Howdy Y'all. SirStonewall here.
It's been a long ass time since we updated this story. I'm sorry. Both Goodalwayswins98 and I kinda lost interest in writing it, plus life's been throwing repeated curveballs at me. I've moved four times since the last update trying to find work. Been fighting depression like everyone else.
But I'm not here to give excuses. I appreciate y'all being patient. I wanted to drop a 20k word chapter to make it up to y'all, but I've hit a serious case of writer's block with almost all of my stories. I can't promise when the next chapter will be.
Enjoy the chapter. I'm not trying to beg like a review whore, but reviews will definitely help my motivation. Lengthy reviews especially.
Oh, and y'all can thank Greyhound for this chapter.
I don't own HSF or any songs referenced in this chapter. I do however own my characters and Goodalwayswins98 owns his. Don't use our characters without prior permission. That'll be a shitty day for everyone involved.
On that note, enjoy.
USS Black
October 15th
Location: 27°09'35.7"N 139°38'14.2"E
1519 hours
"Big wave."
The first mate's warning comes seconds before the destroyer plows into the wave, sending a spray of mist onto the front windows of the bridge.
"Not much I can do about it. We've gotta just keep on truckin'." Samuel sighs, holding the helm firmly.
"At least we don't have to worry about air attack for now…" The artillery officer yawns, running a hand through his hair before turning to Allison. "Permission to go rack out?"
"Granted, send someone from damage control up to take your place."
"Will do."
Justin leaves the bridge as the bow plunges into another wave, making an impressive roar before the ship surges out the other side. Allison sighs and moves to stand by the window, looking out over the rolling ocean for any signs of debris from the Grilse. Hours of fruitless searching in a relentless typhoon is enough to wear on anyone's nerves, and the young First Mate is certainly no exception.
"Bridge, Radio. We're receiving a short-range beacon signal. Adjust thirty degrees to starboard and we'll be headed right at it."
"Copy that. Thank you radio." Savannah responds through one of her two handheld radios.
"Twenty degrees to starboard, Samuel." Allison instructs.
"Yes ma'am." The helmsman responds, turning the helm.
"How are the other ships getting along?" The First Mate asks the technical officer.
"Anderson is slightly out of formation, but otherwise they're staying with us."
"Keep an eye on them."
"Yes ma'am."
"Watch officer reporting for duty" A short, brunette-haired girl from damage control reports as she enters the bridge. Her skin is slightly tanned from spending time on deck and she has a minuscule scar on her upper lip under her nose.
"Hey Emersin, I hope Justin didn't wake you too abruptly."
"Nah. I was drawing." The 4'11" girl responds as she grabs a pair of binoculars and moves to the windows, "So we're looking for debris of any kind, right?"
"Yeah."
The new watch officer barely has time to settle in before a flash of light and an orange buoy catches her attention. She jerks the binoculars up to her face and looks for the object again, staring over the top of them as the ship plows through another wave, spraying the windows with seawater.
"Strobe buoy! Starboard side!"
Allison rushes over and looks over her shoulder, catching a glimpse of the bright orange float bobbing amongst the waves and confirming what the other girl saw. "I see it! Samuel, get us stationary!"
"Copy."
Savannah runs over to the ship's phone and picks it up, pressing the number for the radio room. "Radio, bridge. Send a message to Chiyoda and let them know we've found a rescue buoy."
{Radio copies. I'll include our location as well.}
"Bridge copies."
After hanging up, Savannah walks over to Emersin and gives her a pat on the back, grinning. "Nice spot!"
"It's nothing, really….."
"You saw it before anyone else, so it was certainly not nothing. Good job." Allison argues with a grin, looking out at the orange float and sighing. "Poor guys…. It's gotta be terrifying being trapped down there…"
Samuel grunts in agreement before everyone on the bridge feels the ship rise on another wave.
And rise.
And rise some more.
"Samuel, slow-"
Before Allison can finish her sentence the ship crests the wave and plows down into the next gigantic wave, alarms ringing out seconds later.
Savannah yanks her tablet out of her bag, looking at the damage readout. "Bulkhead failure!"
"Where?" Allison gasps, looking at the technical officer, who has a terrified look on her face.
"Primary radio room!"
Dashing over to the ship's bulkhead, Allison grabs turns on the ship's PA system. "Damage control to the primary radio room! Exterior bulkhead failure!"
"Bridge, gun director! Man overboard! Man overboard!"
"Damage control assembling!"
Allison darts over to the short-range radio and turns it on frantically. "Harekaze! Harekaze! We have a man overboard!"
"This is the Harekaze. We are moving to assist!"
"Gun director, bridge! Keep an eye on the man overboard!"
"Confirmed!"
"Allison! Where's the damage?!" Danielle yells as she climbs up the stairway to the bridge.
"Primary radio room! Someone got sucked over the rail by the water!"
"Give me a full status report!"
"We've found the strobe buoy and were getting ready to radio Chiyoda when the ship crashed into a wave and the bulkhead broke. We've got a man in the water and it's safe to say primary radio room is fried."
"Bridge, damage control!"
"Go for bridge." Allison speaks into her handheld radio.
"We've arrived at the radio room. Can confirm that there is one radio operator missing. It's Mark. Additionally, we can't fix this bulkhead until the storm is over. The hinges broke when it failed."
"Copy that. Do what you can. See if you can salvage any radios that aren't friend."
"All equipment in the radio room is waterproof. We'll get it moved, damage control out."
"Bridge, gun director. Harekaze just picked Mark up. He has confirmed that he got the coordinates to Chiyoda."
"Gun director, Bridge. Good to hear. All departments, take roll call."
