The Kingfisher Strikes....P&S at sea
- Thread starter USN vet
- Start date
The Brits have arrived
For a number of reasons never been a huge fan of the cousins across the waters military however it does seem your naval types are decent chaps. Can I ask that you do continue with is stream as it it is:
Well written
Well informed
Believable
And is turning out to be a watering hole for the less 'gung ho' Cold War real world participants
Thank you
Her Majesty's Navy
For a number of reasons never been a huge fan of the cousins across the waters military however it does seem your naval types are decent chaps. Can I ask that you do continue with is stream as it it is:
Well written
Well informed
Believable
And is turning out to be a watering hole for the less 'gung ho' Cold War real world participants
Thank you
Her Majesty's Navy
Decisions
USS JOHN YOUNG, 26 FEBRUARY 1984, 1130 LOCAL
The prisoners from K-506 had been transferred three days earlier to USS Sacramento. Fuel, food, and supplies were not a problem, for now. Hamilton realized, that would change in a couple of weeks as stores onboard Sacramento ran low.
USS John Young had rendezvoused with Sacramento and Callaghan on the morning of the 22’nd. Yesterday, the three ships had been joined by USS Badger, a Knox class frigate. The four ships were now together, and had to decide on their next course of action. As such, Hamilton was about to hop a ride to the Sacramento aboard Seahawk 04, where the ship’s Commanding Officers would meet, share information, and try to figure out what to do next.
Hamilton spent the flight in silence, pondering what was left out there, and what course of action should be taken next. A big question was the mental state of his crew. The previous night, a young sailor had jumped over the side, and not been noticed missing until this morning. Hamilton had since given the order than no one was to be alone while topside.
The helicopter landed aboard Sacramento, and Hamilton was escorted to the wardroom where the other captains were already waiting. He was greeted by Sacramento’s CO, Captain Jerry Hansen. “Jeff, good to see you again. It’s been a little while. I just wish it was under different circumstances.”
“Thank you, sir, so do I. And it’s good to see you as well.” Hansen was the SOPA, or Senior Officer Present Afloat of the four ship group. The four captains sat around the wardroom table and got down to business.
“Welcome aboard Sacramento, gentlemen. As I’ve said, I wish circumstances were different, but we have to play the hand we’re dealt. So far, we’ve had no radio contact with any other USN ships or shore stations. Have any of you had any luck yet this morning?”
The only one to speak was Commander Larry McConnell of the Callaghan. “Sir, we made contact with a couple of civilian ships. One said he was an hour out of Long Beach when everything went to hell. From his description, I think we can safely assume that the Los Angeles-Long Beach area got plastered.”
“We also had a short, intermittent contact with another, a car carrier that was a day out of Seattle when the exchange happened. It was a very weak contact, and we lost him pretty quick, but he said something about a carrier group somewhere up north. Couldn’t get any more info than that from him though. With that small bit I don’t know that I’d call it very reliable”
“Maybe,” Hansen replied, “but right now we don’t have much of anything else to go on. I do want to find out what happened to San Diego, but with all of our crew’s mental state, I don’t want any of the ships within visual range of land right now. Jeff, how’s that new helo you have working out?”
“Just fine, Captain. As you know, we nailed two subs with it, and it can stay up a lot longer than the old Seasprites could.”
“Good to hear. I’m going to go ahead and task you with the San Diego recon.” Hansen next spoke to Commander William Jordan, of the Badger. “Bill, I need you to head a few hundred miles north, find out what you can about this phantom carrier group. Make sure you don’t get in a bind with fuel and report back if you find out anything. Gentlemen, I don’t have to remind any of you. We’re in a worse situation than any of us could have imagined just a couple of months ago. We’re all going to need to work together to get through this. I just hope that carrier group is real. If any of you need anything, let me know and I’ll see what we can do. Good luck.” With that the meeting broke up. Each captain headed to the flight deck to head back to their ships.
USS JOHN YOUNG, 26 FEBRUARY 1984, 1130 LOCAL
The prisoners from K-506 had been transferred three days earlier to USS Sacramento. Fuel, food, and supplies were not a problem, for now. Hamilton realized, that would change in a couple of weeks as stores onboard Sacramento ran low.
