Chapter 40
"We're here, on the USS Long Beach, currently twenty-five miles from the Norfolk Naval Base." Barbara Walters was saying to the camera while I tried not to fidget in my seat. "The crew of this celebrated ship is preparing it for tomorrow's return home, painting and polishing as much as possible before making its triumphant return to the United States. I'm here tonight, for this special live broadcast, with the ship's current commanding officer, Lieutenant Commander David R. Jones. David, it's good to see you again."
"It's good to see you again as well, Barbara." I said with a real smile. I hoped Aunt Bev was recording this, because I knew this would be another interview tape I'd watch time and again. By Presidential Order, every officer and crewmember of the ship had received a promotion before we left Diego Garcia three weeks ago. For me, I'd now risen two ranks in less time than an officer normally rose one rank. It wasn't quite unusual considering we were at war. I'd already heard about a Lieutenant from a frigate that had stayed in the Gulf area that was now a full Commander, a much more rapid rise in rank than mine considering that it normally took three to five years to go from Lieutenant Commander to full Commander. Of course he'd fully completed the Academy and had been in the fleet for three years before the war started.
"Commander, how are you feeling tonight, before you return home for the first time since the start of the war?" Barbara asked and I kept the smile on my face.
"Tired, and happy at the thought of being home." My answer was honest and heart felt. I knew there were still rings under my eyes, but they were less pronounced than they had been a week ago. "It has been almost eleven months exactly since I left the States and the thought of finally being home is most welcome. Most of my crew has been gone just as long, if not longer, and they are just as happy at the thought of finally being home. Our thoughts and prayers are still with our brothers and sisters who have not yet been able to return home."
"When all this started, where were you?" Barbara asked me and it was time for the general public to hear the 'story' first hand. In the weeks since our return from launching the nuclear depth charge, what exactly would be said and released to the press had been carefully reviewed by the highest of authorities, and last night an officer from the National Security Agency had come over on the same helicopter as Barbara had to conduct a final briefing for this interview. There was no way I could escape public attention after having given the order to use a nuclear weapon, so we hoped a single interview now would set things up for me to quietly fade into the background.
"I was a junior at the United States Naval Academy." I answered with the same smile.
"Wasn't that a little unusual?" Barbara asked me with her famous smile. "You're only nineteen, aren't you, and just graduated from high school last year?"
"Barbara, I would say nothing in my life has been 'usual'." I told her with a small laugh that she shared. "If my life had been normal, this would have been the first time you and I ever sat down to talk. It's not though. As I'm sure you and most of your viewers are already aware, I tested very high on certain tests while I was much younger. Since then I've been taking college-level courses while going to high school and over the summer breaks. I could have just jumped right into college two years ago, even the Naval Academy would have taken me, but I wanted as normal a life as possible, and I wanted to finish high school like a regular kid. There were… authorities who were sympathetic to my desires and we struck a bargain that I would be allowed to finish High School before entering the Naval Academy. By the time I did graduate High School, I'd already finished enough college-level credits that I was admitted as a Junior. Thanks to the work I'd done with the armed forces while in High School, I had a high-level security clearance when hostilities were starting to break out. That made me a perfect choice to be sent out to the fleet back in January."
"Is it true that during last summer you wrote a paper on possible hostilities in the Gulf region and that paper actually predicted many of the things that did happen?" Barbara asked me and I nodded carefully. The paper was real, although it had been written two years ago, and it had been slightly altered to make it look almost-prophetic in content. Then it had been 'leaked' by the CIA.
"Barbara, I must say that I really wish that paper had not been made public." I said after nodding. "However, I can't deny that most of it was my work, and that it did bear more than a passing resemblance to what happened back in January. I believe that was one of the reasons why I was sent, to advise Admiral Langsworth on tactics as well as to provide him with intelligence information not normally available to a battle group commander."
"I see, and you don't think you were a little young for this?" Barbara asked with a slight tilt to her head.
"At the risk of sounding arrogant: no." I answered her forthrightly. "I wasn't being sent out to command a ship or a fleet. I was being sent out to advise the men who would be issuing those commands. That was all."
"What happened once you got out there?" Barbara asked and I had to take a deep breath before continuing. This interview was hard, harder than anything I'd done before.
"Things went to hell in a hand basket pretty quickly." I admitted with a shrug. "We didn't have the forces necessary to achieve a quick victory. It became clear very early on that we were in a tight situation, even without the Soviet's direct involvement. At the time, they were only providing logistical support to Iraq and Iran. A plan was developed that contained high risk for the forces involved and I was dispatched to the USS Long Beach. I was being sent to act as an intelligence officer and to fill a billet on the ship as a junior officer."
"Who developed the plan for the Long Beach and other nuclear cruisers to escort the transport ships into the Gulf?" Barbara asked showing much more familiarity with events than I had really expected her to have.
"The original idea was mine." I admitted shyly. "It was refined and perfected by the more experienced officers, though."
"It worked, didn't it?" She asked.
"Yes, and as a result the Soviets entered the conflict directly." I agreed. "They declared limited hostilities within the Persian Gulf and Indian Ocean and took direct action against our fleet. We suffered tremendous losses in those first days."
