Chapter 19:
The North Sea was, at the best of times, not a fun place to sail. This was why HMS Hood was rather less than fond of doing so. With her old hull battered by waves and her boilers straining to keep pace with Repulse, this was even more true than usual. The old battlecruiser grimaced as a particularly nasty swell crested over her bow, soaking her deck in salty water. She could feel each and every creak of her aging body. Her bones ached with each swell. And her eyes struggled to pick anything out in the distance.
Somewhere out there...were two German battlecruisers. She had been born too late to see the Imperial German battlecruisers that had fought her predecessors. That had sunk Invincible, Indefatigable, and Queen Mary. But now, it was her turn. Her turn to face Nazi German battlecruisers.
Bloody hell, I hope I fair better than they did.
That worry lurked in the back of her mind, as Hood turned her eyes from the sea, and to her crew. The same nervous energy that had filled them before...before the Med, was there again. Each and every man she could see was anxiously looking out at the horizon, save for her Admiral and Captain. Oh, they were doing the same, but there was no trace of the nervousness on
their faces.
Merely grim determination.
"Nothing at all, sir." Her Captain spoke first, his voice soft and quiet. Certainly compared to the clap of waves hitting her bow.
"The Jerries are out here somewhere, I know it," Admiral Holland muttered, bringing his binoculars to his eyes. His hands didn't shake, as the somewhat young Admiral looked out at the horizon. Holland clicked his tongue, his head swiveling from window to window on her bridge. "Come on...show yourself."
"What if MI6 was wrong sir?" The Captain asked again, the distaste still clear as day in his voice.
Holland didn't remove his eyes from the binoculars, "Then they were wrong, and we'll miss our chance. That is not an excuse to not look."
"Yes sir..." Properly chastised, the younger man turned to use his own binoculars.
Hood couldn't blame him. She was leery of the supposed information herself, and why wouldn't she be? The Germans were maddeningly proficient at avoiding any and all attempts to catch them. Surely then, they couldn't...
"Admiral!" The battlecruiser stiffened, spinning on her heel. She ignored the lingering discomfort in her leg, the biting pain racing up her muscles. Hood's wide blue eyes were filled with shock and disbelief, her heart beating a rapid drumbeat in her chest. She could see everything her lookout could so.
"Smoke on the horizon!" And as the report
from the lookout filtered down into the bridge, Admiral Holland dropped his binoculars. So too did her Captain, both men sending a look at the other.
"Report!" The Captain barked out, stomping forward to look out her bridge windows. His footsteps echoed even over the noise of men rushing to battlestations, while Hood herself moved to her Admiral.
Who had returned to using his binoculars, staring into the distance, where there was indeed smoke on the horizon. "Give me bloody details now. Distance, speed, angle of approach."
"Distance...20 kilometers. Speed estimated to be twenty knots."
Holland nodded, turning away long enough to bark an order out, "Get that to
Repulse now.
Suffolk and
Belfast are to take up position on starboard, pursuant to German moves. We need their radar ready to direct fire. Destroyers move to form a screen."
As Admiral Holland barked out orders, Hood held a hand to the side of her head. She still didn't know
where Repulse had picked up this trick, but she didn't much care either. What mattered now, as her crew ran to battlestations and her old hull started to turn to port, was that she needed to talk to the other battlecruiser. They couldn't talk to their crews, but Hood wanted to
coordinate.
Wouldn't do for her to miss something would it?
"Repulse?" The old battlecruiser spoke, looking out at the form of her
older counterpart.
"Reading you loud and clear Hood!" Repulse's cheerful voice replied.
Ordinarily, Hood would have smiled at the tone of voice. Right now, she was
far more concerned with the situation as it sat. "Are you seeing anything from the Germans?"
"Nope, bloody Jerries don't seem to realize we're here." Repulse instantly replied.
"Amateurs, their fathers were much better sailors! Wankers couldn't tell the end of a gun from the other..."
Hood shook her head, though a smile tugged at her lips, "Repulse..."
"Right right, I know. My lookout spotted them too. Looks like...those are the battlecruisers. A heavy cruiser too maybe...can't really tell from here. Might be one of those idiotic pocket battleships?"
Was it? The Germans may want to send their best out to fight, but those ships weren't fast enough...right? Hood would be the first to admit,
annoying that it may be, that she had no idea on how fast they were. But the reports from Exeter after chasing down that one in the South Atlantic- her Admiral had received the reports -indicated they weren't. Not that she was particularly speedy herself, not any longer.
