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  “I think it can be done,” said Forsyth. “Good idea about using four people. A stiff wind can be a problem.”

  “Next we need the names for the signs,” DeLouker said. “We’ll make it simple and use the names of states. Northern states only, obviously, including Hawaii.”

  “Shithead,” said Forsyth, “Hawaii didn’t become a state until 1959.”

  “Hey, I got half a pay grade on you. Is that any way to talk to a superior officer?”

  “Sorry, sir, I meant to say Lieutenant Shithead.”

  DeLouker laughed.

  “I know Hawaii wasn’t a state in 1861, my wise-ass MIT graduate friend, but we need it as a name.”

  “Why?” asked Nancy.

  “Simple. Our job is to fuck with their heads.” Nancy held out the palm of her hand to give DeLouker a high five.

  “Hawaii’s in,” she said.

  “Next, we need to paint over the numbers on the bow,” DeLouker said. “We can paint numbers on four by eight foot signs and bolt them onto the superstructure. Replacing two signs a night is another job that should take less than five minutes.” Forsyth made a note.

  “Now we need to come up with some new structures to lash to the deck,” DeLouker continued. “Their photography can't capture moving objects, so they’ll report sightings based on the ship’s number, name and appearance. They’ll probably make sketches, so we need the ship to look different every few days. We don’t have to do this every night, because the rebels will just think they’re looking at the same type of ship, just with a few structural changes from time to time.”

  “I’ve been thinking about just that, and I did some sketches.” Forsyth said. “Look at these drawings, Jeff.”

  DeLouker took a few minutes to look at her renditions and jotted some questions. “You are fucking brilliant Nance, but you already know that. I can see where you’re going with these. Just explain them to me.”

  She smiled at his salty compliment. “I see these as two basic structures each eight feet high that can be changed in a short time into six different shapes. The first one will be on the bow, but it can be moved a few feet aft to change its appearance. I’ve also included four panels that will be lashed to the basic structures but can be hoisted up to add another eight feet to each configuration. On the stern, we’ll just have the walls of the structure lying on the helicopter pad. Assembly will simply mean hoisting the walls in place and securing them with bolts. The frames for the units need to be very firm, so I’ve designed in four inch square structural members. We have to worry about wind, Jeff. You’re going to have to figure out the best way to secure these things to the deck.”

  “That shouldn’t be a problem. There are tie-downs already in place all over the deck.”

  “Jeff, we need to think about some interesting shaped objects that we may already have aboard.”

  “Holy shit,” said DeLouker as he slammed his hands on the desk. “We have about 1,000 linear feet of 12 inch water pipe that we’re supposed to deliver to the Gulf. They look just like...”

  “Big guns?” Forsythe interjected.

  “We can make this cruiser look like a battleship,” DeLouker said. Another occasion for a high five.

  “I love that idea, Jeff. I’ll design a wooden frame to hold the ‘guns.’ ”

  “I just thought of something else,” DeLouker said. “We have a dozen banquet tables aboard. They’re used for in-port receptions for the Navy League and stuff like that. Each table is 10 feet in diameter. We can paint them white, lash them to the rails, six on each side of the ship. I haven’t the foggiest fucking idea what they’re supposed to be, but neither will the rebels.”

  “Great idea.”

  “Nancy, I want our costume drama to be ready for a curtain call by May 11. That’s two weeks from now. Can we make that happen?”

  “Taz, you got the crew, I got the plans. We can make this work.” Another high five.

  Chapter 38

  So we’re going to go home, maybe, Ashley thought. She couldn’t get her conversation with Lincoln out of her mind. Lincoln tied his permission for the California’s return attempt to the success of Operation Gray Ships and the Battle of Bull Run. Ashley knew, as any military leader did, that war had its surprises, setbacks, and disappointments. She remembered German Field Marshal von Moltke’s famous quote, “No battle plan ever survives the first contact with the enemy.” What if something goes wrong, she thought over and over. She remembered Operation Eagle Claw, Jimmy Carter’s daring attempt to free the Iranian hostages by a military insertion in 1980. Eight dead, four wounded, six helicopters and one transport plane destroyed.

  What if something goes wrong? Ashley knew the answer to the question. If the South didn’t surrender after the California’s blockade duty and the Battle of Bull Run, Lincoln would want to keep her in the nineteenth century, at least for a while. How long? Thought Ashley. My crew couldn’t care less about fighting an enemy from the history books. They want to go home, and so do I.

  ***

  Ashley walked onto deck to look at the ocean. The scared little girl, the girl who doubted her success, the girl who wanted to curl up in a fetal position, the little girl named Splashy – that little girl wanted to come out and play. Ashley remembered the role play exercise that Father Rick had recommended. “Talk to your demons,” Father Rick advised, after she had told him about demon Splashy. “Reason with them and take away their power.”

  So Ashley stared at the sea and talked to Splashy. “Listen Splashy. I’m the captain of this ship, the commanding officer. Over 600 lives depend on me making the right decisions. Now please leave me alone, and I’ll buy you something nice when this is over.” She didn’t think Splashy got the message.

