Chapter 8
8
She dropped into her workplace, a cool, blue, barely mapped world filled with interest and danger. As the water closed over her head, she and the other divers started for the wreck, her mind on nothing else but the dive.
The Kittiwake , a Balao-class diesel-electric sub, loomed beneath them, once a fast-moving, sleek US Navy submarine, a state-of-the-art ship killer, hunting in these waters. The sub had an impressive kill rate, sinking Japanese merchant and warships alike without any fear of engagement, choking off delivery of vital supplies to the Empire of Japan, dealing a seventy-seven percent loss to their fleet.
But the sub had been taken out by a Japanese bomber going down with all eighty-five men on board—five officers and eighty enlisted. One of those young men had been her great-grandfather, Petty Officer Thomas Hampstead, a new husband and dad. Her grandmother had just been born.
Her family lived in Norfolk, Virginia. Her family’s commitment to Naval service continued when her great-grandfather served.
She and Neil were skilled and experienced divers, and so there was already a built-up sixth sense between them where body language was read as easily as a one-on-one conversation. She could sense that Dagger and Twister had the same kind of communication. Suddenly, she swam to Twister. Even though there was no conscious signal between them, she just knew there was something wrong. Dagger was just as in tune, but she beat him to the man who was as potent in the water as he was on land. She resisted that magnetic pull and kept her focus on the job they had to do.
When she faced him in the water, he nodded and pointed to the back of his tank. During the initial descent, a strap had loosened, and Sadie touched his shoulder, the neoprene of his suit spongey under her fingers, but the muscles beneath were as hard as steel. She located the strap and tightened it.
He gave her a nod when she looked at him for confirmation. She turned back to the first task at hand. Neil was filming, so she was free to take a visual view of the sunken sub.
It was clear that the crew never had a chance. The aft of the sub was missing. The depth charge had hit the engine room, consistent with the report from the Japanese bomber, who had noted that there was oil and bubbles in the water after the explosion. The blast blew open the tail section of the vessel, damaging the engines, propulsion system, ballast tanks, propellers, and the stern plane that was used to adjust the dive angle, including the balancing aft trim tank that worked in tandem with the fore trim tank to keep the sub horizontal in the water. With all of that gone, there was no way for the crew to stop the sub from nosing down into the ocean, although the watertight doors would have prevented flooding in the eight segregated compartments. The rest of the sub was untouched, simply resting on the bottom where the Navy had deposited her for easy access by its divers.
With the chaos inside, and the position of the crippled vessel, crewmen would have had a very difficult time getting to the escape hatch, and each second they sank deeper into the sea, hope of swimming free to reach the surface disappeared, dooming all hands.
A sharp, painful swell of sorrow filled her at the terror they all must have faced, her stomach twisting with a sickening sensation, an awful chill washing over her. Dying, trapped in their compartments, their last seconds experienced in the dark silence of the sea as air ran out.
Twister touched her shoulder when she didn’t move, effectively distracting her from the horror of those unsettling thoughts as she pushed the emotional ache away. Her great-grandfather, a handsome young man in a military uniform, only real to her in the grainy black and white photographs her great-grandmother, Amelia, kept in an old photo album, was lost to history, his death seventy-nine years in the past. But the way her great-grandmother talked about him was as fresh and impactful as the last day she’d seen her husband off to war.
But it was easy to think about him going about his duties as their chief radioman in the small, narrow communication station aft and directly behind the control room. She wanted to see every inch of this vessel where her great-grandfather had lived, worked, and died.
As they went deeper, she could make out the conning tower, soft corals stuck to the periscope tubes, the searchlight, targeting/bearing transmitters, and radar masts, all intact. A small school of fish swam past the forward long-range forty-millimeter Bofors autocannon. This model of sub also had two forty-millimeter short-range guns fore and aft of the conning tower, the aft barrel canted upward at a skewed angle. This truly was an aggressive war boat and had been instrumental in winning the fight against Japan’s formidable, and after Pearl Harbor’s devastating sneak attack, almost uncontested armada in the Pacific.
The Kittiwake had been constructed of an inner pressure hull, a tube that ran the length of the ship, sectioned into eight individually watertight compartments separated by reinforced barriers called bulkheads, each fitted with a special pressure-rated door. Wrapped around this core was an outer hull that housed tanks for fuel, ballast water, air, and other essential liquids and gases. A hollow superstructure was fitted to the length of the vessel as the main deck with a double long line of square openings called limber holes so water could flood or drain as needed.
