D. M. Ulmer 01 - Silent Battleground by D. M. Ulmer Page B

years.”  Dave paused then asked, “You’re serious?  You want to fire up an old fogy like me?”
    “Look at it this way, Dave.  We didn’t pay you any attention when we owned your soul; so now we figure you owe us.  That’s one of the beauties of this country.  We’re the land of the second chance.”
    “Do I get a raise?”
    “You’ll be damn lucky to see another retirement check in the next ten years.”
    “In that case, I’ll take the job.”
    Dave Zane realized the powerful vote of confidence he had just gotten from a man he held in great esteem.  Old salts avoid maudlin so he said nothing.  Dave gleaned as many details as he could from his old friend and after an exchange of pleasantries they hung up.
    Eric drew a pair of black and bitters from the coffeepot behind his desk and summoned Dutch Meyer.
    Dutch came into the office, took the coffee and seated himself in response to Danis’s hand gesture.  “Afternoon, Commodore.”
    Eric said, “Afternoon, Dutch.  Thanks for coming by.  Got a couple of things on my mind and need your help.”
    The stoic Dutch replied, “That’s why they keep me on the payroll, Commodore.”
    “I’m worried about our aviators.  We gotta find them something to get their teeth into.  They’ve had their asses kicked and want to get even.  Failure of the carrier battle group strategy does not reflect on these kids.  From what I see, they’re damn good.  I get the feeling we give them nothing but make-work and I think they deserve better.  I want you to dissolve the hard-ass attitude by some of our submarine staffers.  You know who they are.”
    “No problem, sir.  You’re right.  It’s been bugging me too.  I can fix that.”
    “Work fast.  You onlygot a day to do it.  There’s something else I need you to do.”
    Dutch squirmed uneasily.  “Something else, Commodore?”
    “Yeah, Dutch.  How’s the old Chevy running?”
    The old Chevy … what the hell?  Danis wants to buy my car?  Dutch answered,   “Not all that bad, I guess.”
    “Good.  I want you to start driving north and gather up everything you can find to help set up a temporary submarine base.”
    Sitting back in his chair, Dutch thought, Whew!  Then he said,“A temporary submarine base, Commodore?  Where?  When?”
    “On the Washington coast as soon as Dave Zane gets off his sorry ass and finds us one.”
    “When did he get the assignment, sir?”
    “About fifteen minutes ago.”
    “I see what you mean, Commodore.  Those retired guys do take their own sweet time.  When do you want me to start?”
    Looking at his watch Danis replied, “Right now, Dutch.  We gotta get a base for our boats because they can’t stay out there forever.”  He passed the mustang a letter with a stack of duplicates.  “This authorizes you to requisition anything we need, including the means to get it up there.”
    Dutch asked,  “Where’s up there, Commodore?”
    “I don’t know, Dutch.  Here’s Zane’s phone number.  Call him once a day and keep the pressure on.  Dump whatever you find at the Coast Guard Station in Astoria, Oregon till Zane finds us a better place.”
    “This okay with the Coasties?”
    “It will be by the time you get going.”
    “With all due respect, Commodore, how am I supposed to do this?  Gather all the stuff, I mean.”
    “If I knew, I’d do it myself and wouldn’t need you.”
    He glared at his boss for a second then Dutch said, “Aye, aye, sir,” and turned to walk off, shaking his head in disbelief.
    As Dutch left, the commodore said, “And, Dutch, don’t forget to straighten out the staff problem before you go.”
    The two looked at each other and exchanged a grin.
    “I won’t forget, sir.”
     
    Vasiliy Baknov sat in the huge auditorium at the Vladivostok Naval Base among several hundred Soviet Pacific Submarine Flotilla officers. On a stage in the front, the briefer awed his audience with descriptions of overwhelming combat successes