  Ashley continued talking, this time to herself, not Splashy. Operation Gray Ships and the Battle of Bull Run will be complete successes. I’m going to make it happen, and we’ll be on our way home. She could hear little Splashy skipping rope and laughing in the distance.

  Chapter 39

  Ashley called Jack Thurber to her office. Every time she met with this man she felt increasingly comfortable. Often, she would call for a short meeting just to see him and chat. After every meeting, she felt like she had an emotional massage. The tensions of leadership wafted away. Ashley had felt this way before, when she was dating Felix. She knew the feeling well.

  Ashley was falling in love.

  But today she was nervous. She was about to ask Jack to do something that would raise the journalistic hairs on the back of his neck. She was about to ask this Pulitzer Prize winner to become the biggest liar of the Civil War.

  “Coffee, Jack?” asked Ashley.

  “Love some. Please, I’ll get it.”

  Ashley loved how Jack was always appropriately deferential to her position. But then he could walk in wearing a clown costume, red nose, honking horn and all, and Ashley would have found it charming.

  Ashley explained Operation Gray Ships, as laid out by Navy Secretary Wells. She also told him in detail about Abraham Lincoln, his charisma, charm, and intelligence. Jack thought about how he would love to interview Lincoln for an article.

  “Operation Gray Ships has two parts,” said Ashley. “The first part involves our Engineering and Deck Departments. They’re going to give the California the appearance of being 20 different ships. In 2013, we would call this PsyOps or Psychological Operations. The idea is to weaken the enemy’s resolve through deceit. The Doolittle Raid on Tokyo in the early days of World War II is a perfect example. It didn’t do much damage, but it showed the Japanese government that they were dealing with a tough customer.”

  “Part two involves you, Jack, on specific recommendation from the Secretary of the Navy. You must have made quite an impression on him.”

  “It will be your mission, Jack, to write a series of newspaper articles describing the 20 ships of the Gray Fleet, where they were sighted, what they look like, and what they’re capable of. These stories will be fed to all o
f the major Union newspapers. The Administration feels that it’s not necessary to try to leak these articles to the Confederacy because Southern spies will take care of that. The whole idea is to strike fear into the hearts of the Confederate government. As one of our salty officers in Engineering puts it, our job is to ‘fuck with their heads.’ ”

  Jack put down his coffee. He rubbed his face with his hands. He then picked up the coffee and took another sip.

  “Ashl...Captain, you’re asking me to do something that rubs against every rule I’ve made for myself as a writer. At Columbia Journalism, if there is one thing they pounded into our heads, it’s that you simply don’t lie. If there’s a story, interview the people involved, and get two back-up sources before you go to press. I’ve done the same in my books. Nothing went in until I made sure it was accurate. Now you’re asking me to sit down and pound out lies.”

  “I thought you'd have a problem with this, Jack, because you’re a man of integrity.” Which is one of the things I love about you. Stop, stop. Stay focused.

  “May I ask you to consider a few things?” said Ashley.

  “Of course, Captain,” said Jack, the recipient of a full Ashley Patterson Eye Job.

  “First, you won't write the articles over your own byline. With all due respects, my celebrity friend, nobody in the nineteenth-century has the foggiest idea who you are. You will essentially be a ghost writer. Second, you’ve written a few novels, yes?”

  “Yes, I’ve written three novels.”

  “Is fiction a lie, or is it just telling a story?” Ashley asked.

  Jack raised his coffee cup and nodded his head to Ashley as if to ask if she wanted another. Ashley shook her head, while Jack bought some time by going to the coffee pot. This woman would make a great lawyer, Jack thought.

  “Well, yes, Captain, fiction is storytelling, but fiction never disguises itself as truth.”

  Ashley then fired the broadside.

  “Jack, my job is to kill the enemy. Your job is to confuse them. The more you confuse them, the fewer I have to kill. The fewer I have to kill, the quicker we can get the hell out of here and go back to where we came from. Is that really an ethical problem?”

  “When do I start, Captain?”

  Chapter 40

  “Captain, a moment of your time, Ma’am?” Bradley said.

  “Yes, please come up to my office, Commander.”

  Since the incident in the wardroom when he had confronted the captain in public, Bradley felt ostracized. His feeling was accurate. To any observer, and there were a lot of them, it was obvious that Captain Patterson had unofficially appointed the navigator, Ivan Campbell, as the executive officer. Campbell had led the first delegation to the Navy Department, conducted the tour of the ship, and accompanied the captain on her visit with Lincoln. The only thing that tempered Bradley’s seething resentment was his plan to defect to the Confederacy. Don’t get mad, get even, Bradley recalled the old saying. It’s time to calm down, suck it up and get the job done, Bradley thought.

  “What is it, Commander?” Ashley asked. She no longer called him by his first name, the common way a captain addresses her senior officers.

  “Captain, I just wanted you to know that I’ve prepared a detailed project flow diagram with what I know about Operation Gray Ships. It occurred to me that there’s a lot of moveable parts and I thought that a detailed timeline would be useful.” He handed her the spreadsheet that he had prepared, with blanks representing the details he didn’t know. He didn’t know a lot because he was effectively left outside of the command loop.

  “Thank you, Commander. This will be very useful.”

