Ghost Carrier: They Died to Fight Another Day (12 page)

Joe nodded grateful to Saint Damien and turned toward the portal.

The men of the
Liscome Bay
waded into the surf toward the dimensional opening. They all noticed immediately they were not getting wet. They could see their legs moving through the water, but they remained completely dry. Some men started laughing, some started smiling, all started running, including Joe. He looked back one last time and waved to Kekoa and Saint Damien as he disappeared in the portal.

Chapter 15

USS LISCOME BAY
–
RADAR ROOM 0408 HOURS 23 NOVEMBER 1943

Bobby Cannon jolted to consciousness, alive once again sitting in front of his PPI radarscope. He slowly opened his eyes. He brought his hands to his chest and felt his body. Then he reached up and placed a hand on his face above his right temple. He remembered the last image he saw was the Japanese officer firing point blank at him. But he felt no entry wounds.
He was alive!
He couldn’t believe it. He looked up at the clipboard hanging over the scope with notes from the night radar man. His eyes focused on the date. 23 November 1943. He cocked his left wrist and read his watch 0430 hours.
My God
he thought as he turned his attention to the scope. In the upper left quadrant blinked a faint single surface blip 4.344 nautical miles to the northwest moving at 10 knots. The craft was bearing 40 degrees southeast toward the battle group. Chills ran down his spine and as they did, the radar signature disappeared. “Sir! Sir!” Bobby yelled over to Lon Turner, the fire control officer. Bobby instantly recalled he did not remember Turner being on the Peninsula.
He survived the sinking!

Turner moved quickly over to Bobby’s station.

“Sir, I just registered a K6 type Japanese sub heading straight toward the task force at 10 knots.”

Turner strained to see it on radar. “Where?”

“It dove just as I registered the signature, but its last position was here,” he said, pointing on the scope.

“You’re certain?”

“Absolutely no doubt, sir,” Bobby was emphatic. “It’s heading right for us!”

Turner looked directly at PFC Cannon. “Well, if you’re wrong, sailor, there’s gonna be hell to pay.” Turner paused. “But if you’re right, you may have just saved hundreds of lives in this task force.”

Turner picked up the receiver in front of the radar station and yelled into it, “Get me Captain Wiltsie.”

Joe Rusk jolted to consciousness in his bunk to the General Quarters alarm.

“General Quarters. General Quarters. All personnel man your battle stations.” He heard the voice echo down the ships corridors.

Joe felt his body all over with his hands. He was alive. He was back! He immediately reached up to the shelf above his bunk. “Frankie’s picture!” he yelled as he held it in his hands.

Lonny and Sam were up and pulling on their shirts and shoes.

“Come on, Joe, we gotta move!” Lonny shouted.

Joe jumped out of bed and looked over at Sam.

Sam pointed to his watch with a nod.

Joe looked down at his. It read 0435 hours. Thirty minutes before the carrier was originally struck. Joe looked back up at Sam and nodded his head confirming he knew what Sam meant. They had time if only they could get topside. Joe paused then. An odd looked crossed his face. He looked back down at his watch. It was the Hamilton he had given Franny.

Lonny finishing tying his boot and stood up looking over at Joe in his white tee shirt. “Rusk, why the hell are you wearing two sets of dog tags?”

0445 Hours

On the perimeter circle of the task force, destroyers
Hoel
,
Hughes
,
Maury
, and
Franks
were executing defensive maneuvers rolling Mark 9 and Mark 14 depth charges filled with 200 pounds of TNT into the sea on the direct orders of Admiral Mullinnix. Adding to the urgency, Destroyer
Hull
had departed the task group at 0400 bound for Makin Island. This left an unprotected gap the perimeter ships were maneuvering to fill. Captain Wiltsie had been hesitant to rely on the observations of a junior radar officer. Mullinnix was not. He instantly over rode the Captain’s order to launch a single reconnaissance aircraft. Instead, the Admiral put all ships in the task force on General Quarters, engaged the destroyers, and launched all 13 Avengers and Wildcats on the flight deck already fueled and armed with torpedo bombs.

