Edge of Valor (49 page)

“That stuff will take your skin off.”

“Better that than piss off the admiral. I can't shake his hand with grease all over mine.”

The
Islander
ducked behind a passing C-1 cargo ship and then made a textbook approach to the Terminal Island landing.

Ingram said a quick prayer and kicked the starter. The engine roared into life and settled down to a smooth idle.

“How's Commodore Landa doing? He still married?” The wedding had taken place three days ago.

“Last time I checked,” Ingram said. “But with Boom Boom, you never know.”

Chapter Thirty-Nine

27 November 1945

USS
Wallace
(DD 549), Long Beach Naval Station, Long Beach, California

T
he four
Fletcher-class
destroyers were moored in a nest alongside the destroyer tender
Piedmont
(AD 17), which in turn was moored starboard side to Pier 32 at the Long Beach Naval Station. The
Wallace
(DD 549), flagship for Destroyer Division 77.2, was inside the nest. Outboard of her were the destroyers
Beaulieu, Cheffer
, and
Truax
, all on cold iron, using shore-side services for power. The tired veterans of the Pacific war were finally home for well-deserved maintenance and upkeep. However, DESDIV 77.1, including the
Maxwell
, was still in Yokosuka, waiting to embark GIs for home.

Ingram had relieved Howard Endicott as commodore of DESDIV 77.2 during a half-hour ceremony. Immediately afterward the squadron commodore and his wife, Captain and Mrs. Jeremiah Landa, were piped over the side to the
Piedmont
. They quickly stepped across to the
Piedmont
's starboard side and down the gangway to the pier. Laura's pale green Cadillac convertible waited at the foot of the gangway. The top was down and luggage filled the backseat. Amid shouts and grins, Landa started the Caddie's big V-8 and eased out the clutch. He was also easing himself into a new life with sophisticated people and sophisticated music—something for which he knew he was completely unprepared.

The
Piedmont
blasted her whistle and whooped her siren while beer cans tied to the Caddie's rear bumper announced the Landas' departure, next stop the Ahwahnee Hotel in Yosemite National Park.

A freckle-faced young sailor had the last laugh as the car pulled away. A garish sign on the trunk boldly stated: “Hot Springs Tonight.”

Two days later the
Wallace
and her sisters presented a different sight. Workboats swarmed around the four nested destroyers, delivering supplies, pumping fuel oil, and pumping out waste. Chipping crews turned to with hammers and chisels on the hulls and the upperworks, making a terrible cacophony; they scraped off old paint and brushed on red lead. When they were finished the ships would be painted in the peacetime pattern of haze-gray hull and superstructure with dark gray horizontal surfaces. Sailors carrying spare parts and assemblies from the tender stepped around the scrapers, chippers, and painters. New personnel stepped on board to present their orders to the quarterdeck. All the ships but the
Cheffer
were rebricking their boilers. The workers had finished refurbishing her number four boiler and were now setting safeties, the roar of six-hundred-pound steam ripping at the blue cloudless day.

Ingram and Toliver had a good view of the work from the
Wallace
's bridge, where they leaned on the bulwark and drank coffee. Electronics technicians and radarmen working in the pilothouse were installing two new radar repeaters. But a better show was taking place over the length of the ship as gunner's mates were removing all five of the
Wallace
's 5-inch 38 main-battery gun barrels; intense action, especially off Okinawa, had worn out the liners. The black canvas bloomers had been taken off. Then the guns were elevated straight up. After this, the gunner's mates rotated the barrels a half turn, disconnecting them. Everything was ready to go.

Toliver looked up as the wire cable on one of the
Piedmont
's cranes dangled over mount 52 on the 01 level. “You did what?” he asked with mock incredulity.

“I said, we bought a house.”

“You're still full of Thanksgiving turkey.”

“No, I'm not. We bought a house.”

“How did you find one?” With millions of servicemen and -women coming home, the housing shortage had become acute. Every one of them seemed to be starting a family and clamoring for a house.

“We were lucky. We're buying the Alma Street house in San Pedro that we've been renting since 1943,” said Ingram.

“A house. What the hell for? Your career is just getting started, Commodore. Your next posting will probably be in D.C.”

“We need the room.”

“Huh?”

“Helen's pregnant. We're going to have another baby.”

“Hey, number two. Congratulations, Dad. Do you know when?”

“Doc says next May.”

“Amazing. I owe you a cigar.”

The two fell silent amid the cacophony. At length Toliver said, “I miss this.”

“Say again?” said Ingram.

“Shipboard life. It's simple.”

Ingram said, “Most of the time. But remember, there are occasions when you do get shot at.”

“Don't I know it? I don't miss the combat at all. I don't know how you stuck it out, Todd. I had to get a medical.”

“Oh, horse feathers.”

