Chapter 6 chapter Five

In addition to worrying about his missing wife and son, Byron.Henry really liked this new war with Japan.This freed him for a time from the Squid and its fastidious captain to undertake the excavation of supplies from the ruins of the Cavite naval base.Beneath the blasted rubble and charred logs, in charred boxes and crates, lay vast quantities of precious munitions—electronics, clothing, food, machinery, mines, ammunition, Thousands of necessities to make the fleet function; first, various parts are now more needed than diamonds.Byron led a sizable team to dig up these materials every day, load them into trucks and transport them west to Bataan.

His exploits in rescuing torpedoes from artillery fire during the attack on Cavite earned him this appointment directly from General Hart's headquarters.He had carte blanche in the burnt ruins as long as he could provide supplies from the peninsula that hugged the bay to the west—where the American forces were digging into the mountains for a possible long siege.Such freedom of movement delighted Byron.His contempt for paperwork and rules and regulations made his life aboard the Squid very difficult, but picking up litter was his greatest asset.He signs any document, fabricates any lie, in order to get the job done.He requisitioned idle men and vehicles as if he were the general himself.To overcome obstacles and disputes, he made use of crates of beer and cigarettes, blackened by fire smoke, which he had acquired in a large cellar he had stumbled upon among the ruins, and which were worth as much as gold coins.His drivers and porters also get a lot of this stuff.He makes sure they eat well.When necessary, he had the audacity to take them to the officers' mess under the pretext of emergency.

During one air raid, he had seventeen of his men march into the dining room of the Hotel Manila.Just when the bomb exploded on the waterfront, this group of workers covered in dirt and sweat, wrapped in white napkins, listened to string music while eating a sumptuous lunch.He paid for the expensive meal with a well-printed Navy check, out of his own pocket, plus a five-dollar tip; A thin sheet of blue paper.And so Byron had his motley crew of sailors, longshoremen, marines, and truck drivers—Filipino, American, Chinese, he didn't care—happily wading through dawn. Dry until dusk.They followed him closely because he kept them busy, gave them favors like a tamer throws fish to his seals, and ignored their petty theft in the rubble.

The stinking Cavite base that was destroyed reminded him of war-torn Warsaw, where he and Natalie were catching up with Hitler's invasion.It was a different kind of war: occasional bombs dropped from a clear tropical sky set ships ablaze and many flames burst from seaside palm groves; nothing like the stormy German shells and bombs that devastated the Polish capital had no enemy Approaching terror.Cavite had been bombed to pieces, a completely destroyed military target, but the base was only a smoky blot on the untouched hundred-mile coastline of Manila Bay.The city itself remained the same as it had been in peacetime: scorching heat, blinding sun, the coming and going of crowded cars and slow-moving bullock carts, a few whites and groups of Filipinos strolling on the sidewalks.The siren, the fire, the sandbags, the little Japanese bombers looming over the green palm-fringed hills, the thumping anti-aircraft shells smothered in black smoke, too far out of reach, to make up this The battle scenes in the city - it feels a little bit like the war in the movie.

Byron knew things were going to get trickier.Gloomy rumors abound.For example, the entire Pacific Fleet has been sunk at Pearl Harbor, including all aircraft carriers, but the culpable president is withholding this disastrous news.Furthermore, it is a lie to say that MacArthur's announcement of a "small group" of enemies landing in Luzon is a lie; he also said that Japanese troops have landed in large numbers, that thousands of tanks are rumbling towards Manila, and so on.Most believed what General MacArthur had told them: that the Japanese landings in the north had been a small feint, had been contained, and that massive reinforcements were on their way.There were also optimistic rumors that a large convoy of reinforcements had sailed from San Francisco, bringing in a marine division and three mechanized army divisions, plus two aircraft carriers full of fighters and bombers.

