The Final Storm - Jeff Shaara [43]
“Sir. Was the meal acceptable?”
“You know it was. Sit down. Bourbon?”
“Perhaps later, sir. We’re monitoring communications from Okinawa, and I’ve been told to expect a report from Admiral King’s office.”
Nimitz kept the frown to himself, thought, King is the crankiest son of a bitch I’ve ever met. Thank God he’s eight thousand miles away. If he decided to leave Washington and put his office out here, I’d probably end up saying something really stupid, cost me my career. How can one man make so many people so damn miserable? At least he didn’t feel obliged to join me on Iwo Jima. That was rough enough.
He poured a shallow pool of bourbon into his glass, moved one hand in time to the music, a reflex he didn’t notice. He saw a slight wince on Lamar’s face, knew the music was loud, louder to the young man with the sharper hearing.
“All right, turn it down. Just a little. Don’t screw around with Mozart.”
Lamar complied with a grateful nod, leaned over toward the record player, adjusted the volume. Nimitz held the glass in his hand, said, “Iwo Jima surprised us all, Arthur. But we’ll save some lives now. LeMay’s already putting some of his B-29s down there. I saw one busted to hell, tail nearly shot off. Amazing the thing could still fly. Oh hell, you were there. You saw the thing.”
“Aye, sir. Terrible sight. Very happy the crew survived that one.”
Nimitz sipped at the bourbon.
“Hell of a place though. Not a tree standing, nothing but rocks and smoke. Not sure when the casualty counts will be complete, not for the public anyway. Hard to convince some mother in Iowa that having her son blown to hell will save lives. Doubt it matters much.” He looked to one side, the letter still on the table. He stared at it, the words dug into his mind.
You killed my son … and every year on this day … I will write you to remind you what you did …
“Very sorry, sir. I’ll remove that.”
“Leave it be, Arthur. I’ll never fault a mother for blaming me, or anyone else in this place for what we’re doing. You can’t expect a civilian … a mother for God’s sake, you can’t expect them to understand that death can be positive. Don’t ever say that to a newspaperman. He’ll twist it around, make it sound like I’m the grim reaper, that I love killing people. Nobody loves killing, Arthur, nobody. Not LeMay, not MacArthur, not Howlin’ Mad Smith. It’s the job. And in case anyone forgets, we didn’t start this thing.”
“Aye, sir. I know, sir.”
Nimitz downed the rest of the bourbon, looked at the young man, saw calm and confidence, something he rarely saw from his most senior commanders. Comes with the territory, he thought. Whoever said that thing about the squeaky wheel never met these characters I have to handle out here. There’s not enough grease in the world to keep these people from shooting off their mouths. Or starting feuds with one another. Good thing Halsey and LeMay are in two different branches of the service. They’d probably end up fighting a duel. Nimitz glanced around behind his chair, said, “Where’s Mak?”
“Must be in the mess, sir. The staff keeps feeding him table scraps.”
Nimitz laughed.
“Trying to fatten him up so they can outrun him. Won’t work. If he can’t chase you down, he’ll ambush you. Never saw a dog who so enjoyed biting people in the ass. Reminds me of Halsey.”
Lamar stifled a smile, said nothing.
“Sorry, Arthur. I’m just jabbering. That trip to Iwo Jima set me off a little. I knew it was bad, but I wasn’t sure it would be … well, what it was. We won the damn place, gave LeMay his airstrip. But I sure as hell wouldn’t want to spend any time there.”
“Did you see the sulfur springs, sir?”
“The what?”
“On Iwo, sir. The place is still pretty active as a volcanic island. There are hot springs scattered about in the old lava beds. Some of the Marines were taking advantage. I saw lines of men waiting at one of those places, a steaming pool. Seemed to be a pleasant surprise … after what they went through.”
“Sulfur hot springs? Like some damn health spa? Well, I guess