The Apostates (52 page)

“Ensign, inform the admiral and our task
force that I have caught sight of Japanese spotter aircraft! They will have
surely reported our position to whatever Japanese fleets are in the area!”
Captain McCann ordered. He called General Quarters and the klaxon went off. The
bridge crew scrambled into action.

Deep in the bowels of the Iowa, at the
crew mess, Private Burke had managed to plow through half of his chop suey
meal. Private Jones had cleaned up his entire meal as usual, when the klaxon
went off throughout the ship. Burke had almost been thankful to be saved from
his dreaded meal. The entire mess burst with activity as the sailors scrambled
to action stations without cleaning up their trays. Burke and Jones also jumped
out of their seats, leaving the remains of the meal.

⍟ ⍟ ⍟

Nurse Greta Sanchez pulled the laundry cart filled with soiled sheets to the industrial lift. She pulled open the wrought-iron gate, then lifted the inner wooden door, and pushed the cart onto the lift. The clunky industrial lift dropped down two levels to the basement. She pulled the cart out of the lift toward the laundry facilities, through a dank, moist concrete corridor, which was stained with mildew. She approached the massive washing machine; the appliance resembled some futuristic, science-fiction equipment. She had been used to doing laundry by hand back home. This contraption looked monstrous to her, but she figured it out how to use it easily. She dumped the stained sheets into the washing chamber and added the specified amount of detergent for the wash cycle. With the load of laundry in the wash, she approached the dryer and removed the dry sheets, then she set herself to the task of folding all the clean laundry, followed by loading the clean bedding into the cart. She thought that her talents were being squandered here.

Greta pushed the loaded cart back to the to the lift, through the dingy corridor. The scraping sound of a swiveling wheel on the bottom of the cart getting stuck filled the cooridor. She took the lift back up to the trauma ward on the second level. Greta pushed the cart along the elongated room filled with rows of beds, supporting men, convalescing from their wounds. She visited each bed, and dropped clean bedding on each, for other nurses, which performed the changing of sheets. Greta worked her way down the row of beds, zoning out due to the monotony of the task. She reached the end of one row and wheeled the cart around to canvass the next. As she pulled the squeaky-wheeled cart further down the row, she heard a noise that was in stark contrast with the wheel squeak. It sounded like someone was mocking the uvular sounds of the German language and choking in concert.

The source was a patient whose entire head was wrapped in a bandage, and a portion of his lower jaw was missing. Greta looked the man over, his airway was restricted somehow, and he couldn’t breath. She tried to rouse the man, but he was unresponsive. Greta removed some of the bandages to look at the gaping wound where his jaw used to be. The man had swallowed his own tongue and it looked to be swollen. There was no time to try to extract the tongue or to administer antihistamine. She already knew that she would need to perform a tracheotomy, as to create an alternate airflow to the lungs. Greta called for a doctor, but there were none currently in the ward, and the other nurses who were present had all been new recruits: green as a frog’s ass.

Greta ran to the nurse’s station and found
a scalpel and a bottle Argyrol antibacterial topical solution, and a red wax
pencil. She then rushed back over to the dying patient.

“You! Nurse Jackie! Come over her and help
me! Please, grab these forceps here and stand by,” Greta ordered. Nurse Jackie’s hands trembled, and Greta noticed.

“S-Shouldn’t we get a doctor and call upon
Nurse Wainwright?” Nurse Jackie suggested.

“No! There’s no time. Help me.” Greta drew a line on the choking patient’s throat: a small line directly on the skin above the man’s trachea. She rubbed the antibacterial solution on the spot where she was about to make the incision. She handed nurse Jackie a sponge as well, to soak up the blood that would surely result from the incision. She nearly overlooked the idea of restraining the man’s arms, so quickly Greta and nurse Jackie tied the man’s arms to the metal bed with bed sheets. Once more she clutched the scalpel and directed the nurse Jackie to keep the forceps and the sponge at the ready. Greta took a deep breath and then sank the scalpel into the tissue in the center of the patient’s neck. She performed a clean cut directly into the trachea, and the incision started to gush blood. Nurse Jackie shoved the forceps into the incision to keep it open. Immediately the man began to breath through the new airway. Nurse Jackie sopped up the blood with the sponge. Greta directed another nurse to find Doctor Hornsby and Nurse Wainwright because Greta did not have access to the medical supplies needed to make the tracheotomy permanent. The nurse was off.

