Chapter 5
USS
Rochester had gained something of a reputation, in her time in the Philippines. She had long ago become something of a local landmark, nay, a tourist attraction. Anyone who sailed or walked by Cavite could see her sitting there. Silently rusting away as the last remnant of a forgotten era. At least she still
looked imposing, with her high sides and bristling with guns that no one had bothered removing. She wasn't ever going to sail again and it was probably only a matter of time until someone got the bright idea to remove her weapons and scrap her. Until then? She was the Old Lady of Cavite.
Funny, how much things can change in a single day. Even as I die, I can't really complain about it. It is quite nice to be able to talk and do something again!
Of course, the Old Lady was getting a new reputation now. She couldn't help but smile at the way the Army officer next to her squirmed in his seat. "There's no need to be shy, dear. I won't hurt you."
"I'm not worried about
you, ma'am." The young man replied, perhaps on instinct. He seemed so nervous he wasn't aware of what he was actually saying, when he continued. "In all honesty, I'm worried about the General. He...doesn't take kindly to interruptions. With the islands going to hell, I don't think he really wants to talk to anyone right now. Certainly not anyone from the Navy."
"Perhaps we should change that, then." Rochester sighed softly. "If he had worked with the Navy properly, we wouldn't be in this situation. Certainly we may have still had a way to keep the Japanese from landing or supplying their troops."
What she didn't say, was that she hated seeing the people of her adopted homeland suffering as they were.
To his credit, the Army man didn't deny her point. He just shook his head, "I can't say you're
wrong, ma'am. I've got friends fighting on the front and they..."
"They're suffering and wish that we hadn't let the Japanese land at all."
The man's wince answered more than any words could ever have done. Rochester could only shake her head sadly.
That, at least, was as much the fault of the Navy as of MacArthur. Even rusting away in Cavite as she had been, Rochester had heard. She'd heard the submarines and destroyers complaining about torpedoes that they didn't trust. About how they didn't possibly have enough ships to fight if a War came. No one had expected it so soon, though. The Japanese had fooled them all.
"Don't worry about that, dear." Rochester blew out a soft breath, placing her hand on the young officer's. She didn't care much about personal space, really. Not now. "I promise you, I fully intend to be out there fighting. If I can do even a little bit to help, I
will. I won't let everyone fight in vain. This is my home, after all."
"It's a relief to hear that. You'll have to forgive me if I don't know
how you can fight, though." The Army man pulled his hand away, but he didn't protest the gesture. "Well, I can't complain about it. I want to be out there myself." Sending a weak smile her way, the officer got to his feet and walked over to the door. He took up position beside it, and nodded back at the cruiser. "I think the General is almost done."
Rochester returned the smile, and forced her hands back in her lap. She had to look the image of a 'prim and proper' woman, as the door did swing open. A handful of harried looking Army officers rushed out and split into multiple directions. Behind them, the imposing form of Douglas MacArthur.
"So. You're the woman who wanted to talk?" The General was every bit as blunt as his reputation said, his pipe not remotely messing with his voice. Even so, he took it out and held it in one hand, using the other to hold the door open. "Come on in, then. I don't have the time to waste on useless formalities."
Smoothing her skirt, Rochester climbed to her feet and nodded at the General. "A man of action, then. We will need that."
Out of the corner of her eye, as she walked into the office, Rochester saw the barest
hint of a smile tug at the General's lips. She smiled herself, as the door slammed shut behind her. Perhaps,
perhaps, this meeting may actually be productive. She could only hope.
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"Right. I wouldn't have bothered meeting you here, if I didn't think it was worth it." MacArthur was quick to the point, placing his hands on the table between himself and Rochester. His pipe lay atop a map of Luzon, with the ever-fluctuating lines marked in red and blue. "You're very lucky that I still get reports from Pearl. The name 'Utah' ring any bells?"
Rochester frowned, lightly. "I know
of her, yes. I can't say I ever met her in person. Is there a reason I need to know about her?"
