A story of being called to perform the ultimate mission when time is running out.
Bombs away
Ox sat on the ground with his back leaned against a scrawny Hawaiian palm tree that offered little shade from the hot August sun. He held two pair, aces and eights, which made him a little nervous. It was an unlucky hand, a dead man's hand, but he didn't care. Although he was normally a superstitious man who’d walk a mile to avoid passing under a ladder, he was going to bet everything he had on the hand Wild Bill held when he’d been shot in the back of the head. Dead man’s hand or not, this was a day when taking risks had to be the right thing to do. And he’d faced death so many times anyway that it had become a way of life. He couldn’t even remember how many times he’d felt that shiver running up his spine as he carried out his duty on islands around the Pacific. Death was always in the air when you were UDT.
But this day might bring an end to all that. His ticket home was hanging in the air with the tickets of all the men around him, every one of them so ready to be back to an ordinary life at home. He and every man playing cards with him were passing time with bated breath, waiting for what they all hoped would happen that day. They were listening to the sounds of the radio being broadcast from the speaker attached to the front of the barracks near where they sat. Everyone had been glued to the radio for the last few days, since the Enola Gay had dropped Little Boy on Hiroshima. When Fat Man had been dropped on Nagasaki a couple of days later, they’d all hunkered down, sure the end was near. They were desperate to hear the news first hand, knowing that they’d all be shipping out for the invasion of Japan if something didn’t happen soon.
Their hope that the war would soon be over was uppermost in everyone’s mind, chasing out any thoughts of anything else. Going home … making it back to the Forty Eight. That was all anybody could think about. Thoughts of sweetheart’s kisses and mother’s Sunday dinners drifted in the air as they worked hard to make the time pass. Each second became an enemy that stood between them and those things they missed so much.
They listened over and over to the stories spreading like wildfire around the base that the bombs that had been dropped on Hiroshima and then Nagasaki were like nothing any of them had seen before. They heard the fire power of just two bombs had wiped out whole cities and flattened that part of the Japanese Empire. Each telling of the facts brought heightened hope that it would be over, hope that they would not have to invade yet another Pacific island, this one the most heavily armed of any they had seen. And with hope, the news brought joy.
After all, these men were sitting at the Pearl. They were all always supremely aware of the ships lying at the bottom of the harbor. They would always remember the men who died on those ships. None of them would ever forget that fateful day, December 7, l941, when most of them were still at home, far from harm's way. The majority of the men there had still been high school students. Even so, it was a day that would live forever in their memories, as it would in the minds of every person who ever served in the U.S. Navy.
Ox glanced down at the pot and saw the pile of coins and bills that he was pretty sure would be his when he played his hand. He pulled out everything he had left in his pockets and threw it into the sandy pile on the ground in front of him. Ted Politz sat across from him and Ox knew his friend had a good hand too. He could see it on his face.
Ted grinned and carefully placed a couple of bills in the pile. He said, “Call.”
Ted looked so confident that Ox almost regretted putting everything he had in the pot. Payday was a few days away. If the war ended, he’d be left without funds. He was sure they’d all hit the town for the party of their lives. He grinned back at Ted and said with supreme confidence, “I’ll buy you a drink tonight when I win this pot.”
Ted laughed. “Same to you, buddy.”
Ox lay down his hand and waited, a little nervous that Ted would win and he’d be penniless once again. But he knew when Ted saw his hand. The thrill of victory left his eyes and was replaced with the agony of losing the big one.
Ted threw down his hand. He had two pair, kings and queens. “Damn it, Ox. You’ve got all the luck today.”
Ox grinned broadly as he raked in his dough, thinking of what he could do with the cash he’d won when he went to town that night. He dismissed the superstitious concerns that had leapt into his mind when he’d drawn a dead man's hand. He was so close to going home.
As soon as he pocketed the money he’d won, he looked up and saw his lieutenant walking toward him. His mind went back to the dead man’s hand when he saw a worried look on his lieutenant’s face. It bespoke of things Ox didn’t want to know. His stomach began filling with acid as he wondered just what the lieutenant wanted.
He got up quickly and walked over to where Lieutenant Michael Davis stood. His departure from the card circle was followed by the bellows of all the men whose money he’d just taken.
