Ch. 14: U.S.S. Torrey

A.N.:

Hey everyone!

I apologize that there is no graphic Big Daddy awesomeness in this chapter. Also, you are going to have to bear with me in this chapter because it is a flashback of the man who eventually became Subject Delta. It outlines his past from his days in World War 2 up to the day he discovered Rapture in the diving bell.

It centers around a (fictional) Fletcher-class destroyer and her story during the war. It is basically The Dirty Dozen meets Moby Dick.

I know you are all going to be like, "WTF? What do we care? Where is the BioShock-ness?" Trust me, this chapter is important for explaining why my Delta acts the way that he does.

After this chapter, I promise no more major flashbacks and nothing but Subject Delta and Alpha being badass and Eleanor being Eleanor xDDD

Bear with me on this one chapter and we can all look forward to the next one.

Read and review if you want.

As I entered the Clinic, I was struck by the lack of looting. On the right edge of the check-in counter before me, I saw several unopened brown bottles of Dr. Hollcroft's Cure-All that were still neatly arranged as if they were patiently awaiting the customer that would purchase them. Meanwhile, three unopened boxes of bandages were still sitting on top of the small medical cabinet along the right wall.

The advertisement posters to my left and beyond the counter were now obscured by the grime overgrowth on the walls. Meanwhile, on the screen of the television monitor at the top left edge of the wall beyond the check-in counter, I saw another image of what to be Alpha.

The black and white image was a close shot of the upper front an Alpha Series that was wielding a Rosie Mass Production Model Rivet Gun. At the bottom of the image was the phrase, "Shoot on sight". Again, there were inaccuracies in the picture that caused me to question when exactly the image had been taken. It was clearly a security camera image so I doubted that it had been recently taken.

Therefore, it had been taken before my demise. The model of the Rivet Gun was troubling to me. It might not have even been of Alpha as he rarely parted with his Prototype Rivet Gun. Therefore, it was most likely an old image of an Alpha Series that Lamb and her followers had found and distributed in an attempt to give the rest of Rapture at least a general idea of what to attack.

How far was Lamb truly willing to go in order to keep Eleanor and I separated? For that matter, what was her reason for wanting me dead? After all, as an Alpha Series Big Daddy, being killed was merely an eventuality and I had made peace with that a long time ago. I felt no anger for her. However, while we were comparable to the mighty German Tiger I, we conducted ourselves in the manner of the too ill-fated Japanese Samurai.

Death before dishonor; intelligence before brute force, composure before compulsiveness, etiquette before heathenism. All of these things were our code. We showed mercy and avoided violence as much as possible. However, when we were left with the only option of lethal force, we respectfully eliminated that threat. If, however, said threat intended to cause ill on our daughters or a Mass Production Little Sister, then they deserved no mercy or restraint from us.

Naturally, there was some bias on our part. We considered the Mass Production Model Protectors to be inferior to us because they were our antithesis: slow, lumbering brutish beasts. Outsiders considered us to be the "same thing". However, we were no more the same than night and day. Those monstrosities lived by no code. I would hardly even consider them to be living creatures as they were more machines than men.

What was beneath those diving suits? Even I did not know. It was true that those monstrosities had once been the maintenance workers of Rapture. The lethal level of atmospheric pressure found at the depth at which Rapture resided caused the original builders to fashion or modify suits that were unlike anything found on the surface.

However, as time passed, the health of the maintenance workers began to deteriorate at an alarming rate. Even in pressurized suits, human beings simply were not adapted to life at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean. I was not around at the time but I heard about what happened to the poor individuals from the other maintenance workers of Dionysus Park. They told stories of men broken from the inside out. Their organs would be reduced to mush. Their minds would be driven mad by the pain for which death was the only answer.

Naturally, as the stories about the fates of the workers got around, the labor force for the maintenance of the city began to dry up as the number of willing individuals decreased. With the supply of laborers short, Ryan turned to Sinclair for individuals. Eventually, though the process was unknown to me, the men, most of them being the maintenance workers, were "grafted" into those suits and somehow reduced to mindless brutes that lived only to serve. The result was a drone army of highly resilient and inhumanly strong workers that lumbered about as they maintained the infrastructure of Rapture.

That had been their original purpose. It was only later that they were reconditioned to be protectors. Hollow, broken wrecks of men parading around as if they were fathers. The thought nauseated me beyond imagination. Monsters with no souls could not be fathers of the most important beings in all of Rapture. I would sooner leave them in the hands of Sofia than I would with them.

As for Sofia, I suppose that she did indeed have reason to fear me. Part of the Bushido Code was that revenge was not only honorable but was also expected of a true samurai. However, was that the example that I wanted to set for my daughter? It took a brave individual to stand up for one's self, but it took an even braver individual to simply walk away. Violence only leads to more violence and I did not want the sickness of Rapture to follow my daughter to the surface. I needed to show my daughter how to deal with her problems without resorting to violence. It was my duty as her father to prepare her for the world that awaited her on the surface.

Moving forward past the counter, I proceeded towards the staircase that was just past the waiting room. Beyond the landing, I saw a Little Sister Vent mounted into the green tiled wall. As I neared the landing, I heard a male Splicer let out a broken, sadistic laugh from what sounded like the top landing of the staircase. Turning to my left to face the stairs, I saw the male Splicer dressed in a tattered business suit and with a heavily deformed face and groin area standing at the top landing looking down at me. The denizen cackled and then kicked the red barrel in front of him towards me.

With my left gauntlet-encased hand surrounded by a miasma, I raised it up in the air out in front of me as I willed the incoming object to halt in midair. Then, before the man could react, I launched it back at him. The barrel exploded on contact and the Splicer howled in agony as his burning frame flew backwards through the air before smashing into the wall just beyond the landing. I began to ascend the worn concrete steps that had metal strips along their edges.