Joe lingered a moment ignoring Lonny’s comment about his two dog tags. It had only confirmed to him that everything he had endured was real. After Lonny had rushed out of the cabin to his battle station, Joe took Sam by the shoulder and they headed up the steel ladder to the flight deck. Sailors were rushing to their destinations with determined faces.

Joe’s group now numbering twenty strong was met by Petty Officer Ronald Dawkins as they emerged on the flight deck, “You men, get to your battle stations! Right now!” he shouted.

“What’s going on?” Joe shouted back.

“Jap sub was sighted four miles out.”

Joe and the men looked over to the flight deck as the last of the 13 torpedo bombers lifted off.

“Now you men get…”

The Petty Officer stopped mid sentence at the sound of a violent explosion. All the men turned to see a 200 foot water spout surface 6,000 yards away near the destroyer
Hoel.

The destroyer
Hoel
had scored a direct hit with its salvo of depth charges on Japanese submarine I-175. Japanese Commander Sumano Tabata and all 100 hands perished that instant in the blast, but not before they were able to launch a single fully armed but somewhat damaged Type 95 torpedo from a bow tube.

Ensign Tom Yuill surveyed the explosion through binoculars a short distance away at
Liscome’s
40mm gun. Peering out to sea, he spotted an erratic white bubbling wake in the inky black water. He shouted, “Torpedo! Here comes a torpedo!”

Joe and the men rushed to the starboard rail in the direction of the explosion and onrushing torpedo. The Type 95 was the fastest and the most explosively powerful torpedo launched by any Navy on earth. But this Type 95 was not traveling at its normal speed of 90/kph. It was traveling at half that speed and arcing on a path that appeared to be veering away from the carrier.

Joe and the men watched the white arcing wake coming toward them and held their collective breaths. At about 70 yards distant, the torpedo continued on its westerly arc, which sent it sailing past the carrier, narrowly missing the bow by just 15 yards.

The men surrounding Joe cheered, as did Petty Officer Dawkins. Others dropped to their knees and gave thanks. Joe simply closed his eyes in silent prayer and looked down and lifted up the second dog tag hanging from his neck.
THEODORE AIKINS, 337984 C, Type A, USN.

DAYTON, OHIO

Frank, in deep concentration in Maria’s wingback chair for the last two hours, had recounted new memories of his life with his father. His memories had been at times silly, other times deeply moving, but for Frank they now
were
reality. Frank felt an intense growing and palpable distance from his current life as if he were rushing on a bullet train still sitting in his chair. His short-term memory seemed completely gone all that remained were images of his family. The people he loved. He couldn’t remember what he did for work or even his address. And he didn’t even care as he held his eyes shut reliving his spiraling new memories in his mind.

“All right, we’ve come to your last significant memory. You are about to celebrate your seventieth birthday with your family, and your Dad is going to be there,” Maria said. Frank heard her voice, but she seemed to be speaking to him from thousands of miles away like she was calling to him from across an ocean. “Place yourself there,” Maria continued. “I want you to experience every sight, smell, and sound from that day. I want you to…” And then her voice in Frank’s head went silent as the room and the chair itself started to spin. He tried to open his eyes, but they would not budge. It was the same feeling he had during the visions of his father on the ship. Someone or something was keeping his eyes closed. Suddenly the swirling of the room stopped like he had entered the eye of a hurricane. He heard a loud crack, then a voice. It grew louder and more intense. The voice was speaking nonsense. Just banter and small talk. He felt like he was traveling at rocket speed toward it, still unable to open his eyes. For the first time in the whole process, Frank was terrified.