Wankers couldn't keep her fully repaired...
Shaking her head, Hood turned her eyes from Repulse and instead, focused on the Germans in the distance. Two battlecruisers. A cruiser. Compared to two old battlecruisers and two cruisers on her side. Even odds...in theory, at least.
Here we go...
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As the two fleets rapidly approached one another, flashes of light shot from the escorts. Little E and F-class Royal Navy destroyers lobbed star shells into the muggy sky, brilliant white light shining over the battlefield. The much larger German destroyers, darting around their flagships, did much the same. With artificial light enveloping the sea, both fleets began to turn into battle formation.
Repulse pulled ahead of
Hood, the lean battlecruiser plowing through the roiling waves at flank speed. Her bow cut through the spray of seawater, swells pushed aside by the charging warship.
Hood followed, her aging and ill-maintained boilers struggling to keep pace. The mighty battlecruiser, largest of her kind ever built, struggled to push through the waves cresting over
Repulse. But move she did, both British warships forming a battleline across the German formation's line of travel.
And both battlecruisers rotated their massive turrets, identical guns raising in their mounts. Guns that had never fired against her enemy in
Hood, and guns that had last seen action in 1917 from
Repulse. The old weapons still had more than enough bite however as the British gunners sighted in on their targets.
"Enemy in range, sir!"
Hood's fire-control officer shouted out, an eagerness in his voice that had been lacking at Mers-el-Kebir. The young man looked out at the Germans...at the ships that would starve Britain if allowed out in the Atlantic.
Was it any wonder he was eager?
No. Not at all.
"Open fire at your discretion." The Mighty
Hood's Captain had a grim smile on his own face, eyes welded to his binoculars. His eyes had never once left their steady watch over the German battlecruisers. Not once. And they wouldn't now, even while Hood's turrets finished rotating.
"Fire!"
That shout rang throughout the hull, from bridge to each of the old battlecruiser's turrets. Massive constructs of steel, each weighing nearly as much as a small warship in their own right. Gears grinded inside these turrets, creaking along ill-maintained barbettes. Even with the age of
Hood, the weapons reached their firing position however. And inside these turrets, the smell of powder and steel was overwhelming. Men followed their orders and years of training, moving powder bags into the elevators. They grunted and groaned, sweating in the sweltering heat of the old barbettes.
But the men were
motivated. This was their chance to prove that Mighty
Hood could fight at last, and they would be damned before some bloody Jerry battlecruiser beat them to firing!
And so, powder and shell raced up the shell elevator and into the old turret. The gunners rammed first shell, and then powder, home. With a creak of old metal and gears, the guns moved from loading to firing position, even as the
Hood's fire-control officers followed their order from Captain and Admiral. Within seconds of reaching the firing position, a massive
roar echoed over the previously quiet North Sea.
Sheets of flame shot from Hood's powerful rifles, the fire and roar like the fist of an angry god. A staccato series of roars, each turret firing from bow to stern. The three identical emplacements on
Repulse did the same, sixteen massive shells shooting at the German fleet in the distance.
A fleet that returned fire, the muted sound of their much smaller eleven-inch weapons reaching the British fleet before their fire did.
And here we are...
Through it all, Hood herself stood atop her sighting mast, watching silently as her guns barked in anger for the first- proper -time. Her tall hat fluttered in the afterblast, even as her eyes followed the shells. Massive spurts of water shot into the air around the lead German battlecruiser, shells bracketing but not hitting her. The return fire from the Germans did much the same, straddling
Hood.
And Hood the ship girl had to hold on tightly to her mast, as
Hood the ship turned sharply to throw off the aim of the German ships. She could
feel her rudder shifting, grimacing at the resultant strain on her hull. With a great effort though, Hood pushed that discomfort aside, and instead looked out at the Germans. Even from the great- if lessening rapidly -distance, she could pick out details.
"Damn, the Jerries built a good ship..." The battlecruiser muttered darkly, as she felt her crew rushing to reload her guns. The feeling of shells rising up her hoists and her guns lowering to reloading position...never did change. The muscles in her arms twinged in sympathy, feeling the guns loaded. Ignoring it as best she could, Hood instead looked back to the Germans. "Bloody hell, that's more of a battleship than I am, other than those guns. Why would they...?"