  Bradley then said, “Captain, I never formally apologized for making an ass of myself in the wardroom a few days ago, and I want you to know that I am sorry for getting totally out of line. I’ll make this public in the wardroom if you wish, ma’am.”

  “Well, thank you, Commander. I accept your regrets. A public apology won’t be necessary.”

  Every synapse in Ashley’s brain fired. Can I trust this guy, she thought, or does he have something up his sleeve? She hated not being able to trust a senior officer, especially one who is technically second in command. But Operation Gray Ships was an open secret, she thought, and Bradley does have excellent organizational skills.

  “Please check with Nick Wartella in Engineering. He’ll show you our plans for appearance changes. This is a project that needs careful tracking.” Ashley knew that with Wartella and the two officers in charge of the project there was nothing to worry about, but another set of eyes wasn’t a bad idea. But something in the part of Ashley’s brain that controlled trust was not functioning properly with this guy.

  “Aye aye, Captain,” said Bradley.

  Bradley thought Ashley was easy to manipulate.

  Ashley thought Bradley was a snake.

  Chapter 41

  Within moments of the California’s disappearance, Frank Orzo, Duty Officer at NavOps, had addressed everyone in the room, reminding them that the California’s disappearance was secret. It would be up to the Department of Defense or the White House when and if it would be announced to the press.

  Petty Officer Third Class Toby Miller was on duty at NavOps. His job was to monitor one of the screens showing the position of ships and report to Orzo. He nonchalantly took out his IPhone, and, in complete violation of policy, texted his sister-in-law Janet Miller, who had just landed a job in the marketing department of The New York Times: “One of our ships, USS California, is missing. GFF (go fucking figure).” He thought this wasn’t a problem because she wasn’t a reporter. He just loved to impress her with his important job at the Pentagon.

  ***

  Captain Vera Esposito, aide to Chief of Naval Operations, answered the phone. Ray Cohen, a reporter with The New York Times was on the line. Admiral Roughead told her to stall while he called Secretary of Defense. Gates put him on hold while he patched through a conference call to the White House. Chief of Staff Bill Daley picked up and patched in Press Secretary Jay Carney. Everyone on the conference call knew one thing – if you try to put a cat back in the bag, you will get scratched and bitten. Bill Daley said to Gates, “I think Admiral Roughead should tell the Times what’s going on.” All agreed.

  White House staffers, especially the Chief of Staff and the Press Secretary, hate to see breaking news of national security on TV. But you can’t unleak a leak, they all knew. Daley ended the call by saying, “I want the name of the turd who leaked this.”

  Admiral Roughead picked up reporter Cohen’s call and told him what they knew. The California was missing, and a massive sea rescue operation was underway. Within minutes of The New York Times exclusive being posted to its online edition, every major news outlet in the world had picked up on the story.

  Janet Miller, marketing assistant at The New York Times and Petty Officer Miller’s sister-in-law, was surprised when she got a major promotion to the newsroom within two days.

  The California had been missing for 25 minutes

  Chapter 42

  Commander Bradley walked through the compartment where the SEALs were just finishing their morning exercises. He approached Lieutenant Conroy and said good morning.

  “Good morning, sir,” said Conroy.

  “I’d like a few minutes of your time in my office, Lieutenant.”

  After he showered and changed, Conroy reported to Bradley’s office. “We have some concerns, Lieutenant, about our upcoming engagements.” Conroy assumed the “we” meant the top brass on the ship, including Captain Patterson, although Bradley had not discussed what he was about to reveal with anyone. “As I’m sure you’ve been told, Lieutenant, the California is going to assist in the Battle of Bull Run in July. The SEALs’ involvement hasn’t been officially determined yet, but we know that you will have an important role in the operation.”

  “I’ve assumed that, sir. That’s why I’ve ordered extra physical training and weapons readiness drills.”


  “Weapons readiness is a big concern, Lieutenant. When the engagement begins, the California will be at sea, many miles from the scene, and there’s no way we can get a ship this large up Bull Run Creek. We need to come up with a plan to get a weapons cache ashore way in advance of the battle. I’ve checked with the weapons department and they showed me how many weapons and ammo can fit in a couple of Zodiacs and rafts. We can set up a camouflaged weapons depot with a hardened perimeter and a small security force consisting of SEALs and some sailors to help with moving the weapons. We have no idea what sea conditions will be like on the eve of battle, so if we wait until then to load the Zodiacs, we’ll risk compromising the mission. Besides, I’m sure that part of your objective will be to plant lasers to guide in the missiles and bombs. That will take advance preparation.”

  Conroy looked at the desk and scratched his head. “That sounds like a workable plan, sir. I’m just worried about setting up a large weapons cache in hostile territory. We have the better weapons, that’s for sure, but if they send a cavalry brigade against us we could have a big problem.”

  “You will have support from the Apache attack helicopter as well as the helicopter drones. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

  The idea had a lot going for it, Conroy had to admit. “I’ll prepare a written plan and submit it to you, sir.”

  “Don’t worry about the sailors who will accompany the SEAL squad, Lieutenant. I will hand pick them myself.”

  Chapter 43