Merchant was still angry. “May I register my disapproval with the decision to withhold the photos from publication?”
“Duly noted,” Spruance said. “However, nothing’s going to change. The public is inflamed enough right now. The pictures will be saved for the proper time, and that may be a long ways off in the future. Word is, the president is concerned that families will recognize their loved ones being murdered and, even though they are aware that they were killed in action, it would serve no purpose to show them in the act of being slaughtered.”
Dane silently agreed. How would his father and mother feel if they went to the movies and the newsreels showed their only son being sliced to bloody pieces by a crazy Jap with a sword? The military had been quite strict so far—no pictures of American dead had been released, except for a couple taken at Pearl Harbor. Of course, everyone knew that the ships at Pearl, especially the Arizona, were tombs containing many dead.
Merchant shook his head. “It just doesn’t seem fair, Admiral. Those guys risked their lives taking those pictures and we’re going to sit on them?”
“Life isn’t fair, Captain, and you know that.”
Dane interrupted. “Sir, how many know about these pictures?”
“Only a few have actually seen them and after we’re done, they get locked up, so let’s pass them back.” There was a shuffling of papers as the men complied. “Let the rumors flow, and don’t deny their existence, but they won’t be released without permission from Washington.”
Disgruntled and still dissatisfied, Dane and Merchant went back to their desks. Dane had gotten some uncoded Japanese radio broadcasts from the night before that had been recorded. He would listen to them and try to make an intelligent observation about the state of mind of the people in and around Tokyo. In his opinion, it was an exercise in futility, although it was intriguing the way the Japanese propagandists were still portraying the American attack on the Japanese squadron at Anchorage as a victory for their side. Also, they hadn’t admitted a thing regarding the two carriers that had been damaged after the attack on San Francisco, although a number of American pilots had confirmed that the ships been hit and were burning.
Well, Dane thought grimly, I don’t suppose we’d admit to losing any ships either, unless we had to. He wondered if there were photos of the Japanese carriers burning and if they would be released or locked up for a future date. He made a mental note to ask Merchant.
A young seaman first class came up to his desk. He didn’t salute or come to attention. There were far too many officers around for that kind of military formality. As Spruance had said with a smile, “Making an enlisted man salute every time he spoke to an officer in this place would mean the poor man would have no time for his work.”
“Commander, I don’t know how they got on post,” the sailor said, “but there are some civilian-type people outside the building asking for you.”
Dane was puzzled. Just about everyone he knew was within a few feet of him. “Any idea who?”
“No, sir, I was just asked to come and get you.”
Dane got up, told Merchant where he was going, and followed the sailor to the lobby of the building that had once belonged to a civilian contractor.
When he entered the lobby, two women approached him. One was a short-haired blonde in her mid-thirties with the kind of full figure that Captain Merchant always said he loved. The second was a short young brunette with equally short hair. He wondered if this was a new style. Both of them had terrible sunburns.
“Lieutenant Tim Dane?” asked the blonde.
“It’s lieutenant commander, but that’s not important, and yes, I am Tim Dane.”
“Well, I am Grace and this is Sandy, and we just wanted to check you out and make sure you were worth the trip. What do you think, Sandy?”
Sandy shrugged and walked around him, examining him quizzically. “He looks reasonably human, but I don’t know if he’s really the right person. Tell me, Lieutenant Commander But-that’s-not-important, are you a good guy?”
Dane had to laugh, even though he was puzzled. “I hope so.”
“You got yourself a girlfriend here?” asked Grace, who was clearly enjoying herself.
“Maybe. I got a letter from her a few days ago, but nothing since. I’m not even sure she’s my girlfriend although I’d sure as hell like her to be, and why am I telling you all of this since I don’t even know you?”
Then it hit him. Sandy and Grace were the women Amanda had mentioned in her letter. “Oh, Jesus, where’s Amanda?”
Grace smiled warmly and Sandy giggled. “Right outside that door,” Grace said.
Tim nearly knocked over two startled ensigns as he raced outside. She was standing a few feet away, just by the curb. She was wearing a short-sleeved white blouse and a flowered skirt that came to her knees. Her hair was as short as that of her friends and she was thinner than he remembered, but she was even lovelier. She smiled and he saw the two crooked teeth. Her skin was red and blotched, just like the other two women. They paused for a second and embraced. They didn’t kiss, just held each other tightly and swayed gently.
Grace and Sandy followed him outside. “I really think they do remember each other,” said Grace. Sandy, who was crying softly, silently agreed.
CHAPTER 13
TIM AND AMANDA SAT AS CLOSE TO EACH OTHER AS THEY COULD on a park bench across the street from where they’d reunited. Their hips and thighs were pressed against each other and their hands were grasped tightly. Neither knew quite what to say and neither wanted to spoil the moment.
Finally, Tim took a deep breath and spoke. “I was so worried. I had no idea if you were still in Hawaii, or out in that sailboat you spoke about, or even on one of those ships that had been sunk by Japanese planes.”
She squeezed his hand even tighter and told him of their voyage across the Pacific in Mack’s catamaran. She told him of Mack’s death from the rogue wave, her own fears that they’d made the wrong decision and that they would die lonely and painful deaths. She then added that she wasn’t supposed to tell anyone lest people in Hawaii find out and try the same thing. Tim said his lips were sealed.
“It was almost a miracle when we washed up near San Francisco. Another day or two at the most and we’d all have been too weak to sail the cat. I had scurvy, a touch of dysentery, and had managed to lose twenty pounds that I didn’t know I had in the first place. We would have come down here sooner, but we had to gather our strength, learn how to eat again, get some clothes, and, of course, identification and ration cards.”
She held out her bare arms. For the first time, he noticed that they were red and raw, and that dry skin was flaking off them. Her thin legs were in the same condition.
“It took a couple of days and a gallon of salves to get the sunburn down to where we could even stand the feel of cloth against our skins.”
A few people walking by glanced at them and a couple of enlisted men grinned. None of them saluted. Amanda touched Tim’s cheek. “We’ve been out of touch for so long and I was worried that you hadn’t made it yourself.”
“One of the subs didn’t. We were attacked but got away.”
“At least you were safe here in San Diego after that.”
Dane laughed. “Did you hear about the bomber raid on the Japs at Anchorage and the battleships hitting them a while later?”
“Of course. While we were convalescing, we spent a lot of time reading old newspapers and magazines and, oh God, you weren’t involved in them, were you?”
Tim told her he was and she shook her head. “I don’t believe it. Here I was so happy thinking you were safe and sound in San Diego, assuming you’d made it, of course. Please promise me you won’t do anything foolish like that again.”