The laughter and jabs that he was leaving too soon to let them take their money back were quieted quickly when the other men noticed the lieutenant. They all shared the same thoughts Ox was having, dire thoughts about what his immediate future might bring. The lieutenant’s presence was not a good sign. He wouldn’t be there at that time and place unless he and Ox were being shipped out for a mission.
All of the men in the card circle wondered where the hell their friend was going to have to go. All of them wondered why he was going out on a mission when it seemed like things might be over in just a few days. Each of them wished Ox hadn't gotten the call, but thanked God that it hadn't been them. When time was short, life became more precious. The thought of living through the miserable war seemed possible and they allowed their minds to focus on what was out there waiting at home. The events of the last few days had given them all a touch of short timer’s syndrome. The lieutenant’s presence brought them back to the reality that the war wasn’t over. Any one of them could still be called back into the battle zone.
Ox and Lieutenant Davis walked away so no one else could hear.
The lieutenant said, "Ox, I hate to tell you this. I know you had liberty tonight, but it's cancelled."
Ox nodded tersely and said, "What's up, Lieutenant?"
The lieutenant shook his head and said, "I'll have to fill you in later. It's pretty hush-hush."
Ox said, "Come on, Lieutenant. I deserve to know. I mean where could it be? I thought we had the Japs reeling with those bombs they dropped."
Ox knew he could ask his lieutenant anything even though the two were from different worlds. Ox was a Southerner from a poor family whose only college time was the result of a football scholarship. Lieutenant Davis was the son of a wealthy California banker. He’d enjoyed every advantage in life, including an Ivy League education. But the two had worked as a team for the last couple of years. They were the top bomb disposal experts on the Underwater Demolition Team. Many considered them the top team in the United States Navy. They’d shipped out together to carry out dangerous missions many times, and had to count on each other in a way few human beings could understand. The level of honesty and trust between them was like that of the closest of friends even though they were separated by rank and the traditions and barriers that stood between officers and enlisted men.
The lieutenant sighed and said, "All right. I'll tell you what I know … which isn't very much. It's actually about those … bombs."
Ox shook his head as if he didn't understand. He said, "What do you mean?"
The lieutenant looked around to make sure no one was near. He said in a low voice, "There were three dropped and one didn’t explode."
Ox felt a growing dread with each word the lieutenant spoke. "But, couldn't we … shouldn't we … wait and see if it goes off and takes out some more Japs?"
The lieutenant lowered his voice even more and said, "Ox, we could still have to … invade Japan. I mean, it's not over yet. Maybe it will be before we get there, but we’ve got to go. You know we can’t leave it there if our troops are going to be landing on the island … or for the enemy to find and use against us."
"So let me get this straight. You and I are going to swim into Japan before the troops and defuse a bomb I've … hell, neither one of us … has ever worked on before, a bomb that flattened miles … that did the same thing that hundreds of fire bombs would do."
"That's about it. I guess we should take it as a compliment. They’re sending the best the Navy has to send."
Ox shook his head in disgust and said, "Goddamn dead man's hand. I should’ve known something was wrong when I won that hand."
The lieutenant wrinkled his brow and said, "What?"
"It's nothing, Lieutenant. You’re right, they’re sending in the best. We frogmen save everybody’s bacon.”
Ox and Lieutenant Davis had made similar forays into enemy territory many times … to defuse mines or set them for detonation before the troops arrived. They were known as frogmen or naked warriors because they swam in under the cover of night and took action to try to make the troop landing safer.
“Damn right.”
“So how are we supposed to know how to defuse the damn thing?"
“Training … they’re going to train us on the way. They’ve got some guy they shipped out from Arizona who’ll be flying with us … he knows how to do it.”
“Goddamn Navy.”
“Amen to that, Ox.”
“Lieutenant, do me a favor.”
“Anything, Ox.”
“Take some of the good stuff from the officer’s club. I think we’re going to need a drink when we get back from this one.”
The lieutenant grinned and said, "Roger that."
"When do we leave, sir?"
"We take off in an hour."
Ox nodded and turned back to the game. He could get ready and be there in half an hour. He thought he might as well feed some of his winnings back to the losers who were really winners and didn't know it. Besides the cash in his pocket seemed to burn like poison and remind him that he’d drawn the dead man's hand just as he was about to take off for the heart of enemy territory. Sometimes superstitions were more than that.
