This chapter I wrote Rhoda and Madeline. My friend has continued to write Warren.

I do not own The Winds of War/ War and Remembrance. All rights belong to Herman Wouk, who wrote an amazing story.

Chapter Thirteen

Once Byron left, Pug also left the house and took a taxi to the place where he was told he would find Grigg, a small house in Pearl Harbor. It took him a little while to get up the front steps, not used to have to relay of the crutches the doctor had given him to be able to get around. Finally reaching the door, he knocked, and hoped that the other navy officer would answer.

Walking over and opening it, Grigg stared for a moment. "Well I'll be..."

"Hello Commander," Pug said, "I'm sorry to just show up like this, but I was wondering if you had my pictures."

"You...I..." Grigg stared for a moment, took a step back.

Pug looked at him for a moment. "Yes, I survived Commander. A submarine picked me up, I just got back a little while ago. Do you have the pictures?"

"Yes... of course." Nodding, Grigg turned, went to get the pictures. Coming back a few minutes later, he returned. "Here you are... You're one lucky man, Captain."

"I know." Pug took the pictures, balancing the best he could with the crutches and his good foot as he slid the pictures into his pocket. "Thank you, Commander. They wouldn't have stayed dry if I'd had them with me."

"No problem, Captain... God speed to you." He nodded, saluted.

He awkwardly saluted him. "Goodbye, it was good seeing you."

"Amazing seeing you, sir."

A faint smile crossed Pug's face as he nodded, and then headed down the path again. He knew that he was lucky to still be alive, and was grateful for it.

Meanwhile, Byron had found a way to get a few days of leave, had come back to the house.

When he came into the house, and saw him, Pug asked, "Well, did you get it Briny?"

"Yeah, I did. They'll give me a few days, so I can go..." He smiled, nodded to his father.

"That's nice of them," Pug said, sitting down on the couch again and putting his right leg up. "There's actually something I need to talk with you about, before we leave."

He had made the decision that he was going to tell his son what was happening. It only seemed right that he should know.

"Alright Dad." He nodded, walked over and sat down on the couch beside his father.

Taking a deep breath, Pug tried to figure out what the best way to break the news was. He knew that Warren hadn't taken it very well, although his oldest son had made no mention of it on the phone. "Do you know Pamela Tudsbury? I know that Natalie knew her in Paris a few years ago."

"I think I've heard the name." He nodded, looked up at his father.

"Her father is a war correspondent for Great Britain, he's in broadcasting," Pug said, "Your mother and I met them when we went to Berlin. They sailed on the same ship as us."

"Ah..." He nodded again, continued to look at Pug. "So... what's that got to do with anything?"

For a moment, Pug didn't say anything. "I'll explain it all, Byron. Do you remember Palmer Kirby? He was in Berlin too, at the same time as your mother and I. You were there when he left, right after you got out of Poland."

"Yeah, I think I've met him, I think." He nodded again, looked up. "Dad, what's wrong?"

He looked down for a moment, before meeting his son's eyes. No matter how hard it was, Byron deserved to know the truth. "Your mother wrote me a letter, it arrived here right after Pearl Harbor, telling me that she's fallen in love with Palmer Kirby and asking me for divorce."

Byron sat there, stared at his father's eyes. Confusion filled his face, the situation seemed... impossible. "...What?"

Pug nodded. "That's not all Byron..."

The confusion continued to fill his face, forcing him to put his hand through his hair as he thought.

"I've developed feelings for Pam, she's made it clear that she's in love with me, although I'm not entirely sure why. I want to stay with your mother, but then I got her letter..." Pug paused, "I'm not sure what's going to happen, but I thought it best that you know the truth."

"Dad... What are you talking about?..." Byron stared at his father, couldn't believe the words for one second.

Getting the words out where difficult. "I'm not sure if the marriage is going to last, Byron," he said after a moment's pause, "I hope it will, but I just don't know anymore."

"Dad..." Byron stood, walked away and began to pace.

Pug watched his son, unsure of how well he was taking it. "Speak your mind."

"I... I don't know what to say, what to think... I..." He continued to pace, his hands running through his hair.

"It'll work out in the end," He said, "I understand that you need time to think about this. Why don't we get our plane tickets?"

"I...I have to think, Dad...Please, just let me think." He looked around at nothing, simply stood there now.

"I'll get our tickets," Pug said, going to stand up again. He knew that he was spending way too much time on his feet, but it was better to leave Byron alone for a time, and someone needed to get the tickets.