In response, MacArthur placed a photo on the table. Rochester blinked, and looked down on the photo. A pretty woman stared back, with bandages around her head. It wouldn't have seemed that special...were it not for the turrets spread around her. Only one was what the cruiser would have expected from a battleship, even if it was missing guns. The remainder were all more befitting of a destroyer, even if the shape was also unfamiliar. It didn't really matter what kind of guns they were, anyway. What mattered, was the guns and turrets had been scaled down to fit the size of the woman herself.
A woman staring at
her, it felt like.
"...this is Utah, isn't it?" Rochester breathed, even though she already knew the answer. She didn't need to look up, to feel General MacArthur's eyes boring into her. "I'm not the first one to come back like this? I never would have thought someone else had...how did she...?" Muttering as much to herself as to the General, Rochester ran her finger over the bandages on Utah's face. "What happened to her?"
"That's what I would like to know." MacArthur grunted, drawing Rochester's attention away from the photo. The General met her gaze, eyes narrowed to flints. "No one at Pearl can tell me a damn thing about it.
That is why I was willing to entertain this meeting. You're just like her. Or am I wrong?"
"I...assume so?" With another frown, the armored cruiser looked back down at Utah. She seemed the same, but...
Taking her answer as a positive, MacArthur picked up his pipe again and used it to gesture at the map. "If you
are like her, I'm lead to believe you can use all of the weapons you once had. Correct?"
Rochester shrugged in response, "I don't see why I
can't. I haven't had a reason to try, but I
know I can bring my weapons to me. It is..." Biting her lip, she brought a hand up and started to roll a lock of red hair between her fingers. She didn't even realize she was doing it. "I can hardly explain it, in all honesty. It is a feeling that isn't
human. I can feel another limb that I need to focus on moving, is the closest I could describe it. It is not something easy to do, but I think I could do it if I wanted to."
I desperately want to. I have never regretted the life I lead. However...I can't imagine not fighting now. Letting the Japanese destroy my home
without at least trying to fight back.
"If that's the case, I have quite a few missions for you." MacArthur drawled, pointing down at the map. "Admiral Hart refuses to send any heavy units against the Japanese landings. Are
you willing to fight those bastards, or are you going to go hide as well?" The dislike for his Navy counterpart was
very clear in the General's face, a scowl taking shape around the pipe in his mouth. "My boys are giving them hell, but we can't do a
damn thing against the landings with the Air Corps gutted like it is."
"Why don't we have any air support?" Rochester asked the obvious question, tilting her head to the side in confusion. "I am hardly familiar with how aircraft can be used in combat, though I've heard they were what sank me. If they can hit Cavite like that, shouldn't our own planes be even better?"
After all, the American planes
had to be superior to the Japanese ones. Rochester's entire life, the Japanese had been far behind the Americans. Even when they had those fancy battlecruisers, the United States could have built something better. It was how she lived her life. Even when she was obsolete, new ships were constantly coming by the Philippines that reminded her that the Navy she loved would always be superior to the Japanese. With that in mind, was it that hard to believe that the American
planes were better too? Not for her.
She still didn't miss the cloud of
anger falling on MacArthur's face. Or the way he pulled his pipe from his lips and clenched down hard enough on it that the wood creaked. Perhaps she had said the wrong thing?
"
Our planes were caught napping on the ground." The General bit out, turning his angry gaze towards a window and at a cloudy sky. He didn't bother acknowledging Rochester's look of concern. No. All his attention was on a forgotten argument. "I wasn't informed of any sort of air attacks. I would have authorized an attack on Formosa the
moment the attack on Pearl reached me, if my Air Corps commander had gotten in contact. He did not." Slamming a hand on the table, MacArthur turned his gaze back to Rochester. "So, no, you will
not expect air support. What little we have has already been withdrawn to Australia."
"I...see." Rochester blinked, and shook her head. Right, don't mention
that around MacArthur again. She was sure there was a story there, too, because she couldn't imagine someone being that incompetent. Even if they were
Army. "I am sorry, General, but I would not be able to attack the landings. I'm not certain if my hull still functions the same way. If the Japanese can still attack me as if I were a proper warship, I would be no match for what they likely have now."