Byron was not too interested in either version.Submarines can leave Luzon within half an hour of short notice.As for his father and brother at Pearl Harbor, Victor.Henry seemed indestructible to Byron, and he suspected that the Enterprise had sunk.This will always come to light.As long as he was sure that Natalie and the baby were on their way home, he would be happy.The work was a gift from heaven, and it kept him too busy during the day and too tired at night to worry about much. The good times ended abruptly.He had the convoy of delivery trucks stop in downtown Manila to report on the progress of the work, when he came across Blanche with a thick envelope in his hand.Huban was coming out of the Masman Building.Huban blinked in the sunlight.

"Well, well, it happens to be Braney. Henry himself, free as a goose!" The captain of the "Squid" grabbed his arm. "It's easier now." There was a stern look on Huban's handsome face; the jaw thrust forward; the neat Clark.Gable's mustache appears to be bristling.He leaned over the four laden trucks, and cast another glance at Byron's crew.They were all bare-chested or in dirty sweat vests, drinking lukewarm beer from cans. "To Mariveles, isn't it?" "Yes, sir, after I report." "I'll go all the way by car too. Your position here will be relieved."

"Sir. Colonel Percyfield is waiting to see me, and—" "I know what Lieutenant Colonel Persephone means. Go! I'll wait." Persephone told Byron that the Major General would be seeing him, and added: "Lieutenant Henry, you have done a marvelous job. We will miss you. Turn over your men and vehicles to the Colonel Tully of Mariveles." Byron was led by a clerk to the Commander-in-Chief of the Asian Fleet, a wizened little old man in a white uniform.He sat at his oversized desk, facing a magnificent panorama of the blue bay lined with palm trees. "You're Pug. Henry's son, aren't you? Warren's brother?" Hart said nasally, without greeting.His round face was weather-beaten, with reddish-brown spots, showing a tormented look, and his neck was covered with thick and thin sunburn spots.He sat upright in the swivel chair.

"Yes, Major General." "I think so. When I was in charge of the Naval Academy, Warren was the captain. What a bright future, Warren. Your father was a brilliant man. Take a look at this." He handed Bye a copy of the telegram. Lun. From: Director of Personnel Attn: Victor (no middle name) Colonel Henry relieved of his position as captain of USS California (BB-44) and reassigned as captain of USS Northampton (CA-26) It seems that "USS California" Out of combat, his father only got a cruiser I. That's news!But this Thomas who is in charge of the Navy throughout the Asian battlefield.Why should Hart pay special attention to a second lieutenant?

"Thank you, General." "'Northampton,' not a bad consolation prize," said Hart in a rough, low voice. "The 'California' is stuck in the mud at Pearl Harbor with a torpedo blasted a damn big hole in her hull. It's classified. Hey, you look like an unusual lad, hey, ensign?" The admiral picked up two folder together. "It appears that you've been mentioned in a letter of recommendation because you took a lot of torpedoes from Cavite during the bombing. As a submariner, I appreciate that feat. We're short on torpedoes. And you keep getting back Other useful stuff, I know mines included. Well done! On the other hand, young man—" He turned a page, looking sullen, "You've asked to be transferred to the Atlantic Ocean!" Hart Leaning back in the chair, crossing fingers under chin, staring. "I want to see this Henry's child make such a request at such a time."

