Edge of Valor Read Free Page B

spread his hands. Enough . “Come on, Jerry!”
    Landa handed over the message.
    â€œI’ll be a monkey’s uncle!” He whipped off his helmet and waved it in the air. “Can’t be long now. With the Rooskies on our side, how can we lose?” An hour ago, a fleet broadcast had announced that the Soviet Union, a supposed neutral to the Japanese, had instead declared war on them and had begun pouring thousands of troops across the Mongolian border.
    Landa snorted.
    Tubby White was more vocal. “Sheyaaaat.”
    Ingram continued, “All in the spirit of comradely cooperation, I’m sure. After all, those fine Soviets have been defending our cause for years.”
    They stared at him.
    Ingram grinned and clapped his hands. “Speaking of the spirit of comradely cooperation, how ’bout it, Commodore? Would you like to tell the crew?”
    Landa unleashed his signature white-toothed smile and shook his head. “They’re your guys.”
    Ingram nodded. This was the skipper’s job. “Can’t argue with that.” He stepped inside the pilothouse and stood beside the 1MC—the ship’s public address system—mounted on the rear bulkhead. The eight sailors and two officers in the pilothouse had their ears cocked in his direction. At a glance Ingram could tell the word had already leaked up from radio central via the sound-powered phone connected to Radford, the lee helmsman, on the engine room annunciator. They already knew what the message said.
    No matter . Ingram nodded to Birmingham, the short, stout, heavily tattooed second-class boatswain’s mate of the watch. “Okay, Birmingham,” he said. “Allhands from the captain. Use that.” He pointed to the silver boatswain’s pipe dangling on Birmingham’s chest.
    â€œAye, aye, Captain.” Standing on tiptoes, Birmingham pulled down the microphone. Then he flipped all the compartment levers and energized the 1MC. Taking a deep breath, he blew on his pipe. Birmingham’s pipe echoed clearly and mournfully throughout the ship, giving one the feeling he had stepped back two hundred years in time. Still on tiptoes Birmingham barked, “Now hear this. Now hear this. Stand by for the captain.”
    Ingram stepped to the mike. “Good evening. I have in hand a fleet broadcast signed by Admiral Nimitz. A second atomic bomb was dropped today on the Japanese mainland. This one on Nagasaki in southern Kyushu.”
    There was a massive intake of breath in the pilothouse. All eyes were fixed on Ingram as he continued, “While it says nothing about an end to hostilities, it does caution us to maintain the utmost vigilance while negotiations are under way. The war is not over by any stretch of the imagination. And I can’t emphasize enough that we must remain vigilant. On the other hand, and I may be stepping out on a limb, I do like the use of the word ‘negotiations.’ That’s all I can say about this, so draw your own conclusions.” He checked the plan of the day posted nearby. “Okay, absent any visitors between now and sunset, the movie tonight is Guest in the House starring Ralph Bellamy and Anne Baxter. Showtime is twenty-thirty on the mess decks. That is all.” He flipped off the levers and walked out to the open bridge.
    As he stepped through the pilothouse door, he heard Birmingham mutter in his fog-cutter voice, “I don’t get it. What the hell’s an atomic bomb?”
    Landa and Tubby White were still on the port bridge wing pretending to snarl at each other. Landa said, “Short, to the point, but not exactly Knute Rockne.”
    â€œWell, you can’t expect—”
    â€œBridge, aye.” Anderson, Ingram’s talker, wearing sound-powered headphones, raised his head and said, “Combat has six bogies, inbound, bearing two-eight-six true. Range twenty-five miles.”
    The dreaded words mesmerized the three