Caine Mutiny, The - Herman Wouk [160]
The Stanfield was whirling in a tight circle through a rain of splashes, and, even as it turned, it blasted an earsplitting salvo from its five-inch guns. Willie saw the Caine’s gun crews jump to their places. The line of three-inch guns swung parallel, pointing more and more astern each second as the ship turned.
“Rudder amidships! Steady as you go!” Willie heard Queeg say. The minesweeper was now headed directly away from the shore battery, leaping through the water at twenty knots. Willie ran into the pilothouse.
“Captain, main battery manned and on target!” Queeg seemed not to hear. He stood at an open window, with a squinting smile on his face. “Captain, request permission to come broadside and fire at the shore battery! We’re on the target, sir!” The guns of the Stanfield roared two more salvos astern. Queeg paid no attention. He did not turn his head or his eyes. “Sir,” said Willie desperately, “I request permission to open fire with number-four gun! A clear shot over the stern, sir!”
Queeg said nothing. The officer of the deck ran out on the wing and saw the destroyer, a dwindling shape, fire its guns again. A thick ball of dust enveloped the place on the cliff where the battery had been. Flames darted out of the dust as the salvo struck. Again the Stanfield was straddled. It fired four rapid salvos. There were no answering shots; at least there seemed to be no more splashes rising near the destroyer. Already the Caine was too far away for Willie to be certain.
He whispered the story to Maryk after dinner. The exec grunted, and made no comment. But late that night he wrote in his log:
19 June. Saipan. I did not see this at first hand. It was reported to me by an OOD. He states that this vessel was investigating the scene of an air crash with a destroyer. The destroyer, 1000 yards on our beam, was taken under fire by a shore battery. Captain reversed course and left scene without firing a shot, though battery was well within our range and our guns were manned and ready.
The Saipan campaign was not yet over when the Caine was detached from the attack force and ordered to escort a damaged battleship to Majuro. That was the end of the minesweeper’s part in the Marianas battle. It missed the Turkey Shoot and the invasion of Guam; while these brilliant events were going forward the Caine sank back into escort duty. From Majuro it accompanied a carrier to Kwajalein, a dull, domesticated Kwajalein all knobby with Quonset huts. Blighted yellowish greenery was appearing again around the edges of the sandy air strips, and there was a continuous crawling on the beach of bulldozers and jeeps. Willie thought it curious that, with the coming of the Americans, the once-charming tropic islands had taken on the look of vacant lots in Los Angeles.
The old minesweeper went on with the carrier to Eniwetok, and was sent back to Kwajalein with some LST’s, and then to Eniwetok again with a tanker. The year rounded into August and the Caine still plied among the atolls of the Central Pacific, trapped once more in tedious shuttling, this time in the grip of Com Fifth Fleet.
The ship’s life remained a static vexatious weariness. There were no grand incidents for a while, and Maryk’s log writing dwindled. Everything was known. All personalities had been explored, and even Queeg, it seemed, had at last run through his surprises. What happened today had happened yesterday, and would happen tomorrow: heat, zigzagging, little nervous spats, paper work, watches, mechanical breakdowns, and steady scratchy nagging by the captain.
The taste of this wretched time was preserved for Willie in the score of Oklahoma! Jorgensen had picked up the album at Majuro. He played it day and night in the wardroom; and when he was not playing it the boys in the radio shack borrowed it and piped it through the loudspeakers. For the rest of his life, Willie would be unable to hear “Don’t-throw Bo-kays at me,” without being overwhelmed by a flashing impression of heat, boredom,