Even as Hood asked that question, she
felt more than
heard the sharp clang of a shell impacting her belt. The battlecruiser doubled over, clutching at her stomach, already feeling a bruise forming. The pain rippled out from the point of impact, like fire through her veins. Gritting her teeth, Hood pulled up the hem of her uniform tunic, gingerly touching the bruise.
Angry purple skin greeted her, a red welt at the center. The moment her finger touched the wound, the battlecruiser couldn't hold back a groan of pain.
"Gah...bloody..."
Her guns returned fire as she said that, but Hood felt a feeling of
worry lodge in her chest.
I thought their guns were weak...that nearly got through my belt!
The battlecruiser dropped her tunic down, the black fabric brushing painfully against her stomach. Pushing that down, she spun around, eyes focused on the tall mast behind her. Hood wrapped her arms around it, kicking off from her perch. Wind blew past her face, sending blonde hair flying, as she slid down the mast. Rough wood brushed against her arms, but she didn't even notice.
Nor did she notice her legs slamming into her deck, narrowly avoiding clipping one of her crew in the forehead, as the man ran with a message for her aft gunnery station. Hood grimaced as she watched him run, before she sprinted to the railing along the side of her hull. More fire from the Germans greeted her, sending sprays of water into the air, each hit getting closer and closer.
"Hood, be more careful!" Repulse's no-longer cheerful voice rang in her head, the battlecruiser doubling over as a shell bounced off her waterline belt again.
"Those wankers have to...they have to have radar!"
"And I don't," Hood nodded, doing her best to not think about that fact or the lingering pain in her torso. "Repulse, you be careful too. I'm taking hits...it's not getting through but..."
"Hood...?" The older girl asked, her voice filled with worry.
"It's nearly getting through. If that's my belt, they'll have no issue getting through yours. Don't die on me!"
She hadn't been at Jutland, Hood knew that. But she knew the stories. And the last thing she wanted was to see what happened to those brave girls, her predecessors, happen to Repulse. Not on her watch, no sir!
Repulse, for her part, sounded subdued when she replied,
"Got it. Neither of us is going to die here, don't worry!"
Forcing a nod, Hood turned her attention back to the Jerries. They had closed to sixteen thousand yards, close enough that Hood could
see the lean lines of the battlecruisers. Sharp 'Atlantic Bows'. Three turrets like Repulse, but triple-mounted with eleven-inch guns far more powerful than they had any right to be. Squat and menacing looking superstructures. Raked back funnel.
There was none of the industrial elegance of Seydlitz or Derfflinger in these ships.
Scharnhorst and
Gneisenau were warships, through and through. They were built in a nation dedicated to conflict and warfare, with the express intention of
doing their duty and not looking pretty while doing it. The same could be said for the cruiser, a
Hipper class, escorting them. All the German ships were brutal and squat, no elegance in their lines at all. And as fire flashed from their turrets again, Hood was forced to admit something despite all her Britannic pride.
These ships could fire faster than her.
The battlecruiser couldn't hold back a scream of pain, as a pair of shells from the lead German battlecruiser punched through her thinner upper belt, carving a gash through her side as it did so. Hood's hand fell to her side, coming away red. Firery pain shot through her, the girl slumping against her hull, even as she moved her hand back to hold down on the wound.
"I don't know if I
will come out of this..."
Hood could barely muster the energy to smile, when her own guns roared to life again. Her shells arced through the sky, directly at the second German battlecruiser. Even from her position, and with pain running through her side like she had a knife twisting away at her, Hood could hear the sound. The sound of shells punching through armor, and of boiler pressure escaping. White steam shot from the German's funnel, as destroyers moved into position to cover her, smoke pouring from their own funnels.
It wasn't possible to know if it were her or Repulse who had landed that hit. Hood didn't care. She merely smiled, blue eyes unfocused. The pain was more than anything she had felt before. But she had hurt the Germans back.
"Well, guess the Jerries can't win after al..."
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"Hood!"
Repulse felt her heart stop. She had been in the process of a little jig, her short red skirt dancing around her hips. Her long blue jacket had been fluttering around her small bust, the battlecruiser overjoyed at the hit they had made on the German battlecruiser. The wanker had been
hurt.