"Wasn't the Long Beach damaged in that engagement?" She asked and I nodded again.
"Yes, we took a heavy missile to our aft superstructure." I responded. "It caused severe damage, but we were still combat-capable and fought in the Gulf for six months before pulling back to Diego Garcia for repairs and refit."
"It was after that refit that you set to sea again." Barbara stated calmly. "I was shown a copy of the transmission of a battle plan submitted by Admiral Pollock for what is now being called the Battle of Yemen. In his notes, he said you were largely responsible for part of that plan, and it has been reported you encouraged the extra actions that resulted in Yemen denying the Soviets any further use of their country for the war."
"I was only one of the officers responsible for that plan." I said firmly. "Admiral Pollock was a tactical and strategic genius, and one of the best commanding officers any soldier or sailor could ever hope to serve under."
"I'm sure he would appreciate hearing you say that." Barbara said and I almost frowned at the comment. Somehow it seemed a bit…harsh. "So, after the Battle of Yemen, your ship and its escorts set up a blockade to keep more submarines from entering the Indian Ocean."
"Yes, that was the whole purpose of the Battle of Yemen." I agreed quickly. "The Soviets were using that area to infiltrate the Indian Ocean. As long as it was available to them, we couldn't risk having carriers in the region, much less moving oil on tanker ships. The one convoy the British and French escorted out got lucky, only losing two ships to submarines. It was necessary to block that passage so that oil could make it back home, and to Europe, and we were the ships to do that."
"But it almost failed." Barbara stated flatly and I was forced to nod in agreement.
"It did fail." I asserted. "The Soviet submarines were manned by skilled crews and excellent officers. They managed to sneak past our helicopters and got within shooting range of every single ship in the task force. We didn't pick them up until they opened their torpedo tube doors."
"Didn't you know they were coming?" Barbara asked.
"Yes, I received intelligence that night, about twenty minutes before they attacked." I admitted as I released a deep breath. "The intelligence was wrong though. It projected them as reaching us on the next night."
"Did it include authorization for release of nuclear weapons?" Barbara asked in a tight voice and I nodded slowly.
"It did." I agreed softly. "When I saw them, I was glad it was not me in command. I had duty watch in combat though, and went to my post. The Captain and most of the other senior officers were all in a staff meeting, so I decided to wait until after the meeting to inform the Captain. I thought we had enough time; the intelligence said we had that time and I didn't doubt it at all."
"But you didn't have time." Barbara stated and I had to nod. It felt like there were tears in my eyes.
"No, I didn't." This time my voice was almost shaking. "The first missiles hit us long before that meeting was supposed to be over. They killed all the officers in that meeting, leaving me next in line for command. The burden of fulfilling our orders fell to me. Within minutes, every ship except Long Beach had been destroyed, and we were running for our lives. The new orders from Washington stated that if we were to be overrun by a submarine force heading our way, we were to stop them by any means necessary, and authorized to use a nuclear depth bomb. Even were we undamaged, there was no way the Long Beach by herself could take on so many submarines, so I was left with only one real choice. I didn't want to give the order, but I was the senior line officer left alive on board. That made it my decision to make, so I did what was necessary, no more and no less. I'm not proud of that decision, even though it was the right one to make. It's something I'm going to have to live with for the rest of my life. I just pray that it will be the last time anyone on the face of this planet has to make that decision."
"Is it true that one of the officers in your Combat Information Center refused to obey that order?" Barbara asked me softly.
"Yes, it's true, and he did it in a way that was both understandable and acceptable." I told her with a grim expression. "Making the decision to use a nuclear weapon was a hard one. I personally hate the things and wish they'd never, ever been invented. They were though, and they were a weapon in our arsenal that could allow us to accomplish our mission. If we hadn't removed the submarine threat, those submarines would have been free to roam the Indian Ocean. They were good subs, with good crews. It is very likely that they would have been able to sneak up on the Enterprise. If they had, that would have been five thousand more dead American sailors. We currently have another thirty thousand troops on ships in that area, heading up to oversee the occupation of Iraq and the conditions of the peace treaty with Iran. When this was all happening, they were heading up there to join the battle in Kuwait. Many of them would have been sent to the bottom of the ocean by those subs if they'd broken through. If that had happened, it would have been a very real possibility that we could have lost the war."
"So if the only thing at stake had been your ship?" Barbara asked and I had to think for a moment.
"I would have given orders that we run away at top speed and not stopped until we reached the safety of other US forces." I said after that pause. "I could never justify using a nuclear weapon just to save my ship and its crew."
"A noble sentiment." Barbara stated flatly and I breathed out a sigh of relief. "What would you say to the families of the Russian sailors who died when you used that depth charge?"
"I would tell them that I share their grief at losing those they cared for." I said very softly while looking her in the eyes. "We must not forget that everyone who died in this war was a human being with family and friends that cared for them. On the Long Beach, I lost several good friends that night, and tomorrow when we pull into port, I'll be talking with their widows and children who must now grow up without a father. The Russian sailors and soldiers who died in this war are no different, and my sympathies go out to their families. We were not the ones who chose to go to war with each other, we were the ones who had to fight the war, though. I believe we are closer in kind, sailors both Russian and American, than we are different. While we fought each other recently, it does not change the fact that we are also brothers of the sea. To the families of the crew members of this ship who died, and to the families of the Russian sailors who died, I will tell the same thing: Let this war be the last between us."
