Chapter 9: Call to Arms
PAGDTenno
Verified Warmind. Probably on fire.
- Location
- South Carolina
Chapter 9
Call to Arms
24 July 2015
----
Pearl Harbor
Admiral Williams stepped out onto the viewing platform. "Lieutenant."
Lieutenant Harkness spun on his heel and saluted. "Sir!"
Williams returned the salute and stepped beside the young engineer. "You realize how… unorthodox this is. The Royal Navy and JMSDF are much more…"
"Formal, sir?" Harkness grunted. "Yes, sir. But formal wasn't working. Didn't even get a goddamned revenue cutter, even when Constitution tried. And Indy and Houston both showed up at concerts, so…"
Williams nodded, watching the last few sailors file in beside the summoning pool. "I know. I read your proposal, and agree. It's worth a try. Just one question. Why that song?"
Harkness slipped into an at ease position as the opening bars of Manowar's Call to Arms rolled out over the speakers and grinned. "Can't beat the classics, sir."
Williams inclined his head in silent agreement.
----
In the darkness, a spirit stirred.
She was an oddity among her kind.
A ship with no sisters to call her own.
But if she had no sisters, she had cousins aplenty. And that was enough for her. She and her cousins had given their all throughout the War in every theater. And though she had survived, it had cost all too many their lives.
But now…
Now her Navy called once more.
But why? She had been obsolete even when she closed her eyes for the final time, superceded by Baltimore, her sisters, and the Des Moines triplets.
Only one way to find out.
She smirked. What the hell. One last ride wouldn't kill her.
-----
Admiral Williams didn't notice it the first time the lights flickered, intent as he was on the summoning pool.
He certainly noticed, however, the second time. And the third, accompanied as it was by a blast of wind that nearly blew his cover off as the band faltered.
"Don't stop!" he roared, "Something's coming!"
Surprised by the shout, the band bent back to their instruments and played with renewed vigor, even as the lights flickered repeatedly and the wind picked up once more. Distantly, he heard Lieutenant Harkness whoop with glee as the lights faded one more time and the singer screamed the final line.
"Their blood is upon my steel!"
The lights seemed to give out for a moment as the wind and music died, and Williams held his breath as the light slowly returned, revealing a tall, slender brunette standing on the water. No, a cruiser. She could be nothing else. She was far too tall for a tin can, and lacked the barely contained power even ancient Texas could never hide completely.
To his right, Harkness caught himself. "Your pardon, sir. Lost control of myself for a moment."
Williams smirked. "Understandable." He stepped forward and the cheers instantly came to a halt as every sailor in attendance snapped to attention.
He cleared his throat. "Identify yourself, please."
She grinned cockily. "USS Wichita, CA-45."
He smiled. A heavy cruiser, even! "Have you returned to serve once more?"
She nodded and came to attention, instantly grasping the tone of the situation. "I have."
This time, Williams didn't even try to suppress the grin that spread across his face.
"Then raise your right hand."
She raised her hand, accepting the card a rating handed her and scanning it briefly. She smiled, then slipped it into a pocket and recited the oath as if she had heard it hundreds of times before.
"Being a commissioned warship of the United States Navy, I solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; That I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; That I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation; and that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of a warship of the United States Navy, So Help Me God!"
Williams nodded. "Welcome back to the Navy, Wichita."
By all rights, the roar of approval ought to have brought the hall crashing down.
----
Yokosuka
Admiral Goto leaned back in his chair. Finally, he thought, looking over the preliminary report and smiling broadly. The Americans had pulled off a deliberate summoning. Maybe things were starting to turn around.
Just then, his office door opened, Nagato and Ooyodo entering precisely on schedule for their weekly meeting.
And just as had happened every Friday evening for the past year, his desktop rang out Admiral Williams' ringtone precisely thirty seconds after his secretary ship and flagship sat down. Just like he did every week, Goto wondered if Ooyodo and Williams were coordinating, before pushing it from his mind as he accepted the video call, his screen splitting in two to show Williams' stern features side by side with Admiral Stephens who, as always, raised his coffee mug in a silent toast. His "USS Valley Forge" one, this week.