And in a single moment, all that joy had faded. Shells had flew from out of the forming smoke screen the Germans had put up, and arced right into
Hood. The massive battlecruiser had visibly shuddered under the blows, her bridge taking the brunt of the impacts. When the resultant smoke had cleared...it was a horror show.
Hood's bridge was a smoking mess, holes from one end to the other. Her funnels were belching sick black smoke, even as her superstructure burned. The battlecruiser...Mighty
Hood...drifted out of the formation, as her crew struggled to regain control.
Through it all, fire from the German battlecruisers and singular cruiser continued. The crippled battlecruiser was their primary target now, fire on
Repulse slacking up. The Germans wanted their prize then.
Well
fuck that.
"Admiral, we can't let them sink Hood!" Repulse spun on her heel, all trace of levity gone from her expression.
She hadn't been at Jutland, no. But she could feel the
fire of anger in her chest. Her boilers ran hot, Repulse stalking across her bridge. Her violet eyes looked out at the horizon, at the smoke the Germans had laid down. They thought it would keep them safe.
Not if
she had anything to say about it!
"Hard a port," Her Captain seemed to agree. In more ways than one, his voice deadly calm. His eyes locked on
Hood, the smoking battlecruiser continuing to fire despite the damage done to her. Despite German shells punching into her belt. The Captain didn't turn away, even as he gave out another order. "Keep in touch with
Suffolk. Have her radar figure out where the Jerries are, then send the destroyers in."
"Sir?"
The young Captain finally turned away, his eyes sharp as flint as he looked at his XO, "Did I stutter?"
"No sir!" The even younger man snapped to attention, before rushing to get the message out.
Repulse's Captain only allowed himself to slump down slightly when the heavy cruiser to her side began moving. He held a hand to his head, brushing away sweat. The man looked like the weight of the world was on his shoulders, looking out at Hood.
"Bloody hell...
Hood...we won't lose her. Have
Fearless lay down a smoke screen of our own.
Belfast is to take
Hood in tow at her earliest convenience. We'll get the Germans away, then head home." The man looked out at his crew, daring a single one of them to disagree with him. No voices were raised in dissension, letting a small smile cross his face. "Good. Sinking them won't matter if we lose
Hood doing it."
"Captain Harrington...are you sure about that?" Repulse couldn't help but ask, even though she knew there would be no answer.
And there wasn't, her Captain moving to the window of her bridge. His hands brought up binoculars, the man warily scanning the position of the German ships. He continued to do so, even as Repulse felt her old guns belch forth fire once again. Her own eyes tracked those shells, watching as they impacted in the smoke cloud, no sign of hits on the Germans.
Grinding her teeth at that, Repulse could only watch as the brave little destroyers shot forward at their best speed. The little warships zig-zagged as they charged, angling to avoid enemy fire. Their stacks belched thick black smoke, the little girl's pushing their boilers to the absolute limit, in the attempt to get in and out as quickly as possible.
And Repulse
hated that she could only watch.
"I can't just sit here! I want to be out there with them!" Repulse complained, holding her hands by her side. Cheerful and carefree she may be, seeing what had happened to Hood had lit a fire under her. And being forced to watch and wait was getting to her, more than she would like. She was blind. Her crew was reliant on the destroyers forcing the Germans out, or on the radar guidance of a cruiser.
No ship liked being out of control like that.
"Destroyers report torpedoes away, sir." One of her crew broke in, his voice shattering the relative quiet of her bridge.
Harrington nodded, "Right. Have them pull back, and let's see how the Jerries flinch."
Repulse turned her own eyes back at those words, watching and waiting. She couldn't see the tracks of the torpedoes. Not in the roiling waves, the tracks lost in the swells. But then, if
she couldn't see them...
"Hit!"
...then neither could the Germans! A plume of water shot into the air, right at the center of where the German formation had vanished behind their smoke. Smoke that the harsh North Sea winds were quickly dissipating, revealing the German formation.
A formation that had scattered, destroyers frantically attempting to dodge torpedoes. The solitary cruiser had pulled alongside the previously damaged battlecruiser,
that warship listing to port. The other battlecruiser was making the best speed it could out of the combat area, her guns silent. Seeing this, Repulse couldn't help but grin. It was not the excited grin she had worn before however.