Upon reaching the landing, I heard the telltale mechanical whirling of a security camera. I retreated momentarily and then cautiously investigated the clinic area of the second floor. Mounted to the wall next to the exit that led to the partially demolished building across from the clinic, I saw the camera. Just before its beam of light could reach me, I willed a blast of Electro Bolt into its metal frame.

The surge of electricity shorted out the unprotected electronics of the camera and the device drooped straight down while its light failed to emit from the eye-like opening on the front. From behind me, Subject Alpha fired a round into the teardrop-shaped device. However, upon impacting the slightly rumpled metal hide of the camera, the rivet merely penetrated the outer layer. Seconds later, I saw what appeared to be a radio antenna emerge from the exterior of the rivet. A small green light appeared on the tip of the antenna and, seconds later, the camera powered back on but, instead of a red light, it was casting a green light.

Without looking at my brother, I remarked, "Interesting device…"

He grunted in response, "Just a small scrambler and a transmitter. Blocks the camera's connection to the rest of the security system and then tricks it into thinking that the system has labeled us as targets that are to be ignored."

I asked in a series of grunts, "Can Sofia re-hack it?"

The Alpha Series Protector explained, "Never thought of that, sir, but I guess if she really wanted the camera, she could have someone take it apart and remove the hack rivet. The system thinks that it is destroyed though."

I grunted in acknowledgement and began to make my way into the second floor clinic. However, as I did, I heard the alarmed chirp of a sentry turret and managed to sidestep behind the cover of the open doorway that connected the two operating rooms. The sentry turret was on the roof of the pawn shop and its 30-06 rounds sprayed the interior of the operating room beyond ours for a moment before the device paused as it started to scan its surroundings.

Taking advantage of the pause, I moved out into the open once more and blasted the sentry turret with Electro Bolt. As the M1919 Browning drooped towards the ground, Alpha fired a Hack Rivet into the sentry. When the turret powered back to life moments later, the red light of its lamp was replaced by a green light.

I asked, "Why a green light?"

My brother let out a brief series of laugh-like grunts before he explained, "It was Christmas a few days ago and I wanted to do something festive for Emily."

I laughed with my own series of repeated grunts in response. Seeing no point in investigating the pawn shop or the remainder of the clinic, I instead turned and began to make my way across the makeshift bridge to the partially demolished building across from the clinic, coming within inches of the collapsed train car. The metal and wood of the makeshift path groaned loudly in protest as it struggled to support my heavy frame but it held together long enough to allow me to reach the opening in the side of the nearby building.

Upon entering the building through the demolished hole I found an El Ammo Bandito vending machine just across from the entry point. I turned to my right and, at the end of the unfurnished hallway, I saw a Power To The People machine mounted to the far wall. Feeling as if I was a kid in a candy store, I rushed towards it while thinking of the next upgrade I could give my drill. The augers had increased the damage that it could deal. The lubrication system decreased fuel consumption as well as added an unpleasant surprise for its victim in the form of the salt in the seawater that I was using as the fluid. What was left?

Remembering my near fatal encounter with Comstock and Elizabeth, a thought occurred to me. The history of warfare was centered around the immortal battle between offense and defense. Whenever one became dominant, the other evolved to counter it. My deathmatch with Comstock had been the proverbial collision between an unstoppable force and an immovable object. However, my philosophy of an overwhelming offense had nearly gotten me killed because of that "energy shield" that Comstock possessed. Only my heavy armor, first aid system, brute strength, and, of course, the aid of the monster Subject Delta had been my salvation.

Faced with a strong defense, my normal tactics were notably less effective because, aside from my thick copper armor, I had a less effective defense to reply with. With the recent addition of Plasmids, I now had a greater offensive potential but I was still lacking in defense. My armor would not save me from everything, especially now that I was facing much more formidable foes. I needed a new, equally formidable defense to reply with.

My drill could function as the power source for a portable shield. I was no engineer but I did know that hydroelectric power stations used the force of water to turn a shaft, which, in turn, created electricity through a coil of copper wire. Examining my drill, I saw that there was an open space just beyond the augers and lubrication nozzles at the very end of the bit. Not the ideal amount of space, but I could make due.

The cliché idea of an "absorbing" energy shield was comically absurd. I would need something more along the lines of an air mass that did not "absorb" incoming objects but rather repulsed it back the way it had come. However, I was faced with the reality that what I had in mind would need equipment found in a lab, not the ruins of Rapture.

I scolded myself for being so pessimistic. If Comstock had gotten one from the world that had archaic automatons armed with ancient crank-action Gatling guns, I could make my own here in this scientific wonderland. All I needed to do was build my own generator and electromagnetic dynamo. Even children could make them.

Come on, old man. You saved your home off Okinawa. You can certainly do this!

Suddenly, I heard Eleanor ask through our link, "What happened at Okinawa?" I mentally grimaced. I had never told the story to anyone because I doubted that anyone would believe it. The official navy report did not reflect what actually happened due to the fog of war. It was so fantastic of a story that there was no way that anyone would believe it.

My daughter assured me, "I'll believe you, Father."

Perhaps, it was time to tell the story. To keep her story secret was an insult to her sacrifice. I started, "Fletcher-class destroyers…they were the backbone of the American Navy during the war. They were only 2,500 tons at full load but they became legendary for being able to absorb punishment that should have easily proven fatal. Like all destroyers, they were always in the front line taking the brunt of the Japanese attacks along with the cruisers and auxiliaries while the precious fleet carriers and battleships got a great view of the action from their hiding places. The Fletcher-class had a 14% mortality rate and was second only to the mortality rate of all of the American submarines combined. I served aboard one named U.S.S. Torrey."