No matter her opinion of Japanese planes compared to American, or modern ships compared to modern ships, Rochester knew she was a relic of a past age. She'd almost been obsolete when she launched. Forget now, half-a-century later. She couldn't hope to stand up to a modern cruiser of any navy. She was too slow, her armor was too old, and her guns...maybe...
"However, I should be able to deny Manila Harbor. If I can get close without them noticing..." Rochester started to mumble to herself, her hand returning to her hair as she paced around the table. Plans and maps were drawn up in her head, her crew seeming to be in perfect sync with her. Somehow. "...perhaps I can deal with a cruiser, if my guns are fired at close range. I would need to be careful of torpedoes and return fire but..."
MacArthur coughed, prompting the cruiser to stop her pacing. "Can you fire your weapons on land?"
"...that is a very good question."
"We will need to test that at our first opportunity, if you're convinced you can't contest the landings." The General pinched his brow, blowing out a frustrated breath. His eyes looked down at the map, and then at the cruiser. "Those Japanese bastards wouldn't know what hit them, if we could get eight-inch guns on the front. My boys wouldn't say no to that kind of support, no matter that it was coming from a woman that used to be a warship."
"I am
still a warship." Rochester felt like pointing out, though she let her finger drop when the General sent her a distinctly unimpressed look.
Shaking his head, MacArthur continued speaking, "Even if we can't send you directly to the front, having naval support may make it possible to hold at Baatan. I already have supplies being moved there." Pointing at the aforementioned location on the map, he grunted in annoyance. "It
galls me to contemplate retreat. I am not a man who enjoys falling back, or admitting defeat. I am the better of any Japanese commander, but Washington and
Hart have tied both my hands behind my back."
"The Admiral is probably being held back just like you are, if I can speak freely." Rochester felt the need to defend the man that
would have been her commanding officer, were her old hull in any condition to fight. "I'm certain he would be fighting just as hard if he had the resources. I know it."
"Be that as it may," MacArthur showed no signs of caring. He just continued to look angry. "Hart is a coward who refuses to attack the landings.
You are the only part of the Navy I trust, and that will only last so long as you can fight the Japanese. Do you think you can at least do that, even if just in Manila Bay?"
Rochester felt a hint of anger and annoyance under her own placid exterior, but she didn't rise to the bait. MacArthur was, for better or worse, her superior officer. She imagined that Admiral Hart couldn't be bothered by 'wild rumors' about her existence. For now, she was subordinated to the Army. It hardly mattered if she could fight on land or was limited to the harbor and Bay. She'd fight regardless. What the General failed to understand, was that the Philippines were
her home as much as they were any native of the islands. She would die, again, to protect them. It would take a direct order from Washington to make her even think about leaving.
So she just squared her shoulders beneath her thin dress, slicked some of her graying red hair back from her eyes, and gave the General a sharp salute. Forget regulations, she needed to make a point.
"I won't disappoint you, General MacArthur. You have my promise that I will do everything I can to fight the Japanese. If I can do
anything to support the Army, I'll do it. I won't let them take the Islands without a fight!"
For the first time, MacArthur gave a genuine smile. A small one that barely reached his eyes. But a smile nonetheless.
"Outstanding, sailor. I want you to talk with the men on the ground and start figuring out what your limits are. The sooner we can get you on the front, the sooner we can show those bastards they made the wrong choice in fighting Douglas MacArthur."
Difficult, this one. As per usual with writing the bigger historic figures. MacArthur is a...difficult one. It's very easy to slip into the classic 'egotistical asshole' side of him, which wouldn't really be inaccurate. At the same time, he did care about the Philippines in his own way. So...yeah. Hopefully this worked well enough.
Couldn't help putting in the bits of his arrogance and disdain for the Navy, plus how he deflects blame for the Air Corps getting caught with its pants down. He did both of those IRL, too. Just the way MacArthur was.
