Charles Taylor - Show of Force

David Charles sat in the bow of California's whaleboat, a craft much smaller than his own admiral's barge. Try as he would, the young coxswain could not keep the water out. At first he attempted to steer around the ocean chop, but that was impossible in such a breeze. Then he had the engineman throttle down, hoping the speed could be raised and lowered to make the ride drier and more comfortable for the Admiral. But that was impossible also. David had told them to proceed normally, not to worry about him. They would see the other boat they were to meet soon anyway.

It had been a most unusual conversation with Alex. California's comm officer had suggested one of the international-distress frequencies. Most ships would be guarding it anyway with so many aircraft down.

"I want to speak with Admiral Kupinsky." He had used Russian and identified himself. The pause was momentary.

"This is Admiral Kupinsky."

The voice had come back too quickly, he thought. Again he identified himself and asked for the Soviet Admiral. As he released the key, the other voice came back instantly.

"This is Admiral Kupinsky," again in Russian. Then, in English, "This is Admiral Kupinsky."

There was no way to identify a voice over the air, but there was no mistaking the familiar accent. Charles then said first in English, then in Russian, "Alex, this is David Charles. It was necessary to call you."

"Yes..I recognize your accent, David. I intended to speak with you also. That is why I was nearby."

"We should talk, Alex. We know from listening to your radio circuits that you have no more contact with Moscow than we do with Washington."

"We realize your problem also."

"I can sink the remainder of your force if I have to, but I feel we should talk first."

"It doesn't really matter who could still sink the other, David. Rather than concern ourselves with that, let us attempt to save the remaining lives, if that is at all possible. But, I will not come on board one of your ships."

"Nor I yours. I have asked my ships to drop back. If you will do the same, I suggest we use small boats and meet by ourselves in between."

"I have already asked my ships to reform, David. Let us bring our flag ships within five kilometers to limit the distance traveled in small boats. Then we will have them fall back ten kilometers. Do you agree?"

"Agreed. Will you come alone?"

"Yes. But two other men are necessary to handle the boat."

"I hadn't thought of that, but yes, you're right. No weapons?"

"I see no use for them at this point."

"Alex, do you have any of your good vodka aboard?"

There was a different intonation in the answer, a lighter one. "When 'will you Americans ever modernize your Navy?" There was a pause and a voice in the background as the key was held down. Then, "No vodka. But, David, you are in luck. We happen to have some of that good Georgian brandy that you like so well. Compliments of the Soviet Navy!"

"I will accept them. It is now 1420. Could you be there at 600?" '

"David, I had my whaleboat readied half an hour ago."

So, there was no question about it. They had both had the same intentions. "I'm sure our chart positions may be slightly different. I believe that a point three five zero degrees true, one hundred fifteen kilometers from the center of Islas Piedras, will be pretty much equidistant between our two ships right now."

"I believe so. I can assure you there will be no firing as the ship you are riding approaches that point to put over its boat."

"I assure your safety also." They had never for a moment said what either wanted to talk about. It had been understood.

He thought of that conversation now as he saw the coxswain point just off the bow and shout something that drifted away with the breeze. He stood, looking over the canvas, and saw the other boat, no bigger than his own, working its way toward him. It was having equal difficulty with the developing chop that came with a stiffening breeze.

Again, he thought how strange it was that two small boats were approaching each other in, the wake of a battle that had involved some of the most powerful ships in the world only hours before. He held tightly as they lurched to starboard. Then the wave that had slapped the bow covered them with water.

As the other came closer, he could see the Admiral's flag in the bow and the hammer and sickle in the stern, both displayed as he had also directed his boat be decorated. David had ensured that his sailors were in their full dress uniforms. Now soaked, he still wanted to show them off as the pride of the American Navy.

As the other drew abeam of him, he noted that the Russian sailors were dressed the same way. And Alex, too, was in a dress uniform similar to his own. What do you know, he thought, a formal ball on the high seas. I wonder if his is borrowed, too?

There was no time for further daydreaming. The coxswains had brought their craft within hailing distance.

"We will come about and throw you a line," shouted Alex. "We will ride together into the wind?"

"All right."

The Soviet boat came around smartly, as much to avoid the seas as to exhibit seamanship. Its coxswain held the tiller between his knees briefly as he bent to pick up a heaving line. Already prepared, he had only to throw the hard ball of the monkey's fist over and grab the tiller again to maintain course. A second line, from the bow, was heaved to the Americans and secured forward. Now it was only a matter of seconds as the two boats were brought slowly together, protective fenders dropping over the sides when they were close. Once the enginemen were sure they had the same revolutions on their propellers, the two boats rode as one, taking the swells together.

The two men eyed each other for a moment. They seemed to notice the other's hand tentatively moving at the same time. Then they saluted each other smartly, as much for the watching men on the ships in the distance as anything else.

"Will you come over here?" Kupinsky was the first to speak.

"I'd be more comfortable if you joined me."

"I brought the brandy." Alex bent down and picked up a bottle which he displayed in his right hand. "The least you could do is join me for a drink." He smiled then for the first time.

David grinned, the first these sailors had seen. "Why, of course. I forgot my manners. I'd be happy to join you. But may I suggest that perhaps we should exchange one of your men… to keep an equal number in each boat, and to keep them," he gestured first at his own ship, then at Alex's, "from getting worried."

"I had thought of that." He pointed at his engineman, explaining that he was to board the American boat. Then Kupinsky said, "Wait." He brought out another bottle, handing it to the man. "You will share together." He again used his hands to point to all four sailors. His gesture was answered with grateful smiles.

Alex carefully undid the seal and opened his bottle. "Sorry, I forgot the snifters," he said with a wry look on his face. David accepted the proffered bottle, sniffed at the contents, and nodded approvingly. He lifted the bottle to his lips, taking a deep swallow, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Excellent vintage, my friend." He handed it back to the other, who also drank deeply.

The Russian ran a forearm across his mouth. His eyes were watering slightly. "I'm not used to drinking like this, I'm afraid. Too much sea duty."

David coughed slightly as the potent liquid brought a flush to his cheeks. "I couldn't agree more, Alex." Then he gestured at the four sailors who were generously passing the other bottle among themselves. "They don't seem to have any language barrier."

Kupinsky's face instantly became serious again. "David, you and I have no language barrier, nor any others that I know of. It has hurt me deeply that we were forced to do this to each other… this death… this destruction.…" His hands, which had been making sweeping gestures as if to show the extent of it all, dropped to his sides. "I never intended this to happen."