I paused and then continued, "Torrey was the misfit of the Fletcher-class…no sponsor for her launching…no one volunteered to command her…poor girl became a joke…a black sheep…she was never listed in the Navy Inventory. Navy decided to assign all the problematic service men to serve about her. I voiced my personal disagreements about how we were treating the native-born American-Japanese service men to the point that I was accused of treason by the bigot that I had as a CO. My superiors gave me a choice: certain death by execution or slightly less certain death by serving aboard the U.S.S. Torrey. Told me that, if I survived my tour of duty aboard her, my treason would be conveniently forgotten. Same deal for our captain…Captain McConnel…though we all called him Ahab…like the character from Moby Dick…because he was either insane or the greatest man alive depending upon who you asked."

I continued, "Navy told us that we were considered expendable and gave us assignments that reminded us of that fact such as undocumented solo patrols deep into Japanese-controlled waters…solo shadowing of Japanese capital ships...a solo nighttime raid on the heavily fortified Naval Base of Truk while the monster battleships Yamato and her sister Musashi were there in the lagoon…solo commerce warfare against Japanese merchant ships and other targets of opportunity…and there was that time that they sent us all the way into the lion's den by having us perform hit-and-run naval bombardments of the Japanese Mainland along the coastal targets of Kamaishi, Muroran, Hitachi, Nojima Saki, Shionomisaki…nearly got broadsided by that battleship Nagato there…Hamamatsu, and Shimizu to test the Japanese Coastal Defenses for the planned Invasion of Japan."

Eleanor asked with skepticism apparent in her British-accented voice, "I was with you until that last one, Father. You have to understand my disbelief about that one. How did a single Fletcher-class destroyer pull that off?"

I explained quickly, "We came at them from the north after hugging the Alaskan coastline. No one expected a lone destroyer…especially not from the north. The closer we got to the mainland, the safer we were. After all, the enemy is supposed to be 'out there', not in your backyard. We took refuge in a small lagoon that was in an isolated part of the northern island and waited for nightfall to make our move. While we were anchored in the lagoon, we painted her entire hull as black as night, dismantled her searchlights and anything else that was reflective, painted over her hull identification numbers, took down her 'colours', and 'anything that was not nailed down' was thrown overboard. It was intended to be a suicide mission so the Navy wasn't too specific as to how we went about our mission as long as we radioed threat assessments 'as long as we were alive'. Nighttime arrived, and we made our move...blasting the Japanese with our 5-inch guns like a roaring hellion. They did not take it well. By the time that we had completed our bombardments, we had nearly the entire Imperial Japanese Military chasing us."

My daughter asked, "Where were you going?"

I laughed slightly and then replied, "Anywhere but there. Escape was never part of the plan so we did not have a destination. Well…completely by accident…it happened to be typhoon season. With the Japanese chasing us and with our fuel tanks nearly bone dry, Ahab ordered for flank speed, relieved the ensign manning the ship's wheel, manned it himself, and then steered the Torrey straight into the heart of the storm."

I heard Eleanor gasp and paused for a moment. Then, I continued, "It was surreal like something out of Moby Dick…the flashes of lightning…Torrey climbing up the mountains of water or being completely submerged only to rise back to the surface on the other side of the wave…we could hear our captain singing Anchor's Away up on the bridge…so we all joined in with him."

Now becoming lost to my memories, I continued, "The eye was overcast…I remember…I remember…we…we were submerged for what seemed like an eternity before we came out from beneath a wave with the bow nearly perpendicular with the ocean and pointed towards the sky…there before us was a seemingly endless series of circular cloud bands filled with flashes of lightning…a few of the bolts of lightning struck the sides of our bow as if the heavens were reaching out for us…for a brief second, I thought that we had all died and Torrey was sailing into the gates of the afterlife. I felt like I was looking up into the face of God. Then, our bow fell back to the surface of the ocean and I knew that we were still alive. Torrey had lost most of her AA gun mounts, all of her deck railing, all of her life boats and motor launches, all of the depth charges and their launchers, her torpedo launcher, and her radar antenna...but we made it through. The Japanese that had followed us into the storm didn't make it. Of course, we had expended the last of our fuel so we were dead in the water."

Eleanor, sounding like a child in awe of her father's stories, asked, "How did you make it back?"

I explained calmly, "There were three hundred and twenty-nine of us aboard her. You would be surprised how fast a 2,100 ton destroyer can sail when a large group of men are swimming behind her and pushing her along while someone is steering with the rudder. We did it in shifts of nearly one hundred men swimming behind her and rotated every few hours…of course, the captain swam with every shift."

Eleanor asked, "You didn't call for help?"

I explained, "No fuel…no power. No power…no calling for help. Used up the emergency diesel generators to run the pumps to get the water out of her from when we were submerged those times during the storm. Even if we had been able to, no one would have come. Our mission had been intended to be our last and was so secret that no one outside the higher ups knew that we were out there. We were on our own."

I paused briefly and then continued, "Black-painted steel gets very hot under the Pacific Sun so we cooked fresh fish for food. Rained nearly every other day so we had fresh water. Too hot to stay below decks for long so we spent most of the trip on her upper decks. We estimated our location using the stars the first night and then used the ship's compass to stay on course."

I paused and then continued, "Nearly a month later, we sailed into Pearl Harbor. Our captain yelled at the tugs from the roof of the bridge, '…to the last we will grapple with thee; from hell's heart we will stab at thee; for hate's sake we will spit our final breaths at thee,' when they approached to guide us into a mooring spot. Our gunners aimed at them with our 5-inch guns to show them that we were serious. We didn't need them or the Navy that had sent us to die. We had charged through the Gates of Hell and teased the Devil himself, had faced the full might of Mother Nature and laughed in her face, and then returned home using nothing except the sweat of our brows…not a fucking scratch to show for it. No, we didn't need anyone. Working together, all three hundred and twenty-nine of us jumped over the side and then guided her into her birth."

I finished, "We climbed back aboard our home, we were used to climbing up those rope nets so it only took us seconds to do it, and then presented ourselves to the world in our clean dress uniforms as the proper, well-disciplined military navy crew that we were. Didn't feel right to disembark…not after what we had been through...so we refused to leave our home even when we were ordered to so that the girl could be dry-docked for repairs and repainting. Finally did when jarhead marines invaded our home and forced us off at gunpoint."