Starting at the bow of the sub, the first compartment was the forward torpedo room, with the possibility of sixteen torpedoes, and was where a hatch was for the escape trunk with a ladder that allowed access to the bridge. The second compartment housed the officers’ quarters, the third compartment served as the control room with a radio room directly aft, and the fourth compartment housed the pump room used to control air, water, and fuel. That’s where her great-grandfather would have sat when he was working. From this compartment the crew accessed the conning tower, the main attack and navigation center for the ship, including double periscopes, one for observation and one for attack. A ladder led to a lookout platform outside the ship. The fifth compartment was the main crew area where they ate, slept, and engaged in recreational activities. This was where the main galley was housed. All the crew bunks and a ladder allowed access to the main deck. In the sixth compartment, the diesel-driven pistons generated all the power needed for the crew and the boat, and there was also a hatch to the outer deck. The motor room made up the seventh compartment with the maneuvering room for controlling all propulsion for the sub, the eighth and final compartment housed the aft torpedo room.
Her heart squeezed when she saw the barely visible insignia on the side of the sail—an ocean-blue oval with an aggressive cat blowing fire from its nostrils.
This was the Kittiwake, where her great-grandfather had given his life for freedom. Bubbles rose from her mouthpiece in long, expanding reverse cascades as she swam down to the sub.
“We need to do a preliminary assessment of the hull,” Neil said.
“I’ll take the interior,” she responded immediately. She felt it was her duty and honor to be the first to enter the structure since it had sunk. They were always on the lookout, in this type of situation, for remains, personal effects that might have survived, and historical items. It was the Navy’s plan to take apart the sub and use any part of it that was salvageable for inclusion in their museum.
“Eager to see what’s inside?”
“Not exactly eager, more like awed and respectful of what happened here so long ago.”
“That’s what I like about you, Sadie. You’re so thoughtful and caring all the time. Hardly a harsh word for anyone.”
Aware that their communication was being recorded and listened to up top, Sadie said, “Thank you, Neil, but we better get to work before our shift ends. We only have so much time.”
“All right,” he said, subdued. “I’ll get to the hull, and you see if you can get inside.”
She gave him a nod and started for the tail section. Twister and Dagger were patrolling the area around them. It would get a bit murky once they started stirring up the silt. It was good that they were getting a feel for the area while the water was clear.
She swam down to the ragged tail section, careful not to snag her suit on any rusted metal. It was clear that the depth charge had totally damaged the engines and completely blown off the tail section. Navy divers were finding parts of the sub where it had gone down as they searched the bottom for remains. Her light illuminated the complete darkness where fish swam in and out of the ragged hole. If there had been torpedoes in the aft room, they would have either been expelled or exploded on impact. The charring and damage attested to that.
She swam forward into what would have been the motor room, and without this vital part of the sub, along with the propellers, there had been no hope. She reached the first watertight door. The hatch had been damaged, the door blown off its hinges, lost somewhere in the sea. It gave her access to the engine room. Everything in here was completely intact. She moved through the compartment past the four-diesel engine housing. Sea life had invaded here, again swimming freely in the now murky water.
Something came out of the dark and startled her, brushing along her cheek, sleek and soft-bodied. She reacted by moving away from it. When she reached the watertight door, this one was also open but still intact, barring her way into the next compartment. There was no way to proceed this way. She decided she would have to swim to the top of the boat to access the hatch that led into the crew quarters.
She backtracked, careful of her umbilical as she exited the tail section. “I can’t get any further than the engine room from that access. I’m going to the hatch to see if I can get in that way, but it’s probably rusted.” She looked up. Twister and Dagger were still patrolling. She finned to the hatch door, noting the amount of rust on the exterior of the sub and the hatch. She reached down with her gloved hands and tried to muscle it open, but it was stuck tight. She looked up again, motioning to Twister. He caught her attempts to call him over and swam powerfully down to where she was. She altered her head so her light wouldn’t blind him, and through gestures, she indicated she wanted help with opening the hatch.
He nodded. It was so strange to be in this watery world with him, his presence offering a strong mix of contradictions. Verbal silence, but silent communication. Distance, but a strange kind of closeness. In preparation for what she would find behind this hatch, Sadie drew on his silent strength, repeatedly warning herself to stay vigilant and aware.
With their combined strength, the hatch moved with a grinding, squeaking turn. They each got another hold of the rounded metal and twisted again. It moved easier, until it was finally released. If the compartment hadn’t already been flooded, the seal would have been impossible to move, but since the door had been damaged, they were able to release it.
She squeezed his forearm in thanks, and he smiled at her before he swam back to his patrol.