No. Now it was a grim and thin line across her face, at the sight of the listing battlecruiser. Her smaller compatriot, the Captain likely realizing he was exposed, ceased picking up crew and began to belch smoke all her own, racing to get moving. It was abundantly clear that one or more of the torpedoes had hit the battlecruiser. And coupled with the damage to her engines from the previous hits...
"Move forward!" Harrington barked out, his commanding voice echoing through Repulse's bridge. "We're taking that battlecruiser down. Flank speed gentlemen."
...well, Repulse wouldn't dispute the point. Abandoned by her comrades, the listing battlecruiser rotated her turrets, targeting
Repulse now. But the range had closed. Her list further disrupted her firing solutions, leading to ragged fire that sent water into the air around the charging British warship...but didn't hit. Repulse's own turrets rotated in their mounts, while her cruiser escorts took the German under their own fire.
And as fifteen-inch shells lanced into the flank of the listing battlecruiser, the end was obvious.
Scratch one battlecruiser!
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Indeed, two short hours later, there was nothing but floating debris and oil to mark the location of the German battlecruiser. Her comrades had long since fled, realizing they were overmatched despite the damage to
Hood. Damage that had left her under tow by
Repulse, her battered crew working to keep
Hood afloat. But there was no getting around the situation...the Germans had lost a precious battlecruiser. But they had mauled the Mighty
Hood in exchange, the old girl shot to pieces. Repulse couldn't even begin to guess how long her younger counterpart would need to be in the docks now.
But.
At least
Hood was intact. More than could be said for the German.
"Admiral Lütjens?" Harrington asked, breaking into Repulse's thoughts.
"Ja." A German officer, sharply dressed despite the water and oil clinging to his uniform, nodded. "You have my gratitude for rescuing as much of my crew as you were able."
"We may be enemies, but we're both sailors, first and foremost." Harrington shook his head, though his eyes drifted to
Hood. "I'd like to think you would have done the same."
Lütjens' smiled, ever so slightly, "Within my power. However, that was not to be."
As he said that, the German Admiral reached to his belt, pulling free a small dirk. It had yet to be taken from him, the ceremonial nature of the blade clear. Repulse may not have understood everything about naval protocol.
But she knew that much.
It's the right of an officer to surrender his sword to his captor. Or, in this case, his dirk.
The battlecruiser watched, as her own Captain took the weapon from the German. His hand wrapped around the blade, before bringing it up to his eyes. Harrington's eyebrow rose when he did so, before the man turned the blade over and looked at Lütjens. Where before there had been nothing but the courtesy shown a fellow officer...there was now
respect in the British man's eyes.
"
Kaiserliche Marine?" Harrington asked softly.
Lütjens nodded, his eyes shadowed despite the lack of a cap on his head, "Ja. I refuse to wear a weapon marked with the Swastika. I will gladly continue to wear my
Kaiserliche Marine weapon, so long as I serve."
There was silence on the bridge at that statement. Harrington and Lütjens stared at one another, until the former gently placed the old dirk down on the plotting table. His free hand came up, held out to the German. Lütjens blinked slowly, raising his own hand carefully. Harrington took it in his grip, shaking it.
"I daresay, you are one of the good ones." The Brit didn't smile, but there was no hostility in his face. "I'll do what I can to see you're treated well, back home."
"Ensure my crew is safe, first." Lütjens was quick to reply, but the genuine
thanks was clear in both face and tone.
Repulse didn't know how it had come to this. Politics went over her head. But...she would follow her Captain. She still felt anger at what had been done to Hood...but she would never go against what her Captain said. And in this case?
Well, she would
tolerate having a Jerry Admiral aboard, until they got poor Hood home.
"I don't know what to do."
Far away, aboard USS
Saratoga, James Thompson fell against his cot. His uniform jacket was discarded, haphazardly draped over the chair at his desk. Green eyes stared up at the cold ceiling. They were unfocused, the Admiral draping a hand over his forehead. A heavy sigh came from his lips.
"Admiral, are you alright?" Sara herself stood by his side, her soft voice honestly confused. The carrier tilted her head to the side, bright eyes staring down on the older man.
Thompson sighed again, moving his arm enough to stare up at his oldest friend, "I wish I could say yes, but no, I'm not. I never expected this to happen."
"Utah made a mistake sir," Sara didn't dispute the point, gently sitting down next to her Admiral. Concerned eyes stared at the man, as she brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. "But we've planned how to work with that, right? We just need to..."
