Part 22 (1/2)
Three-quarters of the way down the line of stalls the donkey -s.h.i.+t car sat waiting for attention. As they approached it, Fulmar understood why he and another muscular young prisoner had been selected from the line of incoming miners. There was more than donkey s.h.i.+t to be loaded aboard the donkey-s.h.i.+t car today. There was a dead donkey.
”Tot [dead],” the foreman said, quite unnecessarily. [dead],” the foreman said, quite unnecessarily.
Then he showed them how one of the sides of the donkey -s.h.i.+t car could be removed, and how, with the aid of a block and tackle, they were to load the carca.s.s onto the car. The donkey's eyes were open, a curious white. And he was already starting to decompose, and to smell. When they got the block and tackle in place and hauled him out of the stall onto the tracks, the movement caused the contents of his lower bowel, not ordinary donkey s.h.i.+t, but a foul-smelling, bluish semiliquid, to pa.s.s from his a.n.u.s.
More of it came out after they had rearranged the block and tackle and dragged him onto the car. Fulmar felt nauseated, tried to fight it down, and failed.
The foreman laughed at him and said he could tell that he was a city boy who had never lived on a farm.
After they got the donkey carca.s.s into the car and closed the side, they went down the line of donkeys and shoveled the donkey s.h.i.+t into the car. By the time they were finished, you couldn't see the donkey carca.s.s.
And then they hooked a donkey to the car to drag the car to the elevator.
Fulmar had another unpleasant thought. He didn't know how long he had been in jail and working in the mine, and therefore did not know how much longer he would be in the mines. He thought he was a d.a.m.ned fool for not having made a scratch on his cell wall once a day. Then he would have known.
Then he thought it really didn't matter. Long before his ninety-day sentence was up, they would find out that he wasn't a black marketeer.
And soon after that, some other prisoner would roll his dead body off somewhere in a cart, just as he was doing with the donkey. The donkey, Fulmar thought, was actually better off than he was. The donkey had not had the ability to stand around imagining what was going to happen to him.
VII.
1.
HEADQUARTERS, COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF, PACIFIC PEARL HARBOR NAVAL BASE OAHU ISLAND, TERRITORY OF HAWAII 0915 HOURS 13 FEBRUARY 1943.
Lieutenant Commander Stuart J. Collins, United States Navy, Cryptographic Officer, Headquarters, CINCPAC, was aware that the lieutenant commander in the crisp white uniform in the outer office of CINCPAC was looking askance at his uniform. Commander Collins's khaki uniform was mussed and wilted, and there were sweat stains under the armpits.
The cryptographic section, in the bas.e.m.e.nt of the neatly white-painted, red-tile-roofed headquarters office building, was of course air-conditioned. But it had been air-conditioned in 1937, when no one could have guessed how many people and how much equipment it would be necessary to stuff into the three small rooms. It was hot down there, and people sweated.
If the commander in the crisp white uniform in the admiral's cool and s.p.a.cious office didn't like his sweaty, shapeless uniform, f.u.c.k her. G.o.dd.a.m.n women in the Navy, anyway.
”The Admiral will see you, Commander,” the WAVE Lieutenant Commander said, quite unnecessarily. Commander Collins was not deaf; he had heard the Admiral tell her, over the intercom, to send him in.
Commander Collins walked into the CINCPAC's office.
”Good afternoon, Sir,” he said, and extended a clipboard to the Admiral, who scrawled his name on the form, acknowledging receipt of Top Secret Incoming Message 43- 2-1009. Commander Collins then handed him the message, hidden beneath a TOP SECRET cover sheet.
CINCPAC read it:
URGENT.
TOP SECRET.
FROM CHIEF OF NAVAL OPERATIONS WAs.h.i.+NGTON DC.
TO [EYES ONLY] COMMANDER IN CHIEF PACIFIC, PEARL.
HARBOR TERR HAWAIIDP YOU WILL MAKE AVAILABLE GATO CLa.s.s SUBMARINE FOR SUCH TIME AND FOR SUCH MISSION AS SPECIFIED BY C. J. CHENOWITH OF THE OFFICE OF STRATEGIC SERVICES. CHENOWITH AND PARTY OF THREE [3] EN ROUTE BARBERS POINT NAS ABOARD NATS FLIGHT 232 ETA 1530 HOURS 14 FEBRUARY. CARGO ACCOMPANYING CHENOWITH PARTY OF APPROXIMATELY TWO [2] TONS GROSS WEIGHT IN THIRTY TWO [32] WOODEN CRATES WILL REQUIRE TREATMENT AS TOP SECRET MATERIAL. OCNO DOES NOT DESIRE TO DISCUSS THIS ORDER. OCNO WILL BE ADVISED IN DETAIL BY MOST EXPEDITIOUS MEANS OF REASONS FOR INABILITY TO COMPLY WITH THIS ORDER. BY DIRECTION: SOLOMON VICE ADMIRAL.
CINCPAC looked up at Lt. Commander Collins.
”No reply, Commander,” he said.
”Yes, Sir,” Collins said, and started to do an about-face.
”Collins?” CINCPAC said.
Collins faced CINCPAC again.
”Hot in the bas.e.m.e.nt?”
”Yes, Sir.”
”You talk to the engineer about it?”
”Yes, Sir.”
”And what did he say?”
”He said that the ambient temperature is within the operating range of the equipment, Admiral, and there's no way he can authorize more air-conditioning.”
”Collins,” CINCPAC said. ”There's a Chief Kellerman over in Civil Engineering. We were aboard the old Des Moines Des Moines together. You go see him, tell him I sent you, and ask him to cool your shop down.” together. You go see him, tell him I sent you, and ask him to cool your shop down.”
”Yes, Sir,” Commander Collins said. ”Thank you, Admiral. ”
”And on your way out, ask Commander Oster to get COMSUBFORPAC in here just as soon as possible.”
”Aye, aye, Sir.”
COMSUBFORPAC, Rear Admiral (Upper Half) Geoffrey H. Keene, USN, a ruddy-faced, freckled man of forty-three, who looked much younger, was a professional officer, and thus accustomed to carrying out any order given with cheerful, willing obedience.
”Gerry, what boat, or boats, Gato cla.s.s, have you got here ready for sea?”
”None this minute, Sir,” Admiral Keene said. ”But the Drum Drum's just about through with her sea trials. She's off Kahoolawe Island right now, and she's scheduled to go on patrol in three or four days, as soon as they correct what needs fixing.”
”There will be a mission for her,” CINCPAC said. ”Apparently, a people-carrying mission.”
”Yes, Sir?” Admiral Keene said. His tone made it clear he wanted more information.
”If the Drum Drum is all that's available, it'll have to be the is all that's available, it'll have to be the Drum, Drum,” CINCPAC said.
”Admiral, may I suggest that the Narwhal Narwhal will shortly be available? She's about to leave Diego.” will shortly be available? She's about to leave Diego.”