Chapter 9: Dammit, San Diego!
Guard duty was, in a career full of boring jobs, among the worst.
Eddie Belloni had joined the US Marine Corps as a volunteer, though primarily because there were a few advantages for a volunteer that a draftee wouldn't receive. First, he had his choice of branch. He was easily sea-sick, so he didn't want the Navy; on the other hand, no one wanted to be in the Army, which was more often used to put down food riots than to defend the country these days. Only the Army Air Forces garnered any respect. At the same time, one of the reasons they received that respect was because of how rare it was for a pilot to come home after his tour.
So the Marines were a good compromise. They had thus far been kept out of the way of internal policing, but even if you had to be on a ship, Belloni figured you'd be on land soon enough.
As it happened, he'd barely been on a ship at all. The one he had been on had sunk just over two weeks after he came aboard. Since then, he'd been posted only to dry land, a fact for which he was fervently thankful.
On the other hand, he now mostly did guard duty, and had discovered the most important thing about guard duty.
It. Was. Boring.
Though now...the Naval Weapons Station was primarily a storage facility, as the name would suggest. So why there a bunch of civilians hanging around all the time? The scientists had been one thing, but the new ones- the girls-
He snapped to attention as a jeep approached the guardhouse coming from inside the base. The jeep slowed to a stop as he walked forward. He peered inside. "Good evening-" he stopped.
A seat of clear green eyes met his. Belloni recognized them immediately- she was the blonde he had seen walking around with the Navy guys. She was dressed in slightly more clothing than he had seen her in before, wearing a short black dress that barely reached mid-thigh. "Good evening, Private," she said cheerfully. "I'm Hornet. She-" she nodded to her right- "is Cleveland, and behind us are Houston and San Diego." The other three girls gave cheerful waves.
Ah. Code names. Belloni felt the first hint of panic. This was so above his pay grade that visible light wouldn't make through to him. "Um, I'm sorry, ma'am, there hasn't been- I mean, I haven't been given any instructions regarding-"
"Oh, relax. We're going out, not coming in," said the blonde. "See?"
"That's not how-"
The red-head- San Diego, he remembered- leaned forward. "Um, Hornet? That works for getting us out, but what about getting us back in? I mean, if we're not supposed to even leave, then-"
There was a long pause.
"Well, since we're authorized to go out, then clearly we're authorized to come back in," said Cleveland with a broad, somewhat brittle smile. "I mean, if we were spies or something, we wouldn't leave and then come back, would we? It would kind of defeat the purpose of leaving." She glared at the red-head. "Ixnay on the upidstay estionsquay."
"Ma'am," said Belloni worriedly, "Could you wait one moment while I call my sergeant, please?"
He remembered the general orders associated with guard duty. I will report violations of my special orders, emergencies, and anything not covered in my instruction, to the Commander of the Relief. This had to meet at least two of the three criteria. He practically ran back to the guardhouse and picked up the phone.
"Gunnery Sergeant Champlain here." The gunny answered distractedly on the second ring.
"Private Belloni, sergeant. Sergeant, there are four young women here wanting to leave through the front gate-"
"What?" The sergeant's voice was instantly alert.
He heard a muttered curse behind him. "Dammit, San Diego!"
"Don't let those girls go anywhere," ordered Champlain. "Just hold where you are and we'll be on the way immediately." He hung up.
He slowly looked up to see all four of the girls watching him intently. It was a terrible thing to happen to a nineteen year old boy.
"Do you think he'll shoot us if we just drive right through?" asked the pink-haired girl in a loud whisper.
He started reciting the words to the Marine Corps Hymn in his head as he desperately tried not to think about that.
Belloni had just gotten to his third round of "the shores of Tripoli" when another jeep screeched to a halt by the guard post. Gunny Champlain jumped out and walked up to the jeep.
"Evening, ladies. Does Captain Marne know you're out here?"
They looked at one another guiltily. "No," admitted Hornet.