Goto spoke first. "Admiral Williams. Congratulations on the successful summoning, and may there be many more."
Williams inclined his head, smiling broadly. "Thank you. Harkness intends to try again tomorrow, with my full approval."
Stephens nodded soberly. "I hope it works."
"Speaking of our new arrivals, I suppose we should get down to business," Goto said.
Williams nodded, and leaned forwards towards the camera.
"I'm delighted to have Wichita back, but she's not a powerhouse like Salem or one of the battlewagons. I can't in good conscience deploy her on her own with a couple of tin cans. At the same time, she's too powerful to park in harbor until more of our cruisers show up."
Goto nodded, drumming his fingers on his desk. While he supposed Wichita could have been folded into a division with Salem, it would be a suboptimal posting at best. Salem was easily equal to any three prewar cruisers he could think of. Perhaps…
"Nagato."
"Yes?" his secretary ship's deep voice rolled from her desk.
"Refresh my memory. Atago is currently unattached, correct?"
Nagato frowned and nodded. "Yes. What are you thinking, Admiral?"
Goto smiled. "Well. Our American allies are quite short of cruisers, while we can certainly spare one or two. And I imagine Atago has been spinning her wheels. I suggest we fold her into a division with Wichita."
Stephens frowned. "They're fairly different. In terms of their armaments, handling, speed. Going by memory, Atago is almost three knots faster than Wichita."
Goto inclined his head. "True. But if we are to win, our ships must learn to work together at some point. Which brings me to my next point. You, Admiral, are not only badly short of cruisers, but also of destroyers. Akizuki, Teruzuki, Hatsuzuki, Fubuki, Shimakaze and Yukikaze are all unassigned, and Captain Reddy seems to have a talent for forging diverse, dissimilar forces into a unified whole. Why not give them to him, and see how he performs?"
Williams' eyes widened in surprise, "Goto!" he exclaimed, eyes wide, "You're nowhere near that much better off than we are in that regard!"
Goto nodded. "True," he allowed, "and yet you sent two of your three precious Fletchers here alongside one of your even more precious battleships. With help such as that, I believe we can afford to send you proper escorts. No, we would be poor allies if we failed to."
Williams opened his mouth to object, then closed it with a snap, recognizing the inevitable. "Very well. But I'm folding Laffey into this scratch DesRon. We'll give him a experienced core to form his unit around. She's as good as they come, and she'll help balance out Walker."
Stephens bobbed his head for a moment, then nodded. "I'll inform him in the morning."
----
25 July, 2015
Matt leaned forward in his (temporary) chair, steepling his fingers as he surveyed the first six destroyers that had been handed to him. Based solely on their files, he was cautiously optimistic, despite how odd it felt to be commanding a DesRon comprised primarily of Imperial Japanese ships.
That were also fourteen-to-sixteen year old girls.
The three Akizukis and the sextet of animated turrets that followed them everywhere were most at ease, with one of Teruzuki's idly flipping the shell it had clamped in its teeth.
Next to them, the first modern destroyer. Fubuki, whose launch had more or less made every other destroyer in the world obsolete overnight. Her experimental refit with the long ten centimeter guns made her a natural choice for the fourth slot in DesDiv 61 alongside Akizuki and her sisters, and the way she cheerfully threw herself into her duty spoke well of her bravery. Not that it showed, as she anxiously shifted her weight from foot to foot, looking for all the world like a teenager counting down the minutes before her first date.
Standing next to her, Yukikaze. She was a big, powerful destroyer, no question, and one of the few Japanese destroyers to survive the war. And yet, in the corner of his eyes he saw Walker's fists trembling with barely contained anger as she wrestled with the memories of another Kagero-class destroyer and a slugging match that had nearly killed both of them, desperately trying to keep the girl in front of her separate from Hidoiame. It wasn't her fault… but he wished the girl was almost literally any other class. He hoped and believed Walker would at least be able to work with her division-mate, but expecting any more would have been foolish. For her part, Yukikaze was smiling amicably, occasionally scratching her head in confusion. He would have to explain Walker's history to her, at least the relevant parts.
