholesome Nebraska-bred good looks, and the unlit corncob pipe that perpetually hung from his mouth. As Executive Officer of the 688class attack submarine, USS Cheyenne, Stoddard was Steven’s right-hand man. They had been together for over a year now, and had long ago established that tight bond that every succesful command team needs to be an effective one.
Beside his XO, in the process of addressing the kilted master of ceremonies, was Admiral David Hoyt, Jr.” commander of the U.S. submarine base at Holy Loch. A former history instructor at Annapolis, Hoyt was a competent administrator, who earned his dolphins in the days before Nautilus and the advent of Rickover’s nuclear navy. A bit given to long winded discourses when his favorite subject, maritime history, was being discussed, the admiral was also well known for his love of golf. He thus accepted the orders sending him to Scotland with open arms, for he was finally stationed in the legendary birthplace of his favorite sport, and had his choice of its many fine courses. Steven Aldridge wasn’t a bit surprised as he approached the trio of officers and heard the nature of Hoyt’s animated remarks.
“… and there I was, all set up for my first real crack at a birdie on Glen Eagle’s infamous eighteenth hole, when what sprints out onto the green and steals my ball but a fox! That damn red varmint must have thought that my Titleist was a grouse egg, the way he snagged it in his jaws and took off for a nearby creek bed. You know, I never did find that frigging ball again.”
“My Lord, Admiral,” chuckled his kilted colleague.
“How on earth did you ever score that one?”
Deadly serious, the admiral answered.
“As far as I was concerned, I was already out a damn good ball, so to hell with taking a penalty stroke. But wouldn’t you know that I proceeded to three putt a ten foot shot. And out of all that, I ended up with a bogey.”
To the roar of laughter, Steven Aldridge closed in on the trio. It proved to be his XO who greeted him.
“Good afternoon, Skipper. I didn’t expect you back until tomorrow.”
Aldridge accepted his second-in-command’s firm handshake and that of his base commander.
“It’s good to see you again, Captain,” added Admiral Hoyt, who realized additional introductions were in order.
“Brigadier General Hartwell, I’d like you to meet Captain Steven Aldridge, commanding officer of the USS Cheyenne.”
While the two men shook hands Admiral Hoyt continued.
“Brigadier Hartwell is with the Scot Guard, and as ranking senior officer in this district, was responsible for today’s ceremony.”
“I enjoyed your speech very much, sir,” said Aldridge.
The Scot looked directly into the newcomer’s eyes and curtly replied, “Why thank you, Captain. It was an honor to have been chosen to give it.”
“Now what’s this about you being back from your leave a day early,” interrupted Admiral Hoyt.
“I hope everyone is all right in that wonderful family of yours.”
“They’re doing fine, Admiral. In fact, Susan and Sarah are waiting for me to join them for lunch at the Old Mermaid. We had a great time in the Highlands.
But since they’ll be flying back to the States tomorrow afternoon, Susan decided to get back early.”
“Captain Aldridge has a wonderfully precocious six-year-old daughter by the name of Sarah, who loves a proper fish ‘n chips,” said Admiral Hoyt to Brigadier General Hartwell.
“Or chips ‘n fish, as she calls them,” added Steven.
The Scot’s expression warmed.
“I’ve got a six-year-old granddaughter myself, Captain Aldridge, who’s a devout aficionado of your MacDonald’s hamburgers.
Why, whenever we pass one, no matter what time of day it is, she’s after me to stop and purchase her a sandwich.”
The sudden arrival of Dunoon’s mayor gave Aldridge and his XO time to step aside and have some words in private.
“It really is good to see you again, Skipper. I can see in your face that your leave was a relaxing one.”
“I wouldn’t go that far, XO. Susan and Sarah had me on the go every free moment of the day and night.”
“Did you have any difficulty driving on the wrong side of the road, Skipper?”
Aldridge grinned.
“It was a bit tricky at first. Of course, I figured that if I could pilot a seven-thousand-ton submarine down a foggy channel in the dead of night, driving a Rover on the left hand side of the road couldn’t be that difficult.”
The two laughed, and Aldridge’s tone turned serious.
“How is the refit going, Bob?”
The XO shifted his pipe from one side of his mouth to the other before answering.
“As far as I can see, right on schedule, Skipper. We’ll be taking on the first of our SUBROC’s tonight, with the final modifications to the Mkll7 fire control system due to be completed twenty-four hours later.”