Russell Moran - The Gray Ship

After Jack finished his report, Wells asked, “Lieutenant, in your two previous experiences going back in time, did you do anything that may have changed the future?”

“No Sir,” said Jack. “Although both of my experiences prior to this one were short, something just told me not to change anything. I guess it’s a philosophical point Mr. Secretary. If you change the past, you won’t know what the future may hold.”

“Mr. Secretary, I think you have raised the most important question,” Ashley said. “This ship can have a dramatic impact on the Civil War. Dare we do that?” Wells didn’t reply. He just stroked his beard.

Ashley asked Father Rick to discuss the Civil War, and what would happen over the next four years.

“Madam Captain,” Wells shouted, “did you say four years ?”

“Yes, sir. I’ll let Father Rick fill in the details.”

“Gentlemen,” Father Rick said, “I’m going to review what I’ve studied in the history books, our history books, and from that history, what is going to happen in the next few years. The books told us that the Battle of Fort Sumter would happen at 0430 on the morning of April 12, 1861. Captain Patterson personally witnessed the first volley and checked her time piece. It was exactly at the time the history books said it would be.” He looked at Ashley, who nodded.

“Over the next two months there will be battles, but they will amount to no more than skirmishes. In about three months, on July 21, the first major engagement of the war will occur near Manassas, Virginia by a creek called Bull Run. There was a great deal of speculation, especially on the Union side, that this battle would be decisive and would convince Jefferson Davis that it would be futile to continue the war. Two inexperienced armies clashed, ours led by General Irwin McDowell, the South led by General P.G.T Beauregard. Most expected the battle to be a Union victory. Instead it was a defeat. The battle saw 2,896 Union casualties, including 460 killed. The South had 1,982 casualties with 387 killed. Bull Run, or Manassas as the South called it, was the largest and the bloodiest battle in our nation’s history up to that point.”

Admiral Farragut spoke. “Father Sampson, those numbers are startling. Are you sure they’re correct?”

“Yes, sir,” said Father Rick. “It will get worse, much worse. For example, next year, on September 17, 1862 the Battle of Antietam will be fought. The South called it the Battle of Sharpsburg. It will be the bloodiest single day in American history, even up to 2013. All told 22,717 were killed, missing or wounded on both sides.” Wells, Farragut and Roebling just looked at each other. Wells took a sip of water.

“Despite the massive casualties,” Father Rick said, “there was no clear tactical victory at Antietam. There are going to be many other major battles in the next four years. The names are familiar to any school child from our time who studies history.” Father Rick looked at his notes.

“I’m going to read to you, by order of date, the costliest battles of the next four years. These aren’t the only battles but the costliest. The casualty numbers include dead, wounded, missing, or captured.” Father Rick then read from his list. He spoke with a calculated monotony, as if reading a list of the dead at Sunday Mass:

Fort Donelson - February 1862 - 19,455 casualties.

Shilo - April 1862 - 23,741

Manassas , Second Battle - August 1862 - 25,251

Antietam - September 1862 - 26,134

Stone’s River - December 1862 - 24,645

Chancellorsville - May 1863 - 30,099

Gettysburg - July 1863 - 51,112

Chickamauga - September 1863 - 34,624

Spotsylvania - May 1864 - 27,399

Wilderness - May 1864 - 25,416

He looked up from his notes. “Gentlemen, now I’m going to read the total casualties of the Civil War: All told, there were approximately 620,000 total casualties on both sides. Recent studies indicate that the total may be closer to 800,000. The next four years are going to be Hell on earth.”

Wells, Farragut, and Roebling sat, ashen faced. They said nothing.

Gideon Wells then put his face in his hands and wept.

Bradley seethed. Why wasn’t I invited to meet with the Union leaders in the Captain’s office? I’m second in command, and who does she invite but a chaplain and a brand new officer. Did I spend 24 years in this Navy to be treated like shit? Dashing Ashley is in over her head as usual. I know every inch of this goddam ship and she brings in the rookies.

Bradley was heading to his office when he saw Chief Petty Officer Albert Ray walking toward him. Ray, the Chief Gunnery Mate, worked directly under the command of Lt. Cmdr. Andrea Rubin, the Weapons Officer. Bradley had known Chief Ray for years, going back to his drinking days. They had closed many a bar together. He was happy that Ray was on the California . The two men had a natural feel for each other. They both considered themselves “old South,” he from Louisiana and Ray from Alabama. They both shared views on various subjects, especially race, that were anachronisms in 2013 America. Bradley didn’t like black people but kept his views to himself, although he couldn’t recall what he may have said during long evenings on a barstool. Chief Ray’s feelings for black people were more direct: he hated blacks with a deep, brooding contempt. He hated black people generally and Captain Ashley Patterson in particular. Like Bradley, he saw this young woman’s rise to the command of a Navy ship as a politically correct bow from the top brass because she was a darling of the media.

“Good morning, Chief,” Bradley said to his old friend.

“Good morning, Sir, and how are you doing?” Ray asked. Word gets around fast on a ship, and Ray had heard that the visitors from the Union were being entertained without the presence of the XO. “I guess our fine captain figures she can do without your knowledge and experience, Commander,” said Ray.

“Let’s have a cup of coffee in my office,” said Bradley. He escorted Ray in, and closed the door behind him.

Bradley knew that he couldn’t pull off his idea of defecting to the Confederacy without help. The man sitting across from him just may be that help.

Chief Albert Ray, 43 years-old, balding and overweight, had once been a member of a Ku Klux Klan klavern in his hometown in Alabama. He had even risen to the exalted position of Grand Cyclops, the leader of his group. He had been in the Navy for 21 years. His job, as Chief Gunners Mate, was to oversee the condition and readiness of all weapons on the ship. He answered to Lt. Commander Andrea Rubin, the ship’s Weapons Officer. He hated reporting to a woman although he hid his contempt.

“What bothers me, my old friend, is that it’s easy to figure out what’s going to happen,” said Bradley. “Captain Patterson, or Dashing Ashley as I call her, is meeting with Lincoln’s Navy Secretary at this very moment.”

“It’s obvious that she’s going to offer this ship to fight against the South,” Bradley said. “Even if she doesn’t, the Secretary of the Navy has the power to simply order it so. Let’s face it, since we find ourselves in 1861, the California is a Union ship. With the California thrown into the fight, the South won’t have a prayer. The fire power on this one ship can turn the tide of any engagement. They’ll probably surrender after the first battle, and the Confederacy will come to an end almost as soon as it began. Slavery will be abolished within months, without time for Southern plantation owners to make a transition away from it. Slavery’s an institution that can’t be undone overnight. Besides, slave owners paid fair and square, and the slaves are their private property.” Bradley looked intently at Ray, trying to judge his reaction.