And last of the six present, Shimakaze, one and only ship of her class. He was very impressed by her capabilities. She carried a heavy armament of six five-inch dual-purpose guns, and no fewer than three quintuple torpedo tubes. Without a doubt, she was the most powerful of the Japanese destroyers he'd been given. Judging by the repeated references to "poor station-keeping in battle," "tendency to attempt solo attacks," and "poor coordination with allies," he was also certain that she would be his biggest problem.
Still, while no one would call them anything resembling a uniform force, they were all experienced professionals. And when Laffey joined them in Pearl, he expected the Sumner would be a formidable addition to the DesRon.
Straightening in his chair, he nodded briskly. "All right. I'm going to keep this short. We all know why we're here, and every one of us has been around the block a few times, so I'm just going to hit the important points."
He extended a finger, pointing to each destroyer as he named them. "Akizuki. Teruzuki. Hatsuzuki. Fubuki. You four are the sixty-first destroyer division, led by Akizuki." Teruzuki clapped once, before pouncing on Akizuki in a totally unprofessional hug, a long stream of unintelligible Japanese coming out of her mouth. Much more sedately, Hatsuzuki caught her older sisters, the excited vibrations of the hair-tufts poking out from her headband giving away the excitement her stoic expression hid so well. Fubuki, by contrast, practically vibrated in place for almost ten seconds as she desperately tried to hold herself in place, before giving in and leaping onto the excitedly giggling triplets, the only intelligible words coming out of her mouth being something about "Akizuki-sempai". Matt's lips quirked, before he coughed gently. All four destroyers flushed, returning to a semblance of attention next to each other.
Matt turned to the other three destroyers. "Walker, Yukikaze, Shimakaze. You three are the first three ships of the eighteenth destroyer division. Laffey will join us when we reach Pearl, filling out the division. I will command from Walker's bridge." He swept his gaze across all seven destroyers. "Walker will be the squadron flagship, as well as my second in command. Any questions?" Seven heads bobbed up and down with varying degrees of enthusiasm.
He nodded, letting his features relax. "Now. I know what some of you may be thinking. This is an easy assignment, to ease an old man and his ship into retirement. Rest assured, this is a fighting squadron. I intend to steam into harm's way, and regularly. I won't promise you'll all make it to the end of the war. All I will promise you is that if you do sink, it won't be for nothing."
As he spoke, he watched Fubuki and Yukikaze practically swell with pride, as the Akizukis, Walker and Shimakaze remained raptly at attention. He nodded sharply. "Our first maneuvers are scheduled for fourteen hundred hours. Dismissed."
He paused as the destroyers, except Walker, turned to leave. "Shimakaze, a moment of your time," he said, motioning Walker to wait outside.
Walker hustled the other five destroyers out, leaving only him and Shimakaze inside the office.
"Shimakaze," he began, "I don't know what the uniform regulations are here, and I don't much care. I expect you to dress professionally while on duty. Which means I expect, before we leave for Pearl in two days time, that you will have obtained proper underwear and a skirt that is not a glorified belt."
Shimakaze started. "But! Extra weight slows you down! Gotta be faster!"
Matt Looked at her. "Shi. Ma. Ka. Ze. You displace two thousand five hundred tons. A few ounces for a skirt and underwear that doesn't look like what an Olongapo dancer would wear will not slow you down."
Shimakaze opened her mouth to protest further, before noticing the hard set to his face. Bowing, however gracelessly, to the inevitable, she snapped her mouth shut and nodded acceptance as she blew loudly through her nose in frustration. Matt chose to ignore it.
"Thank you. I don't have any exercises planned for tomorrow, so I would suggest making the time then. Dismissed."
To her credit, she briefly came to attention before flouncing - and there was no other word for it - out of the office. As soon as the door closed, Matt rubbed his face. He wasn't certain what he had been expecting, when he'd decided to take Walker and follow Amagi, but commanding schoolgirl-aged destroyers certainly wasn't it. He just hoped that Laffey wouldn't prove a similar headache when she joined.