"That's the thing. I was
there. I should have tried something we've talked over with Halsey, but..." Thompson dropped his arm over his eyes again, his voice
weary, as he continued speaking. "We didn't. I blanked out entirely, and if Utah hadn't suggested trying herself, I don't know what I would have done."
There was silence following that statement. Sara frowned in clear confusion, while Thompson sighed again. He had been...blindsided, yes. He hadn't expected Utah making a breakthrough. Or that if she had, that the one she talked to would go right to Richardson. All the plans he had made relied on convincing a large enough group of people
first and then going to the Admiral. That way Richardson would be more likely to believe them, since a dozen or more men seeing the girls was better than two, no matter whom those two were.
But instead, here he was.
Relying on Utah's efforts, in the hopes she could convince Richardson to hear her. When there were any number of things he could have done. Hell, he could have just had Utah pick him up! But...it hadn't occurred to him.
It's getting to me...I hate to admit that...but...
"Sir, we talked about ideas. Why didn't you use them?" Sara finally asked, placing a hand on Thompson's arm. "Surely you or Captain Halsey could have come up with something, right?"
"We've had plenty of ideas." Thompson didn't deny that, how could he? "But, I blanked out. I've been thinking in terms of convincing someone like Halsey, Sara. Someone who already was willing to
believe something was going on, or had their girl talking to them on some level. I hadn't thought of someone who..."
Sara frowned softly, as she stared at her Admiral, "Who didn't have that advantage? But wouldn't Utah doing something to you still work?"
And that was the crux of the issue, wasn't it?
"Yeah...yeah, it probably would have." The young Admiral ran a hand through his hair, the black strands moving along his fingers. Nearly too long for regulations, but he couldn't bring himself to
care about that right now. "Even though Richardson has no reason to believe it."
"Then why didn't you..." Sara began, only for Thompson to cut her off.
By placing a hand on
Sara's hand, shaking his head slowly. His hand shook as well, though he tried to hide it. That didn't work of course. Sara was nothing if not perceptive, looking down at the hand, and back up at her Admiral. Her frown deepened further, the carrier gently squeezing Thompson's hand, concern for him in her eyes.
The Admiral noticed that too, sighing deeply, "Because it didn't occur to me. All this work we've done together? And not one idea came to mind when I actually needed it."
"But..."
"Sara." Thompson gently cut her off, his voice weary and
tired. "I...this isn't easy to explain. It isn't easy for me to
say. But do you want to know something?"
The carrier nodded slowly, "Admiral...is something wrong? Is it anything I can help with?"
At that statement, Thompson smiled. He leaned back against his bed as he did so, but a genuinely thankful smile crossed his face nonetheless. Even as it came, it faded though. The Admiral looked up at the ceiling of his room, his voice echoing through the room. Monotone in nature and nothing like his normal manner of speech. But...this was a deeply personal subject. One he hadn't wanted to lay on Sara.
Even though it was only having her there, that kept him from being overwhelmed by it.
"You've noticed how young I am, right?" Thompson answered Sara's question with one of his own, looking down at their joined hands.
Sara could only nod, "I have. Captain Halsey was older than you when he was my Captain...I've never had an Admiral as young as you are sir."
"That's because, by all rights, I
should be a Captain." Thompson laughed, but there was no humor in his voice. No, nothing but bitterness and weariness. "When this whole thing started, that's what I was. Captain of the
Stehem, an old destroyer out of Yokosuka. I was the one in charge of DesRon15 too, seven destroyers. But I was no Admiral."
His hand clenched down on Sara's when the man said that. Thompson felt old memories come to the forefront of his mind, as he screwed his eyes shut. Painful...painful memories, that he tried not to think of often. The entire reason he was an Admiral in the first place.
"Until the Abyssals came. I never fought them when I was on
Stehem," the Admiral shook his head wearily. No, he had never fought the Abyssals directly like that. But, that wasn't the point of his story. "But
they started from the start, to target flag officers. I think they wanted to decapitate our leadership, and
that they did well. Most of the Admirals were killed in the opening days of the war. Navy had to promote people up to make up for the losses, and I had...well. I had met you, and the other ship girls assigned to Japan. I worked well with you all, so I ended up taken off my old post, and rushed into service as an Admiral."
That was condensing the story down. There was a lot more to it...but again, that wasn't the point. He would tell Sara the full story later. Right now...
