Everyone knew an attack was coming. The scales had been tipped. While the US Navy had defeated the Chinese Northern Fleet at Midway, they had suffered heavy casualties. Multiple ships and aircraft had been lost, and the Ford was temporarily out of commission. The Southern Fleet had been spotted leaving the waters near Guam. Its transit time was a mystery, but everyone expected them to attack Pearl Harbor eventually.
Victoria’s eyes kept straying back to the USS Ford. To the superstructure where her father had been standing when a Chinese missile had evaporated his body.
“Victoria, there you are.” The ship’s captain, Commander Boyle, was wearing his summer whites. “You and I have been called to PACFLEET headquarters.” His eyes went to the Ford and then back to her, studying her face. The captain was quite aware of the magnitude of her loss. He was a good man, but she didn’t like the attention.
Victoria cleared any remaining emotion from her mind. “Now, sir?”
“Afraid so. A car will pick us up on the pier. If you can change in the next two minutes, please do so. If not, just come as you are. I’ll meet you at the quarterdeck.”
Victoria checked her watch. “Will do, sir.” She let her maintenance officer and senior chief know that she was departing the ship and then hurried to her stateroom.
Two minutes later, she was on the quarterdeck with Commander Boyle, double-checking that her shoulder boards were actually clipped into place on her uniform. One of her flight school roommates had forgotten to wear her shoulder boards when she’d checked into her fleet squadron. The first person to point this oversight out to her was her commanding officer. The young pilot’s mistake had been immortalized by her fellow junior pilots, who had given her the call sign “Salty,” because Navy chief uniforms didn’t have shoulder boards, and chiefs were salty, or experienced, sailors.
Victoria followed the captain down the gangway, pausing to salute the flag, and then got in the waiting blue government sedan. During the drive, she said, “Any idea what this is about?”
“Either we’re being debriefed or fired. I’d say it’s fifty-fifty.”
Victoria glanced at him. He looked like he was only partly serious. When they arrived at the PACFLEET headquarters, Commander Boyle was led in one direction and Victoria in another.
She was escorted into an office with four stars on the door and asked to sit in the waiting area. The secretary gave her a sympathetic look and offered her coffee.
Of course. That’s why I’m here. The admiral must have known my father. A part of her resented being treated differently once again. Even now, following his death, in what should have been a private moment to grieve.
Victoria shook off the sentiment. She was being stupid. These people were just trying to be kind in paying their respects, and she needed to get over herself. Just say thank you and move on.
“The admiral will see you now, Commander.”
“Thank you.” Victoria stood and gave three quick knocks on the door. “Sir, Lieutenant Commander Manning…”
“Come in.”
She entered the office and found herself shaking hands with a four-star admiral in summer whites, with two other officers standing next to him. One was a one-star admiral, the other an Army general. The four-star made introductions, but Victoria didn’t recognize the names. She noticed that the one-star admiral wore the gold trident insignia of the Navy SEALs. She figured that the fact these men were here meant that the admiral was busy, and her visit would last only a few moments. Just grit your teeth and get back to the boat, Victoria.
The admiral said, “First, let me just say how sorry I am for the loss of your father, Commander. I spoke with him a few weeks ago — after your temporary command of the Farragut.” The admiral said it as if the event was humorous. Maybe to him it was.
“Your father was a friend of mine, and he was enormously proud of his three children, but he had a special place in his heart for you, I think.”
“Thank you, sir.” She forced herself to continue breathing in a slow rhythm. She was still numb from the loss and just wanted this talk to be over.
“There will be a memorial service for the fallen tomorrow. At the waterfront memorial. It will be a short service, but it is important, even in such times as these, to remember our brothers and sisters in arms with dignity and respect.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. I’ll make sure to attend, assuming my ship is still in port.” Victoria pressed her lips into a tight line, nodding respectfully.
The admiral and general exchanged an odd look. Had she said something wrong?
“You’ll be in port, Commander. But you won’t be with your ship.”
“I’m sorry?”
The four-star said, “No, Miss Manning, it is I who am sorry. I’m sorry to ask you to take on this assignment in the wake of your father’s passing. But I recognize talent when I see it, and this mission requires someone of both your skill set and your considerable ability.”
Victoria frowned, looking among the faces of the flag officers.
“Please, have a seat.” He gestured to the Army general. “General Schwartz here has just flown in from the East Coast of the US. He is now going to tell us how we’re going to win the war.”
Victoria thought that the memorial service was well done. Short and sweet. White wooden folding chairs on a green lawn. The attendees wore their dress uniforms and were almost all active-duty military from the ships in the harbor. A way for the sailors, marines, and airmen who had just come into port to say goodbye to their fallen comrades — before they were called out to battle once again.
Victoria sat with her air detachment from the Farragut, and the other members of the ship’s crew. They had all noticed something different about her.
She had been promoted.
After General Schwartz had outlined the operation, the PACFLEET admiral had informed Victoria that she was to lead the air portion of the mission. The billet was deemed appropriate for an O-5. Victoria didn’t complain, but she also felt funny about skipping her place in line. It would be at least a year before she was supposed to have been eligible for that promotion, and she wasn’t sure what this would mean for her career. The Navy was notorious for its backwards HR system. She wouldn’t be surprised if this “honor” came back to bite her someday during a command selection board, with someone on the panel penalizing her because the assignment didn’t fit into the normal list. Or maybe now that she’d put on commander early, she would have to compete for assignments with men who’d been in rank longer and, as a result, had several more checks in the required boxes. There were all sorts of ridiculous land mines to watch out for in the military promotion system.
But she kept coming back to the same thought.
She didn’t care.
Not anymore.
Her father was the one person she would have wanted to see her get any more promotions or accolades. Her father was the one she had wanted to someday witness her first change of command ceremony. Without him, it wasn’t the same. As she looked around the rows of uniformed men and women and heard the first cracks of ceremonial rifle fire, she searched her soul for a reason to keep on going. Had her own ambition always been about her father?
She dipped her head, willing herself not to cry. Anger welled up inside her, rage at an unseen enemy for taking her father, for killing her shipmates. The anger felt good. It reminded her that it wasn’t just ambition that drove her. Maybe she didn’t care about rank or making command as much anymore, but Victoria still felt a very strong sense of duty. A need to serve a higher purpose. To defend her country and stand up for a freedom-loving society.