Call to Arms
24 July 2015
----
Pearl Harbor
Admiral Williams stepped out onto the viewing platform. "Lieutenant."
Lieutenant Harkness spun on his heel and saluted. "Sir!"
Williams returned the salute and stepped beside the young engineer. "You realize how… unorthodox this is. The Royal Navy and JMSDF are much more…"
"Formal, sir?" Harkness grunted. "Yes, sir. But formal wasn't working. Didn't even get a goddamned revenue cutter, even when Constitution tried. And Indy and Houston both showed up at concerts, so…"
Williams nodded, watching the last few sailors file in beside the summoning pool. "I know. I read your proposal, and agree. It's worth a try. Just one question. Why that song?"
Harkness slipped into an at ease position as the opening bars of Manowar's Call to Arms rolled out over the speakers and grinned. "Can't beat the classics, sir."
Williams inclined his head in silent agreement.
----
In the darkness, a spirit stirred.
She was an oddity among her kind.
A ship with no sisters to call her own.
But if she had no sisters, she had cousins aplenty. And that was enough for her. She and her cousins had given their all throughout the War in every theater. And though she had survived, it had cost all too many their lives.
But now…
Now her Navy called once more.
But why? She had been obsolete even when she closed her eyes for the final time, superceded by Baltimore, her sisters, and the Des Moines triplets.
Only one way to find out.
She smirked. What the hell. One last ride wouldn't kill her.
-----
Admiral Williams didn't notice it the first time the lights flickered, intent as he was on the summoning pool.
He certainly noticed, however, the second time. And the third, accompanied as it was by a blast of wind that nearly blew his cover off as the band faltered.
"Don't stop!" he roared, "Something's coming!"
Surprised by the shout, the band bent back to their instruments and played with renewed vigor, even as the lights flickered repeatedly and the wind picked up once more. Distantly, he heard Lieutenant Harkness whoop with glee as the lights faded one more time and the singer screamed the final line.
"Their blood is upon my steel!"
The lights seemed to give out for a moment as the wind and music died, and Williams held his breath as the light slowly returned, revealing a tall, slender brunette standing on the water. No, a cruiser. She could be nothing else. She was far too tall for a tin can, and lacked the barely contained power even ancient Texas could never hide completely.
To his right, Harkness caught himself. "Your pardon, sir. Lost control of myself for a moment."
Williams smirked. "Understandable." He stepped forward and the cheers instantly came to a halt as every sailor in attendance snapped to attention.
He cleared his throat. "Identify yourself, please."
She grinned cockily. "USS Wichita, CA-45."
He smiled. A heavy cruiser, even! "Have you returned to serve once more?"
She nodded and came to attention, instantly grasping the tone of the situation. "I have."
This time, Williams didn't even try to suppress the grin that spread across his face.
"Then raise your right hand."
She raised her hand, accepting the card a rating handed her and scanning it briefly. She smiled, then slipped it into a pocket and recited the oath as if she had heard it hundreds of times before.
"Being a commissioned warship of the United States Navy, I solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; That I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; That I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation; and that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of a warship of the United States Navy, So Help Me God!"
Williams nodded. "Welcome back to the Navy, Wichita."
By all rights, the roar of approval ought to have brought the hall crashing down.
----
Yokosuka
Admiral Goto leaned back in his chair. Finally, he thought, looking over the preliminary report and smiling broadly. The Americans had pulled off a deliberate summoning. Maybe things were starting to turn around.
Just then, his office door opened, Nagato and Ooyodo entering precisely on schedule for their weekly meeting.
And just as had happened every Friday evening for the past year, his desktop rang out Admiral Williams' ringtone precisely thirty seconds after his secretary ship and flagship sat down. Just like he did every week, Goto wondered if Ooyodo and Williams were coordinating, before pushing it from his mind as he accepted the video call, his screen splitting in two to show Williams' stern features side by side with Admiral Stephens who, as always, raised his coffee mug in a silent toast. His "USS Valley Forge" one, this week.