"Admiral Mitscher?"
"Not really."
"Not really?" repeated Champlain with a raised eyebrow.
Hornet sighed. "No."
"Why don't we just drive?" said San Diego impatiently. "They won't shoot us."
Without saying a word, Champlain drew his bayonet and plunged it into the front tire of the jeep. The jeep sagged along the whole side when he slashed the rear driver's side tire as well.
"Dammit, San Diego!" said the other three girls in unison.
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"What's the problem here?" demanded Marne as he got out of his jeep groggily. He looked at the two flat tires on the jeep in front of the gate, then inside at the four guilty-looking girls. "If we eventually decide you get a salary, you're going to pay for those tires."
"It wasn't our fault," protested Houston. "The gunnery sergeant did it."
He raised an eyebrow at the sergeant, who saluted him briskly. "They said they'd drive off, sir."
"Ah." He walked over and leaned on the side of the ship-girls' jeep. "Getting a bit stir-crazy, were we?"
"We don't even get to sail around anymore," said Hornet pleadingly. "Except when we go on exercises. We just want a chance to blow off a little steam."
"Uh-huh." Marne scratched his chin thoughtfully.
They had a point. Whether you thought of them as ships or as girls, being cooped up like they had been couldn't have been fun. On the other hand, he couldn't just let them go unsupervised. And it was probably better to take them out now rather than let them sneak out some other time. "All right, fine. But I'm coming with you. And-" he glanced over at the two Marines. "Gunny, can you spare a private?"
The private's eyes went wide.
"Always, Captain. Private Belloni?"
"Yes, sergeant?"
"You will go with Captain Marne and assist him in chaperoning these four young ladies."
The private looked as though he would have preferred combat. "Aye aye, sergeant."
Marne clapped the private on the shoulder. "Oh, come on, private. What could be better than an impromptu night out with a vastly higher-ranking officer and four lovely ladies?"
The look Belloni gave him was almost insubordinate.
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The quarters the ship-girls shared had relatively few amenities, but one of them was a small study. The walls were whitewashed cinder block, but otherwise some effort had gone into making it homey. The bookshelves were old oak, the sofa and two wingback chairs comfortable if worn, and someone had gone to the trouble to install a soft carpet to cover the bare concrete of the floor.
Enterprise laid on her back on the sofa, reading a thick leather-bound book. She didn't even seem to notice when Yorktown came in.
"Where did Hornet go?" asked Yorktown.
"What?" said Enterprise distractedly, looking up from the book she was reading. "Hornet? Oh, she said she was going out to take a walk with San Diego, Cleveland, and Houston."
Yorktown frowned. "Hmmm."
"Something wrong?"
"Just that- never mind." She sat down and cocked her head to read the title of Enterprise's book. "The Influence of Sea Power Upon History? Interesting reading, is it?"
"It is, as a matter of fact," said Enterprise defensively. "It's the whole reason we exist. The humans have to wonder. We already know."
"Born out of the collective will of our crews," mused Yorktown. She took the book gently from Enterprise's hands, turned over to the first page. "And our captains, of course."
To Captain Lucas Marne from William Halsey, Jr. May you have fair winds and following sea, read the inscription inside the book.
"I believe I saw this same book in the library they gave us access to," said Yorktown. "You didn't need to borrow it from Captain Marne's quarters."
Enterprise snatched it back, though being careful not to damage it. "This one is easier to read. It, um, has bigger type."
Somehow, Yorktown doubted that. "He was your captain for a long time, wasn't he? And during your worst days."
There was a moment of silence. It was strange, talking to her sister like this. Before, she had a sort of automatic, inchoate awareness of Enterprise- her mood, her feelings, her intentions. Now, they had gained a more precise method of communication, but lost that special communion they once had.
"They called me the Grey Ghost," said Enterprise in a low but proud voice. "And Lucky E."
"I remember," said Yorktown with a smile. "How many times did we think you had been sunk? But you always came back."
