Against the Tide Imperial: The Struggle for Ceylon (The Usurper's War: An Alternative World War II B

see any of your squadron until Sunday morning.”
“That is correct,” Adam replied. “By authorization of Rear Admiral Dalton.”
“Understood,” Lieutenant Palmer replied. “Captain Damon also wanted me to pass along that the carrier will be leaving at 1000 on the dot Monday morning. Please have your men sober, aboard, and prepared for that departure, sir.”
Adam smiled at that last bit.
“Tell the good captain we are indeed aware of our duty requirements,” he said without rancor. “If anyone fails to make movement, I understand there’s a procedure involving the keel for that.”
“Aye aye, sir,” Palmer replied. He came to the position of attention and snapped off another salute. Adam returned it, then turned to look at Sam.
“You heard the man,” Adam said as Palmer walked off. “See you Friday night, go ahead and start your pass.”
“I was planning on helping you provide the safety briefing to the squadron,” Sam protested.
“I think I can cover ‘don’t beat your spouse, don’t get publicly intoxicated, please don’t kick the Army’s ass even if they deserve it, and don’t make any babies unless you intended to’,” Adam observed. “Anything else I don’t cover isn’t probably going to be important anyway.
Sam shook his head.
“With that, sir, I’ll see you on Friday afternoon,” Sam said. “I’m going down to Olympia to check on someone.”
That certainly sounded somber. Also not my business, as he’s grown.
“You can bring that someone over to my house Friday afternoon if they can get away,” Adam said. “Going to have a picnic, according to Norah.”
Sam smiled at the mention of Adam’s girlfriend.
“I’ll see, sir,” Sam said.
Six hours later, Sam found himself wondering if this was the best idea he’d ever had as he walked through the early summer evening to a small, nondescript ranch house on Olympia’s outskirts. A single beat up Packard was in the drive, and the house’s well kept garden was seemingly indicative of a meticulous home owner or owners. A child’s bicycle lay carelessly on the walkway, causing Sam to stop and do a double take.
Do I have the right address? Did she mo…
“I’m sorry, sir, let me get that out of your way!” a harried voice said from the next yard over. Sam turned to see a small, diminutive Asian woman come running over from her front porch, quickly wiping her hands on the apron wrapped around her blue dress. “Harry has been told many times not to leave his bicycle in Mrs. Bowden’s yard!”
“Oh it’s alright,” Sam said, holding up his hands. “I don’t want a young man to catch a tanning on my behalf.”
“No, it most certainly is not,” the woman replied. Sam realized she had a hint of an English accent. “I have warned him several times that our neighbor does not need to come stumbling out of her house in the middle of the…”
The front door opening stopped Sam and the woman both in their tracks. Beverly Bowden stood on the front porch in a terry cloth robe, her mouth wide open as she took in Sam standing there in his Marine khakis.
“I know this is a total surprise, but if a woman writes you a couple times a week, the least you can do is make sure she’s doing okay,” Sam said by way of greeting. Beverly quickly closed her mouth, then turned to her neighbor.
“Myla, please don’t hold it against Harry that he left his bicycle there,” she said breathlessly. “I distracted him by offering him some cookies, then he tore off after Leto.”
Myla looked at Beverly, then Sam, then back at Beverly. The woman’s face started to soften in concern.
“Oh no, Mrs. Bowden,” Myla said, clasping her hands together. Beverly, initially not following, realized what Myla believed was occurring. The American quickly reached out and grabbed her neighbor’s hands.
“No, that’s not why he’s here,” Beverly said, then paused. “I…I’ve already had that visit.”
Myla looked confused, then quickly caught on.
“Oh no…I…I just assumed that when you said your husband was a Marine that he was overseas,” Myla said, clearly embarrassed. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Beverly said gently. “I don’t…I’m still getting used to it myself, so I don’t correct people that I mean he passed. I didn’t want to burden you with my troubles given Ian is still out there.”
Who is Ian?
“I’m sorry, I’m being rude,” Beverly said, as if awakening from a dream. “This is…”
She paused to look at Sam’s rank.
“…Captain Samuel Cobb. He was in my husband’s squadron.”
Myla turned to look at Sam, her smile cautious.
“Greetings Ma’am,” Sam said, nodding and bowing slightly.
“As you can hear, Sam is not from around here,” Beverly said with a slight smile. “Neither is Myla, as you can also tell. Myla’s husband, Ian Ferguson, is a member of Her Majesty’s diplomatic corps.”
“Pleased to meet you, Samuel,” Myla said, extending her hand. Sam took it gently, then was surprised at Myla’s firm grip.
“If you give me a moment to get decent, I’ll have you inside for some coffee,” Beverly said. “I was just getting ready to walk down to the store to grab some fish.”
“I can walk with you,” Sam said. “I think I know exactly what store you’re talking about. I walked by it on the way in.”
“You walked?!” Beverly asked, then caught herself with a laugh. “Of course you mean from the train station. Sorry. I just woke up. Be right back.”
Sam watched as Beverly disappeared back in her house. Turning to Myla, he smiled sheepishly.
“She wasn’t expecting me,” Sam said by way of explanation.
Myla chuckled at that.
“Clearly,” she replied, giving Sam an inquisitive look. “I did not know that there were Marines in Olympia.”
“I’m down from up north,” Sam said smoothly. “She told me that she’d arrived in Olympia about a month ago; I figured I’d come pay my respects.”
Myla nodded at his vagueness, even as her inquiring look deepened.
“I understand the need for security,” she said. “Ian has always been secretive as well. He could be in Tibet, he could be in India.”
“India?” Sam asked, surprised. He pondered asking the follow-on question