Arriving at the Power To The People machine brought me back to the present. I placed my drill into the slot, noting that it was more difficult to remove my drill from its mounts this time due to the salt residue build-up. I would need to be mindful to prevent the mounts from fusing solid, and, thus, making it nearly impossible to remove my drill.

Amongst the miscellaneous items in the machine, I found a large coil of raw copper wire, magnets that appeared to be from decorative wall and refrigerator magnets, and a section of metal pipe. Smirking beneath my emotionless face, I began to wrap the coil of copper wire around the section of metal pipe. Moments later, with my makeshift generator housed in a slightly protective metal housing, I focused on the shaft design. Perhaps a gear train? That would be more fragile considering where it was going to be housed, but it would be more practical than a straight connection.

Seeing a large circular band with diagonal grooves extending out from its surface, I snapped it in half, placed it over my drill's bit in the open space, and then used my Incinerate! Plasmid to melt the band onto my drill. I found a small gear amongst the scrap pieces of metal and used Incinerate! to fuse it to the shaft of my makeshift generator. The large drive gear turning the smaller gear would give the system weak torque but excellent speed. I was going to need all that I could get.

Despite their somewhat mythical reputation, electromagnets were nothing special. Essentially, they were simply a metal, such as iron, that, when supplied with electricity, became magnetic, hence, electromagnet. Seeing an iron bar amongst the scrap metal, I broke it into several pieces and then placed them in the small slots between the augers. With my entire drill being made of conductive material, I connected the end of the copper coil to its industrial grade steel alloy surface.

Observing me, my brother commented, "Sir, you have lost your mind and I hope you never find or get it back." Laughing with my Alpha Series voice, I mounted my drill back into place. Hearing the broken ramblings of a female Splicer from somewhere above us, I smirked at the prospect of testing out my design. I turned to my left and ignored the mummified corpse of a man that was at the bottom of the stairs with dried blood all around him as I moved to look towards the landing of the top of the stairs.

There, at the top landing, I saw a disfigured woman in a tattered formal dress with a broken bunny mask over the left side of her face. In her gloved right hand, she held a rusted, crudely repaired Webley revolver. Upon seeing me, the woman screamed, "Animal!" She aimed her revolver at me, but I raised my drill and then revved up its powerful motor.

As my drill's massive bit turned, a glowing cloud of electricity appeared around the pieces of lead and the Splicer's small caliber rounds were repulsed back through the air, though I was unable to send them back into her own frame. Nonetheless, the Splicer panicked and started to retreat. However, my brother dropped her with his modified Prototype Rivet Gun before she could flee.

I smirked beneath my face at the success of my design. Granted, it would only work as long as I had fuel to power my drill, but it was still going to be an unpleasant surprise for anyone that got in the way of getting to my beloved Eleanor. Through our link, I felt my master's surge of pride for my achievement. However, I mentally flinched when she asked, "Okinawa, Father?"

For a brief second, I could smell the acrid smoke, feel the cooking of my skin, and hear the agonized cries of my brothers-in-arms. The "pop-pop" of the AA Bofors mounts with their dual barrels, the mechanical clunking of the AA machine gun fire, the mighty thunder of Torrey's 5-inch guns that rattled our bones and souls as if she was reassuring us that she was still very much alive, and the roar of Japanese aircraft surrounded me as I looked towards the rear of my burning home from the rear observation platform just aft of 5-inch gun mount #3, which was jammed aiming at ninety degrees to starboard. Behind me, the heavily damaged, burning section of the ship was a quarantined zone that no man was to enter until we could finish repelling the "Massed Kamikaze Assault".

In my right hand, I held the communication link to the Emergency Steering Room below decks up to the right side of my head as I guided the ship through the onslaught. To my left and right, the two AA Bofors mounts and their crews were coordinating their fire at three incoming Zeros that were screaming towards us from off the portside of our stern. Meanwhile, before me, 5-inch gun mount #4 was manually firing at the explosive-packed Japanese Kamikaze Patrol-Torpedo boat that was racing towards us from off the starboard side of our stern. Finally, 5-inch gun mount #5 was hammering away at the flight of Japanese "Betty" bombers that were flying towards us from dead off our stern.

With the smoke obscuring the view from our bow, and with Torrey's forward armament neutralized, we were now steaming full speed in reverse or "Back Emergency" in order to force the incoming Japanese to face the mostly operational armament of her aft section. I waited as I watched the flight of Zeros and Bettys close in on us. A large explosion off our starboard dramatically announced the end of the PT boat following a direct hit by the gunnery crew of gun mount #4.

With bared teeth and an expression of pure hatred, I glared at the incoming aircraft. Through my clenched teeth, I growled, "That's it you squinted-eyed bastards...come and get us." As gun mount #4 was manually rotated by its crew to aim at the flight of Bettys, since the Gun Fire Control System was offline and currently a burning hulk along with the bridge we had to manually coordinate our fire using sailors that acted as runners between the mounts, the Bofors AA guns succeeded in downing two of the incoming Zeros. Their flaming, broken corpses fell towards the surface of the ocean trailing black smoke.

However, there was still a Betty and a Zero screaming towards us with their throttles wide open and their radial engines roaring as if they were banshees. Our gunners put up a barrage, literally surrounding our home with a near continuous cloud of airbursts and red hot lead. Such was our furiosity that even our battleships would have been envious of our display of firepower. Hell bent on taking us with them, the bomber and the fighter forced their way through our protective fire.

Refusing to leave my home except as a corpse, I screamed at the incoming airborne menace, "Towards thee we sail, thou all-destroying but unconquering Tojos; to the last we grapple with thee; from hell's heart we stab at thee; for hate's sake we spit our last breath at thee!" Though normally calm and collected, I was in a state of emotional distress and could only feel primal fury at the individuals that sought to destroy my home. In a way, the U.S.S. Torrey had become our "white whale". To our dying breaths, we were going to defend her. We did not expect anyone else to understand our feelings.

