“I don’t think he was what you said he was, whatever that means,” he said. “In fact, Lieutenant Cohen was vital to our safety. He was on the sound gear. We were too deep to use the periscope and it was his ears, his judgment, that I depended on for the positions of the enemy ships. He’s got ears like, well, I don’t know, a bat, an owl.”
“That’s all you have to say, in just that way,” she said. “If you stumble around trying to find words, fine.
“The parade is at two this afternoon. You’ll be riding in the lead car with the Mayor. He’s a politician. All he’ll be thinking about is how many more votes he’s going to get because he’s with you. Don’t let him bore you. He’s harmless.”
“You’re a little hard on politicians,” Hinman said. “I’ve noticed that before.”
“My father, bless his unreconstructed Republican soul, taught me to look at all politicians with a deep sense of distrust until they proved they were worthy of trust. I’ve never found one worthy of my trust.”
“Not even the President?”
“Not even him. You wanted to get back to business. This evening there’s a dinner here in the Palmer House. That’s speech number seven in the book. I’ve changed a few things in it. I’ve noticed that you tend to stumble a little bit when you run into two or three very short words in a row. So I’ve eliminated those booby traps. You’d better read it. And where I’ve put a red check mark in the margin — get a little more belligerent there.”
“That’s sort of phony,” Hinman protested.
“No it isn’t,” she said flatly. “You’re here to let the people know this war can be won if they help out by buying war bonds and they are certainly doing that! You’re breaking all the records in that department in the short time we’ve been on tour. Me, I’m here to make sure no underhanded son of a bitch trips you up and makes you look bad. I’m trying to do that.”
“You’re an amazing woman, Lieutenant Richards,” Hinman said.
“I know that. And if you tell me that if I were a man you’d like to have me on your ship I’ll burst into tears and run out of the room!” A grin spread across her full lips. “And if you don’t stop calling me ‘Lieutenant’ and ‘Miss Richards’ when we’re alone I’m going to ask for a transfer! I know you have to do that in public but when we’re working alone, two people working at a job, let’s have some of that famous camaraderie you’re always talking about in the submarine force.”
“Very well, Lieutenant junior grade Joan Richards,” he said. Then he smiled. “Joan, kick your damned shoes off and come over here and sit beside me on this sofa and show me where you’ve changed this speech. I thought I was saying the words pretty well.”
“Why should I kick off my shoes?”
“So you won’t throw them at me if I don’t like your changes.”
“You’re leaving me without anything to throw,” she said, her eyes dancing. “I might have to throw my brassiere at you if you get snotty and if that hits you, you’ll know you’ve been hit!”
“You’re talking to a sailor, Miss Joan, a submarine sailor and most submarine sailors are more sailor than other sailors.”
“That’s another thing you’re going to have to face,” she said. Her smile was suddenly gentle. “Some woman is going to be very lucky when you come to grips with that problem and overcome it. Let’s get to work.”
Chapter 16
The coral atoll that is called Truk is a drowned mountain range ringed with coral reefs. The reef encloses more than 1,300 square miles of ocean and is dotted with more than 30 small islets and a dozen large islands, ancient tree-studded mountain peaks, some of which soar 1,500 feet into the air.
There are only four main passages through the coral reefs into the waters of the atoll, dangerous passages swept by fierce tides and strong currents.
Once under German control Truk and the Caroline Islands, a part of the South Pacific’s Micronesian Island belt, had passed to Japan after World War I. Japan, always frantically concerned about its own safety, had recognized the strategic importance of Micronesia. The islands sprawled across thousands of miles of the Pacific Ocean and bisected the sea lanes between the United States, the Philippines, China and Japan. Japan had heavily fortified the major islands in Micronesia and none was more heavily fortified than the atoll called Truk.
All four main passages through the reef were guarded by coastal guns. The Northeast Passage, most commonly used by Japan’s naval ships, was the closest passage to the island of Dublon where the main town was located and which also held a major seaplane base, a submarine base, massive storage facilities for ammunition and torpedoes and repair facilities for ships and aircraft. The Northeast Passage was also close to Eten Island with its air strip of more than 4,000 feet where light and medium bombers were stationed.
Mako moved into position off the Northeast Entrance to Truk after full dark to wait for the arrival the next morning of the battleship and its destroyer escorts. Captain Mealey had ordered a cruising depth of 250 feet all the previous day, aware that a patrolling aircraft might detect the dark bulk of Mako in the clear water if he ran for extended periods at periscope depth. Four times during the day Captain Mealey had ordered the Mako to 65 feet where he made a quick sweep around the horizon with the periscope and then Mako had been sent down into the depths.
The atmosphere within Mako was calm. The crew went about its duties with no more apparent concern than if Mako were on a practice cruise. Underneath, however, the tension ran high. The appearance of outward calm was deliberate. It was a common belief in submarines that no matter how frightened a man might be he should not give any evidence of that fright lest it trigger an outburst from another man equally frightened.
Ginch Ginty had muted his bull-like roar to a low rumble in the Forward Room when he worked on the torpedoes prior to the arrival at Truk. As he finished each torpedo he had carefully painted a message on each warhead with white paint. “Herohito Special” was his favorite. When Johnny Paul pointed out that he had misspelled “Hirohito” Ginty had glared at Paul and rumbled:
“This son of a bitch hits that ‘wagon ain’t no one gonna know if it was spelled wrong, shithead!”
John Aaron, Radioman Second Class, USNR, read his Bible daily, underlining each verse as he read it with a thin red pencil line. It was a habit of Aaron’s; when he had read through the Bible, underlining in red, he went through the Book again, this time underlining each verse in blue pencil. Then he sent the Book to his wife Samantha and bought another Bible. He had been kidded about his habit when it was first discovered but his farm-developed chest and shoulders and the steady glare of his clear, guileless blue eyes discouraged the kidding and now his habit was not only accepted, it was welcomed by Mako’s crew.
John Barber prowled his engine rooms, searching for evidence of a pending failure of equipment, growling because he could find nothing. Occasionally Lieutenant Simms would go as far aft as the Forward Engine Room to talk with Barber. Hendershot, whenever he saw Lieutenant Simms, would smile warmly at him and Simms would turn away.
In the Wardroom, Officers’ Country as it is known all over the Navy, Captain Mealey spent hours in consultation with Joe Sirocco. Sirocco had joined the U.S.S. Gudgeon months before the attack on Pearl Harbor and in those months Gudgeon had compiled an enviable record in firing practice torpedoes. The Gudgeon’s team of Captain Elton Watters, “Joe” Grenfell and Lieut. Robert Edson “Dusty” Dornin, Gudgeon’s fire-control officer, had “sunk” thirty out of thirty-two target ships they had fired at, a record that no one had ever come close to matching. Yet, in Gudgeon’s first approach against an enemy ship that same team of torpedo firing experts missed their target despite what Captain Grenfell later said had been a virtual text-book problem.