She was about to descend into the past, into the place where these doomed men had breathed their last breaths, including her great-grandfather. She took a deep, cleansing breath and descended into the hatch, which was wide enough for her and her tanks since this entrance had been fashioned for broad-shouldered men. Swimming down alongside the rusted and filthy ladder to another pitch-black compartment with no light except from her headlamp, she illuminated tables and benches bolted down to the submarine deck. The light extended weakly to the square form of the galley. On the deck, white porcelain gleamed, broken parts of mugs. She turned toward the crew’s quarters and entered. Bunks ran the length of the room to the compromised watertight hatch, shadowy silhouettes in the eerie glow of her light. No one had been in this room in seventy-nine long years.
The covers, mattresses and bedding were gone, disintegrated in the pervasive saltwater, nothing but rusty steel bones. She heaved a breath, gritting her teeth.
“Sadie? All well?” Neil’s voice reached her, but she felt a million miles away, lost in the past.
She swallowed hard. “All’s well,” she said, to let him know that she was all right. She looked at her timer and realized that she was getting close to the shift threshold. They would have to surface soon. She went deeper into the compartment. There was a lot of debris in the corner, and when she swam over to check it out, she discovered shaving brushes, many of them, along with several rusted razors. When she pulled at some debris, silt rose up, momentarily blinding her. She felt around and froze when her fingers found something long and thin with knobs on each end.
She gasped, and again had to reassure Neil she was fine. She brought the find to her facemask to confirm it was a bone.
Her thoughts immediately homed in on the remains. Caught in a time warp, she tried to release the sudden tightness in her chest. Sorrow filled her, a rendering of grief that hit her hard. Her great-grandfather had been nothing but a man in a photograph, but now, as she held this bone in her hands, the fact that even this could be his physical remains made her eyes sting with unshed tears.
That lump in her throat got thicker as she thought about the monumental load all these men carried and how each of them was dedicated, gallant, and heroic in the missions they carried out. Her great-grandfather’s generation served during a terrible, costly war as the golden age ended. They boarded this vessel with the aim to devastate the Japanese, and they had accomplished that mission, harassing an enemy thousands of miles from their home shores, only to cruelly perish days before that country folded and surrendered. That bomber had deprived eighty-five families of their loved ones, put them all into a limbo as to what had happened to them, and buried them under an unrelenting ocean.
“Sadie!” Neil’s frantic voice broke through her momentary lapse in duty. She started, looking around, the feeling of being suspended in a dark bubble closing in on her. Her world compressed into a few feet of thick brown water that her light couldn’t penetrate. No up, no down, just confusion, compounded by her emotions taking over her common sense.
Suddenly, a hand came out of the mass of swirling water, gripping her shoulder, then Twister’s face came into view. He was close to her, his eyes stormy with his concern, draining into that soft bronze as he connected with her eyes. He gestured to her if she was in distress. She made the sign back that she wasn’t. But he was. She could see the strain around his eyes and the encroaching panic as he fought to contain it. Her heart squeezed. She wanted to know what was causing this strong, mentally tough man to dissolve into panic while in enclosed places. She was dying to talk to him, spend time with him, get under his skin, get her hands on his body, dive deep into that mind of his, and her breath suspended, find his soul that was so apparent to her, the most beautiful part of him. God, she wanted him as much as she wanted her next breath.
With everything she had in her, she calmed herself, realizing that she was fine, she was safe, but it was best to get him out of this situation pronto.
He tapped his dive watch, and she realized with a terrible start that they must be past their time to rise to the surface. She felt like a sentimental fool, embedded in the thoughts and signs of all that had been lost in this compartment.
She lifted the bone, and Twister nodded, then she pointed down to the deck. He nodded again, getting the message that there were more remains to be gathered. He kept close to her as she reached down, searched, and placed everything she found in her dive bag. When she was sure she’d gotten everything in this part of the crew’s quarters, she turned to him and pointed up with her thumb.
He turned, indicating that she should follow him as he used her umbilical cord to get them back to the hatch and out into the open ocean. Still feeling like a fool, still shaken from the discovery and the overwhelming emotions, she waved to Neil, and the tenseness left his body. “I’m sorry, buddy. Comms were a bit spotty there for a minute.” She couldn’t admit out loud that she had been lost in her own ruminations regarding the past, lost in her memories of her great-grandmother’s pain, and lost in the sacrifice they had all made for freedom.
“No worries. Just glad you’re okay.”
It was at the point that they would have to stage-decompress. When she caught Twister’s eyes, she pointed up and touched her gauge. He nodded, signaled Dagger, and they moved to the first stop, spending a few minutes to clear excess nitrogen, a rush of bubbles and normal slapping surface sounds mixed in with her gurgling breath, and she and the other three divers bobbed to the surface in front of the Guardian .
