The ships that really got his attention were stationed five miles on Iowa’s port side. The first was USS Salem, an 8-inch gun cruiser. Just forward was USS Little Rock, a 6-inch gun cruiser modified in the late 1950s to carry missiles. Although her 6-inch guns were active forward, back aft there was a lot of hustle around what looked like a fist with two arms. Hammond watched as two doors opened up on the aft bulkhead and two huge missiles slid onto the arms of the missile launcher. Talos missiles had been way before his time, but they were impressive nonetheless. They looked like telephone poles and he had heard that they could reach out over 100 miles to hit an incoming aircraft. The things had to be about 30 feet long. Fins along the side of the things were for stabilization. Hammond hoped he would never have to be anywhere near the receiving end of those things.
Scattered around the ships were destroyers — lots of them. These were not modern vessels that carried missiles and other high tech gear. These too were from out of history. Hammond wondered where they had come from. None of them were from any time after 1960. There were Fletchers, Gearings, Sumners, and a few Forrest Shermans. The one thing they had in common, all carried 5-inch guns as their main armament.
Checking astern, the outlines of other massive ships were in view now. The closest had a turret arrangement similar to Iowa. But there the familiarity ended. Her bow was blunt and she seemed to muscle her way through the seas instead of slicing through them. She had two stacks but they were narrow and placed farther aft. Hammond could also see where her armor plating ended above the waterline just below the main deck. Like all the other ships, she was painted haze grey and, as she rolled back and forth, he could see the teak decking running from forward of turret one back to the fantail. Men were engaged in a variety of duties around the deck, from swabbing to gun maintenance. At one point a puff of dark smoke came out of the forward stack, but that quickly disappeared as the engineers adjusted the fuel/air mixture in one of her boilers. The seas were relatively calm but occasionally a thin spray of water could be seen lifting into the air at the bow and wetting the forward decks.
Hammond turned to the OOD. “What battleships are in formation with us? He asked.
The OOD picked up a piece of paper and walked to the bridge wing with the Captain. “Alabama is with the Spica, and we have the Massachusetts on our port quarter at 30,000 yards. The closest is the North Carolina,” he said pointing to the ship Hammond had been looking at. “The New Jersey and the Wisconsin are out of sight and coming up behind us. I understand from the Operations Officer they won’t be in sight until late this afternoon,” he said.
They were interrupted by the Junior Officer of the Deck (JOOD). “Sir, we are in the center of our assigned sector. Recommend we come to base course and speed.”
“Make it so,” the OOD said. Then he turned to the Captain as the young man left, “Sir, I’m coming to the base course of 310 and slowing to 12 knots. That should keep us in our sector. Do you want us to actively patrol the sector or just remain within it?” he asked.
Hammond nodded. “You were brought up in destroyers. This is what they call a heavy. We don’t patrol, we maintain. It’s up to the others to patrol around us. So just keep in the sector for now,” he said.
“Aye, sir,” came the reply as the OOD went back into the pilot house. As he left, the Supply Officer came onto the bridge wing.
“Is everybody settled into their quarters, Suppo?” Hammond asked.
“At least so far, Captain. I decided to put all the enlisted staffers in one of the empty berthing compartments back aft. I have the Chief getting them tucked in. The Chief of Staff was hoping for a larger stateroom, but that’s the only big one we have. He can’t complain much. At least it has a head,” he said with a chuckle. “The rest of the officers are in staterooms on the O-1 level aft. Right now they are putting their personal things away. I have my guys putting the other items in the work spaces on the O-2 level. I understand the Admiral will take formal command tomorrow after everyone finishes unreping.”
“How did the Admiral like his cabin?”
The Supply Officer smiled. “I was surprised he didn’t take yours, but he seems to like his new home. I got him set up and got a mess cook set up to work with your cook in preparing the meals. The staff didn’t bring any food, so we will have to pull from ship’s stores. That’s not any problem. The Disbursing Officer is working with their supply type to get things squared away. By the way, the Admiral asked us to prepare a meal for himself, the Chief of Staff, and you this evening. I didn’t know if you were aware.”
“He’d mentioned it. Can you let my guy know to help out for a while till they get organized?”
“Sure thing, Captain. I’d already done that anyway. I also asked him to make you a sandwich for lunch since you hadn’t eaten. You want it in your cabin or on the bridge?”
“I think I’ll go to my cabin. How about asking the XO to join me? If he hasn’t eaten, the cook can make another sandwich.”
“Glad to, Captain. I’ll let the cook know. He should be ready shortly.”
“Good. I’ll check out a couple of things and then come down. Thanks, Emmett, for getting the staffers set up,” Hammond said.
“My pleasure, Captain,” the Suppo said as he headed back down the ladder.
Hammond walked over to the navigation table and took a look at the chart. The Iowa’s course was laid out and marked as it should be. Then he walked to the front of the pilot house and looked at the maneuvering board the OOD was using. Iowa was squarely in the center of the sector assigned. The rest of the sectors were mapped out and the positions of the ships inside them. The OOD and the JOOD were on the bridge wing using a stadimeter to get a range on the guide ship. Glancing into the control tower, the helm and lee helm were standing alertly keeping the ship on course and at speed.
Hammond turned to the OOD, now coming back into the pilot house. “I’m going for a bite in my cabin,” he said.
“Aye, sir,” came the reply.
Hammond left the bridge and went down two levels to his cabin. The Marine sentry followed him from the bridge and positioned himself at the door when the Captain entered. Two places were set at the long table and the cook was placing a plate with what looked like a roast beef sandwich and some potato salad on each place. A small tray on the table held mustard, relish, and other condiments. “Afternoon, Captain,” the cook said with a grin. “I hope roast beef is okay. I was able to get some meats we can use for sandwiches with this load, so I can fix something quick when we need to.”
“Good idea, Clark. You’re going to make me fat if you keep this up.”
“That’s my job, Captain,” he said as he reached through a small opening in the bulkhead and grabbed two iced teas.
There was a knock at the door and the sentry opened it for the XO to come in. He had a couple of smudges on his khaki uniform where he came in contact with something. “Thanks for the invite, Captain. I thought I was going to have to wait for dinner for something to eat.”
Hammond ushered the XO to his seat and they both sat down. “You and the crew are doing a bang up job, Brian. I just wanted to tell you that. I really appreciate you keeping me up on everything. It feels like the officers and crew have been aboard for years instead of months. Where the hell did they all come from?” he asked.