"Not always." Enterprise shook her head. "They got me in the end."
Yorktown took her hand, twined her fingers with her sister's. "And you still came back. We both did."
There was a silence. "He wouldn't leave me," said Enterprise suddenly.
Yorktown didn't have to ask who. "No, he wouldn't."
"Not just when I- when I sank. But before that, he was offered different commands again and again. But he wouldn't leave. He was my captain."
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"So this is a sailor's bar," said Hornet dubiously.
Captain Marne was having serious doubts about having come out here. Especially as he noted all the looks the four girls were getting. "I really think we should just get a bite to eat-"
"I mean, all my boys were so anxious to get to these places every time I went to port," said Hornet. "It doesn't look that promising." She strode purposefully through the doors.
"Hornet!" He looked back at Private Belloni. "Private, you stay with the other girls, comprende?"
"Aye aye, sir." The captain followed Hornet into the bar, leaving Belloni behind with Cleveland, Houston, and San Diego.
He felt his face redden as the three girls looked at him curiously. "So what's your name, anyway?" asked Cleveland.
"Private Belloni, ma'am."
"I mean your first name."
"Oh...Eddie, ma'am."
"You don't have to call me ma'am."
"Yes, ma'am."
"You really should have seen that one coming," observed Houston.
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The bar was packed full of sailors, most of whom worked on the nearby base or at the shipyards at Newport News. The hum of conversation nearly drowned out the piano player in one corner who was murdering a recent popular song, to the complete indifference of those around him.
Hornet pushed her way up to the bar. A few surprised sailors did double-takes as she leaned over to get the bartender's attention.
Which she got. The dress she was wearing- which Marne had found out she apparently believed was more modest than her usual get-up- had a very low neck. He wondered where she had gotten it from.
"I'll have a shot of whiskey," she said loudly.
"It's on me," said the sailors next to her simultaneously. They both turned to glare at one another.
"Thanks, boys," said Marne. "But actually, she's with me."
Apparently he wasn't well-known enough on base to be recognizable without his uniform. The sailor to Hornet's right, a short, balding, but heavily muscled man, looked him up and down. "I think the lady can say whether she's with you or not on her own, mister."
"Sailor," said Marne, a warning tone in his voice. "I wouldn't-"
"Ha, me with him?" said Hornet, who seemed oblivious to the tension. "Not if my sister has anything to say about it." She elbowed the other sailor, who looked to be in his early-twenties and had the square-jawed yet gormless face of a stereotypical Kansas farmer. "Thanks for the drink, buddy."
Baldy whipped around. "Hey, I was buying the drink for the lady!"
"You heard her," said Kansas smugly. "Miss, what kind of-"
The first sailor let out a growl and grabbed the shoulder of the second. Who threw a punch.
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"Yes, I suppose we did come back," said Enterprise. "But why?"
"I thought you said it was all in that book?" said Yorktown teasingly.
Enterprise shook her head, smiling slightly. "Maybe I misspoke. Not why, but how?"
"I think you mean both," said Yorktown. "I don't think the why can so easily be explained. Somehow, though, I think the answers are the same."
The other carrier looked at her doubtfully. "What do you mean?"
Yorktown shrugged. "I don't know, exactly. But I feel like the 'how' is connected to the 'why'- as if we couldn't have come into existence if we weren't needed."
Enterprise frowned, then stood up. "Maybe I'm thinking too hard about this," she said. "I don't really need the how, do I? Or even the why. I just need to know what I'm supposed to do."
"And the 'who' you are supposed to be doing it for," said Yorktown with a smile.
Her sister's cheeks flushed red. "I-"
Then the color drained from her face. "He's been hurt."
Yorktown sat up straight. "Who?"
"The Commander!" She jumped up from the sofa. "We have to go to him!"
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"So have you been in the Marines long, Eddie?" asked Cleveland.
"No, ma'am. About a year, ma'am."
"Enjoy it?"
