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

Remain rigged for dive.”
As the crew acknowledged, Nick felt someone push his binoculars into his side. Keeping his eyes on the scope, he took them, quickly slipped their carrying loops over his head, then resumed scanning. The rain continued to lash at the periscope, making it difficult to discern shapes in the gloom. He was continuing his second sweep when a bright flash nearly blinded him.
“Goddammit,” he said, jerking back in shock. Blinking his eyes, he had a moment of horror as he realized the bright light may have been a searchlight scanning the boat. Just as he was about to order the boat back into the depths, two more bright flashes occurred just inside his field of view.
“Lightning,” he said aloud. “We just got near missed by freaking lightning.”
There was nervous laughter around the control room. Satisfied there was nothing within visual range, Nick brought his head back from the scope.
“Take her up,” he said, then turned to Emerson.
“Sir, do you wish to resume control of the boat?” Nick asked. Emerson smiled, and Nick belatedly realized the man was amused at him.
Well, you’re the one who usually has me remain on the periscope rather than go topside whenever we do this drill. Emerson seemed to consider his choice for a moment, then broadened his grin.
“I’ll take the scope,” Emerson said. “You’ve earned some fresh air.”
“Aye aye, sir,” Nick said. He climbed up to the conning tower’s hatch as Emerson took his place at the scope. The Plunger’s CO continued to scan the horizon as the conning tower broke the surface. Nick quickly pushed the hatch open, the rush of air like ambrosia even as he was thoroughly soaked. Pushing out onto Plunger’s bridge, he was swiftly joined by the lookouts and Ensign Griswold. After five tense minutes searching the horizon in the pouring rain and listening, Nick was finally confident that the intensifying storm meant all three of their assailants had moved off.
“Rig for surface,” Nick said into the Plunger’s voice control. “All ahead flank on diesel.”
As the Plunger finished blowing the last of the water from her ballast tanks, Nick was suddenly barely able to keep himself erect. Gripping the edge of the bridge, he took a couple of shuddering breaths as the strain of the last few hours lifted from him. The sound of the Plunger’s air conditioners and diesels starting up was a welcome one, and he took another grateful deep breath of sea air.
“Good job, XO,” Emerson said as he came up from below. “We’ll get off a report to SUBPAC in an hour or so when we’re totally sure we’re clear.”
“Yes, sir,” Nick said, his drawl pronounced.
“You go ahead and hit the rack,” Emerson stated. “I’ll have someone wake you in six hours, then we can trade places.”
“Aye aye, sir,” Nick said, then yawned. “Do you still want to take her back south towards Luzon?”
“No,” Emerson said. “I think heading the opposite direction of the destroyers might be a smarter plan.”
What have you done with my commander?
“The last orders we received before we started our attack were ordering us to head back to Midway immediately,” Emerson said lowly. “I was about to acknowledge before we attacked that ship. I’m going to see if there’s something else heading down towards the Philippines before I cut the patrol short.”
“Aye aye, sir,” Nick said with a nod. “No reason to go back with almost half our fish.”
“Exactly my line of thinking,” Emerson stated, grinning again. “I think this pairing is much better than the last one, Cobb.”
I don’t know if that’s a good thing or bad, Nick thought. But two patrols in and we haven’t managed to get ourselves killed yet. Counting the vessel that they had just dispatched, Plunger had managed to sink three confirmed vessels and damaged another two. Although Nick imagined their German opponents laughing politely behind their hands, that score made Plunger the second most successful submarine behind Brisbane-based Wahoo at the moment.
Speaking of crazy people, that ‘Mush’ Morton is a real wild man.
“Thank you, sir,” Nick returned. He gave a nod, then left the bridge. As he slid down the ladder to the control room, his mind turned to the “other Mortons,” i.e., his sister’s roommate, Josephine, and her father, Jacob. The duo were no relation to Mush, but the common last names had linked them in Nick’s mind since he’d first heard of the latter.
Small world, this war I wonder if Captain Morton has met Commander Morton in some capacity? News of her father’s promotion and the potential upgrade of his Navy Cross to a Medal of Honor had reached Josephine as Nick was headed to Midway aboard Plunger. She and Patricia had made it a point to keep writing letters to all of the Cobb brothers and Patricia’s fiancée, Ensign Charles Read.
Mail call will be nice. Nick yawned as he began taking off his wet clothes. He dried off as much as could be possible in the still humid submarine, then slipped into his bunk. I hope those knuckleheads are someplace safe.

God (and Lion) Save the Queen
Only we die in earnest, that’s no jest
Walter Raleigh
Baron Flight
0800 Local (2230 Eastern)
Ceylon
28 July (27 July)
There are moments in a man’s life when it is appropriate to question one’s own sanity, Squadron Leader Russell Wolford thought to himself as the Mosquito’s engines roared loudly in his ears. Tooling around with a cyclone in the offing is probably as good as indicator as any that I’ve lost every last one of my marbles.
Baron Squadron, as his unit of twelve Mosquitoes were known, had the unenviable mission of making sure a hostile Japanese force was not hoving over the horizon to catch Ceylon by surprise. To date it had been a fruitless mission, but the intelligence types kept swearing that the Japanese would be showing up any time now.
Unfortunately, they’ve been saying that since the start of the war, apparently. Which is likely why there’s a touch of ‘cry wolf’