Free The Commodore by P. T. Deutermann

overlooking the anchorage where the sun was headed for the far, blue horizon. There was a set of wooden batwing doors that led into the inner sanctum, the admiral’s office. Three oversized ceiling fans sluggishly stirred the air but did little to cool the room, and the ship’s own vents simply irritated the hot, humid air. There was a single chair in front of the desk. Captain Browning indicated with his chin that Sluff was to sit there. Sluff thought it felt a little staged, like a Naval Academy come-around. Sluff decided to be as hard-nosed as this guy seemed to be.
    â€œCommander Wolf,” Browning began, “questions have been raised about the performance of J. B. King during the engagement off Savo two nights ago. Do you have some answers to that?”
    â€œProbably, sir,” Sluff said. “What are the questions?”
    Browning frowned. Apparently that wasn’t the answer he’d expected. He leafed through some messages on his desk, picked one up, scanned it quickly, and then looked up at Sluff. “Says here you left the battleship formation when the shooting started and then went radio silent. Explain yourself, if you can.”
    â€œIf I can? ” Sluff replied. “Is this some kind of court, Captain?”
    Browning’s face reddened. “Watch yourself, mister,” he growled. “I ask the questions, you answer. Why did you leave the formation against orders?”
    â€œThere were no orders, for starters,” Sluff said. “We received two tactical signals that night. The first was to anticipate night action. The second was to start shooting when the heavies did.”
    â€œBullshit,” Browning snapped.
    â€œNo, not bullshit, Captain,” Sluff said, trying to control his temper. “Those were the only two tactical signals we received before the fight began. We had been assigned a station in the van upon join-up, but other than that, there was no op order, no standard operating procedures, no communications plan or other instruction as to what Admiral Lee wanted us to do.”
    â€œHe wanted you to screen the heavies, for Chrissakes,” Browning said. “That’s your job. That’s what destroyers do.”
    â€œWell, yes,” Sluff said. “We assumed that. But he put four tin cans ahead of the battleships and then said nothing further. Once the Japs showed up on radar, all he told us was to start shooting when the big guys did. And that’s what we did.”
    â€œThen what the hell is this ‘departed the formation’ business?”
    â€œWe tracked the approaching column of Jap ships on our radar. There was one group coming down the east side of Savo. There were more Japs on the other side of Savo, but at that time, we couldn’t see them. When the battlewagons opened fire, so did we. All of us, all four destroyers. The range was extreme but the Japs got a pasting, mainly from the two battleships, with us small boys getting our licks in, too. On our radar, it looked like their formation fell apart, but then they regrouped, headed east for about a minute and a half, and then turned north. South Dakota quit shooting, but Washington never stopped.”
    â€œOkay, so: Then?”
    â€œThat turn to the east got my attention,” Sluff said. “If they were just running, they’d have come about a hundred and eighty degrees and bent on the turns. But they didn’t—they got broadside to us for ninety seconds, and then they turned north. As far as I was concerned, that meant torpedoes were coming. Long Lance torpedoes.”
    â€œYou saw torpedoes on your radar did you?” Browning scoffed.
    Sluff stared at him, knowing he was being baited. “No, Captain, ” he said softly. “We didn’t see torpedoes on the radar. You can’t see torpedoes on a radar but you can read operational reports. You can study previous engagements. You can learn from those. The Japs aren’t