"Something I'm sure many will appreciate to hear." Barbara stated with a little more warmth in her voice. Then she got even more serious. "In the past few weeks, while your ship made the long journey home, great changes have happened in the former Soviet Union. Many of the lesser countries have declared their independence from Soviet control, East Germany is entering into talks with West Germany for reunification, and Russia itself is considering a new Constitution. Their new government is looking to be more democratic and to be based on free-market ideals. What do you think of these changes?"
"Barbara, I'm neither a politician nor an economist, I'm a sailor." I said with a smile and leaned back in my chair. "However, speaking only as a private citizen, not an officer in the Navy, I would say that we are seeing the dawn of a new age in this world. The former satellite states like Poland, Belarus, Estonia, Czechoslovakia, Romania, Yugoslavia, Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, and all the others are looking at a new dawn for their people. For the first time in generations, they will be able to control their own destiny. Russia itself is looking at a new era as well, and its people will be able to determine their own future as a free country. There are pitfalls ahead of them that will be difficult. Moving from a centralized, state-run economy to a free-market economy is not easy. You can't wave your hand or sign a piece of paper and expect things to change overnight. They'll have to be on their guard for corruption by leaders, fortune-seekers looking to make a quick buck without giving anything in return, and similar problems, but with the right help I'm sure they can make the change a good one for everyone."
"You sound optimistic about the future." Barbara said with a smile.
"I am." I told her honestly. "This war was started by a group of men who were more interested in their own power and wealth than they were in the welfare of their own people. Now, those people have a chance to lay claim to a future where we all can benefit. It won't be easy, there will be a lot of work ahead of everyone, but we can get there so long as we remain true to the principles of freedom and liberty."
"Thank you for your time, Lieutenant Commander." Barbara said as the time for our interview came to a close. I nodded briefly as the television lights went out and a technician came to undo the wiring. Barbara and I talked briefly, with her asking about Brian. My lover was still in Diego Garcia working for the Red Cross, but I was hoping he'd be back home within a few weeks. He'd already made plans to return to Harvard in the Spring Semester.
Then it was back to the bridge where I chatted easily with the duty officer. As the sun set we pulled the men who'd been painting the sides of the ship back up to the deck. They'd pretty much finished the job and the fresh coat of paint hid the worst of the rust and battle scars. Metal plates covered the damaged superstructure and the hole in the side of the ship, and a freshwater wash-down scheduled for early in the morning would take care of the crusted salt all over the ship. On the stern of the ship, the news crew was taking down the satellite transmitter that had sent the interview out live over the network and I gave orders to make sure their equipment was stowed in the hangar before we set darken ship.
The in-port cabin for the Captain had been destroyed in the missile strike, so I used the very small at-sea cabin directly behind the bridge for rest. It had a small desk that I could use to write my letters to Brian, this time with me sending them from the States to him in a war zone. The war was pretty much over, but the reversal still felt fairly odd.
Without Soviet support, the Iraqi and Iranian air forces had all but collapsed. With air superiority firmly established, and twenty thousand new troops complete with tanks, helicopters, ammunition, and fuel, our troops had streamed out of Kuwait City. With General Schwarzkopf's genius, they had wiped out nearly fifteen thousand Iraqi troops in two days. Frantic radio transmissions from Saddam Hussein's generals had told us exactly where he was hiding. Tomahawks launched from the battleship Iowa had found him before he could move.
The strike had killed not only Saddam Hussein and both his sons, but most of his civilian and military leadership. Literally overnight, his military forces evaporated as the news of his death spread. Government offices were looted and chaos took control of Iraq's cities for two days. That was when the US forces rolled into Iraq, with Saudis, Kuwaitis, French, and British forces behind them. By the end of the week, allied forces were firmly in control of every major city. Germany, Spain, and Italy were sending in peace-keeping troops of their own as well.
I was very mindful of the insurgency in the original 2003/2004 timeline, and so was the US leadership. Fortunately, there had been no twelve years of standoff between us and Iraq, no time for them to prepare an insurgency or stockpiles of weapons, and no memories of a failed uprising that died because we didn't support them. We also had more friends there, and in greater numbers. By the time the Long Beach reached the US coast, thirty thousand US troops were in-country and were accompanied by twenty-thousand troops from other countries. More importantly, another fifteen thousand were preparing to deploy from still more countries.
Two years ago I'd participated in a think-tank discussion on what to do if we ever had to occupy Iraq. That plan was already being implemented. Ba'ath party workers who had fled at Saddam's death were being cajoled back to their workplaces. Only the surviving senior officials of the government were outright fired or arrested. A bill was already before congress to send $1.2 billion in aid, and similar funds were coming from dozens of countries. With any luck, it would not turn into another boondoggle like the invasion from my first time around.
