Charles Taylor - Show of Force

"Yes… yes, I'm awake, Bill. What is it?"

"It's zero six hundred, sir. You asked to be called now. Our current position is approximately two hundred miles east of the Seychelles, course one eight zero, speed sixteen knots. The officer of the deck has been maintaining the north/south course change every hour, sir. Do you have any additional orders?"

It was a normal wake-up report, as usual hard to assimilate when coming out of a sound sleep. "No, nothing, Bill. I may go to the bridge for a constitutional before breakfast, but just let them continue the same orders. If you'll have my steward lay down breakfast for two at zero seven hundred, I'd appreciate it. And, Bill, would you please join me?"

" Aye, aye, sir. Thank you."

He was gone, his duty done, and David stretched in his bunk, trying to awaken muscles that had been so taut only a few hours ago. For so long, he had been unable to sleep more than an hour or so at a time. Too many thoughts raced through his head: strategy, Maria, lost ships, his old friend Alex who was now his enemy, London.… He had finally fallen asleep when he thought back to those wonderful days in London, when he had been ordered there on embassy duty. He shut his eyes again, trying to bring back those lovely dreams that had brought momentary relief.

It had been summer when they first arrived, a somewhat rainy summer, but the people in the embassy had said it was something you had to expect in London. Sometimes the summers were hot when you least expected it, and other times they were just an extension of spring, the cool damp becoming a lukewarm damp as July and August came. But autumn turned gorgeous. The sun stayed out, the days were always pleasant, the nights cool, like San Francisco in the spring, he remembered.

It was a second honeymoon, too. He had just finished another tour at sea, and they had missed each other so very much. Perhaps absence does make the heart grow fonder, they had decided, but they also agreed maybe age added a little bit to their individual loneliness. The opportunity for eighteen months together in London seemed like a romantic interlude.

The work was easy. There were few demands other than being a duty officer, representing the Navy at appropriate functions, and assisting the more important VIP's as they passed through from Washington. Together, they loved the receptions they were required to attend. There were fascinating people to meet among all the dull ones who turned up at each party. There were formal dinners, strange languages, even stranger customs in that international city. He was glad other officers didn't know how good this duty was, or they'd have to rotate them every six months, and he and Maria had never wanted it all to end.

David Charles's mind drifted back to that party at the Iranian Embassy, a delightful one, he remembered, as he shut his eyes tighter, trying to make reality stay away for just a few more minutes. There had been fountains of champagne to wash down the ever-present caviar, a national treasure of Iran. Maria loved the caviar and found that the more she ate, the thirstier she became. Champagne did the trick and assuaged that thirst. She was having a wonderful time. He was too, though he cared little for the too-salty fish eggs and made sure to drink lightly at official functions.

"Oh, David… David." It was Maria calling him, her voice high, her hand waving as she worked her way across the crowded floor, green eyes smiling, hair down her shoulders. He excused himself from a group he had been passing the time of day with, and turned to meet her halfway. "David, I've just met someone I want you to meet. She's a Finn, just like me… only she's a real one, from Finland, a native." Her voice was happy and excited. "She can speak the language… and she's so cute. Come on over and meet her." She linked her arm in his and led him through the crowd to a woman standing slightly apart from those surrounding an hors d'oeuvres table. "Tasha," she said to the other girl as they approached, "this is my husband, David.… David, this is Tasha Kupinsky."

The other woman spoke not a word. She simply stared at his uniform, her mouth slightly open as if she were about to say something, her eyes wide. Finally, with a slight accent that he would not have been able to identify, she said, "Good evening." She extended her hand to his. "I'm pleased to meet you."

"And it's a pleasure to meet you." He took her hand, squeezing it gently, and smiled, noting her nervousness. "I'm very pleased to meet someone from Finland. Maria has just been dying to talk with someone from your country. She's wanted to try out her Finnish since we arrived in Europe. We've even thought of going there on leave this fall to see if she can find any relatives." The woman was still staring at his uniform. "Oh, you're wondering about my uniform. Maria should have told you I was attached to the embassy. Naval attache. We have to wear these outfits at all these formal parties… show the flag," he grinned.

She nodded slightly, acknowledging his feeble joke. Maria began to speak to the other woman in very halting Finnish. But David noticed her new acquaintance was looking over his shoulder at someone else. Very casually, he reached for something on the table behind him, turning gradually, and saw a Russian naval officer, in full uniform, approaching them.

"Excuse me, just a moment," Tasha requested, looking first at Maria and then David, then back at the officer now only a few feet away. She moved over to him, saying a few words they were unable to overhear. Then she locked her arm in his, turning back to them. "I would like you to meet my husband, Captain First Rank Alexander Kupinsky… Alex," she added almost protectively as she continued to hold his arm. "This is a new friend of mine, Maria Charles." She turned to David. "And this is her husband." She stuttered slightly, "I… I'm afraid I don't know your rank."

He saved her further confusion by extending his hand to the other man and replying in his best Russian, "David Charles. I'm pleased to meet you." And to Tasha, "It's captain, much like your husband, but it doesn't matter. Please call me David." He smiled, trying to put her at ease, knowing she was uncomfortable. The table, loaded with the many delicacies the Iranians had little trouble finding, and the flowing champagne made small talk easy. The two women were once again able to make their transition to Tasha's native tongue, Maria forgetting the men as she struggled to recall the language used in her home so very long ago.

Others at the reception that night couldn't help but notice the strange sight of the American naval officer and his Soviet counterpart deep in conversation. After the first two difficult moments, when they realized they must talk together as their wives again became engrossed in each other, they were able to relax. David Charles spoke Russian within reason. Alex Kupinsky's English was much better, and they found common ground as they toyed with the meaning of new words. The sea was the mainstay of that first evening, for it was something they both understood. And like so many sailors that had gone before them, that common bond of the sea became a union that knows no boundaries of language or ideology. Much more also became apparent to the two men that night. They both were serious students of seapower, and it became important to compare notes. They left each other's company that evening with promises to meet again soon, the men shaking hands formally as they once again acknowledged each other's uniforms, while the women walked to the door arm in arm.

David's eyes flicked open for an instant as he heard the familiar bosun's pipe followed by the bugle for reveille sound throughout the giant carrier. Then he squeezed his eyes shut, reaching back again to those happy times, fighting the new day for just another few moments.