Ghosts of Bungo Suido (44 page)

“Yes, I am,” Forrester said. “The admiral has conferred with CincPacFleet, the chief of naval operations, and BuPers. They have agreed to the following … deal.” Forrester’s expression revealed his distaste at having to offer a deal. He took a deep breath before resuming. “There will be no court-martial. You will be allowed to retire immediately. You will be given five years’ constructive service in recognition of your time as a POW, so you will retire on full twenty-year retired pay. You will retire in the rank of captain, on a tombstone basis. Your retired pay will be computed at the rank of commander. The court of inquiry will issue a formal statement that there were no grounds for the allegations and that the entire matter has been settled to the satisfaction of the command authorities. Do you understand so far?”

“I do, so far.”

“Very well. That’s the navy’s offer. Here’s what you have to agree to do, in writing and under a sworn oath. You will never, ever, mention, talk about, write about, or in any way reveal the nature of your last mission to Bungo Suido and the Inland Sea of Japan, especially your additional mission of putting a Japanese national ashore during that mission. Especially that.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it,” Forrester said. Then he turned to the two captains. “Gentlemen,” he said, “anything to add?”

The older of the two captains stared hard at Gar. “We are from the offices of Lieutenant General Groves, director of the Manhattan Project,” he said. “Our main concern, and the sole reason that the proceedings against you have been terminated, relates to Minoru Hashimoto. I can’t say this strongly enough: If you ever reveal what that was about, the United States government will find out and will smash you flatter than Hiroshima. Do I make myself clear?”

“Clear enough,” Gar said.

The captain turned to the two JAG officers. “That goes for both of you, too. I’m serious, serious as a heart attack about this.”

Sharon and Falcone said they understood.

“Commander Hammond, do you accept this offer?” Forrester asked.

Gar hesitated.

“He
does
accept this very generous offer,” Sharon said. “He would be a fool not to, no matter what this Hashi-whazzit stuff is all about.”

“I’m sorry, Commander,” Forrester said. “I know you’re his lawyer, but this has to come from him.”

Gar was looking at Lockwood. There was one more thing he wanted, and he knew Lockwood knew what that was. The admiral stared back at him for a long moment. Then he spoke.

“You want an apology from me, don’t you,” he said.

“That is
not
part of the navy’s offer,” Forrester protested.

“Well, it should be,” Lockwood said. “And I am sorry I put you through this, Gar. You were right about our dropping back into the peacetime mode of doing business. None of us knows what’s coming next, so we all reverted to type, I’m afraid. But that’s not the way I treated my COs during the war, and I shouldn’t have cast you to the wolves just to protect our so-called Silent Service mystique.”

“Thank you, sir. I appreciate your saying that, and of course I accept the deal. I know I’m lucky to get it.”

“Then we’re done here,” Forrester said. “The terms of this agreement have been written down and will be signed by Commander Hammond and Vice Admiral Lockwood and then countersigned by the chief of naval personnel in Washington.”

“And by his two lawyers here,” the stone-faced captain said. “Who have forgotten everything they’ve heard here today except my warning.”

*   *   *

Sharon had kept her hotel room at the beach, so they had a leisurely lunch out on the beachside verandah. They were both in uniform, he in khakis, she in whites. There were more civilians at the beach now. People wearing uniforms weren’t yet in the minority, but Gar knew it was only a matter of time.

“Relieved?” she asked.

“Overwhelmingly so,” he said. “Who’d a thought that one old man’s piece of this would end up saving my bacon.”

“I don’t believe they’d have gone to court-martial,” she said. “Your little speech there at the end hurt their feelings. Either way, I still think I could have torn them up.”

“You were eager to try, too, weren’t you?”

“Yup. I like a good court fight about as much as a good martini.”

“Mister Falcone did not look like he was ready for a good court fight.”

“Captain White broke his teeth when he tried to give me an ass-chewing, so I think Falcone took the brunt. He’ll rebound—he’s got a ticket from Harvard, and his future is going to be all about who he knows and where they all are now.”

“And you? Who do you know?” he asked.

“Oh, my regulars. John Walker, James Beam, the Beefeater … What was that tombstone business?”

Gar laughed. “It’s called a tombstone promotion. They usually do it when a captain retires. They retire him nominally in the rank of rear admiral so that when he dies his wife can put Admiral So-and-so on his tombstone.”