Seconds before the two aircraft crashed into us, I yelled into the communication link, "Left full rudder!" Due to the fact that we were going in reverse, the ever nimble Torrey began to turn sharply to the right. With only seconds to react, the Japanese pilots failed to remember where each other were and corrected the course of their aircraft to adjust to our new heading. The two aircraft collided in midair above us, showering those of us above deck with pieces of shrapnel. I failed to feel the piece of metal imbed itself into my left arm due to the numbing effects of the adrenalin.

The much larger Betty decimated the lightweight Zero but the smaller fighter managed to push the bomber off course just enough to send it crashing into the sea just inches off our starboard side. A victorious war cry went out amongst those of us above decks as our morale hit a fever pitch. I had to cup my left hand over the communication link so that the Emergency Steering Station could hear me as I ordered, "Rudder amidships."

"Father?"

Riled from my somewhat forced recollections, I replied, "Hmm…?" Remembering where I was and seeing the shocked look on my beautiful daughter's face through our bond, I felt a wave of shame wash over me. Reaching out to her, I said, "El…I…I'm so sorry. I didn't want you to see that."

However, she surprised me by reaching out herself and taking ahold of my hands with her own. Having expected revulsion, I was caught off guard when the dark-haired goddess said, "Johnny, I am so sorry that happened. I did not mean for you to go through that again. If you want to keep it to yourself, I understand. I am just so curious about your life on the surface."

I smiled slightly before I assured her, "No, it is okay, kid. I don't mind telling you the story. At least, someone will know it."

I paused and then began, "Following our successful return to Pearl Harbor, the Navy had seemed to have run out of ideas for assignments to get us killed. The damage to Torrey was entirely superficial. Structurally, she was as sound as ever. Economically, her repair was justified. Aside from putting our captain in the brig for threatening the tug boats, they could not think of a way to justifiably punish us for our display of defiance. We had not technically committed any wrong doings and we hired a stoic JAG lawyer to get the charge against our captain dropped. He had defended our captain, and us, by making a strong case that our defiance was merely a defensive response of a crew that 'had become so physically and mentally exhausted that they could not be held accountable for responding to a perceived threat to the vessel that had become their refuge in a time of great spiritual crisis'. Ol' Ahab had then pointed out to everyone present at the hearing that Torrey's ammunition stores were exhausted as the assignment had required and, thus, he had never intended to attack the tug boats as we did not have any means to do so."

Eleanor asked, "Why did the Navy hate you so much?"

I explained, "They did not hate us, Eleanor. We were simply that elephant in the room that no one wanted to be reminded of."

Releasing her hands from mine, Eleanor asked, "You said 'her sacrifice' earlier but you also said that you saved your home…what happened to your ship, Father?"

I explained, "Torrey was repaired and repainted just in time for the operation off Okinawa. Ever alone, we sailed from Pearl with orders to join the assembled Task Forces operating within the waters of Okinawa. Got there...hell on Earth before our eyes. It looked like the entire island was burning. Deemed ever expendable by our superiors, Torrey was routinely sent right into the meat grinder to provide close-range naval gunfire on hardened targets that were positioned to be more resistant to the high arcs of the big guns of the battleships. Took a large hit from a Japanese gun near the southern end of the island that struck Torrey near gun mount #3 and put a hole the size of a 2 and ½ ton truck through the bottom of her hull. We repaired it with a large metal plate and about a ton of concrete that we traded one of the supply ships for some premium whiskey and cigars from McConnel's own personal stash. Gun mount #3 was deemed to be in need of a mechanical overhaul as it had worn out its bearings due to inadequate lubrication for the upgraded 5-inch turrets that we had received at Pearl. We also needed a permeant patch for the hole. So, we requested permission to put in for repairs, but our request was denied."

My daughter asked, "Why?"

I shrugged before replying calmly, "Expendable." Eleanor was silent so I continued, "Eventually, the Navy's focus turned to the sky and we were redeployed as part of the radar pickets encircling the island. The heavily armored battleships and cruisers could not be 'overly risked' of course so the lighter destroyers and amphibious landing ships were assigned the highly dangerous task. There were fifteen 'stations' in the circle. Most groups consisted of a destroyer and two landing ships. However, Torrey was assigned to a remote grid without any support because intelligence indicated that another station needed the extra firepower more than we did as the Japanese were more likely to move through that sector than ours."

I sighed as the first feeling of tightness arouse around my neck. There was no going back now. I continued, "We had heard the stories…kamikazes they called them. Deliberate self-sacrifice…wholesale sacrifice of more than a thousand men by using their aircraft, boats, and even rocket-propelled manned bombs as weapons against us. Sixth of April was when it all started. Old, obsolete Japanese aircraft came at us in groups of hundreds at a time…of course, the destroyers and escorts in the radar pickets were the first targets encountered by the young pilots so we bore the brunt of the initial waves."

The tightness around my neck intensified but I continued, "Fucking bunko…they darkened the skies with their numbers…we knew we couldn't stop them all…not enough rounds between our five 5-inch naval guns, our ten twin-mount MK 12 Bofors 40mm AA mounts, and our six single and seven twin 20mm Oerlikon AA mounts…that didn't stop us from trying though. Captain kept requesting additional support but the Navy just kept sending a supply ship to replenish our ammunition and fuel reserves. Of course, while our sister ships got the new radio-frequency proximity fuse anti-aircraft 5-inch rounds, we were given the older rounds. Superiors kept informing us that 'all available support was occupied and unavailable'. That was how it was…day after day…first light to dusk…we stood alone against the onslaught…our entire world reduced to the few square miles of our assigned sector."

