A TEST OF FEAR
By
Diane Farnsworth Kachmar
Chief
Petty Officer Francis Sharkey shrugged out of his heavy pea coat and surveyed
his new quarters with a practiced eye.
Not bad, not bad at all. Beat
sleeping over a torpedo by a mile. The
closet sized cabins on the new
He
was looking forward to going to sea again.
Shore leave was not something to be dismissed lightly, but he could only
take so much of it before he got itchy.
Only the sea could cure that.
The
Crew roster was already hanging over the end bedpost, and he scanned it
briefly. The Gold crew had lost several
old hands. With the old man being promoted that could be expected. But some things never changed. He heard Art's voice, grumbling, down the
corridor long before his cabin mate entered the small quarters.
"Man's
got nothing better to do than drag me back two days early so we can get
organized before the crew arrives."
Petty Officer Bancroft maneuvered his ample body through the hatch with
practiced ease and dropped his gear on the bottom bunk.
"Welcome
aboard, Art." Sharkey extended his
hand. "I trust you're having a good
time."
"Hello,
Chief." Bancroft took his extended
hand and shook it warmly. "I see my
misery is going to have company."
"Somebody
has to keep you in line."
"I'd
rather he'd kept me in
Sharkey
shook his head. "Lot
of new hands this time around.
You know what that means."
"Not
another tour with sub school greenies!"
Bancroft rolled his eyes.
"Don't they ever give us a break?"
"You
could always transfer to
"And
take leave on
"Then
maybe you ought to marry that widow of yours and move her to
"Enough." Bancroft flopped down on the bunk and began
to unpack. "In the first place, my friend,
I don't ever intend to be henpecked.
This way, I'm only there long enough to be appreciated, and then she's
got the whole tour to miss me."
"While
you're squiring girls in
Bancroft
grinned. "Nothing
quite like the Med, heh, Chief?"
"Long as I'm there to bail you out."
"That'll
be the day,” Art laughed, picking up his shirts and stowing them in his side of
the locker. "How many greenies we
got, besides the boy wonder they put in command?"
"About 40. And
his name is Commander Lee Crane. I
suggest you call him that.
"All right." Bancroft lifted a restraining hand. "Don't go getting your hackles up, I
didn't mean any disrespect. It's going
to take me a little while to get used to the idea of the Captain being young
enough to be my kid. Who's
he related to?
"Got no navy family that I know of. Passed his boards a year
ago."
"C'mon,
he's got to know somebody."
"He
was Diving Officer on the Merrivale."
"Nelson's prototype? They nearly all bought it on that
cruise."
"Except
the green kid, fresh out of sub school, who had the
conn didn't panic. I keep telling you,
Art, don't judge them by who they are, but by what they've done. And this one's done plenty."
"Okay,
okay. No more cracks. They wouldn't have given him command unless
he passed his board, and that wasn't easy when Nelson made them up."
"Yeah,
too bad he decided to retire. I wonder
what the new Commandant is going to be like."
"We'll
find out when we get back." "
"It's
a shame that new hull didn't work out. I
thought it had real potential, Art."
"It
will never work, Chief. Steel's the only
way to build a sub."
"Maybe so. But
maybe the Admiral will find a way to keep it from cracking."
"Sure. Next thing you'll be telling me is that he's
going to build a sub that flies, too."
"He
could if he wanted to, man's a real genius."
"Most
of the brass thought he was crazy, but they gave him his chance, and it didn't
work."
"I
know that, but I don't think the Admiral's going to give up."
"He'll
never get it built by civilians."
Sharkey
shrugged. "I wouldn't be too
sure. Anything's possible if you're
determined enough." The Chief
smiled. "Life is full of
surprises. Look at us. Did you ever imagine when you first signed up
that you'd ship out with the youngest sub skipper in the whole U. S.
Navy?"
"Don't
remind me." Art pulled out more
clothes, and then looked up quizzically at Sharkey. "How in the hell are we going to call
him "the old man?"
"Just
keep practicing, Art." Sharkey
couldn't help but laugh at his friend's expression. "It has to get easier."
*****
One
deck above Petty Officer's quarters, Lee Crane was sitting in his cabin, trying
not to be overwhelmed by the stack of reports in front of him. There was so much that needed to be done.
He
lifted the first five off the top, and scanned them briefly, then separated
them into their various sections. He
continued to sort until he had three separate stacks. He looked at the stacks a moment. What he could realistically expect his
officers to accomplish in the next two weeks.
They all knew what had to be done, but what was the best way to do it.
He
found himself wishing Nelson was there.
He'd know what to do. Lee shook
his head. No. It was his responsibility. The old man had left, gone to
If
only Chip had been able to transfer.
Morton seemed to know what he wanted before he even asked. But Spoletti wouldn't let him go. He didn't blame the other Captain,
good navigators were hard to come by, particularly on school cruises.
He
would have to train Benning to be more decisive, and not wait for him to give
him his orders. The old school training
died hard.
Lee
reached for the top report on the command stack. Operational readiness. He began reading it again. He would set up the work details in the
morning with his Petty officers to get the work finished. There would be no
slack for anyone until she was seaworthy.
He
began to jot down notes on his clipboard.
He had to be prepared. They would
all be watching, waiting to see if he cut it.
He was going to do his job, and if he did it right, they would do
theirs. He could count on their respect,
but he wanted their loyalty, too, and that was something he had to earn.