“That was a hell of a deal,” she said. “Do you actually know what that was all about?”

“Not anymore,” he said. “But someday I’d like to go back and see if the old man made it alive out of the war. I did tell him to do what he was supposed to do and then to get the hell out of there.”

“You witnessed Hiroshima, then?”

“Oh, yes. It’s a whole new day after that firecracker. But back to my question. What’re you going to do when they cut you loose? Where are you going to go?”

She shrugged. “I’ve saved some money these past few years,” she said. “I’ll find somewhere and start over. Not like I don’t have a trade.”

“I’ve saved a whole lot of money over these past four years,” he said. “Especially after the Japs picked me up. I’ll even be getting a retired paycheck somewhere along the line, and I have an actual house to go to back to in western Pennsylvania.”

“And?”

“And, well, maybe we could join forces? You have to admit, we make a good team. I regularly get myself into trouble, and you seem to be pretty good at getting me out of it.”

She smiled. “Is this a proposal, Commander?”

“It’s a proposition, Commander. A proposal implies marriage, and as you know—”

“Right,” she said. “Neither of us ever saw the need.”

“There you go.”

“I’ll think it over,” she said. “Some propositions need more time than others.”

“In the meantime, can I buy the lady a drink?”

She frowned. “That’s not going to change, Gar, at least not anytime soon. I know I have to do something about my boozing, but…”

“I understand, but I’ve always been told never to drink alone. Look—the war’s over, and the world has changed in so many ways I’m almost scared to face it. I’ve seen things, done things, lost too many friends and shipmates, and now they’ve put me on the beach and told me to go away. I’d be a really famous martyr if there weren’t several thousand other people just like me headed back to the land of the free and the home of the badly bruised.”

She reached across the table and gripped his hand, hard. “I may well turn out to be excess baggage, Gar. I wouldn’t want to hold you back down the line.”

“Back from what, Sharon?” He covered her hand with his. “For the past four years I’ve been looking at the world through a periscope, trying to kill people. This morning I was wondering how I’d get back to Pennsylvania from California, and I realized I didn’t know how people do that back in the States these days. It’ll never be a question of holding either one of us back—it’ll be all about holding each other up, and learning how to live again.”

She nodded. “I will think about it, kind sir. Sounds like we both have a couple of weeks.” She sighed and looked out to sea. “In the meantime,” she said. “How ’bout that drink?”

He laughed. “You’re bad,” he said. “Really bad. What are we going to do about you?”

She peered over at him through that waterfall hairdo. “We’ll think of something,” she said. “And if you’re not going to buy me that drink I’ll be forced to go back to my room, take off all my clothes, lie down, and—sulk.”

“Sulk.”

“Well what else could a girl do?”

“Like you said, we’ll probably think of something.”

BOOKS BY P. T. DEUTERMANN

THE CAM RICHTER NOVELS

The Cat Dancers

Spider Mountain

The Moonpool

Nightwalkers

THRILLERS

The Last Man

The Firefly

Darkside

Hunting Season

Train Man

Zero Option

Sweepers

Official Privilege

SEA STORIES

Ghosts of Bungo Suido

Pacific Glory

The Edge of Honor

Scorpion in the Sea

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

P. T. DEUTERMANN is the author of fifteen previous novels, including
The Last Man
and
Pacific Glory
, which won the W. Y. Boyd Literary Award for Excellence in Military Fiction. Deutermann spent twenty-six years in military and government service, which included a Pearl Harbor tour of duty; his father was a Vice Admiral in the World War II Pacific theater, and his uncle and older brother were submariners, whose stories helped inform this novel. He lives with his wife in North Carolina.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

GHOSTS OF BUNGO SUIDO.
Copyright © 2013 by P. T. Deutermann. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

www.stmartins.com

Cover design by Young Lim

Cover illustration by Steve Gardner / Pixelworks Studio, Inc.

The Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:

Deutermann, Peter T., 1941–

   The ghosts of Bungo Suido: a novel / P. T. Deutermann.—First U.S. Edition.

       p.  cm

   ISBN 978-1-250-01802-1 (hardcover)

   ISBN 978-1-250-01803-8 (e-book)

   1.  Bungo Channel (Japan)—Fiction.   I.  Title.

PS3554.E887G46 2013

813'.54—dc23

2013009264

e-ISBN 9781250018038

First Edition: July 2013