The tightening worsened and began to spread to my face just behind my eyes but I continued, "Groups of ten…then five…then twenty…then three…then fifty…it was unpredictable how many we would see in a wave. That was what scared us the most: you did not know what to expect the next time. Wasn't just kamikaze though, and that is what ultimately proved near fatal for us. A few of the aircraft deployed were traditional hit-and-run attack planes. We couldn't get them all and a few managed to limp back to their base. When the Japanese High Command learned that one of the American defensive lines only consisted of a lone Fletcher-class destroyer, they shifted focus to us. If they destroyed us, they would have a wide-open window to attack the carriers and battleships without being detected until it was too late."

I sighed and then continued, "Ahab radioed an urgent report informing command that our sector was in dire need of reinforcement because the Japanese had discovered that we were the only vessel in the area. However, due to losses such as our sister U.S.S. Bush on the sixth, command had diverted available reinforcements to those sectors as they deemed the threat there to be more immediate. We expected our captain to send back a vulgar response but he did not."

Noticing that I still had Eleanor's complete interest, I continued, "Instead, he acknowledged their response, excused himself to his quarters, and then returned to the bridge wearing his clean, white dress uniform. He relieved the ensign manning the ship's wheel and manned it himself. That's where he stayed until…what happened. He did his best to keep our spirits up even though we could all feel it coming. He had upbeat music played over the ship's intercom system, joked and talked to any crewmember that wandered up to the bridge instead of reprimanding him for not being at his post, and even allowed us to use the ship's radio for sending personal messages. I don't think that any of us slept that night."

My throat had tightened to the point that I could barely breathe. However, I needed to tell this story. Someone had to know it. I did this not for myself but for my brothers and for the U.S.S. Torrey, the unwanted Fletcher-class destroyer that had done everything asked of her and more, survived assignments designed to destroy her with ease, faced the might of the Imperial Japanese Military and Mother Nature herself with the heart of a battleship but with the bold furiosity of a destroyer, and faced her ultimate destruction with the same calm elegance as had the noble warships of old.

I began, "It wasn't even light yet when Torrey's radar alerted us to the first wave of attackers. Suddenly, the light atmosphere was gone. The music stopped. General Quarters was ordered, the bells sounded through the intercom as Ahab addressed us, 'Gentlemen, our glory comes for us! Seize it! It is yours! To the last we fight! Not for patriotism; not for orders; not for medals; for each other! For your brothers, men! For Torrey! Let not the colours be struck unless to strangle the emperor himself! I wish to have no connection with any ship that does not sail fast; for I intend to go in harm's way! Gentlemen, it has been my honor to command you! To your stations! God have mercy on our enemies!'"

After pausing, I continued, "Sounding as if we were primal beasts, we roared in acknowledgement of our captain's final order as we flawlessly moved to our stations. The watertight hatches slammed shut throughout the ship. The sound of hydraulics filled the air around the ship as her mighty 5-inch naval guns came to life. The cocking of machine guns joined in with the orchestra. Torrey began to plow through the still, dark waters of the early hours as she increased to flank speed. Guided by the ship's radar, our Gun Control System directed all five of our main guns to bear on the incoming threats off our starboard as our captain brought her perpendicular to them. It was a classic maneuver known as 'Crossing the T' and it forced a ship's assailants to face the entire might of her main armament. For a moment, all was peaceful in the universe. Nothing could be heard except the calming slap of the ocean against Torrey's hull. We waited in eerie silence for the signal of the beginning of the end for us. Then, all hell broke loose."

Thankful that this was all happening in our link and, though it seemed like hours to us, it was actually happening instantaneously in the real world, I continued, "Erupting like volcanoes, our main guns opened fire on our unseen enemies, temporarily blinding those of us above deck with their bright flashes. To our initial surprise, it was not airbursts that we heard next, but rather the sounds of water splashes and then a singular explosion. The illumination provided by the cloud of flame on the horizon highlighted the black silhouettes of five small boats as they continued moving towards us head-on despite the recent demise of one of their own. The Japanese had attempted to catch us off guard and use the cover of night to sneak in close to our ship with their torpedo boats, damage us with their traditional armament, and then finish us off with their onboard explosives before we could raise the alarm to the rest of our ships."

"Clever." Eleanor commented with a trace of approval in her voice.

I laughed with my weathered human voice before I replied, "Not clever enough to fool Torrey's radar." Then, I continued despite my tightening neck, "Within minutes, the nimble, wooden-hulled torpedo boats succumbed to our 5-inch guns. Our victory was short-lived as one of our lookouts reported an incoming fan of enemy torpedoes that were coming from off our port. Torrey easily dodged them in time by pulling a hard left rudder. Over the ship's intercom, we heard our sonar room report a faint contact that was directly in front of us. Our searchlights went into action and the ocean around us became illuminated as if we were the Sun itself. There, less than one hundred yards in front of Torrey's bow, was the outline of a Japanese submarine that was motionless with its periscope just barely exposed above the surface of the ocean."

I smirked slightly before I said, "Ahab sent Torrey in a full-speed charge and plowed into the submarine as it attempted to dive. The impact sliced the submarine in two and the last that we saw of it was the two halves plummeting towards the bottom. Nearly half an hour later, just as the first rays of sunlight had appeared, radar indicated a massive airborne threat coming in off our starboard side. Moments later, the chilling sight of nearly one hundred Japanese aircraft appeared on the horizon. As our 5-inch guns thundered their response, we could hear our radio operator requesting friendly fighter cover. However, command replied that all available fighters were being prioritized elsewhere but that a flight would be sent within six hours. We heard our captain reply, 'Hear me, thou who send us to our deaths! We wish upon thee a most painful death! Thou may have finally bested us, but thee shall not bask in your success for long as the lord's judgment cometh, and quickly too!'"

"No offense, Father, but where did the Navy find your captain?"