"Sir, my wife—" Hart's hostile expression softened, as did his tone. "Yes, I've heard your wife is Jewish, and she's carrying a baby, and might be arrested in Italy. It's a bad thing, and I sympathize, but what can you do about the situation?" "Sir, if I happen to have anything to do, I'll be ten thousand miles closer to them." "But we need submarine officers here. I'm looking for them from the supply department and ashore. Maybe your wife's home by now, who knows. Can't that be true?" "Improbable, but even if it were, I've never seen my son, General." Hart stared at Byron and shook his head impatiently. "you can go now." In a creaking army truck full of crates of mines, Branch.Huban sat next to Byron in the driver's seat, and the drive to Bataan was long and difficult.He bids farewell to his gang of workers at Naval Command in Mariveles.They were just beginning to unload, and just waved their hands casually and muttered something in reply.He doubted they would last long together. "Well," said Huban cheerfully, as the frigate's skiff sailed slowly past the green, rocky island of Corregidor into the breezy bay, "the next question is,' Where's the Squid?" He looked around at the empty sea.Thirty miles away on the horizon, Manila was marked by smoke from the aftermath of the air raid.Not a boat in sight; not a tugboat in sight; not a garbage barge in sight.All ships in the bay sailed away for fear of bombing. "The squadron is lurking on the bottom of the sea here, Byron. Let's wait." After about an hour, the periscope rose from the wave's surface, looked around, and disappeared again.At this moment the boat held up against the wind, swaying.Finally a periscope popped up, spun around, peered at the skiff like a sea snake's wet head, and moved toward it.The dark hull emerged from the sea, bursting out in white sprays; soon Byron was back on board the narrow Squid.As much as he disliked it, it made him feel and smell like home. The first officer surprised him by saying that the boat had received his transfer order.He yelled in disbelief, but Captain Esther insisted, "The replacement is here, I tell you, it's Ensign Quinn, you know him, when he left poor old 'Sea Lion', the guy drank There's plenty of sea water. They're redeploying officers on that submarine. There's a letter of recommendation for you, my boy, but the general wants you transferred to the Atlantic." Byron said nonchalantly, "So when can I go, 'ma'am'?" "Be patient. Quinn has only been at sea for four months, and he has to qualify. By the way, the officer's mess room meeting starts in two minutes." Lieutenant Quinn, pale and fingernail-biting, had recently left a submarine sunk in Cavite and was the only new face at the little green-faced table.Captain Huban was present, clean-shaven.Not only did he look younger, Byron thought, but he was also less repulsive; this well-dressed, peaceful peacetime chap, accustomed to the women, was now a real officer. "If any of you have any doubts about this submarine," Huban grinned, spreading out an old and worn-out North Pacific Hydrographic Office chart on the table, "it's a ship that was wounded in battle. There's not a lot of chance of getting it fully repaired at sea, so -- the command said, get ready, guys, for a level one readiness reconnaissance. Get the repairs done in three days or don't. We After the repairs, the supplies and torpedoes are loaded and we set off. According to information, the transport ships of the brigade, escorted by battleships, aircraft carriers, cruisers and God knows what other ships, have left the Japanese islands and are about to invade Luzon. The destination, It is likely to be Lingaying Bay. The "Squid" and most of the ships of the squadron are reconnaissance as if it were Christmas. Our order is very simple. The order of the targets is: first, the ships carrying the troops; Second, the main battleships; third, any battleships; fourth, any Japanese ships." A shudder ran down Byron's back.Around the table he saw closed mouths, wide eyes, serious expressions; Qatar.A quirky smile flashed across Esther's long face. The captain patted the blue and yellow nautical chart. "Okay. First, do the basics. We're eighteen hundred miles from Tokyo. Five hundred miles from the Taiwanese bomber bases that've been flying over us. Seven thousand miles from San Francisco, boys. Pearl." Hong Kong is more than 4,000 miles away. "As you know, Guam and Wake Island seem to be in danger. They may become Japanese air bases for military operations within a week." Point jumps to another point. "So our lines of communication were cut off. We were in Japan's backyard, surrounded and ensnared. That's all. How did we end up in this situation, one day you can ask the politicians. At the moment , help can only come to the Philippines by sea, through the long journey of Samoa Islands and Australia, which are beyond the reach of the Japanese Air Force. Each road is 10,000 miles long." He looked around the table meaningfully. "By the way, the rumors of a