"Sir," Sara broke in, her tone soft as the grip on his hand. "You didn't get any training? Is that the problem?"
Thompson shook his head again, "No. I mean, it is now, but it wasn't then. And that's why I told you how I was rushed up the ranks...I know how young I am. I...wouldn't have called myself fit to be a
proper Admiral, not yet." The young man snorted softly, looking over at his uniform jacket, the stars prominent on the uniform. "When I was commanding you girls, it was just you girls and support staff. Maybe thirty ship girls at any given time, and
maybe a few hundred support staff. I went to that, from commanding about two thousand men in my DesRon."
When he spoke the number, Sara's eyes widened. The carrier looked past her Admiral, and instead, at her hull. Much as some things changed, Thompson reflected, some others didn't. Saratoga had always been a quick one, and she clearly understood what he was talking about. Better than others may have, in all honesty. He was thankful for that...for
damn sure.
"I may not be in direct command of your...
our...crew, Sara." Thompson whispered, his voice soft and quiet. "But there's more men on just
you than I've ever commanded before. Lex doubles that. And then we have the escorts. I...I've never commanded this many men. I've never commanded this many ships. Not like this, when I've got to worry about Captains questioning my orders."
"None of them would!" Sara was quick to deny, shaking her head. Blue hair moved with the movement, her green eyes daring Thompson to dispute the point. "Admiral, everyone respects you. All you've done to..."
"Sara."
The one word held a great weight. A weight that clearly weighed down on Thompson, the man slumped against his bed. He looked twice his age in that moment, the weight of the world on his shoulders. He had hid this well. The Admiral hadn't wanted to worry Sara, or Ari, or Enterprise. He hadn't wanted to worry
anyone, and it was why he took everything on himself. Perhaps, too much on his own shoulders. He could see that now, even if he hadn't before.
It was why Utah had blindsided him like she had.
He was working himself to the bone, and...and...
"I have to worry that I'll do something wrong. I have to command more men and ships than I know what to do with sometimes, and I have to do it without the benefit of technology I grew up with." Thompson laughed again, the sound bitter. "Every time I think about contacting Lex's Captain, my first thought is 'where's the video system'. Or why I can't use a computer, and figure out something I may be missing. I have to rely on things that were
antiques before I was
born. I..."
Thompson shook his head, clenching down on the bedding beneath him. The Admiral took in a steadying breath, before continuing to speak.
"Every time I speak with anyone but you and the girls, I have to watch what I say. Do you know what about a century worth of pop culture does? I have to watch every single word I say, or I'll talk about something that doesn't even exist yet. Or use some sort of colloquialism that won't be invented for decades." The man frowned, looking out the porthole over his head. "On top of that, I don't even know half of what people talk about around me. Culture goes over my head. What's popular now is something I haven't even heard of before. If I slip up, being called crazy is the least of my worries."
"Admiral..." Sara's voice was filled with nothing but concern, as she tried to reach forward. Thompson moved out of her grip, shaking his head. Sara frowned at that, but she didn't press the point. "You don't know what to do half the time, and are worried you'll mess up something? Right?"
"That," Thompson nodded unhappily, his eyes downcast and
tired. "And it's just one thing. I have to keep track of events, and try to make sure I remember things properly. I'm the only one who knows what's coming you know, and I have to prepare however I can. That means coming up with tactics. And just like with culture, if I'm not careful, I'll mess up. I'll try to introduce too many things too quickly, and we know what that would do."
Sara winced, despite herself, "You may be removed from your post, because the other Admirals...they won't like it. Admiral..."
"On top of that, until just a couple weeks ago, I was the only one who could talk with you girls. I love being able to do that. Believe me, I do. But...when everyone from you to Utah to the destroyers wants to talk to me, and I have to work with you all...prepare you for what is coming..." Thompson wiped at his face, sweat coming away in a sheen on his hand. His voice shook slightly, as he continued speaking. "The pressure, Sara. It's...sometimes it's too much. I was the only one you all could talk to. I had to try and divide my attention between everything else, and coming up with a way to get you all to talk with your admirals. Halsey has helped, but there hasn't been enough
time..."
Here, the man shook his head again. His hands shook. Hell, his whole
body shook. This was something he hadn't wanted to admit to. The pressure...he had been fine keeping it all on his own shoulders. Not putting it on anyone else. But now, it had made him make a mistake. How many others had he made? Or would he make?