As had become my custom each night after sunset, I toured the inside of the ship, speaking quietly with different crewmembers as I walked from one end to the other. Morale was high, but there was brittleness to it that I felt each time. We had lost most of our senior officers in a few minutes, and were now the only ship in the Navy to have ever used a nuclear weapon in combat. To top that all off, we were now sailing to a port where the ship would be decommissioned, taken out of service. For eleven months, this crew and ship had fought in the toughest naval battles of the war, and survived. Now it was being 'taken out to pasture' and that had a negative impact on the morale of the crew. I was hoping that our reception tomorrow would change that. Sailors are among the most superstitious people in the world, and their relationship with their ship defied description. I felt it along with them and still had a hard time putting it to words.
Tonight most of the crew was too busy to reflect on the uncertain peacetime future or the fate of their ship as they prepared for tomorrow. Most were preparing their dress uniforms for when we pulled in to port. We had a busy day tomorrow, and they'd been told only the basics of what would happen.
Still, the mood was much more cheerful as I moved around the ship. Sure, I was the same age as most of these men and women, but I was now their 'Captain', their 'old man', and that set a barrier between us. It was odd hearing them sometimes talk about me when they didn't know I could hear. The chief petty officers were little different, treating me with a great deal more respect than I thought I deserved. Senior Chief Lofton had been the highest-ranking surviving chief, so I'd named him 'Chief of the Boat'. That position was essentially a 'liaison' between the crew and the Captain, a senior enlisted man who could tell the captain almost anything and get away with it. So far, he'd had nothing but nice things to say, and a few words of advice when I flubbed up on small things. I was constantly wondering how much of it was just smoke up my ass and how much was real.
Poor Lt. J.G. Meyers had the 2000 to midnight Officer of the Deck watch, so he got to nervously perform his duties while I sat in the Captain's chair on the bridge. He kept on looking at me nervously every time he gave a course change and I had to wonder if I was scowling or something. We were sailing in a box, holding position until it was time to head into port tomorrow, and we had our running lights on. A soft, red light provided enough illumination for me to read one of the newspapers that had arrived with the news crew earlier today.
It was the Washington Post I was reading and I was frowning at all the articles about me. The articles about the ship and its crew, especially the deceased senior officers, were all fine, but the sheer number that focused on me was daunting. Most of them mentioned the fact that I was 'gay' and had a long-term partner, and I feared that fact would overshadow everything else. Fortunately, most of the mentions to that were just presented as part of the picture, not the focus of it at all. As Lieutenant J.G. Kathby replaced Meyers as Officer of the Deck, I picked up another newspaper lying next to my chair and began to look through that one.
As might be expected, the San Francisco Chronicle focused a little more on the gay aspects of my life, but even there it wasn't the primary focus of the articles.
"Captain." Master Chief Lofton's voice startled me a bit. I hadn't heard him enter the bridge. I looked out the bridge's windows before facing him, and could see some lights from land and a few other ships nearby. It was a calm night at sea, and with a half-moon overhead it made a very beautiful scene. For a moment, I soaked in that sight before turning to face the Master Chief.
"Master Chief." I said at last, nodding to the man. "Shouldn't you be in your rack?"
"I had something to do before getting some sleep." Lofton said with a slight grin.
"Oh?" I said, lilting the word into a question at the end.
"Yes, I had to put the Captain to bed." He said with a grin that was now almost wolfish. I could tell the nearby bridge crew had heard the statement from the way they tried to hide their grins. Kathby raised some binoculars to her face to hide her grin.
"Very well." I said with a sigh. Meyers must have told him I was still up on the bridge when he went off watch. The last two nights the Master Chief had been doing his best to make sure I got to sleep before four in the morning. With a sigh I put down the paper and headed into my cabin just aft of the quartermaster's station. As I entered the cabin I heard the quartermaster call out "Captain has left the bridge." Lofton surprised me though, by following me into the cabin.
"I was thinking you might want a night-cap." Lofton said with his lop-sided grin while taking out a small flask. "I heard from somewhere that your favorite is Jack Daniels?"
"That's correct." I said with a frown as he took two cups down from a nearby shelf. Both were coffee cups emblazoned with the ship's seal and motto, "Strike Hard, Strike Home." He emptied the flask into the two cups and handed me one.
"To lost comrades." I said, lifting the cup into the air in salute before downing the whole thing. It burned slightly, and I could immediately feel warmth creeping through my body. The chief raised his own cup before downing it completely. "I always assumed the chiefs had a supply of alcohol on board, even if regulations forbid it."
"No good chief goes to sea without a bottle." Lofton said with a shrug. "This was the last of it though."
"Thanks for sharing." I said as I sat on my bunk and moved to take off my shoes. I wasn't going to get undressed. Once the chief left, I'd wait ten minutes and then go out on the bridge.
"I've told the bridge crew to give me a call if you go back out there." Lofton said as if reading my mind. I almost retorted that I was the captain and could order them not to, but I knew better. The crew of any naval ship would rather have the captain mad at them than the Chief of the Boat.
"I'm feeling mothered, here, Master Chief." I did say, only a slight trace of bitterness in my voice.