Goto spoke first. "Admiral Williams. Congratulations on the successful summoning, and may there be many more."
Williams inclined his head, smiling broadly. "Thank you. Harkness intends to try again tomorrow, with my full approval."
Stephens nodded soberly. "I hope it works."
"Speaking of our new arrivals, I suppose we should get down to business," Goto said.
Williams nodded, and leaned forwards towards the camera.
"I'm delighted to have Wichita back, but she's not a powerhouse like Salem or one of the battlewagons. I can't in good conscience deploy her on her own with a couple of tin cans. At the same time, she's too powerful to park in harbor until more of our cruisers show up."
Goto nodded, drumming his fingers on his desk. While he supposed Wichita could have been folded into a division with Salem, it would be a suboptimal posting at best. Salem was easily equal to any three prewar cruisers he could think of. Perhaps…
"Nagato."
"Yes?" his secretary ship's deep voice rolled from her desk.
"Refresh my memory. Atago is currently unattached, correct?"
Nagato frowned and nodded. "Yes. What are you thinking, Admiral?"
Goto smiled. "Well. Our American allies are quite short of cruisers, while we can certainly spare one or two. And I imagine Atago has been spinning her wheels. I suggest we fold her into a division with Wichita."
Stephens frowned. "They're fairly different. In terms of their armaments, handling, speed. Going by memory, Atago is almost three knots faster than Wichita."
Goto inclined his head. "True. But if we are to win, our ships must learn to work together at some point. Which brings me to my next point. You, Admiral, are not only badly short of cruisers, but also of destroyers. Akizuki, Teruzuki, Hatsuzuki, Fubuki, Shimakaze and Yukikaze are all unassigned, and Captain Reddy seems to have a talent for forging diverse, dissimilar forces into a unified whole. Why not give them to him, and see how he performs?"
Williams' eyes widened in surprise, "Goto!" he exclaimed, eyes wide, "You're nowhere near that much better off than we are in that regard!"
Goto nodded. "True," he allowed, "and yet you sent two of your three precious Fletchers here alongside one of your even more precious battleships. With help such as that, I believe we can afford to send you proper escorts. No, we would be poor allies if we failed to."
Williams opened his mouth to object, then closed it with a snap, recognizing the inevitable. "Very well. But I'm folding Laffey into this scratch DesRon. We'll give him a experienced core to form his unit around. She's as good as they come, and she'll help balance out Walker."
Stephens bobbed his head for a moment, then nodded. "I'll inform him in the morning."
----
25 July, 2015
Matt leaned forward in his (temporary) chair, steepling his fingers as he surveyed the first six destroyers that had been handed to him. Based solely on their files, he was cautiously optimistic, despite how odd it felt to be commanding a DesRon comprised primarily of Imperial Japanese ships.
That were also fourteen-to-sixteen year old girls.
The three Akizukis and the sextet of animated turrets that followed them everywhere were most at ease, with one of Teruzuki's idly flipping the shell it had clamped in its teeth.
Next to them, the first modern destroyer. Fubuki, whose launch had more or less made every other destroyer in the world obsolete overnight. Her experimental refit with the long ten centimeter guns made her a natural choice for the fourth slot in DesDiv 61 alongside Akizuki and her sisters, and the way she cheerfully threw herself into her duty spoke well of her bravery. Not that it showed, as she anxiously shifted her weight from foot to foot, looking for all the world like a teenager counting down the minutes before her first date.
Standing next to her, Yukikaze. She was a big, powerful destroyer, no question, and one of the few Japanese destroyers to survive the war. And yet, in the corner of his eyes he saw Walker's fists trembling with barely contained anger as she wrestled with the memories of another Kagero-class destroyer and a slugging match that had nearly killed both of them, desperately trying to keep the girl in front of her separate from Hidoiame. It wasn't her fault… but he wished the girl was almost literally any other class. He hoped and believed Walker would at least be able to work with her division-mate, but expecting any more would have been foolish. For her part, Yukikaze was smiling amicably, occasionally scratching her head in confusion. He would have to explain Walker's history to her, at least the relevant parts.
