1942

“But no one’s allowed up there, sir,” one young ensign said and stood before him, blocking the path.

Jake grunted something vulgar and pushed past the man. He had gone only a couple of hundred yards when he came to a decrepit shack. Thinking that the situation was totally incongruous, he knocked on the door. After a moment, it opened and a disheveled and exhausted looking man Jake guessed to be in his mid-forties stood before him.

“I told you people to stay away,” the man said and stopped as he realized this was somebody new. “Who are you?”

“Raven,” Jake said.

“Nevermore,” the man said after a moment’s hesitation. “Next time we get more original call signs.” He smiled and held out his hand. “I’m Commander Joe Rochefort, and you must be the cavalry.”

Jake introduced himself and was pleasantly surprised that Rochefort’s grip was firm and strong. Maybe he always looked like a frazzled college professor? At least his target now had a name. His orders had denied him even that basic piece of information, and he wondered why.

“We’re the infantry, Commander, not the cavalry. We had to walk here, and you’ll have to walk out.”

“Name’s Joe, Jake. I’m not big on rank. Besides, I think we’re equal.”

Jake grinned. “And we’re on land and not a ship. Since I’m in charge of getting you out of here, I’m supposed to command this part of the enterprise.”

Rochefort shrugged. “Makes sense. Do me a favor, though, don’t come up here unless it’s a real emergency.”

“Fine.”

There was no opportunity for further talk as Jake found that Rochefort’s sailors hadn’t eaten much in several days. Hawaii may have been paradise in some people’s eyes, but food did not grow on trees. It had to be searched for and found.

The hungry sailors ate army rations with a gusto that amused some of the soldiers, who didn’t think that anyone, even a sailor, would be dumb enough to like them. Jake made a mental note that their rations were limited and the addition of eight healthy appetites would reduce their limited inventory in a big hurry.

Also, the eight men had only two pistols among them. Jake’s twelve had ten brand-new M1 Garands with a number of clips of ammunition each, along with two Thompson submachine guns. Jake had a. 45 automatic pistol. When he’d mentioned to Hawkins that it would be good for close-in combat, the sergeant had spat on the ground and said he had no intentions of fighting anyone close in.

“I’m glad you came,” Rochefort said after the men were fed. “After the surrender, I was afraid we’d been forgotten.”

Jake blinked. He’d stayed off his radio since landing for security purposes. “Then it’s official.”

“Over and done. Short surrendered everyone on every island, and that includes us. I can’t, of course, but what about you?”

Jake wondered about the “of course,” but didn’t ask. “I never planned on it, so this is a godsend in a way.” Then he told Rochefort of his orders that the commander was never to fall into Japanese hands.

“No surprise,” Rochefort said solemnly. “Do you wonder why?”

“Of course, but I’m under orders not to ask.”

“Then let me clarify something for you. Back on Oahu, I ran a radio listening post. We would sit back and wait for the Japs to talk. With a big enough antenna, we could listen to what they were talking about in Tokyo. Most of the time, they didn’t bother to use code for the mundane and routine reports and such, and this gave us excellent insights into the Jap mind.

“When they did use code, we were stumped, but we could still extrapolate much of their intentions from the number and frequency of their messages. We could also determine that, when senders and receivers moved, the Jap fleet was at sea and where it was headed. I’ve established a crude listening post at the top of that hill, which is why I keep it secured. The receiver’s in that abominable shack, and the antenna is strung up to a tree. Other than letting the navy know we’re here, we’ve only listened and not sent. The Japs, by the way, have announced that anyone with shortwave radio equipment will be shot.”

Jake nodded politely. The story was interesting but intriguingly incomplete. What Rochefort did for the navy was great, but hardly worth killing him for. Listening to unencoded messages was something that anyone could do, and guessing movements from unreadable coded data was also not that special. Commander Joe Rochefort wasn’t telling the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

CHAPTER 11

Admiral Raymond Spruance glanced up at the interruption and smiled tolerantly. “Gentlemen, now that we are all here, we can begin.”

Lieutenant Jamie Priest winced and took a seat at the end of the long table. Even though Spruance seemed to be a pretty easygoing and regular guy, it did not behoove junior officers to piss off admirals by being late for meetings, no matter what the reason.