large convoy from San Francisco are placating empty talk. Don't take it seriously. We will scout in enemy-controlled waters. The rest of the Asian Fleet will head south for Java. They cannot withstand a bomber attack. Only the submarines remain. Our task is to disturb the landing of the main force of the Japanese Expeditionary Force - where, of course, there will be as many destroyers as there are fleas on the back of a dog." Another glance around, revealing With a strong and happy smile, "Is there a problem?" Esther sat listlessly, one hand raised. "What's number four in the order, sir? Any Japanese ships?" "Not bad." "The same goes for unarmed merchant ships and tankers?" "I mean any Japanese ship." "We followed the procedures set out in the Geneva Conventions, of course - warnings, searches, getting crew on board, and so on." Huban pulled from a manila envelope several rough, gray sheets of printed text. "Okay, here's the order on that point." He flicked the papers lightly.His voice became the monotone of reading aloud. "Here--'On December 8, the headquarters received the following urgent order from the commander-in-chief of the Pacific Fleet: to carry out submarine warfare against Japan continuously and without restriction." Huban stopped and looked at it meaningfully. His officers glanced. "'Squid' will follow orders." "Captain," said Byron, "isn't that why we declared war on Germany in 1917?" "It's good of you to bring that up. It's different. The Germans sank neutral ships. We attack only enemy ships. 'Unrestricted' here means warships or merchant ships, treat them alike." "Sir, what about Article 22?" Lieutenant Quinn said, raising a bony finger with a bitten nail. Hu Ban lost his moustache and smiled childishly. "Okay. You memorized these regulations for the purpose of obtaining qualifications. Memorize them again." Quinn backed away unnaturally in a flat voice. "A submarine shall not sink or incapacitate a merchant vessel unless the merchant vessel persists in refusing to stop after receiving a formal order, if the passengers, crew and the vessel's identification documents have not been delivered to a safe place. In other words, a lifeboat on a merchant vessel is not considered a safe location unless the safety of the passengers and crew can be assured in the prevailing sea and weather conditions, with land nearby or the presence of another vessel capable of receiving the passengers and crew." "Excellent," Huban said. "Forget it." Quinn looked like a frightened poultry. "Gentlemen, the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor without mentioning a word during the peace negotiations. We didn't throw away the rules of civilized warfare, they did. We're not trained for that kind of war, but We have indeed encountered this kind of war. It’s okay if we do. By the time we finish the cumbersome rituals, our target has already sent out a distress signal, and the Japanese planes are already flying over our heads like locusts.” "Captain, let me see what you mean." Esther struck a match and lit a thick gray cigar. "Does that mean if we see them, we sink them?" "We saw them, 'ma'am, we recognized them, and we sank them." A playful grin spread across his face. "In doubt, of course, we'll cheap them. We'll take pictures. Any questions? Let's stop here then, folks." "Blarney!" said the captain as the officers left the dining room. "Yes, sir." Byron turned around.Huban held out a hand and smiled.That silent movement, that youthful smile seemed to erase six months of tense hostility.This is the art of leadership, Byron thought.He took the captain's hand."I'm so glad you did at least one readiness reconnaissance with us," Huban said. "I'm looking forward to it, captain." He was up at daybreak and worked hard; he was still working late in the torpedo bay with his superior and crew, getting ready for combat readiness reconnaissance.Byron.Henry seldom had sleepless nights, but tonight he couldn't stop thinking about his wife and son.The cabin he now shares with Quinn is full of his mementos: her picture taped to the bulkhead, the letters that have been read and read, tattered and crumpled, smuggled from her in Lisbon scarf and baby's only wide-open snapshot.Lying wide awake in the dark of night, he found himself reliving the best moments of a rushed romance—their first meeting, their adventures in Poland, her pink love at Jastrow's villa. A love confession in a boudoir, a date in Miami, a crazy love life on a three-day honeymoon in Lisbon and a farewell on a foggy dawn pier.He could recall the scenes in detail, her words and his, the slightest movement of hers, the look in her eyes; but the memory had grown dull, like an old record played too many times.He tried to imagine where she was now, what his child looked like.He fantasized about the passionate reunion.It was like a jewel to him to hear his orders aboard; this first readiness reconnaissance would be his last on the Squid; if he survived this reconnaissance , he is going to the Atlantic Ocean.