The four man team assigned to take down the wooden number boards was having a difficult time. They had just taken down the starboard number when a gust picked up the board like a paper envelope. One of the sailors fractured three ribs as he tried to hold onto the board and was dragged into a rail. The board sailed past the missile batteries and took a downward trajectory as it approached the stern. Jeff DeLouker was on the stern supervising the nameplate removal. The number board smashed into his back, knocking him overboard. Everyone screamed “man overboard,” and hurled life rings toward DeLouker. He waved his hands, confirming that he was conscious. Nancy Forsyth sprinted to the rail, having just seen her friend hurled into the ocean. “Hang on Jeff,” she screamed.
The word reached the bridge in less than 15 seconds that someone was in the water. The Quartermaster of the Watch reached for the ship’s horn and sounded six short blasts, the man overboard signal. The Officer of the Deck gave rudder commands to the helmsman, steering into a Williamson, or Life Saving, turn. This maneuver was invented by a navy man during World War II as a way to turn a ship and end up in the same spot facing in the opposite direction. With a bit of luck, the overboard officer would be there. Because of the building seas, the turn was difficult, the bow of the ship rising and crashing back to the water as the ship made its agonizing maneuver. When the turn was completed, a lookout spotted DeLouker 30 yards off the starboard bow. The OOD guided the ship toward DeLouker, bringing her hull against the wind and sea to create a “lee,” an area of calm to make it easier to haul the man aboard. It also created a gut wrenching sensation on the ship as the heavy seas crashed against the hull, causing her to take nauseating rolls.
After DeLouker was plucked from the sea, the ship turned once again to steam toward Baltimore. They had lost valuable time with the man overboard incident, time that enabled the storm to worsen.
The entrance to the harbor was deep enough so that running aground wasn’t a major concern. The California entered the harbor at a speed of 10 knots. The wind was still fierce, blowing at 50 knots with gusts over 75, but at least the embrace of land at the harbor entrance made the seas less frightening. The Captain ordered the anchor dropped, and the California was finally safe.
Damage control reports to the bridge gave Ashley a sense of relief. The ship suffered no major structural problems, just a few bent rails. The weapons, and the platforms they were mounted on, were not damaged.
It was a fast moving storm and within an hour, the winds had calmed down. It was 1400 hours. Ashley decided to stay the night anchored in the harbor to give the crew a break to nurse bruises and contusions from slamming into bulkheads. The cooks in the mess were most appreciative.
Nick Wartella and Nancy Forsyth were at DeLouker’s bedside in sick bay. As he was hurled overboard, DeLouker’s ribs made furious contact with the ship’s rail, fracturing four of them. “If you guys are here to cheer me up,” said DeLouker, “please do not fucking make me laugh.”
The California dodged a bullet, Ashley thought, but she knew there were more storms to come.
Chapter 74
On July 11, at 0930 hours, Union Brigadier General Irwin McDowell and his aide, Col. James Burns met with Marine Major Richard Carrubba in CIC to begin preparations for the upcoming Battle of Bull Run. The Captain had ordered Carrubba and Conroy, upon his return, to be the key ground combat contacts since Col. Bingham had been killed. They had a map of the area around Manassas spread out in front of them, as well as earmarked books from the ship’s library that described the battle. The purpose of the meeting was to pick targets for cruise missile strikes.
The consensus was that the California would concentrate its firepower on the Confederate artillery and ammunition placements. General McDowell was given a radio, and would communicate with the California during the battle. Drone pilots Lt. Bob Nathan and Lt. Andrew Cinque attended the meeting, along with Lt. Russ Colombo, the pilot of the Apache Attack Helicopter.
McDowell felt chastened that the history books showed that his efforts at Bull Run would result in defeat. Did he really need these mystical weapons from another century to win the day? he wondered. But the practical military man in him trumped his thoughts of romantic martial glory. It was his job to defeat the enemy, and to defeat him by whatever means possible.
“Gentlemen, are you confident that these weapons can turn the tide of battle in our favor?” McDowell asked. Rather than go into lengthy detail, Conroy thought, why not just show this guy what will happen. He asked McDowell and Burns to move to a computer in the corner. He inserted a Navy training video into the CD-ROM drive and hit play. The video was an instructional film all about the Tomahawk Cruise Missile. They watched as the Tomahawks obliterated target after target before their eyes. Conroy then put in a video of drones and the Apache Helicopter firing Hellfire missiles. He looked at McDowell. The General said nothing, he only smiled.
The Battle of Bull Run was 10 days away.
Chapter 75
The SEALs arrived at the outskirts of Richmond on the morning of July 12. Conroy ordered the men to tie up the horses in a wooded area, leaving Tarback behind to tend to them. They would proceed on foot and patrol in three groups. Their orders were to take photographs and to dictate comments, especially about possible missile targets. If stopped, the protocol was to say that they were to deliver a message to the War Department. Each pair of SEALs had one two-way radio. They all had simple code words to report to Conroy.
Their main target, Phillip Bradley, had suddenly stopped transmitting the beacon signal of his location. Conroy correctly assumed that Bradley had taken his batteries out of his radio to conserve power. Without that beacon, he would be almost impossible to find. Their orders were to call off the search no later than July 13, the next day, if they hadn’t found Bradley.
Conroy, who patrolled with Petty Officer Jordan, sent out a message to the others. “Need more hay,” meaning, patrol and gather information.
Two major targets in Richmond were easy to find. Their locations were prominently noted in history books. One was the Executive Office Building, the structure that housed the Confederate administration, including the office of Jefferson Davis. As they walked past the imposing building, a former US Customs House, Conroy planted a laser tracker in a bush near the entrance.
Less than a half mile away, near the James River, Conroy and Jordan came upon the Richmond Arsenal, also known as the Armory. It was easy to spot because the word “Armory” was prominently carved on its facade. Jordan planted a laser tracker in a grassy spot in front of the building.