Wartella, an Annapolis graduate, had recently been promoted to Lt. Commander. His job as Engineering Officer on the California was his first department head post. His subordinates know him as a bright officer with little patience for imperfection. Captain Patterson thought that Wartella was the perfect officer to head up the California’s part of Operation Gray Ships.
Wartella explained Operation Gray Ships, and their role in it, to DeLouker and Forsyth.
“Navy Secretary Wells, according to Captain Patterson, characterized our job as a one act play with multiple costume changes. The California is the actor, and you two are in charge of changing costumes, as often as once a day.”
Lt. Jeff DeLouker was a mustang, an officer who rose through the ranks as an enlisted man, and his salty language reflected it. He was in charge of the “A” Division of the Engineering Department. The “A” Division is charged with fixing what’s broken, and even manufacturing new equipment with available materials. Because a ship can’t pull into a service station at sea, the ability to make at-sea repairs is crucial. Everyone who ever worked with DeLouker knew him as a masterful organizer and leader. If he were a civilian he’d have been a wealthy contractor or real estate developer. But he loved the Navy and he loved making ships work.
Lt. Jg. Nancy Forsyth graduated from MIT with a degree in industrial design. Before joining the Navy, Forsythe worked for General Motors, designing sets and equipment for automobile shows. She had a reputation for designing spaces that were as imaginative as an opera set. As a consultant, she helped design the opening ceremony of the Winter Olympics at Salt Lake City, Utah. Her designs for that job were praised in Architectural Digest.
Forsyth and DeLouker were good friends. Before their assignments to the California they had worked together on a large remodeling project at the Naval War College in Newport, Rhode Island. DeLouker admired her design skills, and Forsyth was impressed with DeLouker’s ability to manage complex projects. When Nancy Forsythe married her long-time girl friend, Jane Blake, Jeff and his wife Dianne attended the wedding. DeLouker had a non-stop sense of humor, earning him the nickname Taz, short for Tasmanian Devil. While at the War College project he would often introduce Forsyth as his wife, which usually resulted in a punch to his arm.
“So, Nance, we get to play in a costume drama together,” said DeLouker as they sat down for their project planning meeting. Wartella had made DeLouker the project manager.
“This won’t be easy, Taz.” said Forsyth. “We’ve been assigned the job of making the California look like 20 different ships, and to make the changes once a day. I think we should be guided by three major principles. The stuff should be easy to put up, easy to take down, and easy to maintain.”
“My troops will be happy to hear that, Nance.”
“Okay, let’s break the project down into parts,” DeLouker said. “I’ll start to list them and you just jump in with your ideas.”
“First we need to look at the ship’s name. We can’t paint a new name on the stern every night, so we need to design large boards that can be bolted to the stern. The only problem is, boards are straight and the stern is curved.”
“No problem, Jeff. I’ll design a couple of triangular supports that can be easily bolted and unbolted.”
“Perfect, Nance. We’re going to need lumber from ashore. As soon as your designs are done I’ll contact the Navy Department with a parts list. I figure in 1861 the Navy uses a lot of lumber. I want the signs to be pulled up and lowered with four sailors, two on each end for stability in the wind and two to lower the sign itself. We’ll need four steel grommets in the sign. We’ll leave the shackles secured to the sign with the lines tied off on the ship to help with stability in rough weather. As I’m thinking about this, I’m sure we can do a name change in less than five minutes. What do you think, Nance?”
“I think it can be done,” said Forsyth. “Good idea about using four people. A stiff wind can be a problem.”
“Next we need the names for the signs,” DeLouker said. “We’ll make it simple and use the names of states. Northern states only, obviously, including Hawaii.”
“Shithead,” said Forsyth, “Hawaii didn’t become a state until 1959.”
“Hey, I got half a pay grade on you. Is that any way to talk to a superior officer?”
“Sorry, Sir, I meant to say Lieutenant Shithead.”
DeLouker laughed.
“I know Hawaii wasn’t a state in 1861, my wise ass MIT graduate friend, but we need it as a name.”
“Why?” asked Nancy.
“Simple. Our job is to fuck with their heads.” Nancy held out the palm of her hand to give DeLouker a high five.
“Hawaii’s in,” she said.
“Next, we need to paint over the numbers on the bow,” DeLouker said. “We can paint numbers on four by eight foot signs and bolt them onto the superstructure. Replacing two signs a night is another job that should take less than five minutes.” Forsyth made a note.
“Now we need to come up with some new structures to lash to the deck,” DeLouker continued. “Their photography is primitive so they’ll report sightings based on the ship’s number, name and appearance. They’ll probably make sketches, so we need the ship to look different every few days. We don’t have to do this every night, because the rebels will just think they’re looking at the same type of ship, just with a few structural changes from time to time.”
“I’ve been thinking about just that, and I did some sketches.” Forsyth said. “Look at these drawings, Jeff.”
DeLouker took a few minutes to look at her renditions and jotted some questions. “You are fucking brilliant Nance, but you already know that. I can see where you’re going with these. Just explain them to me.”
She smiled at his salty compliment. “I see these as two basic structures each eight feet high that can be changed in a short time into six different shapes. The first one will be on the bow, but it can be moved a few feet aft to change its appearance. I’ve also included four panels that will be lashed to the basic structures but can be hoisted up to add another eight feet to each configuration. On the stern, we’ll just have the walls of the structure lying on the helicopter pad. Assembly will simply mean hoisting the walls in place and securing them with bolts. The frames for the units need to be very firm, so I’ve designed in four inch square structural members. We have to worry about wind, Jeff. You’re going to have to figure out the best way to secure these things to the deck.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem. There are tie downs already in place all over the deck.”
“Jeff, we need to think about some interesting shaped objects that we may already have aboard.”
“Holy shit,” said DeLouker as he slammed his hands on the desk. “We have about 1,000 linear feet of 12 inch water pipe that we’re supposed to deliver to the Gulf. They look just like…”
“Big guns?” Forsythe interjected.
“We can make this cruiser look like a battleship,” DeLouker said. Another occasion for a high five.
“I love that idea, Jeff. I’ll design a wooden frame to hold the ‘guns.’ ”
“I just thought of something else,” DeLouker said. “We have a dozen banquet tables aboard. They’re used for in-port receptions for the Navy League and stuff like that. Each table is 10 feet in diameter. We can paint them white, lash them to the rails, six on each side of the ship. I haven’t the foggiest fucking idea what they’re supposed to be, but neither will the rebels. ”