Larry Bond - Cold Choices

Several other crewmen were there as well, either to help or say good-bye. Gallant reminded them, “Remember, everyone has an escort up the ladder to the escape trunk. Escorts, don’t hurry them, but we need to move quickly.”

The captain came into the mess. Everyone except Brann and Heiser started to stand, but Rudel quickly waved everyone back into their seats. “It looks like we’re ready here, Doc. Any problems?”

Chief Gallant shook his head, smiling. “Just Kearney’s constant complaining.”

As if prompted, ET1 Kearney stood and held out his splinted wrist. “It feels great, sir,” he said while trying to suppress his wincing. “The doc took care of it and I’m good, sir. You can’t send me off the boat with those parts coming aboard. You’ll need me, Skipper!”

Rudel shook his head. “You need to get a cast on that break, ET1. A splint isn’t good enough. Without one, you could cause permanent damage to that hand. You don’t want to end up like Mr. Mitchell. You might never fly jet fighters again.” Everyone smiled. “Besides, Petty Officer Kearney, I need you to do something for me.”

“Anything, sir.”

Rudel handed the petty officer a brightly wrapped package, the size of a large book. “This is the information on the Russian sub’s condition, on our latest situation report, letters to Rountree’s folks, and some other stuff that’s none of your business.”

The XO appeared again, and announced, “Sir, the helicopter’s in sight. Four, maybe five minutes.”

Rudel acknowledged the report, and Shimko added, “I’m on my way to the freezer. They’ll start bringing Rountree up.”

Somber, Rudel replied, “I’ll be on the bridge.”

“Yessir.” After a short pause, Shimko added, “Chief Hudson is down there, and Mr. Mitchell has everyone organized.”

“Understood, XO. Thanks.”

Rudel seemed to remember the package in his hand. Turning back to Kearney, he said, “I’m entrusting you with this package. Give it only to Churchill’s captain or XO.”

Kearney looked at the package carefully, as if it might explode. He asked, “What about Heiser, sir? He’s got two good hands.”

Chief Gallant said, “Not with his concussion. I’ve got him full of painkillers. And Brann’s got enough to worry about with his leg.”

Kearny nodded and took the package with his good hand. “I’ll take good care of it, sir.”

“If it falls in the water, it will float. Dive in after it.”

Kearney grinned. “Yessir, I understand.”

Rudel patted Kearny on the shoulder. “We’ll be thinking of you while you’re gone.” He stepped back and looked at all three men, silent for a moment, reluctant to leave. Finally, he said, “Take care of yourselves, and good luck.”

Rudel left and Gallant walked over to Kearney. As the chief opened the immersion suit and helped Kearney secure the package inside, the young petty officer remarked, “Sometimes I can’t tell when the Skipper is joking or not.”

“This goes in the water and nobody’s laughing,” Gallant answered. “Keep a good hold of it and you won’t have to find out.”

Jerry Mitchell wanted to be in several places at once. He was in charge of organizing the men that would pass the repair parts for the radios from the escape trunk to the wardroom, just forward of the opening. He wanted to be with Troy Kearney, one of his men who was about to leave the ship, and most of all, he wanted to be down in stores, with Rountree.

He really didn’t need to be in any of those places. Chief Gallant had everything under control in the crew’s mess, Master Chief Hess had a working party organized to handle the radio parts, and Chief Hudson and all the off-duty ETs were ready to move Denny Rountree.

Captain Rudel had agreed to let Rountree’s division bring him out of the freezer. Once the helicopter was in sight, Rountree’s remains had to be moved as quickly as dignity allowed down one passageway, up a ladder, down another short passageway, and then up the vertical escape trunk. It would be rough treatment, and it would be best if it was done by his own people.

But Jerry knew he had to be there when they brought Rountree out, for himself if for no other reason. Quickly, he made his way to the freezer on the third deck. There was little room in the cold storage area, and the ETs struggled with Rountree’s frozen form, wrapped in a plastic body bag. “Wish we could have thawed him,” Robinson muttered softly. “Idiot,” Hudson replied, slightly annoyed. “The whole idea was to keep him cold as long as possible.” As they shifted their grip on the slippery plastic, Lamberth and the others apologized to the body.

Jerry kept well clear, but wanted to gauge their progress, or at least that was a credible excuse for being there. Hudson saw him at the base of the first ladder. “We’re okay, sir,” he reported, and Jerry reluctantly climbed back up. They had some time. Rountree would go up last, after his three injured shipmates.

The 1MC announced, “ATTENTION ALL HANDS, THE HELICOPTER IS OVERHEAD, ALL PERSONNEL GOING TOPSIDE CHECK YOUR SAFETY GEAR.”

Jerry stopped briefly in the passageway outside the wardroom. The midships escape trunk hatch was open, and a fresh chill wind whistled down the ladder.

Enlisted crewmen shivered as they waited to pass the supplies forward from the escape trunk to the wardroom. Two others aft of the trunk supported Brann, ready to help him up the ladder, while Chief Gallant watched from the messroom door. Everyone present had a job to do, and there just wasn’t any space left for Jerry in the passageway. They didn’t need him here, either.

Jerry went to control, but only looked briefly at the chart. Seawolf was still steaming into the wind at five knots. They’d hardly moved since he’d checked it ten minutes ago. With the helicopter transfer planned to take no more than thirty minutes, the boat would move two and a half miles toward the northwest. The nearest land was Novaya Zemlya, ninety miles away. In the other direction.

Shimko came down the ladder from the bridge, chilled from the cold air but gratefully dry. After checking with Al Constantino, the on duty contact coordinator, the XO turned to Jerry. “How are they doing below?”

“Everyone’s on station. Brann, Heiser, and Kearney are ready to go. My guys are moving Rountree, and Hudson says they’re all right.”

“Good, and thanks. The pilot’s lowering the first batch of supplies now.” Shimko dithered for a minute, then said, “I need to be back up on the bridge. Check everything below and report back to me.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

The activity made it hard to get close to the midships escape trunk. Until the slingload of supplies was moved out of the way, Brann couldn’t go up the ladder. The working party finished quickly, then flattened against the passageway bulkhead to let Jerry pass. He saw Brann, a line passed through his safety harness, being hauled up through the open hatch.

Gallant was at the bottom of the ladder supervising the operation, squinting as he looked up into the cold wind. The sound of the helicopter overhead poured down the hatch along with the wind. “Watkins and Kahanek are up on deck doing the hauling.”

Jerry grinned. “Good choices.” MM1 Watkins lifted weights. MM3 Kahanek didn’t need to.

Heiser was moved into position as soon as Brann had cleared the hatch.

Looking down the passageway, Jerry saw that Hudson and the ETs had Rountree’s remains almost at the head of the ladder. Hudson and Lamberth were on top, pulling. Nobody said more than a single word as they worked, and that rarely. The chief saw Jerry and nodded, finally adding, “We’re okay.” His tone was a little off, as was his expression. Jerry watched them a moment longer, but could see no problems.