For the time being the patient had stabilized. Nurse Jackie found anesthesia and gave the man an injection in the immediate region around the incision. The two nurses had saved the patient’s life; they embraced to congratulate each other. Greta breathed a sigh of relief. It did not look comfortable to have a pair of forceps wedged into an incision in one’s neck in order to breath, but it was the best they could do until a physician with the proper equipment could arrive. Nurse Wainwright had just stepped off the lift and briskly waddled over to the scene. Her eyes were wide with disbelief when she saw that nurse Sanchez had deviated from her station and was involved in a medical procedure.

“What in God’s name is going on here? What
did you do to this poor man?” Nurse Wainwright asked hysterically.

“Ma’am! The patient was choking: his
airway was obstructed and so we performed a tracheotomy on the patient, saving
his life, ma’am!” Greta was to the point with her reply.

“You? Sanchez! You’re on laundry detail!
You’re not even a doctor! How dare you endanger a patient so! Why I—”
Wainwright was cut off.

“—shall congratulate her on quick thinking and job well done.” Doctor Hornsby was standing right behind Nurse Wainwright, and she was too hysterical to have heard his approach. Greta had noticed him standing there for several moments, but she said nothing.

“Doctor Hornsby! So glad to see you here.
Maybe you can undo the damage these two nurses did to this patient here?” Nurse
Wainwright was accusatory in tone. Several orderlies rushed over to the
patient, and they took the patient off to the
operating room.

“Mrs. Wainwright. As far as I can tell,
these two nurses saved the man’s life. A textbook tracheotomy was performed
here. You should congratulate these two. Tell me Nurse Sanchez, are you on
floor detail?” Doctor Hornsby asked her. Greta hesitated to answer because she
did not want to incur the wrath of the beast: Nurse Wainwright.

“I’m on laundry detail, sir,” she said
meekly. Nurse Wainwright’s eyes widened behind her magnification lenses, giving
her the appearance of an owl.

“Incredible. You save this man’s life. I
want you on floor detail; we need experienced nurses like you. I have to run,
I’ll finish the operation on the man. Great work!” Doctor Hornsby turned and
jogged off toward the O.R. Nurse Wainwright turned slowly to Greta, focusing
her a warped, owl-like eyes from behind thick lenses.

“Well, congratulations, Sanchez: you disobey orders and get rewarded for it. Enjoy your new detail.” Nurse Wainwright gave her another up-and-down look, then, waddled away. Greta sighed. She did not want to think of what would have happened had Doctor Hornsby not been present to witness the event. Nurse Wainwright could have fabricated any number of scenarios that would not have been good for Greta. Although, Greta knew that because of this incident, Nurse Wainwright will want revenge all the more. Greta was happy that she would receive a new detail, but then she realized that it was the middle of the night shift and she would not be transferred to her new detail until morning, so she would be stuck doing laundry for the rest of the night. She shuffled reluctantly back to the lift that would lower her to the depths of the laundry dungeon.

⍟ ⍟ ⍟

Captain Inoguchi had learned from an ensign keeping him updated on the Japanese air attack, consisting of around six hundred land-based aircraft from all around the Philippine Islands, that the attack had failed. In a series of dogfights, anti-aircraft fire, and American carrier fighters counterattacking the Japanese. Over two-thirds of the attack force had been lost. Inoguchi felt great anger when he heard this report. Why was it impossible for the High Command to listen to reason? He thought that the fleet would have stood a chance with both air and sea forces in a position of mutual support. But, now the Navy was left to fend for itself. Inoguchi stood with his hands over his face for a moment, trying to contain the urge to lash out. Inoguchi composed himself.