“Sometimes I think I'm yellow. I really don't—”

“Ollie,” Ingram interrupted, “you gave it your all. You don't have to worry about being yellow. I nearly cracked out there too. And you saved my butt. I'm sure you'd do just as well, probably better, if you were challenged again.”

Toliver rolled his eyes. “Wait a minute. You saved me.”

Ingram shrugged. “None of it matters now. It's over. Ships are going into mothballs. People are getting out and going into civilian life. Gun bosses and ship captains are a dime a dozen and the Navy is kicking them out. But you're in a very important billet. And I think we're all a lot safer because of it.” Ingram sipped coffee. “Your dad still angry?”

“Never writes. Hardly speaks to me.” Toliver looked up and smiled.

“A shame he doesn't realize what a great job his son is doing.”

“Sometimes I wonder about that.”

“Ollie, damn it.”

“Okay, okay, false modesty. Actually, I like ONI.” He tried to stretch. “Except the hip is getting stiff. Could be the weather. Arthritis maybe. They may have to operate again. I'm seeing a specialist at the Orthopedic Hospital in downtown L.A.”

“Hey! Is it close to Wong Lee's?”

Toliver flushed.

Ingram grinned. “Ollie?”

“Yes, it's close.”

“Come on, Ollie.”

“Okay, okay. After Jerry's wedding I popped the question. And she said yes.”

“You're engaged?”

“That's what I just told you, knucklehead.”

“Hey. Congratulations.” After a hearty handshake Ingram asked, “Have you told your folks?”

“Can't do that. Dad is mad enough at me. And when they find out I've married a Chinese woman, Dad is going to go through the roof.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Well, the restaurant's doing fine and I have a good career ahead. So we'll be okay financially when he cuts me off.”

“You think he'd do that?”

“His lawyers have called me about the first phase—cutting off my allowance.”

Ingram felt a twinge of regret. Toliver's allowance had come in handy many times. While on liberty in San Francisco they had partied and acted like fools.
And Toliver had bought the Packard that Ingram drove to Ramona to meet Helen's parents.
The end of an era
.

Their eyes locked for a moment, then Toliver looked away.
Subject closed
. Toliver had taken himself out of inheriting his family's millions. Ingram decided not to pursue it. He couldn't. It wasn't his business.

A gunner's mate in dungarees shouted from the top of mount 52 that the crane's wire cable had been attached to its gun barrel. The gunner's mate held up a fist to signal the crane operator high above on the
Piedmont
. Then the gunner's mate slowly twirled his index finger. Slack came out of the cable. It drew taut. Suddenly, the barrel seemed to jump a couple of inches. It was free. The gunner's mate twirled faster and the 16-foot-long barrel rose in the air like a long, gray toothpick.

“There are some things we should talk about,” said Toliver.

“I figured. You've had that obsessed look on your face all morning. What's up?”

Toliver let it go. He was serious. “I saw our old friend Eduard Dezhnev at the Orthopedic Hospital.”

“What's he doing there?”

“Same thing as me. Getting patched up by orthopedic experts. Seems we have better doctors here than in Russia, especially when it comes to prosthetics. Remember how he used to limp?”

“He was limping on Karafuto, all right.”

“Sakhalin,” Toliver corrected.

Ingram pressed a fist to his forehead. “Excuse me. Rank reduction to ensign for pissing off the Communists.”

“Except Joe Stalin, not Uncle Sam, footed the bill. And they did a pretty good job. Did you see him dancing with his mother?”

“Yeah, between Ed and Toscanini, she had quite a workout. The son of a bitch even had the temerity to dance with Helen.”

“How'd it go?”

“We don't talk about it.”

They laughed.

Toliver's voice dropped a notch. “I saw you speaking with him. What was it about?”

Ingram watched the gunners for a moment. They had moved down to the main deck and were getting ready to pull the barrel from gun mount 51. Ingram knew Toliver. There was something in his tone. “You sound more than just a little interested.”

“Okay, here it is. First you should know that I'm posted out here, Eleventh Naval District, but I'm working for ONI.”

“Terrific.”

“Next, there's a great deal of interest in what the Russians are doing.”

“I hope so.”

“Seems they don't want to stop with the territory they've already gained. Their troops are still mobilized, and the world is their oyster. They want to keep going.” When Ingram didn't speak, Toliver continued. “Ugly things are going to happen in Europe with this East Germany, West Germany business. That's just for beginners. We've heard Stalin still wants Hokkaido and is looking for an excuse to get in. He wants to communize Japan and all of Asia. And it looks like he's moving ahead in China now with Mao Tse-Tung.”

“That's assuming his army can beat Chiang Kai-chek's.”

“Mao has the northern provinces whipped up. His forces were fighting Chiang's before they were fighting Japs. We armed both of them, and the fuse is burning.”

“I'm getting tired of all this.”

“That's what the Communists are betting on. That Americans will all go home, decommission their ships and planes and tanks, and get fat and complacent while Communists take over the world. And as I said, they're not standing down.”