USS John Young had rendezvoused with Sacramento and Callaghan on the morning of the 22’nd. Yesterday, the three ships had been joined by USS Badger, a Knox class frigate. The four ships were now together, and had to decide on their next course of action. As such, Hamilton was about to hop a ride to the Sacramento aboard Seahawk 04, where the ship’s Commanding Officers would meet, share information, and try to figure out what to do next.
Hamilton spent the flight in silence, pondering what was left out there, and what course of action should be taken next. A big question was the mental state of his crew. The previous night, a young sailor had jumped over the side, and not been noticed missing until this morning. Hamilton had since given the order than no one was to be alone while topside.
The helicopter landed aboard Sacramento, and Hamilton was escorted to the wardroom where the other captains were already waiting. He was greeted by Sacramento’s CO, Captain Jerry Hansen. “Jeff, good to see you again. It’s been a little while. I just wish it was under different circumstances.”
“Thank you, sir, so do I. And it’s good to see you as well.” Hansen was the SOPA, or Senior Officer Present Afloat of the four ship group. The four captains sat around the wardroom table and got down to business.
“Welcome aboard Sacramento, gentlemen. As I’ve said, I wish circumstances were different, but we have to play the hand we’re dealt. So far, we’ve had no radio contact with any other USN ships or shore stations. Have any of you had any luck yet this morning?”
The only one to speak was Commander Larry McConnell of the Callaghan. “Sir, we made contact with a couple of civilian ships. One said he was an hour out of Long Beach when everything went to hell. From his description, I think we can safely assume that the Los Angeles-Long Beach area got plastered.”
“We also had a short, intermittent contact with another, a car carrier that was a day out of Seattle when the exchange happened. It was a very weak contact, and we lost him pretty quick, but he said something about a carrier group somewhere up north. Couldn’t get any more info than that from him though. With that small bit I don’t know that I’d call it very reliable”
“Maybe,” Hansen replied, “but right now we don’t have much of anything else to go on. I do want to find out what happened to San Diego, but with all of our crew’s mental state, I don’t want any of the ships within visual range of land right now. Jeff, how’s that new helo you have working out?”
“Just fine, Captain. As you know, we nailed two subs with it, and it can stay up a lot longer than the old Seasprites could.”
“Good to hear. I’m going to go ahead and task you with the San Diego recon.” Hansen next spoke to Commander William Jordan, of the Badger. “Bill, I need you to head a few hundred miles north, find out what you can about this phantom carrier group. Make sure you don’t get in a bind with fuel and report back if you find out anything. Gentlemen, I don’t have to remind any of you. We’re in a worse situation than any of us could have imagined just a couple of months ago. We’re all going to need to work together to get through this. I just hope that carrier group is real. If any of you need anything, let me know and I’ll see what we can do. Good luck.” With that the meeting broke up. Each captain headed to the flight deck to head back to their ships.
We're coming toward the end of the story. I think the next update after this one will be the Epilogue.
28 FEBRUARY, 1984 1300 LOCAL. 30 MILES OFF SAN DIEGO, CALIFORNIA
“Helo’s away, Captain. I’d say I’m anxious to hear what they find, but I probably don’t want to know” Lt. Walter James advised Hamilton. Seahawk 04 had just launched for a recon of the city and of the bases in the area.
ABOARD SEAHAWK 04
The helicopter flew slowly toward the coast, all doors and outside ventilation closed. The crew were in full MOPP gear to further protect them from any contamination. In addition, several Geiger counters and survey meters had been mounted.
As the helicopter flew over the entrance to San Diego Harbor, Jameson spoke up quietly. “So far it’s holding pretty steady around 100 rads per hour. We don’t want to stay real long.”
Morrison replied, “Got it. Doug, get the camera rolling. Looks like North Island and Point Loma both took ground bursts.” There were huge craters at the former sites of North Island Naval Air Station and the Point Loma submarine base. Jameson shifted the camera around to get a view of downtown San Diego. Or rather the burning rubble where downtown once stood. Nothing recognizable was still standing.
