The Violent Sea Read online

  “Meg, let’s change the subject to get your mind off this problem. Do you miss Wall Street?”

  “Not a bit. The money was great when I was vice president of operations for Malta Investments. I managed to salt away a few bucks. But I love my new job in the Navy. Much more exciting, and I get to pal around with my favorite hubby—in beautiful places like here at Pearl Harbor.”

  Harry and I are as close as two people can be. We even saw combat together when he was captain of a time-traveling warship. That was an interesting trip, and Harry performed his usual heroics. President Blake was so impressed with Harry that he awarded him his second Navy Cross and promoted him to rear admiral. The president also gave me a direct commission in the Navy for that little journey, making me a DCO. No doubt about it, Harry and I lead an interesting life. We first met when he was the captain of a corporate cruise ship called The Maltese, owned by my company, Malta Investments. I’ll never forget when we first met. He was greeting passengers at the foot of the gangway. We shook hands and he held mine for a bit longer than you’d expect from a friendly handshake. Harry’s 6”2,” has wavy brown hair, and gorgeous blue eyes. I thought he was the handsomest man I ever met. I still do. He’s also completely charming and has a wiseass sense of humor that always cracks me up. For all the success he’s had in life, he refuses to take himself seriously. He prefers that people call him Harry, even though he’s now an admiral. After we volunteered to take a time travel voyage on a cruiser to rescue a ship that slipped through a wormhole, I knew he’d want to go back to the Navy, from which he had retired three years earlier. So now I’m in the Navy too. Harry and Meg, a couple of sailors happily married—to each other.

  “I’m expected at headquarters for a staff meeting Sandy, the meeting that Harry ordered. When he shows up, tell him to call me—and remind him to keep his damn phone turned on.”

  Chapter 4

  May 30, 1942

  “So, what do you think of our strange guest, Mike?” Admiral Spruance said to his chief of staff. They were sitting in the admiral’s dining room about to have dinner. The time was 1800 hours on 30 May 1942. The next day they would head to sea and set course for Midway Island.

  “Reality tells me that the guy’s insane, but everything about him seems normal. Hell, he carries himself like a senior officer, but how can we believe the weird stories the guy puts out. He seems to know what he’s talking about, but time travel? Sorry, admiral, but I have a hard time buying what this guy is selling.”

  “I agree, Mike, but like you said, he seems entirely normal. Hell, maybe we’re crazy. I want to know how he knows so much about what will soon happen. Why don’t you bring him here? He can have dinner with us and we can pick his brains some more.”

  “Good evening admiral,” I said. “Commander Johnson said you’d like to see me.”

  I was wearing dungaree pants and shirt, the standard fatigue uniform of a Navy enlisted man.

  “Please have a seat, Harry, and join us for dinner. Our heads are still spinning about your time travel stories, but you seem to know a hell of a lot about our operations, and I want to know how you know these things. Do you have anything interesting to tell us?”

  “Yes, sir. Tomorrow, May 31, we put to sea and steam for Midway Island. On June 4, the Battle of Midway began—or should I say, will begin. At 0600 Japanese bombers will attack our installations on Midway Island. Our Midway-based planes will knock out quite a few Japanese aircraft, but we will suffer heavy losses. At 9 a.m. you will launch air attacks from Task Force 16, and Admiral Fletcher will attack with planes from the Yorktown, flagship of Task Force 17. Later in the morning around 10:15, our planes will attack the enemy carriers Hiryu, Kaga, Soryu and the flagship Akagi. Only the Hiryu will survive, but it will be sunk the next day. Akagi will be scuttled the next morning on June 5th. Unfortunately, the Yorktown will have the shit kicked out of her. She will sink in the early morning hours of June 7th. As I said before, admiral, the Battle of Midway over the next few days will be the turning point of the war in the Pacific.”

  “And just how, my time traveling friend, do you know so much detail?” Spruance asked.

  “Well, I’ve always been a history buff, and I have a photographic memory, which I’m glad has returned after my concussion. I know a lot about the Battle of Midway because I once taught a course on the battle while I was a visiting instructor at the Naval Academy, my alma mater.”

