Caine Mutiny, The - Herman Wouk [167]
“Well, Roland really took over. There was a gasoline generator for stand-by communications power on the hangar deck port side. First thing, he cut that in and started directing the fire fighting over the loudspeakers. He got ’em to flood the magazines and turn on all the sprinklers and carbon-tet systems and all that, then the steering engine room got through to him on sound power phones and told him they weren’t getting any steering orders, so Roland started conning the ship, too, over the loudspeaker, running out on the catwalk to see what was doing up ahead.
“Well, some big goddamn flaming wreckage came tumbling down from the flight deck all over him out on the catwalk-I don’t know what it was, nobody does. He was pinned under it. They dragged him free and dumped the junk off the catwalk, and he was in bad shape. But he kept on with the fire fighting and conning. A couple of sailors holding him up and greasing him and bandaging him and giving him morphine-
“Well, about that time the air officer, Lieutenant Commander Volk, he came crawling out of the mess on the bridge, and he was pretty stunned but still in better shape than Roland, and he was senior surviving officer, so he took over the conn, and Roland passed out and they took him down to sick bay. But by that time he had all the guys back to doing everything they always did at drills, and of course that’s what counts. So as I say, Commander Volk wrote him up for a Navy Cross, and of course he’ll get it-”
“Did you see him after that?” Keefer said. His eyes were reddened.
“Sure. I was down in sick bay for hours with him. See, I was taking over his department, and he was telling me what to do, talking through a hole in the bandage all over his face. He was weak but still on the ball. Made me read the damage-report despatch to him and told me how to correct it. Doctor said he had a fifty-fifty chance of pulling through. About half his body was third-degree burns. But then he got pneumonia on top of it, and that did it. ... He told me to come to see you in case-” Whitely paused, picked up his cap, and fumbled with it. “He was asleep when he died. He went off easy, as far as that goes, with the dope, and all-”
“Well, thanks, I appreciate your coming.” The novelist stood.
“I-I’ve got his gear in the boat-there isn’t a hell of a lot-” Whitely rose, too. “If you want to look it over-”
“I think,” Keefer said, “you’d better send it all on intact to his mother. She’s listed as next of kin, isn’t she?”
Whitely nodded. The novelist put out his hand, and the young officer from the Montauk shook it. He ran a forefinger over his mustache. “I’m sorry, Mr. Keefer, he was a damn good guy-”
“Thank you, Mr. Whitely. Let me see you to the gangway.” Willie sat, elbows on the green baize, staring at the bulkhead, reliving the fire on the Montauk. Keefer returned to the wardroom in a few minutes. “Tom,” said Willie, getting up when the door opened, “I know how tough this must be-”
The novelist grinned with one side of his mouth, and said, “Rollo did pretty well, didn’t he, though?”
“Damn well-”
“Give me a cigarette. Makes you wonder. Maybe a military-school upbringing has its points, Willie. Could you have done what he did, do you think?”
“No. I’d have been one of the first guys over the side when the plane hit. Roland was wonderful at midshipmen school, too-just took to it-”
Keefer dragged noisily at the cigarette. “I don’t know what I’d have done. It’s decided below the threshold of intelligence, that’s for sure. It’s instinct. Rollo had good instincts. You never really know till you’re tested- Well.” He turned and started to walk to his room. “Kind of wish I’d gotten to see him last week-”
Willie reached out a hand and touched his arm. “I’m sorry, Tom. For Roland, and for you, too.”
The novelist paused. He put a palm over both his eyes and rubbed hard, saying, “We were never really very close, you know. We lived in different cities. But I liked him. We had a chance to get better acquainted at college-I’m afraid