Seahawk 04 continued south toward 32nd Street Naval Station, which was home of many of the Pacific Fleet’s surface warships. As they approached, it appeared nothing was left here at all. A blast, or blasts had left nothing here. Not even rubble.
Turning inland, the level of devastation went down as the helicopter got further from the water, but was still almost complete. Here and there, a building would remain standing, but completely burned out. There were no signs of life anywhere around the city.
“Big John, Seahawk 04. We’ve got plenty of pictures. Looks like there’s pretty much nothing left. Doug says we can stay for about 30 more minutes before we have to clear out. It’s pretty hot in here.”
“Seahawk 04 go ahead and RTB. You’ve got enough.”
The flight back to the ship was made in silence. Morrison, McFarland, and Jameson each had their own thoughts and had nothing to say.
On landing, a decontamination team was waiting. Before the crew could open the doors, the helicopter was scrubbed down with bleach and hot water. After radiation levels were checked and deemed safe, the crew exited. They had a Geiger counter run over them, and were pronounced clean.
Hamilton was waiting for Morrison. “Captain, there’s nothing left. You can develop the pictures we took, but it won’t show you anything of value.”
“Thank you, David. I know that was a tough mission to fly, but we had to do it. On another note, we did get some good news.”
“Oh?”
“We got a message from Badger” Remember those rumors about a surviving carrier battle group?” Morrison nodded. “Well, we’ve made contact. It’s the Nimitz, and as soon as we meet up with Sacramento and Callaghan this evening, we’re headed north to join up with them!”
28 FEBRUARY, 1984 1300 LOCAL. 30 MILES OFF SAN DIEGO, CALIFORNIA
“Helo’s away, Captain. I’d say I’m anxious to hear what they find, but I probably don’t want to know” Lt. Walter James advised Hamilton. Seahawk 04 had just launched for a recon of the city and of the bases in the area.
ABOARD SEAHAWK 04
The helicopter flew slowly toward the coast, all doors and outside ventilation closed. The crew were in full MOPP gear to further protect them from any contamination. In addition, several Geiger counters and survey meters had been mounted.
As the helicopter flew over the entrance to San Diego Harbor, Jameson spoke up quietly. “So far it’s holding pretty steady around 100 rads per hour. We don’t want to stay real long.”
Morrison replied, “Got it. Doug, get the camera rolling. Looks like North Island and Point Loma both took ground bursts.” There were huge craters at the former sites of North Island Naval Air Station and the Point Loma submarine base. Jameson shifted the camera around to get a view of downtown San Diego. Or rather the burning rubble where downtown once stood. Nothing recognizable was still standing.
Seahawk 04 continued south toward 32nd Street Naval Station, which was home of many of the Pacific Fleet’s surface warships. As they approached, it appeared nothing was left here at all. A blast, or blasts had left nothing here. Not even rubble.
Turning inland, the level of devastation went down as the helicopter got further from the water, but was still almost complete. Here and there, a building would remain standing, but completely burned out. There were no signs of life anywhere around the city.
“Big John, Seahawk 04. We’ve got plenty of pictures. Looks like there’s pretty much nothing left. Doug says we can stay for about 30 more minutes before we have to clear out. It’s pretty hot in here.”
“Seahawk 04 go ahead and RTB. You’ve got enough.”
The flight back to the ship was made in silence. Morrison, McFarland, and Jameson each had their own thoughts and had nothing to say.
On landing, a decontamination team was waiting. Before the crew could open the doors, the helicopter was scrubbed down with bleach and hot water. After radiation levels were checked and deemed safe, the crew exited. They had a Geiger counter run over them, and were pronounced clean.
Hamilton was waiting for Morrison. “Captain, there’s nothing left. You can develop the pictures we took, but it won’t show you anything of value.”
“Thank you, David. I know that was a tough mission to fly, but we had to do it. On another note, we did get some good news.”
“Oh?”
“We got a message from Badger” Remember those rumors about a surviving carrier battle group?” Morrison nodded. “Well, we’ve made contact. It’s the Nimitz, and as soon as we meet up with Sacramento and Callaghan this evening, we’re headed north to join up with them!”
