"Prepare to come hard to port," Pickering said.
"Damage report, Captain," the talker said. "What?"
"Damage control officer reports no damage, Sir."
"Tell him to get up here!" Pickering said, then: "Hard to port."
"Hard to port it is, Sir."
The Gregory began to turn, heeling over. It was now pointing directly at the Emily.
Pickering saw four dark objects drop from the airplane, and watched in fascination as they arced toward the ship. And then he saw something else: Red tracers from a Bofors 40mm cannon splashing into the sea, and then picking up, moving toward the Emily. When she was just about overhead, the line of tracers moved into the Emily's fuselage, and then to her right wing. The wing buckled as the airplane flashed over.
Pickering ran to the exposed portion of the bridge, his feet slipping in the pool of blood now spreading from under her captain's body. He looked aft. The Emily had already crashed. As he watched, what was left of it slipped below the water, and the dense cloud of blue-black smoke that had been rising from her wreckage was cut off. For a moment, there were patches of burning fuel on the water, but they started to flicker out.
He returned to the bridge. A lieutenant whom he remembered seeing in the wardroom at dinner the night before came onto the bridge.
"I'm the damage control officer, Sir."
"Can you conn this vessel?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Sir, you have the conn," Pickering said, and then put his hand out to steady himself. He really felt faint.
"I have the conn, Sir," the lieutenant said, ritually, and then Pickering heard him say, "Help the Captain, Doc. Stop that bleeding."
(Two)
ABOARD USS GREGORY (APD-44)
CORAL SEA
1425 HOURS 18 AUGUST 1942
Pickering was in the Captain's cabin, in the Captain's bunk, his back resting on pillows against the bulkhead. He was naked above the waist. His arm, in a cast, was taped to his chest. He appeared to be dozing.
The lieutenant walked to the bunk and looked down at him.
"How do you feel, Sir?"
Pickering looked at him for a moment without recognition, and then, with an effort, forced himself awake.
"Oh, it's you," he said cheerfully. "Mr. 'No Damage to Report, Sir.'"
"Sir," the Lieutenant said, obviously hurt. "I didn't know what had happened on the bridge, Sir. Except that Mr. Goldberg had been killed on the ladder."
"I shouldn't have said that," Pickering said. "I'm sorry. I had a tube of morphine; I must still be feeling it."
"Are you still in pain, Sir?"
"Every time I breathe. That's a hell of a place to be stitched up." He changed the subject: "What shape are we in?"
"We're about five hours out, Sir, from Espiritu Santo. There's some things that have to be decided."
"Are you the senior officer?"
"No, Sir. You are."
"I'm supercargo."
"Sir, I checked the manual. Command passes-in a situation like this-to the senior officer of the line. Captain, that's you, Captain."
"What is it?"
"The bodies, Sir. I have them prepared, Sir."
"Where are they?"
"The captain and three others are in sick bay, Sir. The others are in the Chiefs quarters."
"If you're suggesting a burial at sea..."
"That's your decision, Captain."
"If we're only five hours out, I think we should take them to Espiritu Santo," Pickering said. "I have no intention of conducting a burial at sea."
"Aye, aye, Sir," the lieutenant said. "And we seem to have forgotten the report, Sir."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Mr. Norwood, the communications officer, has prepared it, Sir," the lieutenant said, and handed it to him.
OPERATIONAL IMMEDIATE
SECRET
FROM USS GREGORY
TO: CINCPAC
1. GREGORY ATTACKED 0750 HOURS 18AUG42 POSITION WHISKEY ABLE OBOE SLASH NAN NAN CHARLEY BY
ONE REPEAT ONE EMILY. MODERATE TO SEVERE DAMAGE TO BRIDGE. EMILY SHOT DOWN.
2. CASUALTIES: CAPTAIN, EXECUTIVE OFFICER, TWO ENLISTED KIA. THREE OFFICERS AND SEVEN
ENLISTED WIA.
3. GREGORY PROCEEDING BAKER XRAY MIKE.
PICKERING, CAPTAIN, USN, COMMANDING
"It's 'USNR,' not 'USN,' " Pickering said. "I'm not a regular."
"Yes, Sir. I'll have that changed."
"What about the wounded?"
"One of them is in pretty bad shape, I'm afraid. We're hoping he makes it. There's medical facilities at Espiritu. The others will be all right, Captain."
"Captain, "Pickering said thoughtfully, sadly, and paused, and then went on: "The captain died quickly. I don't think he knew what hit him."
"Mr. Goldberg, too, Sir. He was... whatever got him, got him in the head."
"Jesus Christ!" Pickering said.
"Captain, can I get you something to eat? A tray, maybe. A sandwich? You really should have something."
"What I really would like is a drink," Pickering replied.
"I wish I could help you, Sir."
"Is there any medicinal bourbon aboard?"
"Yes, Sir."
"How much?"
"There's four cartons, Sir. I think they pack them forty-eight of those little bottles to a carton."
"Enough for one per man?"
"Yes, Sir. More than enough, Captain."
"Issue one bottle per man. If there is any left over, bring me a couple."
"Aye, aye, Sir."
(Three)
WATER LILY COTTAGE
MANCHESTER AVENUE
BRISBANE, AUSTRALIA
1925 HOURS 18 AUGUST 1942
There was the sound of tires crunching on the driveway. Major Ed Banning went to the window, pushed the curtain aside, and saw the Studebaker President stopping in the drive.
"Pluto," Banning said, turning to Mrs. Ellen Feller. She was sitting on the couch, holding a tea cup and saucer in her hand.
"I presumed he would come here to discuss this situation with you," Ellen Feller said. "Didn't you?"
Banning didn't reply. He went to the door and opened it as Hon bounded onto the porch.
"I gather you've heard about Moore?" Banning greeted him.
"Yeah," Pluto said. "Take a look at this."
He handed Banning a sheet of onion skin, walked into the room, and nodded at Ellen Feller.
"Major Banning and I have been talking about what to do about Sergeant Moore," she said.
"And?"
"We've decided the best thing is to do nothing," Ellen said.
"What is this thing?" Banning asked, confused.
"The Signal Corps monitors the Navy frequencies when they can," Hon explained, "and they copy what they think might be interesting. Operational Immediates, for example. The crypto officer handed me that the moment I walked in. Before he told me that he had to fill in for the missing Sergeant Moore."
"But what the hell is this?"
"Read the signature," Pluto Hon said.
Banning did so.