For some reason, this goodbye was harder than the others. Something about it felt more real, more dreaded. The morning had a weight to it, a grim inevitably leading up to the train platform, where you stood in your summer uniform, Aiko close.
This was too public a place for affection. The trains were busier than ever, ferrying soldiers, sailors, and workers to the ports that fed the war in Joseon. You'd tried to get it all out of your system before you left the door, but you both knew it wouldn't work.
"I'll write the moment I get to my new post." You promised, watching the passengers empty from the train that would take you away from her.
"I'll write the moment I get home. Knowing the delays, it might beat you there." Aiko responded. People were starting to climb aboard. You didn't have much time. You turned to leave, but her hand caught yours.
"Stay safe?" She asked, a sad look in her eyes. The sight was almost enough to bring tears to your eyes. You almost wished it would, but you couldn't. Not here.
You couldn't promise her that, so instead, you leaned over and kissed her, held it as long as you could. It would have to do.
---
The trip north then was more tense than you'd wanted, leaving that situation behind. It was a long one, too. First, you had to take a train as far north as you could go--the furthest north on the main island, anyway. Then you took the ferry across to the northern island of Kaihokudo. From there, it was another lengthy train ride across the island to the military port town of Nemuro. Where the hell were you being taken, anyway? Once you got to Nemuro and reported to the local naval commander, you were pointed to a rattling little truck which took you off up the coast another two hours. You were crammed in next to the driver while the back of the truck, stuffed with supplies, thumped and bumped every time you hit a pothole. Desperately bored, you turned to the driver for conversation, which turned out to be a mistake, as the man had clearly become unhinged driving his endless route and babbled pointlessly, endlessly, beginninglessly about nothing and everything in an impossibly thick southern dialect. Unable to make out much of anything that he was saying, you nodded when he seemed to ask you a question and frowned whenever he seemed to be making a point about something he didn't like.
"Well, my woman's lady was havin' a proper to-do about the fact that HER man done got himself called up by y'all's cousin Her Imperial Highness on account of she got three little ones at home already and if he were t'go into the army well it'd be a dog's breakfast of a situation, as they say!"
"As they say, yes." Maybe he'd stop.
"And I wrote back to to my wife, and I said, I said 'listen Riku you sit down with Ume and you find out when he's supposed t'go and you find out where he's goin' and then go to th' mayor and see if y'all can't find some way of making sure he goes someplace where he won't get shot up by none of those Western Devils.' I know it's th' duty and all that but y'all gotta understand it's some real hardship takin' a man away from his three little ones an' his farm an' all that. Now me, I'm in the Navy and I figure they put me on a boat but then they said 'Oh you know how to drive one of them automobiles?' and here I am drivin' a truck instead of on a boat. That's the government for ya, ain't it ma'am?" He guffawed. "Anyway, I also said, tell 'em you know how to drive one of these here trucks (which he does on account of he drove the village truck once't or twice) and they'll find you a place to do that and not go an' get shot up by any of those Caspian bastards--pardon the language ma'am--and SHE wrote back sayin'..."
It just went on like that. The whole two hours.
Finally at what you discovered was a small naval air station, you found yourself and your baggage strapped into one of the new heavy seaplane scouts.
"Wait, I have to fly to get there?" You had asked. "Can't I take a boat like a normal person?"
"This is faster," was the reply. "Besides, the plane is already going there."
You were given a heavy jacket to wear over your uniform ("For the cold," they said) as well as a pair of goggles and a leather flying cap. The pilot was a cheery, round faced man who you found out was a naval ensign named Iori Saionji.
"Don't worry, these planes are as safe as anything else flying today. Safer, probably," he had told you when he was showing you how to strap yourself into the small seat at the front of the airplane. "If we do have to ditch, lean forward and brace your arms on the plane in front of you. And be ready to unstrap yourself fast. But that won't be likely, so you shouldn't have to worry about it." Somehow you found this not very reassuring.
There was a space for a co-pilot, but it seemed like he was flying alone: you didn't know enough to know if that was dangerous or not. Mechanics started the engine pods by hand, pulling on the propellers and ducking back out of the way, and each of them made a horrifying, ear-splitting noise as they started. It was like sitting between the engines that powered your old torpedo boat, and the thin lining of the flight cap did nothing to dampen it.