"I've gotten to know you pretty well, Mr. Jones." Lofton said softly. "In many ways, I'd swear you were twenty years older than you are, but in others you are still inexperienced. I know you haven't been sleeping well. The bridge crew has heard you screaming in your sleep a couple of times. It's normal for you to be having nightmares about what went on. You've been in combat for a long time, and you had to give an order that none of us are really comfortable with, even though it was right. Running from it and trying to skip on your sleep because of the nightmares won't help though. When you get to shore, hook yourself up with a good counselor so you can talk things out. The Navy's got a few good ones."
"The men aren't…" I started to say but he shook his head emphatically.
"It actually makes them feel better to know you're sharing their nightmares." Lofton said carefully. "It makes them feel more normal to know that even their Captain is having problems dealing with recent events. The fact that they see you working just as hard as always, and getting your job done is keeping them motivated and functioning as well. That's why I came up here tonight. They need to see you sleeping. On my way up it looked like half the ship was awake, wandering around the ship listlessly. Once they hear you're in bed, most of them will head to bed as well. Sometimes, leadership really is as simple as setting the example."
"Point taken, Master Chief." I said with a sigh. "I'll stay in my rack."
"Do try to sleep as well." Lofton said with a nod as he exited the cabin by the door back to the bridge. Through the door I could hear soft voices speaking for a few minutes. After that, the only noise was the normal ones for a ship at sea. Every so often the quartermaster might speak about a course change, the Officer of the Deck give an order, or the roving patrol reported in, but that was all. The ship made its own noises, even here high up on the bridge. There was the clang of pipes opening or closing, the wind passing by the hull, the sound of waves hitting the sides of the ship, the thrum of engines, the whir of a fan circulating air in the room, and so on. After an hour, the sounds lulled me completely to sleep, and this time there were no nightmares.
"Captain, it's 0500." A soft voice woke me out of my sleep and I had to think for a moment before realizing she was speaking to me. I opened my eyes to see a very young-looking female sailor with blond hair poking her head in my cabin. She looked nervous as hell so I smiled at her.
"Thank you, Seaman Kirk." I told her with a nod of my head. She sighed with relief as she closed the door behind her. I vaguely remembered that she was one of the new crewmembers who had joined us during the refit in Diego Garcia. She was assigned to the deck division, not having gone to any advanced training school and had been hoping to get into Operations or Electronics Warfare. From what I'd been told by fleet command already, every crew member of the Long Beach would be receiving visits from detailers over the next few weeks. Detailers were navy personnel who had the pleasure of picking duty assignments for enlisted personnel when they transferred or reenlisted.
Decommissioning the ship would take the better part of a year, and already every crew member had asked for permission to stay onboard until the end. Those requests would be granted, as would any requests to transfer out. When the crew did transfer out, they would be given the pick of any assignment in the fleet. Any crewmember who was already 'rated' (meaning they already had a job assignment) would be given the choice of going to an advanced training school, shore duty, or any sea duty in the fleet. Crew-members who had not been rated yet would be given the chance to go to a training school in any rating they wanted. Every crewmember on this ship would get whatever they asked for, if it was at all possible.
The small shower stall was confining, but still got me clean, and at least partially awake. After changing into a fresh set of khakis, I left my cabin by the aft door that lead into the passageway on the interior of the ship. Then it was down eight flights of ladder (or stairs) on the starboard side. The port side ladders had all been destroyed below the O-5 level so going from the bridge on the O-8 level to the main deck meant using the starboard side.
The missile strike had also destroyed the officer's wardroom. A suggestion had been made to have the officers use the Chief's Mess for mealtime, but I'd ordered that two tables in the middle of the crew's mess would be set aside for officers. Being the captain, however, meant that I did get served personally instead of having to wait in line with everyone else. While I said good morning to the crew and officers I passed on the way, no one really bothered me with anything.
During breakfast I reviewed the planned itinerary with Lieutenant Commander Saunders. The tall, dark-skinned man was in his mid-twenties and had been the ship's First Lieutenant before that night. Now he was the Executive Officer of the ship thanks to the fact that I'd achieved the rank of Lieutenant two days before him. We were short on officers, and every one of them except me had to fill several posts. Saunders also acted as the ship's Weapons Officer. While we'd managed to get the missile launchers and directors back on-line for the trip home, there had been no need to actually use them. A pair of Knox-class frigates, both slightly damaged from their own battles, had accompanied us home, but had pulled into port yesterday.
Dawn appeared over the horizon shortly after 0600. As soon as it was bright enough outside, hundreds of sailors appeared on deck to begin what was known as a freshwater wash-down. The ship made its own fresh water, and we still had four of the eight evaporators operational. Despite that, we'd use almost every drop of freshwater as crews connected hoses to appropriate pipes and began spraying down the ship. More crew with brushes followed behind, scraping weeks of salt accumulation from the deck and bulkheads. On the forward starboard quarterdeck, a crew from the deck divisions had assembled and was sanding down the teakwood deck. Teakwood was an old tradition for the quarterdeck, totally ornamental, and by the time they were done it gleamed beautifully. By 0730, all the work was done and the crew was ordered below decks to prepare for us to pull into port. For most of them, that meant changing into their dress blue uniforms and preparing to line the rails. I too had to change into my dress blues and winced at the image in the mirror.
