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Part XXII

The Japanese torpedoes' wakes were now close enough to see with the naked eye - at least three of them. Two were obviously going to get past the Manchester. The third, Tormolen calculated, would be close, but they ought to just catch it with the tip of the bow.

He found himself wondering if Stark had planned it that way - to take the torpedo as far forward as possible, to minimize the damage to the ship and maximize her survivability. The torpedo would most likely blow off a good-sized hunk of the ship's bow, but she was built strong - as long as the break was fairly clean, not too far back, and the damage control teams did their jobs, she could probably limp back to Pearl.

The white line raced through the sea, closing on an intercept course with the Manchester. Tormolen could hear Captain Stark ordering the engine room crew abovedecks, and all hands already on deck to assemble on the stern.

The torpedo was only seconds from the ship. Tormolen studied it carefully, calculating the precise moment when the Manchester would cross its path and the two would intersect in a catastrophic blast. Then, a few seconds before that instant, he closed his eyes and found himself - for the first time in years - praying.

Tormolen waited the long seconds in silence, bracing himself for the blast.

And then he waited longer.

But the blast never came. All he could hear was the normal sounds of the ship.

Then he heard Captain Stark utter the strongest curse he'd ever heard the man utter. He opened his eyes.

"What the hell happened?" Stark demanded.

The helmsman seemed as baffled as Stark. "I don't know, sir. Portside lookouts report four fish past us, heading straight for the Yorktown!"

"Hard aport! We're going to chase those fish right up to the Yorktown. We might not have stopped the attack, but by God we can do what we can to clean up the mess!"

Tormolen watched in horror as the torpedoes continued racing straight for the Yorktown. The first struck the Hammann dead amidships, breaking the destroyer in half. Two more torpedoes struck the crippled Yorktown, tearing even more holes in her already-tattered hull.

Captain Stark, too, had been watching the Yorktown through the binoculars. He slowly lowered them, then hung his head.

"That's it. She's done for."

Part XXIII

Admiral Halsey leaned forward in his bed. "So, what the hell happened? Why didn't the Manchester catch that fish?"

Captain Tormolen shrugged. "Nobody knows for sure. The starboard lookouts insist it should have hit us about ten feet back from the bow. The portside lookouts say it came out from us about twenty to thirty feet back from the bow. Careful inspection showed that it never touched us. And considering the normal draft of the Manchester, it should have blown our bow clean off.

"I have my own pet theory. The Manchester was pulling about 19 knots, and at full acceleration. Also, most of the crew was assembled on the stern. The combination of speed, acceleration, and weight shift most likely lifted the bow just enough to let the torpedo pass underneath us."

"Anyway, we took aboard as many survivors of the Yorktown and the Hammann as we could, then came back to Pearl. It hurt like hell to lose the Yorktown."

Halsey grimaced. The old man looked a lot better than he had a bit over a week ago, but the skin condition that had hospitalized him was still quite visible. "God knows I hate losing her, but if the total cost of that battle was her and one destroyer, it was worth it. We put four of Tojo's flattops on the bottom, and they were four of the ones that hit us at Pearl Harbor."

Halsey paused, then fixed his withering gaze on Tormolen. "Tell me, Joe. What was your opinion of Captain Stark?"

"He's a fine captain and a good man. The Manchester's in good hands."

"He went out there with a single job - to protect the Enterprise. He couldn't keep up with her, so he was assigned to protect the Yorktown. Two bombs and four fish got past him, and one of our damned few carriers is now sunk. Sounds to me like he didn't do a very good job."

"Sir, nearly every single plane that attacked the Yorktown was shot down. It was just bad luck that a couple of them managed to drop their weapons before we got them. And as far as the last two torpedoes… well, I know a lot of people call the Manchester an 'oversized tin can,' but she's not a destroyer. She's a cruiser, and cruisers just don't fare very well against subs."

Halsey let his glare fade, and he smiled. Tormolen knew that smile, and recognized the old man had been using one of his favorite tactics: launching an attack he didn't really mean to provoke a defense that would give him the most honest answer he could get. Tormolen had seen it hundreds of times, been subject to it dozens, and still fell for it. "I know, son. Jack Fletcher had nothing but great things to say about Stark and the Manchester. But I'm worried if what I just said might be how Stark himself sees things. And if it is, that makes him unfit for command - and I need to know about it."

"That's not for me to say, sir."

"No, it's not. But you were there. You spent more time with him and his crew than anyone else on my staff. What's your gut say - will the loss of the Yorktown break Stark, or will it make him more determined than ever to prove himself?"

Tormolen paused to consider the matter.

"No, Joe, don't think about it. I want what your gut says. Should I leave Stark on the Manchester, or do I need to beach him?"

"Sir, I think the Navy would be best served if Captain Stark stayed right where he is. He's angry that he couldn't save the Yorktown, but he knows, in his head, that there wasn't anything more he could have done. He knows that his ship shot down about two dozen Jap planes - more than any other ship could have. All he has to do is finish convincing his heart that he didn't fail - sometimes the other side gets lucky."

"If Stark thinks that our losing one carrier to their four is 'bad luck,' then the man's obviously nuts. But that's the kind of crazy we might need in this war.

"OK, Tormolen, Stark keeps the Manchester, and we keep them with us. And as soon as the doctors let me out of here, we're going to see just where things stand.

"The Japs just lost four of their flattops, and every single plane on 'em. They can't afford to keep on the offensive, they'll need to consolidate what they have already until they can replace those decks - and those aircrews.

"I don't intend to give them that time. So far every time we've fought them, it's been when and where they chose. It's time we we started hitting back."