Robert Conroy - Rising Sun

Torelli grinned. “I can’t either, but I don’t like letting them off scot-free if we do find them.”

Crowley looked at Torelli in surprise. “Are you implying that we might not obey orders? I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to be court-martialed or spend the rest of my life supervising KP.”

“Don’t fret, Ron. I’m crazy, not stupid. We will obey both the letter and the spirit of the orders. But I want to be totally prepared if we do get the opportunity to hit Hirohito’s fleet. I want every torpedo inspected and inspected again. I want to eliminate the possibility of duds as much as we can.”

Crowley declined to remind his captain that they’d been working with the torpedoes since leaving the base at Mare Island. The problem with malfunctioning torpedoes had not gone away. The navy hierarchy out east in Washington’s BuOrd was adamant that there was nothing wrong with the torpedoes and that the sub skippers were the ones screwing up. The men on the subs felt just the opposite.

The navy’s highest brass had come down with a firm directive that the sub crews may not tamper with or try to improve the torpedoes. Torelli, like a number of others, had quietly and privately thought that the brass in Washington should go screw themselves. Admiral Lockwood, now firmly in charge of American subs operating in the Pacific was on the side of the crews and generally looked the other way when they tweaked the torpedoes. After all, they were the ones who had to deal with the after effects of dud torpedoes, which included highly enraged Japanese warships coming down the throats of their American tormenters.

“What’s happening now, Lieutenant?” asked one of the crew as Crowley emerged.

“Just the usual, we hurry up and wait. After all, this is the navy.”

AMANDA DIDN’T KNOW WHETHER TO BE ANGRY OR AMUSED. Perhaps a little of both was in order. She had made an offhand comment to Tim about doing more to help the war effort and here she was, in a skimpy two-piece bathing suit, sitting on a beach blanket with the ocean in the background as Captain Merchant took a picture of her and Gunther Krause, who was also in swim trunks and enjoying himself hugely.

Thankfully, Tim had the good grace to look uncomfortable. Both he and Merchant were also in trunks and if any of the handful of people in the area were watching they all looked innocent and innocuous. Just a group of friends enjoying a pleasant day, they would conclude. They were where she and Tim had frolicked not so long ago, only now the beach was almost deserted.

Merchant took another moment to focus the camera. He’d taken several pictures already. “Amanda, smile a little more warmly and try to give the impression that you actually like Krause.”

Krause laughed. “I actually am very likeable once you get to know me.”

“Shut up and snuggle,” Merchant said and Tim glared.

Amanda put her head on Krause’s shoulder and he put his arm around her waist. Tim seethed. If his hand got too close to her breast he was going to break it. He had noticed that the Nazi was peering down the front of Amanda’s too-loose top. Damn it.

One of Krause’s contacts in Mexico had informed them that the Japs wanted to know just who the source inside the U.S. Navy was. Specifically, who had provided the information on the carriers’ location? When Tim had mentioned the problem to Amanda over lunch, she had suggested it be a fictitious person in Nimitz’s staff, a civilian and a woman, and someone who’d been having an affair with Krause. The idea made sense and it had been a short leap to getting Amanda to volunteer. Yes, she wanted to help her country defeat the Japs, but did she have to do it with a Nazi’s hand around her body and with Tim breathing fire out of each nostril?

She took a deep breath and smiled at the camera. She realized that her objections were idiotic. What she was doing was nothing in comparison with what soldiers, sailors, and Marines were doing in actual combat. How could being pawed and leered at by a Nazi prisoner compare with being shot? She had made Merchant agree to the caveat that her real name would not be used and he had agreed. A letter would go down to Mexico from Krause telling his friend that he was engaged to the lovely Patricia Barkley, photos attached, and that he was a lucky man. The note would casually mention that Patricia Barkley worked for some admiral. It was hoped that this would more than satisfy any doubters and be of no interest to anyone reading it.

“Enough,” said Merchant. The camera and film went into a container. The film would be developed immediately and the letter and photos would go out this afternoon.

Krause helped Amanda to her feet. Tim noticed that his hand brushed her bottom and her eyes widened slightly. Krause never saw the punch coming. It hit him in the pit of the stomach and he doubled over, gasping and vomiting lunch. The second punch struck him on the side of the head and dropped him to the sand where he spit out blood and something white that might have been part of a tooth. He rolled onto his side and got up groggily.

“Once again, my hero,” said Amanda, smiling sweetly.

Merchant shook his head. “That’s going to screw up German-American relations, you know, and maybe leave a mark on this asshole.”

Krause managed to straighten up and shook his head. “No, it won’t. I deserved it, but I have no regrets.”

Amanda glared at him. “And I need a swim. Nothing personal, Herr Krause, but I feel just a little dirty and want to clean up. Tim, come with me.”

The water was a little on the cool side, but comfortable enough. “Tim, you have been very good and I want to be just a little bit bad. I did what I thought was right in having those pictures taken, and have no regrets. I just can’t stand remembering him touching me. Only you get to do that.”

Tim grinned. “Does that mean we’re going behind the raft again?”

“Indeed it does, sailor boy.”

Toki and Masao were beside themselves with joy, as was the entire crew of the Kaga . The carrier’s skipper, Rear Admiral Jisaku Okada, had just used the loudspeaker and made the formal announcement on behalf of Admiral Nagumo who was en route from meeting with Yamamoto. The Imperial Japanese Navy would strike hard at the two American carriers now in the Gulf of California. All the rumors were now confirmed as facts.

The Kaga’ s crew had responded to the good news with jubilation. Cheers resounded throughout the ship and men slapped each other on the back in un-Japanese shows of exuberance. Even the most hardened of NCOs were seen to be smiling, however briefly. Bottles of sake were brought out and they all talked about the implications of the coming assault. Shouts of “banzai” were heard throughout the ship. This would be a day of celebration. Tomorrow they would sail off to war.

“This is a magnificent opportunity to end this war,” Masao said.

Toki laughed. “I thought you were a warrior who wanted it to go on forever. Don’t tell me you’ve had your fill?”

“At least for a while,” Masao admitted. “I would like to go home, see my family, walk the earth, smell the flowers, and convince my sister that you are a complete and utter fool.”

“But it won’t happen for a while,” Toki said. “Too many people have plans for us once we’ve destroyed the Americans.”

“You are very confident that they will be destroyed. How many of our carriers will be sent against the two Americans? My guess would be four or five.”