Free Survivalist - 18 - The Struggle by Jerry Ahern Page A

chance, I elected to run. If it isn’t, we’re in potentially deep shit because they wouldn’t be here without one of their Island Classers and we all know how much fun Island Classers can be, right? So stand by. I’ll keep you informed. And keep sharp at those battle stations.” He racked the microphone and called to Lieutenant Kelly, “Sonar—anything I should worry about?”
    “Not yet, Captain,” she called back.
    “Keep me informed.”
    “Aye, Captain.”
    He’d made a critical tactical error—something he also intended to note in his log in the hopes of preventing some other Captain from doing the same thing someday. Pulling into an American base, assuming only American personnel would be monitoring his short range communications. Communications—“Communications—anything?”
    “Not a word, Captain.”
    “Keep monitoring.” They were listing again and the deck didn’t compensate like his chair did. As he eyed the split video image, he said to Sebastian, “If you have any brilliant insights, Commander Sebastian, now’s not the time to hold off on mentioning them.”
    “Captain, it seems to me that an analysis of the details suggests why we have not been picked up. If an Island Class submarine isn’t waiting for us when we exit the channel, my theory will likely be correct.”
    “Do we have to use that as the acid test?”
    “It jwould appear that either indeed the personnel you saw in Marine Spetznas black were merely engaged in a realistic training exercise, in which case we will merely be late for our rendezvous, or, more likely,
    since Lieutenant Mott has not received a reply to your Sigma code greeting, there was no one to receive it or everyone was too busy to respond or in fear of their own communications being monitored. Which leads me to infer that the island is under attack. There is ample supporting evidence, however circumstantial, to support such a hypothesis. Marine Spetznas communications equipment of standard issue type of which we are aware is not designed to nor is it ordinarily capable of intercepting short range signals in the range used by our submarines. If an Island Class submarine were surfaced or submerged on the opposite side of an island of the general topographical configuration of Iwo Jima, it is doubtful in the extreme that the said vessel would have intercepted our communications or our running noise, Captain.”
    “Then they don’t know we’re here!”
    “Unless an Island Class vessel is waiting for us, that seems reasonable to assume based on current data.”
    “Did I ever tell you I love you?” And Darkwood clapped Sebastian on the back. He pulled down the microphone again. “This is the Captain speaking. Captain Aldridge and Lieutenant Stanhope to the bridge on the double.” He looked at Sebastian as he racked the microphone. “If you’re right, we’re going to have to play this close to the vest, Sebastian. What’s the nearest American vessel you know of?”
    “Commander Pilgrim’s ship, the Wayne, Captain.”
    Darkwood nodded. Walter Pilgrim was a good man under fire and the John Wayne was a good vessel. “All right—we can’t risk trying to contact the Wayne—yet. Plot their approximate position as soon as we’re out of here and in deep water, then update the plot so we’ll have an idea how close some assistance might be if it gets that far.”
    They were nearly out of the channel, the shoaling
    gone. “Navigator. Right the helm.”
    “Aye, Captain, righting the helm.”
    His fingers were too busy at the plotting table to keep them crossed, but they were crossed in spirit…
    “I can help you. My mother had volunteer nursing experience before the war and she’s had a hell of a lot since, my father’s a doctor and I’m not half bad at First Aid.”
    “All right,” Margaret Barrow told her, Annie Rourke Rubenstein belting a lab coat over her hospital gown with a little over two feet of dental floss. “Can you check syringes?