Epilogue
Epilogue
Before this final update, I'd like to thank all who have enjoyed the story. I'd especially like to thank those who pointed out any mistakes I made along the way. Enjoy!
1 AUGUST, 2014. PASCAGOULA, MISSISSIPPI
The flags were all flying, the honor guard was in place, and the band was tuning their instruments. Vice Admiral Jeffery Hamilton, United States Navy (Retired) looked up at the bridge of his old command. USS John Young (DD-973) had decommissioned the week before, and was being dedicated as a museum ship. The location chosen was Pascagoula, Mississippi, where she had been built 38 years before. As he looked on, Hamilton remembered the months and years following the nuclear exchange of 1984. The sinking of the Soviet subs, the join up with the Nimitz battle group, the trip to Australia, the shore bombardment against the insurgents in California, and some of the crew leaving to help and fight on the ground in Illinois and Nebraska. It seemed like only yesterday, not thirty years earlier.
A voice jolted Hamilton from his thoughts. “It is good to see you again after such a long time, Jeffery Robertevich. Alas, we are both now old men like we once discussed.”
“Anton! The last I saw you was up in Washington state, when you were being transferred ashore. How have you been?”
“As well as I can for an old man. I must say my grandchildren keep me occupied.” Gallikov had remained in the United States along with most of the survivors from K-506. They had joined communities throughout the nation and most, like Gallikov, had married and started families. “And you, Jeffery. Your family is here today?”
“I never married. I was too busy in the years following the war, trying to rebuild the Navy. I suppose though, if you think about it, that is my family. So yes, they are here.”
“A pity” Gallikov replied. “I wonder if your Chief Kaminsky is here anywhere? I rather enjoyed our conversations after you rescued my crew.”
Hamilton looked to the ground. “He was killed a few months after the exchange. He was one of the volunteers who went to Illinois to fight against a group led by a would be dictator. I hear he went down fighting and gave as good as he got, though.”
“I am sad to hear that. At least his death was not in vain, when so many were.”
“Amen to that. Well, I better head up to the stage. This shindig will be starting soon. I’ll talk with you more after the ceremony.”
“I look forward to that, Jeffery Robertevich” and the two men parted, with Hamilton making his way to the stage.
The dedication ceremony began. After the national anthem, a flyover by a flight of F-18's and a prayer, came the speeches. First was the governor of Mississippi, then Commander Troy Patterson, last commanding officer of USS John Young. Finally, it was Hamilton’s turn to speak.
“Distinguished guests, Governor Bryant, Commander Patterson, ladies and gentlemen, it is my honor and privilege to be speaking to you here today, to dedicate my old love, USS John Young, as a living memorial, so that future generations may never forget. Let me first say, Troy, you’ve done a fine job. She looks as beautiful as she ever has.” Hamilton paused for applause, then continued. “Thirty years ago, what had once been considered unthinkable occurred. Deterrence broke down. The very weapons whose existence was supposed to prevent war, were used in anger. Everybody here today, even those who were not yet born, were affected by that in one way or another. But after the missiles flew, our work was just beginning. America, indeed, the entire world, had suffered catastrophically. Many just succumbed to despair, and died even though they had no physical wounds. But many others didn’t. In small corners of our great nation, and in other nations throughout the world, men and women came together, decided they were going to survive, no matter what, and set about to the task of living. They buried the dead, and began to rebuild. True, there are many scars today, on our land and our people. But we have persevered. And we will continue to persevere. Our Navy, which was down to just a few ships and a few thousand sailors in 1984, has rebuilt. Though it is smaller than it was before the Third World War, it is even more capable. As we have all learned to do amazing things with less, but that will not continue. Less will be a thing of the past. Let this ship forever be a reminder. Let us remember those who died, but let us also remember, and celebrate, those who lived. Those who did not give up. Those who dedicated themselves to the rebirth of our nation. Without them, we would not have recovered to where we are today. In closing, I ask you all to search inside yourselves, and continue to do what you’ve done. Thank you.”