There were lines around my eyes that probably shouldn't be there for another five or ten years. The dark circles under them were almost gone, and my hair was neatly cut while my face was freshly shaved. I looked more lean than muscular from lack of exercise, but still looked healthy. The reason I was wincing was the assembly of ribbons and medals on my chest. There were far more than I felt I'd earned, and the rank insignia on my sleeves seemed cheated somehow. I barely glanced at the command-at-sea pin only worn by officers who commanded a sea-going vessel.
Too much blood had gone into me getting that pin.
"Flight quarters, flight quarters." The ship's announcing system blared at 0800 precisely. I exited the cabin onto the bridge and stood ramrod straight.
"Captain on the bridge!" Chief Withers, the senior enlisted man on watch called out.
"Captain has the conn." I said firmly.
"Aye, captain has the conn." Lieutenant Mathers, the current Officer of the Deck said just as firmly.
"Turn us into the wind and increase speed to twelve knots." I ordered in preparation for the helicopter that was coming in to land. I'd gotten much more confident in my sea handling abilities over the last few weeks. I was able to watch from the bridge as the familiar marine helicopter came in for a perfect landing on our fantail. We were just big enough to accommodate the thing. When its wheels touched the deck, I nodded to the Bosun of the Watch who lifted a whistle to his lips and blew into the announcing system. When he was done, he picked up the microphone while ringing a bell eight times.
"President, United States arriving." He said and then rang the bell six times. "Vice-President, United States arriving." Next, he range the bell six more times. "Secretary Defense, arriving." Six more bells rang again. "Chief of Naval Operation, arriving." Six more bells again. "CinClant arriving."
"The poor boy is going to be tired by the time he's done ringing that bell." Lieutenant Mathers joked and I smiled at him. At least they were all being brought up to the bridge by the elevator. It had taken three days to fix the damn thing, but I was not going to have a man the President's age walk up eight flights of stairs. There was a small blessing that I would not be meeting them on the fantail. That was Lt. Commander Saunders' job as Executive Officer.
Ten minutes later, I stood on my bridge and saluted as the President and his entourage arrived. He returned my salute with a broad smile before moving to shake my hand. For a moment I thought he was going to hug me, but that would have been inappropriate in front of my crew. The Vice-President, now President-Elect, stood to his right, with the Secretary of Defense and admirals behind them.
"She's looking pretty good, David." President Reagan said after our handshake. "Those plates really hide the damage we saw from the photos."
"Thank you, sir." I said with a nod of my head. "Welcome aboard the Long Beach."
"I was expecting things to look a little more…worn after all this ship has been through." The Vice-President said and I nodded in appreciation of the comment.
"I've had the crew working hard to make things look good for their families and friends who'll likely come on board." I said. "I want them to be able to take pride in bringing her home not only under her own power, but looking good as well."
"If I didn't know better, I'd almost think she was ready to fight if we needed her to." The Chief of Naval Operations said with a hint of pride. I stood a little straighter at that comment.
"Admiral, if we needed to fight right this second, we could." I said with pride. "We are blind on the port side due to the lack of the phased array panel, but we have full operations on our forward and starboard panels. Our aft panel is sixty percent operational. We have two forward missile directors operational as well as one of the aft directors. Four of the five Phalanx cannons work, as does all three of our vertical launchers. ASROC is fully operational as are all of our gun mounts. The port side torpedo tubes were totally destroyed, but the starboard tubes are fully functional. If we were attacked this moment, we could strike hard, and strike home."
"Just as the ship's motto states." CINCLANT, the Commander in Chief of Atlantic Forces stated with a firm smile. "Good work, considering how much damage you've taken."
"Thank you sir, the crew has done fine work." I said with a nod of my head.
"Captain, it's time." Lieutenant Mathers said softly and I nodded, looking at the assembled Admirals who just nodded to me. It was my ship, and none of them were going to step on my toes here. I took a deep breath, very much aware of the impact any mistake might have on my career and began issuing the orders necessary to take us into port.
Fifteen minutes later, we were ready and the ship sailed at a steady ten knots into the harbor. On deck, the crew had lined the rails in accordance with tradition, all wearing their dress blue uniforms. We were the only major ship pulling in, by order of the Chief of Naval Operations, but we were met by a literal flotilla of tug boats and sail boats. The tug boats had their water cannons, used to fight fires on nearby ships, going full blast to send streams of water into the air. Overhead, the morning sun caught the streams of water and a multitude of rainbows formed in a beautiful sight that made my heart flutter in appreciation. The crew deserved such a warm welcome.
The sail boats were full of civilians who came close several times to scream 'welcome home' or 'well done' or similar messages to the crew. A few daring civilians even came close enough to throw bouquets of flowers on board, all of which lifted my heart as surely as it was lifting the spirits of the crew. Several times spontaneous cheers rose from the decks as we maneuvered further into the harbor and to the designated pier. A harbor pilot came on board at the appropriate point, but deferred to me as we pulled in, only offering suggestions in a whisper that couldn't be overhead even by the President right behind me. When we pulled up to the pier, the ship's loudspeakers rang out with a song picked by the crew.
I for one certainly had not expected the crew to pick "Amazing Grace", and I also felt it was fitting considering all we'd been through.