A few minutes later, the ties keeping you still were cut loose and the throttle was opened, the engines growing even louder as the plane lurched forward. You didn't know what the sensation of rising out of the water and into the sky would be like, but you weren't expecting it to barely feel like anything. You simply glanced over the side and had the horrifying realization that you were a dozen meters in the air and climbing. A feeling of intense nausea hit you: you hadn't thrown up in a year and you found yourself between the conflicting fears that you might do it in mid-air and that you might not remember how to.
Soon you had found yourself on a short hop from the main island across a stretch of open sea to a smaller island off the coast. Initially you had pushed yourself as far into your seat as you could go and tightened down the straps of the crash belt as tight as you could. You weren't going to risk falling out of this thing. It was a clear spring day though and eventually, despite your trepidation, you had to admit the view from up here was rather amazing. Better than any masthead. Still, you didn't see much use for these things beyond scouting. You were sat in what would normally be the observer's position, which gave you an excellent view once you had gotten over your nerves about tumbling out of the open cockpit.
After what seemed an age, a small island came into view, first as a distant green smudge and finally as a little drop of land in the sea. Green and hilly, it rose out of the sea like a jewel. The airplane banked and you hurriedly gripped the sides of your compartment, but after a moment, there seemed no danger of falling out. You peered down at the island, a little enraptured. You could make out so much from up here! You could see wooded slopes, sharp cliffs, rocky beaches and even cleared fields where small figures bent and straightened as they planted rice in their flooded paddies. A horse and cart moved lazily along a winding dirt road. As you got even lower, you saw a group of children waving frantically up at the airplane from what must have been their schoolyard and you couldn't help but raise a hand to wave in return. The plane banked again and turned to lower itself further as you realized that this collection of houses and other buildings must be the town and harbor you were to be delivered to. As the plane descended over the small harbor, the pilot clicked on the intercom.
"Ma'am, if you look to the right there, you can see the
Kari." You craned your neck and squinted. There, on the glittering waters of the picturesque little bay was the gray shape of a torpedo boat. It wasn't one of the little motor boats, but a proper torpedo boat with two smokestacks that you could make out as the airplane made its descent lower and lower. Finally, with a gentle bump, you felt the plane touchdown in the waters of the harbor and slowly begin taxiing up towards the little military wharf where the torpedo boat was.
As the plane moved in, you got a chance to look over the small bay that was going to be your home. The town was clustered near the shore and spreading out a little onto the surrounding hills. The houses were all old, or at least they looked old-fashioned, much like the countryside of the rest of the nation. Small one room buildings made of wood and stone with low roofs and surrounded by small gardens of vegetables. The streets you could see were mostly dirt, though what must have been the main street had cobblestone and came down almost to the edge of the water. Most of the small fishing boats and other craft were hauled up on the sandy beach, though a few larger vessels rode alongside an old, rickety looking floating wharf which rolled in time with the gentle incoming swell.
The military wharf was new construction and looked much more solid. It dominated the harbor, jutting out from the middle of the shoreline in order to give the vessels using it the most room to maneuver possible. It also hosted one of the same planes you had flown in on, though there seemed to be space for another--and your suspicions were confirmed when your plane moved slowly into that berth. Opposite of the two planes was what must be your command. A small boat, at least compared to the grand battleships and cruisers. Probably about 45 meters long, a single small gun on the bow with three torpedo tubes (though you could see only two from your vantage point, one on the side of the ship facing you and the other at the aft end of the vessel) along with a pair of smaller guns that flanked the little open-air island that served as the boat's bridge. She had a pair of smokestacks and looked old-fashioned already, but she was a command.
Finally, the plane's engines cut out and it finally coasted to a stop at the wharf, where sailors grasped thrown ropes, put out fenders, and made everything fast. Finally, with a sense of relief, you managed to pry yourself out of your seat and stepped out onto the wharf to the sharp salute from a petty officer waiting for you with a group of enlisted men. Without waiting to be told, they retrieved your baggage and started loading some other, waiting bags aboard. As you shrugged out of the flying coat and cap and straightened out your jacket, you looked over the boat more closely. She was in good shape, small, and seaworthy if you were any judge. The sort of fast little boat that was probably out here primarily to patrol the sea lane and make sure that the Caspians didn't sneak out around this way.