I laughed sadly before I replied, "Yes…quite an interesting character, wasn't he? Don't be so quick to judge, my daughter. Captain McConnel was an unfortunate victim of time. See, he was one of the last low-ranking officers that had served in World War One. He had been a very young man at the time…served aboard one of the first American Destroyers…back then, destroyer duty was about as miserable as it got in a navy. Destroyers were originally coastal defense ships that were never intended to be ocean-going. However, World War One…that all changed. Still smaller than nearly any other ship, the new generation of destroyers were steel coffins. Trial and error…trial and error, Eleanor…that is how things worked back then. McConnel once said that he had ten friends going into destroyer duty but none when the war finally ended. Experiences like that change people."

Eleanor nodded sadly. I continued, "Life after the war was most unkind to McConnel. Depression hit, no jobs…especially not for a former captain of a naval destroyer. Time had forgotten men like McConnel, men who had served their country in the most brutal of conditions not because it was 'the thing' to do or because they sought fame but because no one else would. Until December 7th, 1941…out of unimaginable tragedy came one final chance for an old man. Ridiculed by new officers and alienated by his own generation, McConnel was eventually assigned to a destroyer that was arguably a bigger black sheep than himself."

Eleanor was silent for a moment and then asked, "What happened to him?"

I sighed deeply before I continued, "Having been abandoned by our superiors, we resigned ourselves to fighting on to the last man. For several hours, we managed to stay one step ahead of the poorly equipped and inexperienced Japanese. Our experienced gunners, the firepower of our five naval guns, and our captain's skilled maneuvering prevented the kamikaze from inflicting any damage upon Torrey. Around midday however, gun mount number three, having needed overhaul for several days, finally gave out when the worn out bearings seized. The turret was jammed at nearly ninety degrees to starboard, and while it could still fire, it could not be properly aimed. The opening in our defenses was just enough for a Zero to get through and impact Torrey in the side of gun mount number two."

I had to stop for a moment and compose myself before I said, "The turret was destroyed and the crew inside were killed instantly. Worse, the spilled aviation fuel ignited a raging inferno that began to spread to gun mount number one. As part of the Damage Control Team, I went with a group to rescue the men trapped inside the first turret and extinguish the fire before it caused further damage. By the time we got to them, the gun crew were dead men walking, but we still pulled them out of the burning turret. Captain reduced speed to prevent fanning the flames...the diner bell had been rung."

Eleanor's eyes began to shine slightly, causing me to ask, "You want me to stop?" She shook her head stubbornly. I continued, "Seeing Torrey burning, the Japanese became emboldened. Fighters came in off our bow and began to strafe us as we tried to extinguish the growing blaze. However, the threat of the fire reaching the magazine storage below the two guns far outweighed the bullets fired from inexperienced pilots. Below decks, crew members began to relocate the remaining powder and shells to the aft guns. I had to move back towards amidships when the fire hose got caught in its own reel housing back near the bridge. Turns out, that pain-in-the-ass reel housing saved my life because seconds after I reached it, the round in gun mount number one cooked off and detonated inside the turret. The resulting chain reaction destroyed the turret and killed all of the men that were on the bow."

I scratched the back of my head, noticing the feeling of hair, and then continued, "New fires broke out on the bow and the smoke completely obscured the pilothouse. Captain never saw it coming. A 'Val' dive bomber carrying a thousand pound bomb beneath its belly came in at a high dive. The AA mounts could not see the bomber due to the smoke until it was too late. I remember running aft and looking back just in time to see the dive bomber impact the front of the curved pilothouse, as Torrey was a first-generation Fletcher-class destroyer she had the original 'Round-bridge' as opposed to the later 'Square-bridge', and penetrated into the bridge. Moments later, the thousand pound bomb detonated deep below deck. The explosion violently rocked the entire ship and I was thrown off my feet."

"When I regained consciousness, I found myself prostrate on Torrey's deck. When I got to my feet, I found a smoke-filled hell on Earth. Looking behind me, I saw the remains of the bridge. The entire structure was a burning pile of twisted metal. There was a huge hole in the rounded side of the pilothouse. There, I saw the unbelievable sight of Captain McConnel in his white dress uniform standing in an open spot between the walks of fire. Through the hole, he looked down at me and brought his right hand up in a salute. Then, as he continued to salute me, he disappeared inside the growing walls of fire, never once losing that expression of pride and honor on his worn, Sun and sea beaten face."

"Making my way aft, I came upon a Damage Control Team. The men looked at me. I saw that they needed guidance. I said, 'Set up a fire line with the foam.' That would prevent the fire from spreading aft. As they were doing that, I went aft to the rear observation tower. There, I found that the sailor that had been manning the station had been killed by a strafing Japanese fighter. I heard the Emergency Steering Station talking through the communication link. They stated that Ahab had transferred control of the ship moments before communication with the bridge had been lost. I nearly cried. McConnel, sensing his end moments before the Val had hit the bridge, had given us command of the ship so that we could save her even with his absence."

"I was going to ensure that his loss was not in vain. Picking up the communication link, I yelled, 'Emergency Steering Station, Captain McConnel is dead. I am assuming control of Torrey. Do you copy?' They replied, 'Affirmative. What are your orders?' Believing that Torrey was mortally wounded, the majority of the Japanese began to fly towards our main fleet. Only a few Zeros remained in the air around us. The inexperienced pilots flew in formation rather than separately. They would be easy prey if we could coordinate our fire. Unable to see what was in front of us, we needed to engage the Japanese from the rear. I ordered, 'Back emergency!'"

"That was how we survived for the next two hours. Steaming full speed in reverse, we were able to force the Japanese to engage us on equal terms. Later, a wave of slower Betty bombers appeared. They must have been expecting Torrey to be at the bottom because they came in at the worst possible angle to attack us. Only gun mount number four and five were fully operational so we coordinated fire with sailors acting as runners. Another Torpedo Boat arrived on the scene, possibly to finish us off. We managed to destroy the boat, the last of the Bettys, and the last of the Zeros."

