Thick billows of oily smoke, backlit by the flames raging through the Zenzero, rose two hundred feet into the night sky.
Captain Webb, shaking with barely suppressed rage, was watching through binoculars from the bridge atop the Indianapolis’s sail. Layman and three others had taken another rubber raft across. This time they were armed with M16s. He had ordered them to shoot anyone on sight. “Bridge, communications” the bridge speaker blared. Webb hit the talk switch.
“Bridge, aye”
“Skipper, COMSUBMED wants to know if we require any assistance, and they’re asking for an update “Tell them that there’s been an explosion and fire aboard the cruiser and that we may have casualties”
His walkie-talkie squawked into life. It was Layman. “Skipper, we just fished Markham out of the water”
“What kind of shape is he in, Earl”
“He’s dead” Webb was stunned into silence for just a beat, but then his anger rose up around him again as a fire brighter and hotter than that consuming the Zenzero. He hit the comms switch. “Communications, bridge.
“Aye, bridge”
“Have you sent out that message yet”
“It’s in the machine now, Skipper “Belay that” Webb shouted. “Send instead, stand by”
“Yes, Sir” Webb keyed his walkie-talkie. “Any sign of the others, Earl”
“I don’t know, Skipper. We’ve spotted something floating low in the water on the port side of the cruiser, we’re heading over there now”
“Any sign of life aboard”
“Negative, negative. If anyone was aboard, they’re sure as hell dead by now”
“What happened to Markham? Was he burned”
“No, Sir” Layman said, and Webb could hear the strain in his voice. “No burns, no blood that I can see, no injuries. His eyes are open, and he’s just dead” Besides the lookout, the only other person on the bridge was the Second Officer, Lieutenant Kenneth Woodman. He was a young man who would someday make a good skipper. He knew the boat, he got along well with the men, and he knew how to take orders. Webb turned to him. “I want you to get below. Help Owens set up the dispensary for casualties.
I don’t know how many, or what shape they’ll be in, but I suspect it’ll be bad”
“Aye, Skipper” Woodman said. “And, Ken”
“Yes, Sir”
“Not a word to the rest of the crew. Understand”
“Aye, aye”
Woodman went below. Webb keyed his walkie-talkie again. “What’s your status, Earl”
“Hold on, Captain, we’ve got another body in the water. Webb raised his binoculars and searched the waters around the furiously burning cruiser, but he couldn’t spot Layman’s raft. They had already gone to the opposite side of the Zenzero. “My God, Skipper, it’s Davidson. He’s dead too. Just like Markham. He’s not been burned or injured in any way that I can see, and his eyes are open. Skipper, it looks like he’s… like he was in pain”
“What about the other object you spotted floating in the water”
“We’re on our way over to it … but it’s hard to get much closer …
it’s damned hot ” Webb keyed the comms switch. “Bob, what are we showing on radar”
“Still clear, Skipper” Hess came back. “What about that auxiliary? Are you still painting her”
“Yes, sir. She’s about ten miles out now, but she seems to have slowed down “Same course”
“Yes, sir”
“Keep an eye on her, Bob. Anything electronic coming from her, let me know immediately “Aye, Skipper”
“It’s our boat, Skipper” Layman radioed. Webb keyed his walkie-talkie.
“How about D’Angelo and Gilmore”
“Dead, just like the others. But it looks as if they were dumped into the raft, Captain. Gilmore is lying on top of Tony, as if someone …
tossed him”
“Listen to me, Earl. is there any possibility, any possibility at all, that anyone could still be aboard that cruiser”
“Negative, Skipper. You can’t get within a hundred feet of it. Nothing aboard is alive”
“Do you see anyone else in the water, any other bodies, another rubber raft”
“Negative”
“Get back here on the double” Webb said. Again he keyed his ship comms.
“Plotting, bridge”
“Plotting, aye”
“I want a best possible course and speed to the auxiliary that radar is painting to our south”
“We going to stay on the surface, Skipper”
“Yes” Webb said. “I’ll have it in a second”
“Quartermaster, bridge. “Quartermaster, aye”
“I want four men at the after loading hatch. Our people are on their way back, and they’re going to need some help”
“Aye, Captain. “Conn, bridge. I want Boyle up here on the double. “Aye, aye, Skipper” Webb again raised his binoculars. He could see Layman and the others heading back now, the other raft in tow. He keyed his walkie-talkie. “Earl”
“We’re on our way back, Skipper”
“There’ll be someone at the after hatch to help you. I want Tony and the others brought immediately forward to the dispensary. I’ll meet you there. “Yes, sir” Third Officer Lieutenant j. g. Ernie Boyle came up through the hatch. He was young, barely in his mid-twenties, but he was already as good as any other officer aboard. “You’ve got the bridge, Ernie” Webb told him. “Aye, aye, Skipper”
“Keep an eye peeled. Earl and the others will be loading through the after hatch I’ll be in the dispensary” ‘. Yes, sir” Boyle said, and Webb clambered down into the boat.
Kurshin had angled them away from the cruiser, One hundred fifty yards out from the Indianapolis, he stopped rowing and looked back. The submarine showed no lights MM@=
and was visible only as a vague black shape against the overcast sky.
“Is this far enough” Dr. Velikanov asked. “They might send someone to look for us” He was clearly agitated. “They’re busy gathering their dead, Doctorkurshin said as he unzippered the waterproof equipment bag.
“They’ll be taking them aboard soon, I expect”
“Such a terrible waste. They were just young boys” Kurshin gave him a hard look. “This is war”
“Yes” Velikanov said, nodding. “What we are doing could very well precipitate the nuclear holocaust”
” You received your orders, Doctor. But the choice was yours. And to this point you have carried out your duties very well. Velikanov shook his head. “Too well” he mumbled. Kurshin had pulled the AK74 out of the bag. Quickly he attached the image-intensifying night scope and loaded the heavy assault rifle. He brought it up to his shoulder, keyed the scope, and slowly scanned the submarine from bow to stern, images coming through the eyepiece in shades of bright gray. Two men were on the bridge atop the sail. One of them had a pair of binoculars and was looking out to sea in the opposite direction. The other man was looking down at the aft deck. Near the stern the last of the bodies was lowered through an open hatch. Two of the sailors remained topside to deflate the rubber rafts so that they could be brought back aboard. Even at this distance Kurshin could see by the way they moved that they were very angry. The captain, however, would be containing his own anger. Most of the boat’s 127-man crew would still be unaware that four of their comrades were dead. The submarine would not be at battle stations yet.
The interior spaces would not be sealed. Nor would the ventilation systems be isolated. There was no need for it. Kurshin checked his watch. He had set it in the timer mode.
So far thirty-six minutes had elapsed since Velikanov had begun his work. The timing was critical. “You are certain that you made the insertions in the proper order”
“Yes” the doctor said softly. “Then we don’t have long to wait”
“How long”
“Less than four minutes now” Kurshin said, once again raising his rifle and sighting on the bridge. “Start