USS LISCOME BAY
0900 HOURS 23 NOVEMBER 1943

Joe returned to his cabin after securing his battle station. He felt exhausted by the rollercoaster of emotions and the day’s events. He felt his body slowing, not tiring, simply slowing. That’s the only way he could describe it. His movements seemed to take longer removing his shirt, then taking off his boots took forever. He felt new aches and pains in his lower back, which hadn’t been there before. His mind also seemed to be flashing images of memories he didn’t recognize… memories of his son. He felt queasy, as the room itself seemed to start spinning. He rushed into the head to splash cold water on his face to see if it would help. As he leaned over the small white porcelain sink and turned on the tap, the bathroom itself began to change. It was not spinning. It was changing! Joe quickly doused his face with water and finally looked in the mirror. To his shock, he had become an old man in his 80’s! He did not have on his white Navy tee shirt. He was wearing a red knit polo and a blue windbreaker. His hair was completely white, and his face sagged and was deeply lined. On the top of his head was a black baseball cap with gold stars and the words USS LISCOME BAY (CVE-56), WWII VETERAN.

BARBER SHOP, DAYTON OHIO

Frank jolted to consciousness in a brown barber chair and finally was able to open his eyes.

“Hey whoa, whoa there, Frank, don’t move so quick. Don’t want to cut an ear off with these scissors.”

“Stan?” Frank asked recognizing his cousin.

“What, did you forget my name after all these years?” he said as he chuckled. “You nodded off for a couple minutes, but I didn’t disturb you cause you were keeping still.”

Frank immediately jumped to his feet trying to get his bearings as Stan looked at him strangely.

“Stan, what day is this? What year is this?”

“Well, last time I checked it was 2013. As for the day, it’s your birthday.”

“My seventieth birthday?”

“Yep. Hey, Frank, you okay? You need a drink of water or something?”

Frank waved him off, “No, no. Maybe I’ll just use the restroom.” He needed a moment to splash water on his face and regroup.

“Sure, sure.” Stan said, “but your Dad’s still in there.”

“Wait a minute, Stan, did you say my Dad? He’s alive?”

Stan chuckled, “As far as I know, but he has been in the john a long while. Maybe we should check on him.” Stan yelled toward a small wooden door at the back of the barbershop. “Hey, J. R., everything coming out okay in there? Don’t be messing up my plumbing.”

Frank peered in the direction of the bathroom door.

Inside the bathroom, Joe Rusk stared at himself in the mirror and turned toward the voice.

“J. R.? Who me?” he responded.

“Unless you got someone else with you in there, J. R.” Stan looked at Frank and laughed. “Your son thinks you’ve been in there so long he’s afraid you passed away.”

Joe’s eyes widened.
Frankie?

Frank froze as inside the bathroom Joe twisted the door handle.

Frank trembled as he watched the door open slowly and an elderly man appear.

Tears instantly rolled down both cheeks as he called out, “Pop! Oh my God! Pop!”

“Frankie?” Joe asked as he shuffled out, tears springing to his eyes..

Stan stood watching the two, completely bewildered, but making a joke to cover the moment. “Jeeze, you’d think you guys had never seen each other before.”

Joe looked at the barber and smiled as Frank rushed to embrace him, and Joe commented, “How right you are.”

Frank wrapped his arms tight around his father as Joe reached up a wrinkled hand and caressed his son’s face.

“Boy, I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you too. I love you, Dad.”

“You were my reason to keep fighting, Frankie. To keep living. You mean more to me, son, than you can ever know.”

Stan stood barber scissors in hand staring at the two. He did not understand what was happening, but he brought a hand up to his eye and brushed away an unexpected tear and wiped his nose and said, “Hey, why don’t you two guys get outta here. You don’t want to miss your own birthday party, Frank.”

Frank turned back to Stan, then looked back at his father.

“I guess we should we go meet the family.” Joe said.

“Yeah, Pop. Let’s go do that.”

Frank put an arm around his Dad and led him out of the shop to the car. He never wanted to let go.

DAYTON, OHIO

On the ride home, Frank and Joe both felt there was so much to say but nowhere to begin, so they rode in silence for a short while. Then Frank finally turned to his Dad.