Ox got to the airport a few minutes before the lieutenant and sat glumly on his pack waiting, his mind so embroiled with the thought of defusing an atomic bomb that he didn't even hear the words he’d been waiting to hear being spoken on the radio. His mind was thousands of miles away on the porch of his wife’s family home, holding her hand and drinking sweet tea. He thought about hits he’d made on the football field, fish he’d caught in a clear spring that was so pretty it took your breath away, and the first time he took his beautiful wife to bed. He held onto everything in life that was most dear to him to keep at bay the shadow of the atomic bomb he was about to meet up close and personal. It just didn’t seem fair that he’d pull that duty on the last day of the war, but he knew there was nothing fair about war. All anyone could do was hold onto the moment and plod through time to get to the other side of the fighting. He sighed and pulled out of his reverie, knowing that this would be it. If he could just get to the other side of the next couple of days, he’d be going home. Besides, the missions weren’t the hardest part for him. He could take whatever anybody shoved his way. It was the waiting that was hardest for him.
He glanced up curiously when he heard the shouts of the men on the airstrip. It was the happiest sound he’d heard in a long time. It could only mean one thing.
The lieutenant rushed up and clapped him on the back. The lieutenant said joyfully, “Did you hear that, Ox?”
Ox shook his head, but a smile spread across his face. He had a pretty good idea of what was the only thing that would cause such a reaction from every man in sight.
“Hirohito surrendered! It’s over! The war is over!” Lieutenant Davis leaned closer and lowered his voice. “We don’t have to invade.”
For one second, Ox felt a rush of joy pulse through his body. The face of his wife, Annalea, flashed once more into his mind. He thought of her standing at the front door of her grandmother’s home wearing his favorite black dress. He thought of fishing at his favorite fishing hole, pulling bass after bass from the water and tipping back a beer. He thought of dancing with Annalea. He thought of Annalea waiting for him, listening to the same news on the radio on the sofa at her grandparents' home where she was living while he was away at war. He thought of her grandmother's cooking and his mother's biscuits and gravy. He thought of Annalea and yearned to hold her in his arms. He stood lost in the flood of pictures that shifted in front of his eyes.
Then he remembered. The bomb would still be there even if the war was over. Sure, things would be less dangerous as far as getting to the bomb, but he would still have to take apart the most deadly weapon the world had ever known. It could still take him out if he made a mistake. He felt the joy drain from his body as he realized that the dead man’s hand was just not going to let him go. He was headed for danger even if the rest of his buddies would be partying all night as they shared the end of their days together.
He stood and lifted his bag. He said, "Well, I guess we'd better get on board." He looked around at the crazy antics of the men around him and added, "I wish we could stay here tonight."
The lieutenant grabbed his arm and said, “Ox, I just found out … we don’t have to go.”
“But who’s going to disarm it?”
“No one,” the lieutenant said, his voice dripping with disgust. He shook his head and continued, “The whole thing was a stupid practical joke on us. I hate to say it … but there are some who don’t like the fact we got the rep as best.”
Ox balled up his fists and said, “Somebody needs to pay for that.”
The lieutenant said, “Ox …”
Ox laughed and said, “It’s okay, Lieutenant Davis. I mean … this is not a day I want to spend in the brig. I just want to drink about an ocean of whiskey with my buddies.”
The lieutenant looked relieved as he reached into a bag he was carrying. He pulled out a bottle of Old Grand Dad and tossed it to Ox. He said, "This was the best I could do."
Ox caught the whiskey bottle and saluted the lieutenant. He said, "Thanks, sir … thanks for everything."
The lieutenant saluted back and said, "Right back at you, sailor."
This story is dedicated to my father who was UDT in the Pacific in WWII. He didn’t speak about the horrible things he and other men faced out on the front of that war zone. He only told the stories that were funny. This story is based on one he told me. He remained close to the officer who was a part of his two man team throughout his life. He said after the atomic bombs were dropped, this exact thing happened to him and his partner/commanding officer. They were ready to go disengage an unexploded atomic bomb when they learned someone had played the ultimate practical joke.
True stories are the best. Your father would be mightily proud of the way you cranked this story up a notch by adding the suspense of the dead man's hand to the true tale of your father told you.
My friend Jack Swanson only told one story about his service on an intelligence submarine. I related it here as well.
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Bombs away
