Before he went inside to begin the trip to the Briefing Room, Admiral Cheng took a final scan of the sea with his binoculars. He paused on the nearest destroyer. Something was wrong, but he couldn't tell what.
Ah! he thought,
She is turning...why? He continued to eye the Orange ship until she was pointed straight at
Harry Callahan. Then he dropped his binoculars and raced into the bridge, grabbing a stanchion for support as he stumbled over the doorsill.
'Sound General Quarters,
NOW!' he roared.
He was too late.
Before anyone had time to move, a thunderous crash shook the ship. Men were thrown around and a large firball was visible behind the bridge. Glass shattered and the huge mass of the
Harry Callahan rolled to the starboard.
The old admiral was thrown about, too, but kept his grip on the stanchion. As the shp began to right herself, he found the proper control and sounded General Quarters on his own.
Like it matters now he said to himself.
They got the first hit and we got nothing.
He staggered out to the deck again and gazed aft. Heavy black smoke poured from the ship, but she was making headway. He could see flames and saw men running but heard nothing. Deafened from the explosion he could only watch. The fate of the ship was out of his control.
Remembering the ensign, and that he had not seen her, he looked around.
Not on platform...Thrown over?...Fo'ard?...Gotta check. Far more tired than he expected, he made he way to the railing and looked down. There she was, one deck down, with her left leg at an impossible angle. Men and women raced by two decks below, but not one. She was isolated.
She's young...maybe only the leg?
He rose from the railing only to be thrown down as another explosion rocked the ship. He fell sideways to the decking and yelped as his head slid into a railing support. The sharp pain and sudden dimmng of his vision coincided with the return of his hearing. As he lay on the deck he noticed that the everpresent and familiar vibration of the engines had stopped.
That's bad...sitting duck now.
The noise was tremendous at first, as his mind struggled to identify and catalog the sounds. The roar of flames; alarms of all sorts and the high pitched wail of the wounded. And his own voice cursing his own stupidity and that of his superiors.
Once again he struggeld to his feet, the binoculars bouncing onto his chest, still strapped around his neck. He made his way back to the bridge, looking for someone in charge. No one seemed to be.
F-ing bad, need a voice to lead 'em. Even mentally he had to curse in shorthand.
'Admiral Cheng,' said one of the officers, a lieutenant, he saw. The name badge read 'Green' he noted. 'Are you allright?' The officer in question had a worried look and a broken arm. 'You're bleeding...Admiral?'
Bleeding? That would explain the warm wetness on his cheek. It would stop. Or not. It didn't seem to matter at the moment.
'Damage?' he asked hoarsely. He glanced at his watch. Only two minutes had passed.
'Radio is gone, so is radar. Rudder damaged, engines off-line. We can shoot but they're too close. We can't lower our guns to get a bead on them. We've taken several torpdeo hits and the lower decks are flooding,' said Green.
'Captain?'
'Haven't seen him at all today, sir.'
'He was in the Briefing Room,' he managed to get out. His head really hurt.
'That is just underneath the radio room, sir.'
'Then he's dead, but send someone to make sure.'
Better off dead, he blinked,
no more mistakes...to haunt you.
He leaned back against the bulkhead and slowly lowered himself to the deck.
Can't lead sittiin' on your butt. Get up! he raged at himself but was powerless to do anything but stay there.
'Admiral!'
He recognized the voice of Lieutenant Green, but he seemed a long way away. He just wanted to rest. And be still. Somewhere quiet.
An extremely pugnent ordor assualted his nostrils. He roused with a start, his mind clear.
'Great Meleet, what is that stuff?'
'Smelling salts, Admiral. You passed out and we need you. We've bandaged your head to stop the bleeding. As you guessed, the captain is dead.' It was still Lieutenant Green.
'Status report,' he asked as he stuggled to his feet. He saw a cup of coffee and grabbed it. The warmth of the liquid and the bitter blackness of the taste helped him return to normal.
'We've been bombed twice while you were out. We're down three feet at the stern and taking water fast. Engines still out and no power to the pumps. Casualties are unknown at this time.'
'Command structure?'
'I'm the Office on Deck, sir. The others are...'
'Presumed dead,' finished Cheng.
Green said nothing.
Another explosion tore at the ship.
Callahan rolled port and then back to the starboard, but it did not right itself. The ship stayed with a slight list portside.
'No power, no steerage and uncontrolled flooding. Correct?'
'Yes, admiral, but I'm sure -'
'Not now, Lieutenant, not now'. He looked around. Green wasn't the only wounded man in the room.
'I'm assuming command, Lieutenant Green. Do you understand?'
'Sir.'
'I have only one order. Abandon ship. Do you understand?'
'Sir?'
'Abandon ship. Do you understand?'
'You want to give up on
Harry?' It was obvious this thought had not occured to the officer.
'No, Lieutenant Green, I have not,' lied Cheng. 'I
am ordering you and the crew of this vessel to abandon ship. Do you understand?'
'Um, yes sir,' replied the confused officer. 'We abandon ship and you..'
'You obey my order Lieutenant and do it now!' Looking around the bridge, Cheng addressed the other officers. 'Abandon ship, on my orders, at this minute!'
The men hesitated.
'That's an
order! Do you want to face a court martial for disobeying orders under fire?' Then in a quieter tone he continued, 'Quickly men, leave, while you still have time. It is not your disgrace, it is mine.'
The men shuffled out, all but one.
'Admiral..'
'Go, Lieutenant Green. Save as many as you can. Your duty is to them now, not to me.'
'Aye, sir.' Clearly distraught, Green left the bridge only to return shortly with a life jacket. He said nothing, but waved it and placed it down on a nearby console and left.
In the emptiness of the bridge, Cheng noticed for the first time the horid odors of hot metal and burnt flesh. A puff of breeze sent some smoke into the bridge. Coughing, the admiral made his way outside to where the air was slightly cleaner. He glanced at his watch once again. All of this in only twenty minutes.
And at most, twenty more minutes to go.
He walked to lower side of the ship and raise his binoculars. Through the smoke he saw another plume of smoke in the distance and knew that the
Harry Callahan would die among friends.
We might even be avenged...not... his mind faltered,
not that it makes any difference.
Unbidden, the quote came to mind.
Harry Callahan said:
I know what you're thinking. "Did he fire six shots or only five?" Well, to tell you the truth, in all this excitement I kind of lost track myself. But being as this is a .44 Magnum, the most powerful handgun in the world, and would blow your head clean off, you've got to ask yourself one question: Do I feel lucky? Well, do ya, punk?
Aloud, Cheng said grimly, 'No. Not lucky today.'