"That's the reason, I think, that the plans we made for this fell out of place." Thompson sighed one last time, his head lolling back against his bedding. "Everything...I've been pushing myself so hard, that I finally just...couldn't take it. My mind gave out on me, and I panicked. I damn well panicked, and couldn't think of the plans we'd made. Utah gave me a way out, and I took it. Even though I should have used one of our plans. I'm...I'm sorry. I shouldn't have panicked."
Silence returned upon that statement, not a word spoken. Not a movement made. Thompson merely lay against his bed, wondering if he had made other mistakes. He could surely have done more. He could have put down more tactics, had Thach or Halsey help him. He could have suggested the plans he had made
with Halsey and Enterprise to the other girls. Maybe then Utah wouldn't have, for all intents and purposes, made a random breakthrough alone.
And maybe if he had done that, he wouldn't have panicked. Richardson would have had more evidence, and they wouldn't be relying on Utah like this. Wouldn't that have worked better?
But because he had pushed himself to the breaking point, he hadn't. Because he couldn't accept help and tried to do everything himself, he was caught in this situation. Damn it...why couldn't he just...
"Admiral," Sara's soft voice spoke up again. The carrier stared at him with deep green eyes, leaning forward. Thompson frowned at the intense look on her face, even as Sara's long hair hung between them. He lay on his back, and she lay above him, staring down on her Admiral. Sara sighed softly, moving a hand to brush at the Admiral's face. "You've been working so hard, and you never asked for help. I...I know I'm not as much help as I should be. I can only be here to talk to you, really. But, if that's all I can do, I
want to do it."
Thompson felt his face heating up, his tired mind realizing the position they were in. But...he didn't move. No, he
couldn't move. Because Sara, not the confident Sara he remembered but the worry-filled one he had, didn't realize something.
"Sara, you've done more than anyone." Thompson whispered, his own hand brushing a strand of blue hair from her face. "I'm
fairly confident I would have gone crazy a long time ago, without you."
His old joking tone was back, making the carrier smile. But Thompson was being deathly serious.
"You're my rock, if you want to call it that. Whenever I've been pushed, I can always rely on you being there to lean on. A shoulder to rest on, when I need it. I...I need that, more than I would like to admit."
Sara's smile turned distinctly watery, as she fell down. Her arms wrapped around Thompson, hugging the man tightly. "Admiral...I don't know what to say. But...I can say this. I'll always be here if you need me. If you
ever need someone to talk to, I'll be there. Just...don't push me away? Don't try doing...doing everything on your own again.
Please."
Thompson smiled softly himself, returning the hug, "I won't. After what happened...I'll probably be going to you more often. I can't do everything on my own, so having you there to help is..."
"I'll do everything I can." Sara cut him off, squeezing tighter.
It wasn't painful though, as the Admiral nodded his head, "And I'll do my best to not do everything myself."
As the two lay there, Thompson felt...felt like a weight had left his shoulders. His task still seemed impossible. But maybe...maybe a bit less than it had before.
This one fought me. I had to do so much research...
Suffice to say, I hadn't intended to go so long or make the chapter so long. But hopefully everything worked out in the end. I'm unsure on the naval battle, but that's the
first time I've written one. With all that implies.
Hopefully it worked out.
Also:
I've been vague on why Thompson didn't go with the various plans suggested for Utah, with good reason. The above scene was one I've been planning for a
long time.
You know something? Every time someone would say 'Thompson should do
this' or 'Thompson should know
this' or 'he should totally have done more or planned this obvious thing' I've been adding on this segment. Because everything said in here? Tactics? Work on the seeing the girls?
It's come to mind for him.
Now think about that for a second. He's one man, tossed about a century or so into the past (not quite, but close enough to not matter). He has to try coming up with tactics that are half-remembered at best- Thompson was a destroyer man, prior to getting assigned the ship girls. Put these into practice, without raising suspicion. Do it despite having no access to technology he took for granted, and the need to avoid saying things that he shouldn't say.
On top of that, being the only one the ship girls could go to, prior to Halsey. Having to then come up with ways for them to talk with each other. On
top of having to learn how to Admiral, in
1940, while also putting the tactics into play.
Frankly, I think it's a miracle the man isn't a gibbering mess.
Thus, why I've been working on this segment for so long.
