My Troubles With Time by Benson Grayson

success with the ladies that I was dubbed the “Iron Duke” by my envious classmates at the Naval Academy.
    Once on the open ocean, the island of Oahu fading into the distance, I dismiss the crew from battle stations. The signal room informs me that they can hear on Honolulu’s commercial radio stations news reports about the attack on Pearl Harbor. I order that the radio broadcasts be piped through the ship’s loudspeaker system so that the crew can hear the latest news.
    Many of the sailors have friends or family living ashore near the naval base. It hurts me to see their concern.
    Much as I would like to console them, there is no time. I am the only officer on board and must take care of the navigation myself. Hearing the radio reports of the massive damage inflicted on the military installations at Pearl Harbor reminds me that I ought to inform the Pacific Fleet Headquarters of my intentions.
    I order the signal room to send word that I have taken the
Arizona
to sea to evade the Japanese attack. Unless instructed to return to Pearl Harbor, I add, I intend to seek out and attack the Japanese task force that launched the attack.
    A surge of pride overcomes me as I identify myself as “Ensign Maynard Snodgrass, duty officer and acting captain.”
    It occurs to me that I might be hasty. Is the
Arizona
capable of undertaking the hazardous mission I have chosen for us? I summon the senior rating in each department to join me on the bridge. They come, seasoned petty officers, many of them more twice my age. Because of I reported on board late last night, none of them have seen me before.
    Introducing myself, I ask them to report on the ready status of their departments. Their answers please me. We have the necessary minimum of crew on board, as well as adequate stores of fuel, ammunition and food.
    “Good, gentlemen,” I tell them. “We will seek out and attack the Japanese carrier task force that launched the strike against Pearl Harbor.” They look dubious but do not question my decision.
    Because I am the only officer on board, I must handle the navigation, too. I plot a course, which I believe will take us to the location of the Japanese fleet. I am exhausted, but I cannot leave the bridge. I order a cot made ready and try to rest.
    As night falls, a lookout reports ships on the far horizon. We have located the Japanese! Fortunately, they have not seen the
Arizona!
I decide to hang back and attack the task force at dawn, coming from the east out of the rising sun. Watch succeeds watch as I alternately walk the bridge and rest on the cot.
    What is this? Someone is shaking me. It is a senior petty officer.
    I am instantly awake and leap from the cot. “Is something is wrong?” I ask.
    “No sir,” he says, handing me a cup of hot coffee. “Sunrise is 30 minutes away. We decided to let you sleep a bit. I hope you don’t mind. You seemed exhausted.”
    I am touched by his solicitude, I nod and drink the coffee. It is strong and refreshes me. “Thanks,” I say. “I really needed that. Now, order the crew to battle stations, if you please!”
    Even though I now expect the sound of the klaxon horn, I involuntarily jump when the piercing alarm begins. Quickly the crew members race to their battle stations. The interval between the
Arizona
and the Japanese fleet closes as we race forward at full throttle.
    Fortunately, I do not have to handle the gun control personally; the senior rating in that department has told me that he is capable of doing so. I have instructed him to direct all fire from the
Arizona’s
three turrets against the first Japanese carrier in line until I order otherwise. We near the carrier. Our main armament, the three gun turrets, each with four 14-inch guns, are trained on the target.
    As acting captain, I should say something inspirational to the crew. “Men,” I say, the ship’s loudspeaker system blearing my words, “In a moment we will inflict retribution on the Japanese vessels that so