  “Do you expect us to believe any of this?” Spruance asked.

  When I first came aboard, these two looked at me like I was a raving lunatic. Now, however, their faces expressed interest, not disgust.

  “Recall, admiral, that when I asked if you would release me, you said that you wanted to call my bluff. Well, sir, over the next few days we’ll see if I was bluffing or not.”

  “Harry, if you think that the Yorktown will be sunk, doesn’t that knowledge obligate me to do everything I can to stop it?”

  “It’s tricky to change history, admiral, and I suggest that you don’t use me to try. Yes, we’ll lose the Yorktown, but the Japanese will lose far more. I’m just an observer from another time.”

  “Since you seem to know so much about our future, can you tell us how the hell this war will end?”

  “Japan will surrender on August 15, 1945. You, sir, will be there on the deck of the USS Missouri in Tokyo Bay to witness the signing of the surrender document. Japan finally decided—or will decide—to pack it in after we dropped a couple of atomic bombs, one on Hiroshima and one on Nagasaki.”

  “Atomic bombs?” they both said.

  “Yes, I’ve just given you top-secret information, which I deliver to you from the year 2018. Germany will have already signed an unconditional surrender in May of 1945. Hitler, by that time, had committed suicide. Any more of my bluff that you want to call?”

  I knew I was acting like a wiseass but fuck it. I’m an admiral and these two were starting to get on my nerves.

  “Harry, as I’ve said, your stories are fantastic. Do you truly believe that you’re a Navy admiral from the future?”

  “Yes, sir, as I said a few days ago, I’m the commanding officer of Carrier Strike Group 14 stationed at Pearl Harbor. My flagship is the USS Gerald R. Ford. She’s driven by nuclear power, which is in common use in 2018. With nuclear power her steaming range is virtually unlimited. The Ford’s flight deck is 1,106 feet long and she displaces about 100,000 tons. Compare that to the Enterprise. I’m guessing she displaces about 20,000 tons and has flight deck less than 800 feet. I’m accustomed to big ships. I’m also a jet pilot, as are most admirals from my time.”

  “A jet pilot?”

  “Yes, I fly an F/A 18 Super Hornet, a plane that flies at almost twice the speed of sound. As I recall, in October of this year, the United States will fly its first jet, a Bell P-59 Airacomet, which is nothing like the Hornets I fly.”

  They just sat there chuckling

  “Harry, were you involved in any combat in our future?”

  “Yes, sir, I saw plenty of combat, including an incident in the Persian Gulf when the destroyer I commanded was attacked by four Iranian gunboats. Iran, which was known as Persia until 1935, is not a friend where I come from. I destroyed all four gunboats, but not before they shot a rocket at my bridge. You’ll notice my slightly bent nose, which I got in that incident. They awarded me a Purple Heart and the Navy Cross. Later I received a second Navy Cross for another operation I led. I’m no stranger to combat, admiral.”

  “And you’re sitting here in dungaree fatigues. Mike, get Harry outfitted with an officer’s uniform. Maybe I’m crazy, Harry, but I’m giving you an officer’s uniform so rumors won’t start as to who you are and what you’re doing on the flag bridge. The next three days will serve as your proof. I want you near me as we go into battle. You may remember some things that can help us. I can’t believe I’m saying this. If it turns out that you’re lying, Harry, you will be spending a long time in the brig.”

  “Admiral,�
�� Mike Johnson said, “should we tell Mr. Fenton about the Building 19 problem?”

  “The Building 19 problem?” I said.

  “Mike is referring to an event that some people are calling the Mystery of Pearl Harbor. A few weeks ago, the gunnery officer on the Enterprise, Lieutenant Sam Parker, suddenly disappeared. He was alone in building 19 at the time. A witness saw him enter the building. Shore patrol plus a bunch of agents from the FBI scoured every square foot of Pearl and never found him. He just vanished without a trace. During the investigation, somebody remembered that two construction workers went missing as well when the building was being erected. Everybody assumed that those guys just didn’t show up for work. Building 19 is the place you said you found yourself in after walking over a patch of grass. Admiral Pye, Kimmel’s brief replacement, ordered the building shuttered while the investigation was going on, and the current CincPac, Admiral Nimitz, continued the order. So, a man disappeared from the same location you say contains that wormhole thing. It sure as hell lends some credence to your amazing story, Harry.”