With the help of two tugs, the ship pulled effortlessly up to the pier and I breathed a sigh of relief after the first lines went over the side. I hadn't run the ship aground or embarrassed myself in front of these men. While the ship was being tied up, the harbor pilot left the ship by climbing a rope ladder down to one of the tugs while I took my VIP guests on a short tour. Every crew member we met got to shake hands both with the President and the Vice-President before returning to the work of getting the ship tied up to the pier and the gangplanks lowered for both the forward and aft quarterdecks. The crew who weren't busy was gathering in the mess deck, and two or three other large empty spaces. We had a small show to put on, but until things were ready there wasn't much to do except to shake hands with the President.
"Sir, we're ready for the temporary crew to come aboard." Master Chief Lofton said to me as he caught up with us. I nodded quickly.
"Get them aboard, and have them take over the watch positions." I ordered. "As soon as the rest of the crew is ready we'll begin."
"Got it, sir." Master Chief Lofton replied. I leaned over to whisper into the President's ear and he nodded as well. We made our way forward to the main quarterdeck. Out here the noise level was near deafening. The pier was packed with people, most of them family members of crew, and they were shouting at anyone on deck they could see. When we appeared as a group, they went wild and it took a whisper from the President to make me realize I should be waving back along with him and the others. A clear space had been kept on the pier, just large enough for what was planned, and a stage was set up with several chairs.
"The crew is assembled and we're ready, Captain." Master Chief Lofton said from behind me. I hadn't even heard him approach and nearly jumped in surprise. I dropped my hand from waving and gave him a dirty look. He was smirking at me, which meant he was in a good mood.
"Very well, give the signal." I ordered and turned to our guests. "Gentlemen, perhaps we should get out of the way."
We moved up to the O-1 level forward of the quarterdeck as the ship's loudspeakers began to blare with Master Chief Lofton's voice. "Attention all hands! Crew to assemble on the pier!" He repeated it three times, but it was nearly drowned out by the sounds of hundreds of sailors running from where they waited. They streamed down the two gangplanks, through the lines of shore sailors who had cleared a path and assembled in the clear area on the pier. The sounds of their feet were almost drowned out by the roar of the crowd at the sight. I had to admit it was an impressive sight as the ship was emptied of its crew. A small detachment of sailors from other ships and the base had been drafted to stand watch on the nuclear reactor and other vital systems while this little show happened. When the crew was on the pier, standing at attention in ranks, Master Chief Lofton appeared and led me and the guests off the ship via the forward quarterdeck. As we left, the ship's speaker system blared with bells and announcements of the various officers leaving. For some reason, when the voice said "Long Beach, departing" at last, I almost got choked up. That was the phrase for saying the ship's captain had left, and meant I had walked off of the ship.
We assembled on the dais and the various VIP guests took their seats. It was my job to speak first, and I was very much aware of the news cameras amidst the crowd of families. This little ceremony was being broadcast live across the country, and the world. Understandably, the Long Beach's adventures in this war had taken on mythic proportion, which was why the VIP guests were here, and why such a big production had been planned. Fortunately, it was not my first time in the national spotlight, or giving a speech that would be heard by most Americans. As I stood at the podium and looked at the assembled crew, my words were for them, though, more than their families or the television audience.
"When I first saw the Long Beach, it was from a helicopter as we approached for a landing." I began in a low but firm voice. "It was just after sunset, and the ship was a mere dark speck in the midst of a vast, dark ocean. Even as we approached for landing, the ship seemed small, almost insignificant in the vastness of the ocean. As I learned just a few days later, though, there was nothing small or insignificant about this ship."
There was a roar of affirmation from the crew at that comment, and my voice grew a little louder, and more firm as I continued to speak.
"Since the beginning of the war, this ship and her crew have achieved feats undreamed of by others. Ninety-two missiles aimed for us and other ships have been shot down. Thirty-six enemy fighters and bombers have fallen from the sky as a result of our actions. Six enemy submarines have been sent to the bottom of the ocean, as has an enemy battle cruiser, another cruiser, two destroyers, four enemy corvettes, and fourteen enemy gunboats. When we sailed off of Kuwait and supported our troops engaging the enemy on the ground, we destroyed thirty-two tanks with our five-inch guns, and kept an entire enemy division from advancing across a hole in our lines."
I took a breath after detailing the combat kills of the ship and her crew. The total did not include the submarines sunk by the nuclear ASROC, and those would never be counted out of deference to the horror of that weapon. For the next part of my speech, I lowered my voice slightly.
"But these victories were not without costs. One hundred and ninety-five of our shipmates died in those battles. Another four hundred of us have been wounded in one way or another, one hundred and eight so seriously that they had to be evacuated off of the ship. The damage from our last mission was so severe, that we are now preparing our beloved ship for her final voyage. Still we have brought her home in one piece, a monument not only to her own toughness, but to the toughness and skill of her crew."
That managed to get another roar of approbation, not only from the crew but also from the families surrounding them.