“Bali base, Bali base, all divers are up,” the master diver said as the support crew started working on getting them into the boat.
The minute she was on the deck, David and the master chief approached her. “What happened down there,” David snapped. “You were unresponsive for almost a full minute. We were about to send down more divers.”
“Comms were spotty inside the sub, or my equipment malfunctioned.” She perpetuated the lie because if they knew she was emotionally tied to this sub by her great-grandfather, she was going to be sent on leave, the very leave she refused because of this particular discovery. David gave her a narrow-eyed look.
Twister stiffened next to her, but he didn’t say anything, and she felt the pull of his magnetic force. It was obvious from the look on his face that he also didn’t like David’s tone. He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, he was interrupted.
“Leave her alone,” Neil said. “She’s fine, and she brought up a lot of stuff. We should be preserving that, not bullying the diver who brought up the remains.”
“No one’s bullying her,” David said.
“Right,” Neil commented as he walked past and gave her a bolstering look.
“Get cleaned up. We’ll want to go over your gear.”
She nodded, knowing that they wouldn’t find anything, but it was probable that she would lose comms in the enclosed sub. She wasn’t worried about any repercussions.
It was clear from the master chief’s look that he wasn’t pleased with the way David had interrogated her. She had an exemplary record. She had been requested for this dive and had been enthusiastically recommended for it by her previous CO. She was strong, capable, and skilled. So, she had a small lapse. It wouldn’t happen again.
She had her record to fall back on, and she didn’t feel a bit of guilt for using her skills and this dive to get resolution for her family.
The master chief touched David’s arm and inclined his head. She tried to contain her sense of vindication as they moved away from her and started what turned into a heated discussion. David was dismissed, giving her a disgusted and menacing look. The four of them prepared to remove their gear, check it over, clean it, and lay it out to dry.
The moment she was done with hers, she automatically moved to Neil’s and did the same routine. She was used to doing this, mostly because she had wanted into the boys’ club. He and Dagger had headed to the showers, but Twister had lingered.
She wasn’t sure she was prepared to face him. He watched her, and when Neil came back up, she immediately headed down to the showers. Dagger was finishing up when she came inside.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she murmured as he pulled a T-shirt over his head. He smiled and said, “No problem.” He started toward the door, then stopped. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
A lump formed in her throat, but she blustered her way through it. “Of course. Routine.” She shrugged her shoulders.
“I can tell you’re a damn good diver and a consummate professional, Sadie, if I may use your first name.”
She nodded. “Of course.”
“But everyone, and I mean everyone, has things to deal with, and after what you did for Twister, that makes you part of our family.” Her heart lurched, and she got a twist in her heart that Twister had confided in his teammate. “Two things you should know about our community. One, no one messes with our team members…no one, and you can one hundred percent depend on each of us to be there at your back all the time.”
Damn these SEALs. All of them had that way of looking right through you as if they could read every nuance, every lie. She swallowed and worked at keeping everything neutral. There was only one man she would ever consider sharing what had happened down there, and although she appreciated everything Dagger said, Twister would want answers, and she wasn’t going to lie to him. She couldn’t. He would know, and that would damage their trust, and even though she loved her great-grandmother and her grandmother, this man was important as hell. She couldn’t shake that feeling, no matter how much she tried.
Okay, she hadn’t tried that hard.
“Nothing out of the ordinary. Believe me, I’ve been on hundreds of dives when comms failed. Nothing to panic about.” He nodded and left, and she sagged against the wall.
Then the strangest thing happened, the image of that flooded crew compartment materialized in her mind into something real and tangible. She saw the explosion in her mind’s eye, and all those men cried out in terror as the sub violently shook, and everyone screamed as they plummeted, some holding onto the bunks. That scene filled her mind until she could barely breathe.
Their horrified expressions, their terror-filled eyes, tightening and widening as the water started to rush into the compromised door… She covered her face with both hands, her heart beating hard. They had to know they were going to drown, and in that moment, the fear had taken hold. Tears pressed against her eyes. She knew what she conjured up in her mind had to be ten times worse. Overwhelmed by a mixture of sharp regret and unbearable sadness, the feelings of all those men rushed over her. Fear, sadness, pain, love, pride, and loss.
She heard a sound, then a strong male hand cupped the back of her neck as Twister murmured something, running his hand down her back. Her heart and mind struggling with her sorrow and horror, Sadie turned into his arms, certain she was simply going to fly apart. He was dressed only in his skin shorts, the thin material leaving nothing to the imagination as every part of his lower body was outlined in knee-melting muscular relief. The feel of his warm skin nearly upended her completely.