  “Admiral, my guess is that Lt. Parker is stumbling around in 2018, trying to figure out what happened to him. Remember, admiral, that the next time we go back to Pearl, you’re going to let me return to the wormhole.”

  “The wormhole, of course. It’s going to take some getting used to your stories, Harry.”

  ***

  We had been at sea for five days. The next day, June 4, 1942, the Battle of Midway would begin.

  As ordered by Spruance, I reported to the flag bridge at 0530. Being a senior officer has some benefits but sleeping late isn’t one of them.

  I was finding the whole experience a bit unsettling. Hell, I’m going to be standing next to a naval legend as he takes us into the Battle of Midway. Time travel is weird, no other way to put it. A couple of years ago Meg and I traveled back a few million years and lived for a while among dinosaurs. People still ask Meg and me to give an interview and discuss what became known as The Maltese Incident. We even wrote a book by that name. And now I’m in World War II. I wonder if Amazon sells wormhole detectors.

  Chapter 5

  “Meg, I’m sure there’s an answer for this little mystery,” Sandy Borman said. “I know it’s been six hours, but this is a big naval base. Somebody would have seen Admiral Harry if he was in trouble.”

  “Sandy, look out the window. That’s water we’re looking at. Pardon me if I freak out, but somebody could have assaulted Harry and dumped him in the harbor.”

  “Meg, everybody likes Admiral Harry. And last I checked, our security is tight here at Pearl. It isn’t easy for a criminal to get on base. And not to mention that Admiral Harry is one tough customer.”

  The phone rang.

  “It’s Admiral Dexter for you, Meg.”

  Admiral William Dexter was the Commander, U.S. Pacific Fleet (COMPACFLT, formerly known as CincPac).

  “Hi, Meg, Bill Dexter here. I’ve heard that you’ve been out of touch with Harry for a few hours. I want you to know that Harry’s safety is my absolute priority. Not only is he commander of Carrier Strike Group 14, but he’s also a good friend. I called NCIS and the FBI. They just sent a group of twelve investigators. These guys are going to turn Pearl Harbor upside down to find Harry. I know it’s easy for me to say, but please don’t worry, Meg. We’ll find him.”

  For all his charm, my Harry is one hell of a tough guy. A man who wrote a book about him said, “Harry Fenton has a way of looking death in the mouth and punching out a few teeth.” I’ve seen Harry in action for years, and there’s no end to his courage. But he’s a human being and he’s not bullet-proof. I know I’m thinking negative thoughts, but I have nothing else to think. After all, he’s been missing for six goddam hours. Ever since we got married a few years ago, we’ve grown closer by the day. We notice that we complement each other’s thoughts and finish each other’s sentences. I have a good imagination, but I can’t imagine a life without Harry.

  Okay, I thought, it’s time to do what Harry would do when faced with a problem. Get busy and do your job. I called each of the captains of Harry’s strike group and asked to meet them. The group consisted of one carrier, the Ford, Harry’s flagship, a cruiser and two frigates. Ever since I went to OCS—Officer Candidate School—I’ve thrown myself into Harry’s world, a world of warships and planes. I would first meet with each captain individually and then as a group. When Harry shows up—please God, make it happen—he’ll be happy to see that I prepared his deployment for him. My main task is to avoid breaking down in tears as I’m standing in for Harry to meet these guys.

  Where the hell can he be?