"I came aboard the Long Beach as a junior officer." I continued, now my voice softer than it had been at the beginning of the speech. "Now, I have been graced with the honor of commanding her as we made our way home. I know I will never again have the honor of commanding such a fine vessel, and such a fine crew. The war we fought in is over, the blood we shed, the days and nights of never-ending work, the lack of sleep, and the tears we have shed for the fallen have been vindicated. We all swore an oath to protect our nation, and her ideals, and we have fulfilled those oaths as only American sailors can do. Take pride in our achievements, remember these days and hope that no other will ever have to pay the price we have paid."
My speech finished I stepped back from the podium and was surprised at the sound of applause from the crowd. The crew reacted a little differently, and without coaching or planning (at least that I was aware of), saluted en masse. I straightened my shoulders and returned the salute before turning to the President, who now stood. I saluted him sharply, and he returned it. Then, I sat down next to the Chief of Naval Operations while the President took the podium.
"I don't know what I can say about this ship and its crew that Lieutenant Commander Jones has not said already." The President began, garnering a short chuckle from those watching. "Just as your fathers and grandfathers showed the world the indomitable nature of the American spirit in World War II, you have once again shown that the passage of time has not diluted that spirit. Against any odds, no matter the hopelessness of the situation, you have proven that America can fight its way through to victory. Your dedication and sacrifice over the past year has not been in vain, as proven by the recent conclusion of the war.
"Thanks in no small part to your great efforts; the Soviet Union is no more. The threat to our allies has been repelled, and the world is a far safer place than it was before. On behalf of the American people, I give you and all your fellow service members our deepest thanks.
"While the world moves into a new era, an era where the scourge of communism is shown to be inadequate and undesirable, where freedom and democracy are available to all, it is your strength and your dedication that will stand in defense of the principles that made our nation great. The war is over, the battles of yesterday won, but the battles of tomorrow remain ahead of us. Just as this great ship, a symbol of America's dedication and strength will be decommissioned after a long and honorable career; a new ship is being designed to carry on her name. It will be different, capable of many new things, and it will carry the banner of freedom to new places in new ways. In many ways it will be a symbol of America's new role in the world now that we have at last seen the end of the Soviet Union. On behalf of a grateful nation, I thank you for your service, and your dedication. Enjoy the rest you have earned so well."
"Crew dismissed." Master Chief Lofton yelled on cue, and the assembled crew members let out a great shout before moving to find their loved ones in the crowd. My own family was out there, but I had other things to do before going to greet them.
"A new ship?" I asked the President as he stepped away from the platform.
"We're designing a new version of nuclear-powered cruisers, Mr. Jones." Admiral Clayton, the Chief of Naval Operations, said with a smile. "It's more along the lines of the multi-role cruiser you suggested a few years ago."
"Ah." I said simply, nodding my head. The idea had actually been from the Norwegian navy in the early twenty-first century, combining a cruiser, amphibious assault ship, and command and control ship in one hull.
"David, we have to be heading back to Washington." The President said simply before I could say anything else. "There's still much to do. I'll see you when you visit next week."
"Thank you, sir." I said quickly, shaking his offered hand and saluting the military officers as they left. Then I went to find my family.
"There you are." Brian said from behind me as I mingled with the crowd, scaring me to death.
"You're here!" I shouted with surprise, moving to embrace him quickly. He laughed as I wrapped him in a bear hug. Neither of us saw or cared about the dozens of news cameras that caught the moment of our reunion. It would make the cover of Life Magazine, and hang on the wall of our home for years to come.
"Yeah, I'm here for the next week." Brian laughed as the rest of our family came up behind him. Aunt Bev was there, as were all my grandparents, several of my aunts, uncles, and cousins, his grandparents, aunts, and uncles, and most of our friends. Sean was still in the Bethesda Naval Hospital. Shortly after telling his story of coming back from the future, he'd gone into a coma, a side-effect of the less-successful trip through time.
"Welcome home, David." Aunt Bev said softly as I broke the hug with Brian. Her words seemed to set something off inside of me, and a tear slid down my cheek. Despite everything done by Alexei to prevent the fall of the Soviet Union, despite his funding of time travel, and taking us to war, he'd lost. Word had come with the collapse of the Soviet Union that he'd been shot and killed in the coup that had ended the Soviet Union. Sean had mentioned before going into a coma that when the gas generator ran out, the time machine's 'bubble' would fade, and eventually disappear in something called the 'time-stream continuum'. If he ever recovered from the coma he was in, more than likely he'd not remember anything about what was now being called the 'alternative' future. Before going into the coma, the memories had started fading and it was believed that the coma was his body's attempt to rid themselves of the 'invasive' memories. Unlike me, there'd not been enough of the drug to make the transfer permanent. The threat of time travel was over, as was the threat of the Soviet Union. I couldn't help the smile that lifted my face at that thought, and I hugged Brian closer to me.
"It's good to be home." I said simply, leaning into Brian and kissing him in a way that left no doubt how much I loved him. His returning kiss let me know that despite the time apart, the changes in both our lives, he still loved me. Tears formed in my eyes at that, tears for the dead friends, the cost of this war, and for nearly losing Brian. I couldn't help feeling it was all over now, and that I was free in a way that I hadn't been since I'd come back in time. Our kiss ended slowly, and we turned to face our family, our future, with our hands entwined.
A feeling rose in my chest and I knew that whatever the unknown future held, Brian and I would be able to face it together.
The
End
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