The Musashi and the Central force had another contingent of ships that contained Admiral Kurita’s flagship: the Atago. Admiral Kurita has assumed control of the Central Force, which was now steaming toward the Palawan Passage, in what was east of the Sibuyan Sea. The Palawan Passage was a narrow strait between two large islands, south of Luzon. The Central Force was sailing east to reach the San Bernardino Strait. The Atago was at the vanguard of the Central Force, and had been making good time, without enemy contact. It appeared that the Central Force was undetected and still had the element of surprise. Inoguchi was consoled by this fact. Since two other forces were also at play, the Northern and Southern forces, perhaps the Central Force would have a decent chance to defeat the landings at Leyte Gulf. It all hinged on whether the Americans would take the bait and go after the Northern Force, commanded by Admiral Ozawa.

Despite how Captain Inoguchi felt about the chances of the operation’s success, he still believed it was a complete waste of men and material. He could not understand why the High Command insisted on spreading the Japanese military thin, in a vain effort to hold onto remote islands in its crumbling empire. Inoguchi had thought the best course of action was to pull back and consolidate defenses around the Home Islands. Making the Americans pay a high price for the submission of the Homeland would surely bring the Americans to the bargaining table. However, his influence was not great enough to sway the High Command.

Inoguchi stepped out onto the observation deck conjoined to the bridge. He could feel the moisture from seawater that had been churned up by passing vessels lightly sprinkle his face. Inoguchi turned to look at the other proud vessels of the Central Force. So many tons of metal that would serve as coffins for their crews; Inoguchi couldn’t help his depressive thoughts. He had the sudden urge to tell his crew to turn the Musashi away from the fleet and sail it to the Americans under the flag of surrender. This course would save the thousand men that served aboard his floating fortress: the Musashi. However he tried, he couldn’t shirk the sense of how dishonorable this action would be judged. Inoguchi would not be known as “the captain who betrayed Japan”, so he would move ahead and send his men into harm’s way. He looked off into the distance ahead of the Musashi. He could barely make out the profile of the flagship, the Atago, and its escorts miles away. He could see that they were coming upon the Palawan Passage, as the fleet was hemmed-in on either side by two landmasses, and ahead lay an ever-narrowing channel of water. In the distance, he could see that the vanguard of the formation had already entered the narrows.

Captain Inoguchi lit a cigarette and began
puffing away. He felt a light drizzle fall upon him from thinly concentrated
storm clouds; he could see that dawn was breaking as the Central Force had been
steaming fourth under the cover of darkness. They had also maintained radio
silence when they had passed Palawan Island. Inoguchi had no idea about other
events that had happened elsewhere in the night. The wet morning air had cut
through a severe heat wave that seemed to have followed the fleet along their
journey, so it was a welcome respite. He pointed his face toward
the sky to let the light rain dash his face, when suddenly, miles away, he heard
explosions. The sound startled Inoguchi and he wiped the wetness from his face
to see what the source was. He saw columns of smoke rise to the sky; the
vanguard had been attacked. He heard the sound of cannonade from what he was
certain were Japanese guns. The Captain dashed his cigarette and rushed inside
the bridge.

“General Quarters! We’ve been attacked. I
authorize breaking radio silence. Find out what has happened! I want updates,”
Captain Inoguchi ordered. The communications officer nodded and off he went,
contacting various sources in an attempt to find out the facts of the
engagement at the vanguard.

“Full steam ahead! If the American fleet has attacked I want us on the front line firing back!” Inoguchi yelled out. The engines of the Musashi roared to life and the ship picked up speed, cutting through waves. The Captain could practically taste the blood of his first kill in his mouth. He was sick and tired of being at the receiving end of bad news, now he would draw blood and make his mark. The Musashi approached the first line of ships, Inoguchi caught sight of damaged, smoking vessels, and there was no sign of any fighting. Inoguchi did not understand how the attack was executed and the attackers slipped away so fast. Inoguchi ran out to the exterior observation deck to get a better look at the carnage. He made out the profile of the Atago, and discerned that it was hit and was listing to one side. The ship had been set ablaze and looked to be a lost cause.

Captain Inoguchi despaired. Their flagship was a burning heap. He was almost sure that Admiral Kurita and the crew had perished with the ship. The communications officer had been engaged in intense discourse with a variety of ships in the vanguard to discover what had transpired. Finally, he tore off a paper dispatch, and the communications officer rushed over to Inoguchi with a salute. Inoguchi snatched the paper print out from the communications officer’s hand.