  Chapter 6

  One of the things that Meg and I learned about time travel since our Maltese Incident, it’s that time goes by a lot faster on the other side of a wormhole. We lived in a God-forsaken prehistoric jungle for 10 years. When we finally made it back to the present, we were amazed that only two months had passed in the year we came from. I’ve been on the Enterprise for six days, which means it’s only been a matter of hours where Meg is waiting for me. But, because we communicate all the time by email or text, she must be frantic that I haven’t answered her calls. Modern communication devices raise our expectations. ‘I couldn’t find a phone booth’ is a phrase that hasn’t been uttered in many years. And the pattern with us is to be in constant touch, not just because she’s my aide, but because we enjoy talking to each other. Meg is the most important part of my life. We’ve been married just over two years in our present time (2018 time that is). We had known each other for a matter of days when we both realized that we would spend the rest of our lives together. I was a widower, having lost my wife, Nancy, to cancer a few years earlier. Meg was single, having never married. I proposed, and we had a wedding in the ship’s ballroom—100 million years ago. I didn’t tell Spruance that story. I hate the fact that she’s worrying herself sick over my disappearance. We’re seldom apart, even when I’m deployed. I requested of the Navy high command that Meg should be my official aide and should accompany me to sea. A letter of commendation from President Blake helped to convince them. Navy ships are no longer the exclusive provinces of men, so her presence doesn’t raise many eyebrows, even though Meg and I share the same room.

  Tomorrow morning I’m going to be part of the Battle of Midway. Spruance promised that he’ll let me go to find the wormhole when we got back to Pearl Harbor, back to my real life—back to Meg. So, this engagement will be my own personal battle.

  ***

  “General quarters, general quarters, all hands man your battle stations.”

  A great way to wake up at 0430, but I’m used to it. I was on the bridge at 0530 as Spruance had ordered. I think I’ve convinced him that I’m not full of shit, and he even seems to be open to the idea of time travel. Those crazy incidents with that Building 19 had really gotten him thinking. I got the feeling that he and I were forming a friendship.

  I walked onto the flag bridge—that’s the bridge where a commanding admiral hangs out, as opposed to the navigation bridge, which is for the captain and the other people who run the ship. I snapped a salute and he returned it. I wore my new captain’s uniform. Not exactly admiral couture, but it beats dungaree fatigues.

  Spruance walked up to me and shook my hand.

  “I understand that you’ve seen combat, Harry, but nothing like we’re about to see—according to you. We’re starting in a position of strength. In the engagement that’s been called the Battle of the Coral Sea a few weeks ago we heavily damaged two Jap carriers, carriers that won’t be fighting us today. If what you said pans out, we’ll sink another four enemy carriers in this battle.”

  “Yes, sir. The Battle of the Coral Sea was the first naval battle in history that consisted of just carrier planes. The opposing ships never saw one another. We lost the Lexington and the Yorktown was damaged. Although it was a tactical Japanese victory, it was a strategic victory for us because we took the carriers out of action, and b
ecause we repelled a large invasion force.”

  Spruance laughed. “I won’t ask you how you know those facts, Harry.” Then he shook his head, something he’d been doing more and more the longer he spoke to me.

  “Harry, keep feeding me information about what you think will happen.”

  “I still remember the timeline of these upcoming days from the course I taught at Annapolis. An hour from now, Japanese planes will attack our shore installations on Midway Island. The commander ashore wisely scrambled his aircraft. Those planes, along with Marine and Army aircraft will screw up the Japanese plans.”

  We could see Japanese carriers maneuvering on the horizon. I was having one of those time travel moments. The Japanese, our good friends and allies, are now threatening us, as we threaten them.

  “Admiral, I recommend that you send a squadron of torpedo planes toward the Japanese fleet.”

  “Why not dive bombers?” Spruance said. “They’re a lot more accurate.”

  “I suggest, sir, that your objective should be to force the carriers to steer out of the wind so they can’t launch aircraft. Once their bows are pointed out of the wind, you can attack the planes on the flight decks with dive bombers.”

  “You’re talking like an admiral, Harry.”

  I was having a hard time adjusting my brain to what was going on. There I stood, next to Admiral Spruance, telling him what will happen over the next few hours and days and even making tactical recommendations. Weird feeling, but there isn’t much about time travel that isn’t weird.

  ***

  June 7, 1942

  “Congratulations, Admiral,” I said to Spruance. “You sank four Japanese carriers, a heavy cruiser, and destroyed 248 planes. It seems like just yesterday I was telling my class of midshipman at Annapolis about your exploits.”