Cuttlefish -> RE: Small Ship, Big War (1/20/2008 9:03:11 PM)
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September 28, 1943 Location: 525 miles south-southwest of Kwajalein Course: South-southwest Attached to: TF 4 Mission: Air Combat System Damage: 0 Float Damage: 0 Fires: 0 Fuel: 397 Orders: Proceed south and engage enemy fleet off New Caledonia --- Seaman Hikaru Shoji is the bow lookout on a dark night. The moon is a waning crescent, just a sliver in the sky, surrounded by brilliant stars. The seas, fortunately, are fairly calm, so Shoji is not being constantly drenched by spray coming in over Hibiki’s high, flaring bow. Shoji’s job is not only to watch for signs of enemy submarines. The other ships in the task force, spaced 500 meters apart, are just shadows on the sea, and there is always the possibility of a collision on such a night. Shoji uses his ears as much as his eyes, and as he has been taught he never stares at the same area for more than a few seconds. The eyes can play tricks on you in the dark you if you focus on one area too long. From behind him he hears the faint sound of footsteps. He turns and can just make out the form of Captain Ishii. The captain! He braces to attention and snaps a crisp salute. “As you were, sailor,” comes the captain’s voice. “Keep your attention out there.” “Yes sir!” says Shoji. He turns and does so. Captain Ishii comes up beside him and also looks out at the darkened sea. There are some captains who are aloof and mysterious figures to most of the crew. They interact mostly with a handful of officers and are rarely seen in most parts of the ship. Captain Ishii is not one of them. He is apt to turn up here and there at odd times and places. Generally he just looks around, exchanges a few words with this man or that, and then leaves. If he sees anything that displeases him he rarely mentions it, though sometimes not long after such a visit the officer in charge of the section involved might appear with a slightly reddened face, barking orders. But such incidents are rare. Captain Ishii stands there for a moment, then turns towards Shoji and speaks. “Shoji, isn’t it? How is your hand?” “Just fine, sir,” says Shoji, slightly startled. “Healing well.” Few details, it seems, are beneath the captain’s notice. “Good,” says Ishii. “Well, good night.” He strolls off. Shoji keeps his attention on his duties, but as the captain leaves he has a flash of insight. He had always thought it would be glorious to be in command, to be the one dishing out orders for a change and watch everyone scurry to obey his will. But for a moment he has a glimpse of what it might be like to be responsible for the safety and performance of two hundred other men, of the pressure and isolation such responsibility must create. As Shoji is not by nature a thoughtful or introspective person it is just a glimpse, but even so it suffices to make him glad for the moment that he bunks with four other men in a narrow machine space instead of having his own cabin and someone to bring him his meals. Perhaps being at the bottom of the ladder instead of the top has its advantages, Shoji thinks. He maintains his watch in the darkness as the miles fall away and the Japanese ships draw ever closer to New Caledonia.
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