And last of the six present, Shimakaze, one and only ship of her class. He was very impressed by her capabilities. She carried a heavy armament of six five-inch dual-purpose guns, and no fewer than three quintuple torpedo tubes. Without a doubt, she was the most powerful of the Japanese destroyers he'd been given. Judging by the repeated references to "poor station-keeping in battle," "tendency to attempt solo attacks," and "poor coordination with allies," he was also certain that she would be his biggest problem.
Still, while no one would call them anything resembling a uniform force, they were all experienced professionals. And when Laffey joined them in Pearl, he expected the Sumner would be a formidable addition to the DesRon.
Straightening in his chair, he nodded briskly. "All right. I'm going to keep this short. We all know why we're here, and every one of us has been around the block a few times, so I'm just going to hit the important points."
He extended a finger, pointing to each destroyer as he named them. "Akizuki. Teruzuki. Hatsuzuki. Fubuki. You four are the sixty-first destroyer division, led by Akizuki." Teruzuki clapped once, before pouncing on Akizuki in a totally unprofessional hug, a long stream of unintelligible Japanese coming out of her mouth. Much more sedately, Hatsuzuki caught her older sisters, the excited vibrations of the hair-tufts poking out from her headband giving away the excitement her stoic expression hid so well. Fubuki, by contrast, practically vibrated in place for almost ten seconds as she desperately tried to hold herself in place, before giving in and leaping onto the excitedly giggling triplets, the only intelligible words coming out of her mouth being something about "Akizuki-sempai". Matt's lips quirked, before he coughed gently. All four destroyers flushed, returning to a semblance of attention next to each other.
Matt turned to the other three destroyers. "Walker, Yukikaze, Shimakaze. You three are the first three ships of the eighteenth destroyer division. Laffey will join us when we reach Pearl, filling out the division. I will command from Walker's bridge." He swept his gaze across all seven destroyers. "Walker will be the squadron flagship, as well as my second in command. Any questions?" Seven heads bobbed up and down with varying degrees of enthusiasm.
He nodded, letting his features relax. "Now. I know what some of you may be thinking. This is an easy assignment, to ease an old man and his ship into retirement. Rest assured, this is a fighting squadron. I intend to steam into harm's way, and regularly. I won't promise you'll all make it to the end of the war. All I will promise you is that if you do sink, it won't be for nothing."
As he spoke, he watched Fubuki and Yukikaze practically swell with pride, as the Akizukis, Walker and Shimakaze remained raptly at attention. He nodded sharply. "Our first maneuvers are scheduled for fourteen hundred hours. Dismissed."
He paused as the destroyers, except Walker, turned to leave. "Shimakaze, a moment of your time," he said, motioning Walker to wait outside.
Walker hustled the other five destroyers out, leaving only him and Shimakaze inside the office.
"Shimakaze," he began, "I don't know what the uniform regulations are here, and I don't much care. I expect you to dress professionally while on duty. Which means I expect, before we leave for Pearl in two days time, that you will have obtained proper underwear and a skirt that is not a glorified belt."
Shimakaze started. "But! Extra weight slows you down! Gotta be faster!"
Matt Looked at her. "Shi. Ma. Ka. Ze. You displace two thousand five hundred tons. A few ounces for a skirt and underwear that doesn't look like what an Olongapo dancer would wear will not slow you down."
Shimakaze opened her mouth to protest further, before noticing the hard set to his face. Bowing, however gracelessly, to the inevitable, she snapped her mouth shut and nodded acceptance as she blew loudly through her nose in frustration. Matt chose to ignore it.
"Thank you. I don't have any exercises planned for tomorrow, so I would suggest making the time then. Dismissed."
To her credit, she briefly came to attention before flouncing - and there was no other word for it - out of the office. As soon as the door closed, Matt rubbed his face. He wasn't certain what he had been expecting, when he'd decided to take Walker and follow Amagi, but commanding schoolgirl-aged destroyers certainly wasn't it. He just hoped that Laffey wouldn't prove a similar headache when she joined.
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