"Yes, ma'am."
She sighed. This was going to be a long night. "Where are you from- wait a minute, where's San Diego?"
The color drained from Belloni's face as he looked around frantically. "She was just here!"
Houston was also looking around. "You wouldn't have thought someone like her could slip away like that, would you?"
"Ma'am, you have to help me find her," said Belloni desperately, eyes searching the crowd. "The captain will kill me!"
"He wouldn't do that," said Houston.
"Well..." began Cleveland, before stopping at Houston's glare.
"There she is!" cried Belloni. He dashed into the bar.
Cleveland and Houston exchanged looks. "Well," said Cleveland. "I guess we get to see the inside of a bar after all."
They walked in.
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Kansas rolled with the punch, taking most of it with his shoulder. As he came up with his own fist raised, he found Hornet between him and Baldy.
"Okay, boys, that's enough," said Hornet. "You'll be up before Captain's Mast at this rate. Come on, let's all just have a drink together."
The two sailors glared at each other, but then nodded. "All right, but I want to know who this guy is anyway," said Baldy, jerking his thumb at Marne.
"I'm-"
"He's my commander!"
San Diego leaped up onto the bar. "Hello, everyone! Number one ship San Diego is here!"
The hum of conversation gradually dropped to nothing as the sailors all eyed her.
"Hey, kid, get down from there," said the bartender. He reached up to tug at her clothing, but then realized there wasn't much to tug on. He looked hopelessly at Marne. "Get your kid down from the bar, buddy."
"She's not my kid," said Marne. "She's-"
"Not your kid?" said Baldy. "So you took someone else's kid to a sailor's bar? What's the big idea, pal?"
"Yeah," said Kansas. "We don't take kindly to men taking girls like her into bars where I come from."
The two sailors advanced on him as there was a rumble of agreement from the sailors behind them.
Marne raised his hands and backed away. "Now wait a minute-"
He ducked the first punch.
"Dammit, San Diego!" he shouted, just before taking the next one right on the chin.
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Hornet waved at Cleveland and Houston as they came through the door. "Hey, guys."
An unholy scrum was going on a few feet from her, fists being thrown left and right. Cleveland gasped as she saw Marne decking a sailor just before taking another punch, this time to the gut.
"He's doing pretty good, considering," said Hornet, watching critically.
"Shouldn't we help him?" asked Houston. "I mean-"
"Nah, it's all in good fun," said Hornet. "At least, that's what my boys always said when they came back aboard from liberty."
"Captain!" shouted Belloni. He dove into the fight, grabbing one of the combatants by the shoulder and spinning him around. "That's a superior officer!" he shouted as his punch sent the surprised sailor sprawling.
"See," said Hornet. "Now the private's getting in on it." She winced as Belloni took an elbow in the eye. "Although I can't really see the appeal myself."
There was a crash from outside. All four of the ship-girls looked outside.
Enterprise stepped off of the roof of the car she had landed on, which incidentally had totaled it. "Where is he?" she demanded.
"Captain Marne?" said Hornet, surprised. "He's right there." She pointed to the fight.
Enterprise's eyes flashed as she stalked into the bar. Her rigging burst into existence.
"It's over!" she shouted.
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"So I take it the secret is out?" said Mitscher dryly.
It was early in the morning the next day. Marne, a subdued-looking Enterprise, and Hornet all sat in front of Admiral Mitscher's desk.
Marne dabbed at his black eye with a wet paper towel. "You could say that, sir. Unless about fifty sailors, a bartender, and the owner of that Packard Enterprise smashed can all be trusted to keep this quiet."
"And probably about another five hundred outside," added Hornet helpfully.
Mitscher looked at her. "What do you mean?"
"Well, when San Diego saw the crowd forming, she decided it would be a good time to have her own little Broadway show. And to make it really exciting, she fired off a few rounds from her rigging into the air at the end."
Mitscher's eyes were wide.
"Dammit, San Diego!"