11
04 Jun 2000, 1600LT (05 Jun, 0400Z)
Quarters G was really half of a duplex on Hospital Point at the edge of the Pearl Harbor complex. Built in the 1920s, it originally served as quarters for the nurses at the old naval hospital that lent its name to the point. The hospital was long since gone, enveloped by the expanding shipyard in the 1930s. The result was a little known, quiet backwater surrounded by the noise, dirt, and grit of an industrial shipyard activity.
Just before World War II, the house and its neighbors had been converted into quarters for the commanding officers of the ships that sortied out of the Naval Base. Early residents had front row seats to the devastating attack of 7 December, 1941. The USS NEVADA had been purposely run aground almost in their front yard to prevent her from sinking and blocking the only exit channel.
A row of large date palms lined the street, adding to the sense of a quiet island paradise. The banyan tree rooted in the front lawn was probably the largest one on Oahu, if not the largest in Hawaii. Its thick branches spread horizontally for almost a hundred feet in every direction. Aerial roots descended to become massive secondary trunks on both sides of First Street and the intersecting alley that ran alongside the lawn. The effect was a large, shady grove that promised protection from the blazing tropical sun.
Across First Street, the squadron commodores had laid claim to the row of Panama style bungalows that backed onto the water’s edge. The Caluccis' house was directly across the street. There was no escaping the demands of the job, not even at home, when the boss lived across the street.
Hunter's oldest daughter, Megan, discovered the banyan tree provided a haven away from the trials of being a teenager on Hawaii. The branches made an ideal resting-place above the world where she could find the solitude to read and write. She sat up there now, writing a letter to her father. These letters had long been a tradition between them. She had written her first one at the age of three. She had known even then that Daddy wouldn’t see them until he was almost home. They, along with Mommy’s letters, met him when he returned from patrol to the Sub Base at Holy Loch, Scotland. Since then, the letters to Dad had become a touchstone between them.
She had inherited his blonde hair and flashing brown eyes, but her beauty came from her mother. More than one sailor had found to his dismay that she was not amused by sailors.
On the lanai beside the old house, her younger, redheaded sister, Maggie, was helping her mother set the dinner table. The place setting at the head of the table was empty, as usual.
Life on the Islands was not easy for the girls. They had left their friends on the mainland behind for this move to a new and different culture, a culture that did not readily accept haoles (white non-natives). Megan was finishing her senior year at Radford High School. Just off base, it had a student body that was pretty much equally military dependents and locals. The friction between the groups left an unmistakable aura of tension around the school.
The normally gregarious Megan had retreated into her studies and a few close friends. She could usually be found either here in her tree reading or on the phone with her best friend, Sally Johnson. On several occasions she had taken the family cell phone up in her tree, but Peg Hunter had yelled at her for that.
Maggie had it worse. She attended the Aliamanu Middle School, a little further from the base. The demographics here were more strongly dominated by the locals. Her fair skin and bright red hair meant that she really stood-out as a haole. The twelve-year old was having a tough time dealing with entering the teen years at the same time she was trying to acclimatize to the new and hostile environment. The turmoil had exacerbated an already rebellious streak in her. Her green eyes often flashed with frustration.
06 Jun 2000, 1430LT (0430Z)
The sub raced to the Southwest on a general course of two-one-zero true. They passed from Tuvalu into the territorial seas of the Solomons. Reaching 165 East longitude and 010 South latitude, the sub changed course to two-seven-zero true and headed for the San Cristobol straits separating Guadalcanal and Maramasika to the North from San Cristobol to the South. The Straits provided a deep-water passage from the Pacific to the East into the Solomon Sea to the West. The site of some of the most savage land, air and sea battles of World War II, the area was now a quiet tropical backwater.
“Damn it, Chop. What do you expect me to do?” Sam Stuart growled in exasperation. “Your people just can’t take care of their gear. Swain knew full well that the seal was leaking, but no one told us until the motor burned.” Stuart stalked off in the general direction of the engine-room.
The young supply officer muttered under his breath. All Bill Fagan could catch was something about the ice cream machine.
The Ensign looked up and saw the XO standing there. “XO, the ice cream machine smoked.”
Bill Fagan ducked his head into the galley where Petty Officer Swain stood by the open back panel of the ice cream machine holding a fire extinguisher aimed into its heart. The charred panel was smoke-blackened. Both the compressor motor and