A few short steps across the wharf brought you to the gangway of the
Kari and you stepped aboard to the shriek of bosun's whistles and the sharp clatter of men coming to attention. You saluted towards the the national ensign, then saluted the man in a lieutenant's uniform who was waiting for you on the little open air bridge, hands resting on the hilt of his sword, the tip of the scabbard resting between his toes.
"Permission to come board, sir," you intoned.
"Permission granted," he replied. You bowed, then produced your nearly folded orders from the pocket of your jacket. "I am Lieutenant Arisukawa Haruna. By the order of the Imperial Naval Staff, I take command of this vessel in the name of Her Majesty, the Empress, may she reign ten thousand years,"
With careful steps, he climbed down to the deck to meet you, where he bowed again.
"I am Lieutenant Mizutani Shinji," he replied as you continued the ritual of transfer. It was important. He reached out and took your orders, looked down at them without really reading them, then bowed. "I hereby relinquish the command of this vessel, as so ordered by the Imperial Naval Staff. May the Empress continue in her beneficence," he replied with equal gravity. You returned his bow, then both of you straightened. He smiled.
"Welcome aboard. We do our best, but she's not much to look at it."
You cast a glance up and down the vessel, a pride welling in you that you'd spend five years anticipating.
"I think I disagree, Lieutenant." You replied. You could feel the smile break on your face. There was a knowing smile in return from Lieutenant Mizutani and he gestured for you to follow him.
"I'll show you the boat. The crew has been scrubbing and cleaning for a week in anticipation of a new officer," he said with a laugh. First, there were your officers, such as they were. Your executive officer and only commissioned officer was an ensign that was barely out of the academy, named Ishinari Ryu. He was very, very uptight and saluted you so fast you were worried he'd hit himself in the face. Thankfully, your other officers were all very competent looking petty officers, including the senior among them, a salty old chief petty officer, Ono Tetsuo, who was quietly confident in a way that radiated confidence. Together, not counting Ensign Ishinari, there were 30 men aboard to serve the guns and torpedo tubes and to man the engine spaces. The boat was achingly clean from stem to stern which included, somehow the engine spaces and machinery with barely a speck of coal dust to be seen. Unlike some of the other places you'd been, all of the men were respectful and seemed glad to see you there, especially when they saw the medals on your chest and hanging around your neck.
That was your boat. Three small guns, three torpedo tubes, two boilers, and a small cabin with an even smaller bunk in case you needed to sleep at sea, but Kari was clearly meant to operate close to a friendly port where she could put in at night or when not on some sort of mission. Still, you loved her. You didn't think you could possibly love any other boat quite as much ever again in your life.
---
The
Kari wasn't really suited for long-term habitation, so you had quarters on the shore. Specifically, you were billeted in an empty house in the village: there seemed to be a surprising number of those, though the enlisted sailors had a hastily-erected barracks building just off the wharf. It was odd and more than a little spooky, the feeling of squatting in somebody's old family home. To you, it was like taking a peek into the previous century, with a firepit in the center of the floor, no glass windows, no electricity or even gas lamps in the walls. There were an assortment of candles laid out on a shelf, however.
It was clean enough, presumably maintained by some of the villagers on the navy dime, but it was impossible to hide the tell-tale signs that people had lived here. Maybe generations of people. There were layers of paint, mis-matched repairs, the impression of cooking pots molded into the shelves. On one wall were a series of notches, each with a date beside them, showing the journeys of young children growing up. The oldest would be thirty-five, now, the youngest maybe mid-twenties. None of them were coming back here.
Your orders were waiting for you in an envelope on the little writing desk somebody had dragged in, and you put aside your curiosity about the house for now and slid it open. Inside was a single sheet with all the formal letterhead and details, and five words.
"Maintain readiness and stand by."
How do you maintain readiness? What do you do now that you've arrived at your first real command?
Also feel free to drop snippets for anything you want to know about the village, the island, or anything else for that matter!