"There was a pause for nearly an hour afterwards. During that time, we managed to get the fires extinguished. The thousand pound bomb punched a hole in bottom of our ship but we patched it with a steel plate and pumped out the water. Radio was gone. Pilothouse was gone…never found the captain's body. About that time, another wave appeared. Five 'Val' dive bombers, ten Zeros, and five 'Kate' torpedo bombers. Seeing us without any apparent damage and sailing under our own steam, they believed us to be a different destroyer and brought their entire formation to bear against us."

"I was able to steer Torrey from the pilothouse since we had extinguished the flames before any permanent damage could be done to the wheel. We plowed through the ocean at flank speed. Our engineers removed the safety valves from our boilers and we were able to sail at nearly forty-five knots. About fifty of our burliest men gathered around gun mount number three and managed to use brute force to turn the turret so it could contribute to our AA fire. Managed to dodge three torpedoes, four bombs, and five kamikaze Zeros. But…finally, nearly two hours into the fight, the last two 'Kate' bombers managed to score torpedo hits on our starboard side with one amidships at the base of smoke stack number two and one aft between gun mount number three and four."

"Torrey began to list but we refused to let her sink. My brothers inside the flooding compartments, rather than rushing to save their own lives, selflessly sealed themselves inside their stations and used their last few breaths to patch the holes in our home. They stayed at their stations and they died there. A kamikaze Zero impacted Torrey topside amidships between the smokestacks and destroyed the 40mm AA guns there along with their crews. The fighter's aviation fuel ignited fires but Damage Control teams managed to get them contained quickly. Zeros strafed us and killed some of the gun crews but sailors came up from below decks to replace them. Our 5-inch guns ran out of AA ammunition so we started shooting 'Star' flare rounds at the Japanese. The flashes were enough to drive off kamikaze pilots and the rounds that did manage to hit the aircraft ignited fires along their frames."

"Took another kamikaze and three more bomb hits before finally, late in the afternoon, a friendly group of American corsairs appeared…though they were chasing a flight of Zeros and merely happened upon us by accident. By then, we had less than one hundred men that were still alive. Had to reduce speed to keep from blowing the boilers. We were nearly out of ammunition for everything…in fact, several of us had retrieved the small arms that we had aboard and were using the .45 caliber Thompson Submachine Guns and M1911 semiautomatic pistols against the Japanese aircraft."

"An hour later, two of our sister Fletchers arrived to 'take survivors'. They were going to scuttle Torrey…command had deemed our home to be 'economically beyond repair' from the reports of the corsair pilots. We did not have a radio anymore so we used the signal lamps to tell our sisters, 'Fire upon us and we will return fire. Refuse to abandon ship until she is shot out from under us. We will take whatever supplies you can spare until the supply ship arrives.' They signaled back, 'Supply ship is not coming. Command has ordered for your ship to be scuttled. Our hands are tied Captain McConnel.' We replied, 'Captain McConnel is dead. Scrapping the bottom of the barrel in fuel and ammunition. Torrey is seaworthy and we refuse to abandon our home. You are going to have to kill us since your hands are tied.'"

"About that time, a final wave of Japanese planes, nearly fifty in total, appeared. Our corsairs had returned to their carrier so we were on our own. The three of us opened up with everything we had. About an hour into the fight, we ran out of ammunition in the 40mm but we still had ammunition for the 5-inch and 20mm guns. One of our sailors discovered some spare 5-inch AA rounds that were still left in the forward magazines so a group of men began to transfer them to the aft 5-inch guns. One of our sailors armed with a Thompson managed to bring down one of the attacking Zeros. One of our sisters took a torpedo to her screws and rudder. We set up a protective circle around her along with the other destroyer. A flight of American hellcats arrived an hour later and drove off the remaining Japanese."

"We signaled our immobile sister, 'Do you wish for us to take your survivors and scuttle you?' She signaled back, 'Point taken. Can you rig for towing?' We replied, 'Can do.' We towed our sister back to the main fleet while the other Fletcher stayed to patrol the station. On the way back, we passed two landing ships that command had sent to reinforce the Fletcher that had relieved us. I guess we embarrassed command when we appeared towing one of the Fletchers that they had sent to scuttle us. A tanker topped off our fuel and we towed our sister back to the mainland in a convoy of supply ships that needed to return for supplies. During the trip, we hit a storm and the tow line snapped. We lost track of our sister in the confusion and we couldn't use our radar to locate her. That was the last anyone heard from her or her crew."

"We arrived at the mainland and the Navy had Torrey slated to be scraped. The ninety-five of us were told that we had completed our end of the bargain and we had our records cleared. However, we put all of our money together and demanded to buy Torrey from the scrapyard. The Navy refused so we got a JAG officer involved. He argued that the United States Naval Research Laboratory was in need of a new ocean-going research platform and Torrey would be perfect because most of her topside equipment needed to be replaced anyway and it would be cheaper to simply modify the Fletcher-class destroyer into a research ship than to build a purpose-built vessel from scratch. Not only that, but Torrey also already had a crew that was well versed in her operation. The Navy, wanting to be done with us once and for all, agreed and transferred ownership of Torrey to the NRL. She was repaired and modified and spent the rest of her days as a research vessel. I went on to become a navy diver and was welcomed back with open arms when I transferred back to Torrey when I completed my training and certification."

Eleanor asked, "What happened to her?"

I replied honestly, "I don't know. Torrey was the ship that we were using to test the new diving bell in 1958 to investigate the unusually high losses of ships in the North Atlantic off Greenland and Iceland. I heard her getting attacked by Ryan's thugs and lost communication with her afterwards. What happened to her after I lost communication with her, I do not know."

Eleanor was silent for a moment and then said, "I'm sorry Father."

I smiled slightly before I assured her, "It is not your fault, kid. Besides, I got you in the bargain." I saw her cheeks flush red briefly, causing me to smile. Then, I informed her, "I will see you soon, Eleanor. I promise." I felt our bond fade and returned to the real world.