While the roll call reports roll in from the various departments, they relocate the strobe buoy, getting stationary close to it. Attempting to connect multiple times to the telecommunications signal on the buoy before it finally connects. Danielle rushes over to the ship's phone and picks it up, hearing an urgent voice.
{Hello?! Can anyone hear me!?}
"Hello! This is the captain of the USS Black, Danielle Schumer. We are stationary above you and Chiyoda is on the way. What is your situation?"
{Oh thank God! We're all alive but the forward torpedo room flooded. We were attacked on the surface by a destroyer, then they depth-charged us when we dove.}
"Did you identify the destroyer?"
{Yes ma'am. It was the Akigumo.}
"Alright. Hang in there. Help is on the way."
"I don't think we have any other choice." He chuckles.
"No, not really." Danielle giggles before hanging up the ship's phone. "Savannah, notify the instructors with force Gold. Akigumo sank the Grilse."
{Bridge, radar! Surface contacts, thirteen miles, port side!}
Jack Schumer
October 15th
29°41'00.1"N 140°26'32.3"E
1631
"Sister cries out, from her baby bed,
Brother runs in, feathers on his head.
Mama's in her room, learnin' how to sew,
Daddy's drinkin' beer listenin' to the radio.
Hank Williams sings Kaw-Liga and Dear John,
And time marches onnnn, time marches on."
"Man, you got some good tastes." A sailor chuckles from across the small table, five cards in hand. "It's been ages since I heard this song."
"Thanks. Tracy Lawrence is a favorite of mine."
"Sister's using Rouge and clear complexion soap.
Brother's wearin' beads and he smokes a lot of dope.
Mama is depressed barely makes a sound.
Daddy's got a girlfriend in another town.
Bob Dylan sings like a Rolling Stone.
And time marches onnnnn, time marches on.
"We're talking about setting up a pirate radio station aboard the ship. You wanna lend us your song tracks?"
"Sure. I raise." Jack replies, sliding a handful of coins into the center of the table.
"I fold." A Hell-diver pilot grumbles, slapping his cards down.
{All pilots! All pilots! Prepare for launch! General Quarters! General Quarters! All hands man your battlestations!}
"In this weather?" The Hell-diver pilot asks in confusion while Jack shuts off his music and lays his cards down, standing up.
"You heard the bosun. Let's go!" Jack orders, leaving the mess hall.
"And fly in that weather?! Are you nuts?!"
"A little bit! We got a job to do!"
{Jack Schumer report to the Bridge immediately. Jack Schumer to the Bridge.}
Speeding up, Jack ran up a flight of stairs, past the ready room and radio room, ascending two more flights of stairs to make it to the Bridge, almost immediately saluting the captain. "Jack Schumer reporting as ordered."
"Good to see you. Are you comfortable flying in a squall like this?" Captain Blackwood asks, looking him over.
"Absolutely Ma'am."
"Good. We haven't joined up with the Monterey yet, so you'll be flying with some sea furies from HMS Vengeance. Go get suited up."
"Aye Ma'am."
Jack turns around and hurries down the stairs to the ready room, throwing on his flight suit, inflatable life jacket, and parachute. With his cap and goggles in hand he rushes out onto the flight deck, running to his Corsair and climbing onto the wing, sliding into the cockpit. He begins his startup procedure while the Corsairs around him unfold their wings, getting ready to take off.
Once his radio is turned on, he checks in. "Stingray one-Actual checking in."
{Copy that Stingray one-Actual. Switch to frequency two-seven-seven for radio comms with your flight. Once the deck is clear, you have launch authority.}
"Solid copy." Reaching down, Jack selects channel four and programs it to the correct frequency. "Stingray One-Actual, checking in."
{Bloody hell! Jack?!}
{The legend lives!}
"Eva? Millie?"
{And here I was thinking you'd forgotten about us!}
"Not a chance." Jack chuckles, unfolding his wings as the last of the other corsairs take off.
{So, are you our flight lead? Typically Reuben is our flight lead but he's sick.}
"Well, I don't wanna steal y'alls thunder…"
{Please? It's been ages!}
"Alright fine." Jack chuckles, his wings locking into place. "I'm ready to roll."
{Scramble! We're airborne!}
"Stingray One-actual rolling."
Jack steadily slides the throttle forwards as spray from the waves spatters his windscreen, the corsair accelerating down the flight deck into the howling winds.
'Am I crazy? Maybe a little bit. Maybe I just wanna find my fuckin' girlfriend and go home.' He mentally grumbles, feeling his corsair lift off the deck and ascend into the cloudy skies. He quickly reaches over his shoulder and turns on one camera, then leans forward and turns on the other, just in time to see a pair of sea furies settle in on his left wing.
{Fortis two and three on your wing.}
Jack grins and laughs as they ascend above the clouds, "Fortis? Who did you have to fight to secure that callsign?"
{The entire bloody fighter wing!}
{More like we fought two flights then bribed the rest.}
Jack laughs more and smiles, tuning his second radio to the local school AWACS, waiting for several minutes while they circle above the carrier with the other air wings before a voice breaks through the silence.
{All units, Outback is sunrise!}
"Outback, Stingray One-Actual requesting vectoring to the USS Black."
{Rrrrroger Stingray One-Actual, vector one-zero-six for fifty miles.}
"Stingray One-Actual copies. One-Zero-Six for five-zero." Jack mutters with a grin before switching over to his first radio as he turns to the compass heading. "Follow me ladies, the party's right this way."
{Roger! On your wing.}
{Stingray One-Actual, Outback. Be advised, tune in to 317.68 for a radio station.}
"Roger Outback. Thank you." I hum, tuning into the radio station.
{Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the Force Gold radio station, where music and news is played nonstop for our lovely pilots. First up, to christen our new station, is Voodoo Child.}