After the applause and closing remarks, the ceremony ended with a ribbon being cut to open the ship for tours. Hamilton was walking into CIC when he was greeted by a Master Chief Petty Officer with the gear insignia of an Engineman. Hamilton looked for a moment, then said “Master Chief, you sure look familiar. Have we served somewhere before?”
“Yes sir we have, on this very ship. I went to Mast right before we left San Diego that last time before the war. I’d gotten drunk and busted up a bar in town, and I begged you to kick me out of the Navy,” answered ENCM(SW) Larry Rivers. “You told me no because you saw potential in me, and busted me down to Fireman Recruit. Probably saved my life, otherwise I’d have been vaporized sitting in TPU in San Diego when it was hit.”
Hamilton smiled, and shook Rivers’ hand warmly. “Well, it looks like I was right. You sure had a lot of potential! It’s good to see you under better circumstances, Master Chief.”
“Good to see you too sir. Between you, and then having Chief Kaminsky on my ass it helped me grow up. I’m just glad I had you two to show me the way. I miss that old crazy bastard though.”
“He was a good man. You all were.” The two old shipmates then continued the tour of their old home.
1. ENCM(SW)- Master Chief Engineman (Surface Warfare)
2. TPU- Transient Personnel Unit
Epilogue
Before this final update, I'd like to thank all who have enjoyed the story. I'd especially like to thank those who pointed out any mistakes I made along the way. Enjoy!
1 AUGUST, 2014. PASCAGOULA, MISSISSIPPI
The flags were all flying, the honor guard was in place, and the band was tuning their instruments. Vice Admiral Jeffery Hamilton, United States Navy (Retired) looked up at the bridge of his old command. USS John Young (DD-973) had decommissioned the week before, and was being dedicated as a museum ship. The location chosen was Pascagoula, Mississippi, where she had been built 38 years before. As he looked on, Hamilton remembered the months and years following the nuclear exchange of 1984. The sinking of the Soviet subs, the join up with the Nimitz battle group, the trip to Australia, the shore bombardment against the insurgents in California, and some of the crew leaving to help and fight on the ground in Illinois and Nebraska. It seemed like only yesterday, not thirty years earlier.
A voice jolted Hamilton from his thoughts. “It is good to see you again after such a long time, Jeffery Robertevich. Alas, we are both now old men like we once discussed.”
“Anton! The last I saw you was up in Washington state, when you were being transferred ashore. How have you been?”
“As well as I can for an old man. I must say my grandchildren keep me occupied.” Gallikov had remained in the United States along with most of the survivors from K-506. They had joined communities throughout the nation and most, like Gallikov, had married and started families. “And you, Jeffery. Your family is here today?”
“I never married. I was too busy in the years following the war, trying to rebuild the Navy. I suppose though, if you think about it, that is my family. So yes, they are here.”
“A pity” Gallikov replied. “I wonder if your Chief Kaminsky is here anywhere? I rather enjoyed our conversations after you rescued my crew.”
Hamilton looked to the ground. “He was killed a few months after the exchange. He was one of the volunteers who went to Illinois to fight against a group led by a would be dictator. I hear he went down fighting and gave as good as he got, though.”
“I am sad to hear that. At least his death was not in vain, when so many were.”
“Amen to that. Well, I better head up to the stage. This shindig will be starting soon. I’ll talk with you more after the ceremony.”
“I look forward to that, Jeffery Robertevich” and the two men parted, with Hamilton making his way to the stage.
The dedication ceremony began. After the national anthem, a flyover by a flight of F-18's and a prayer, came the speeches. First was the governor of Mississippi, then Commander Troy Patterson, last commanding officer of USS John Young. Finally, it was Hamilton’s turn to speak.
“Distinguished guests, Governor Bryant, Commander Patterson, ladies and gentlemen, it is my honor and privilege to be speaking to you here today, to dedicate my old love, USS John Young, as a living memorial, so that future generations may never forget. Let me first say, Troy, you’ve done a fine job. She looks as beautiful as she ever has.” Hamilton paused for applause, then continued. “Thirty years ago, what had once been considered unthinkable occurred. Deterrence broke down. The very weapons whose existence was supposed to prevent war, were used in anger. Everybody here today, even those who were not yet born, were affected by that in one way or another. But after the missiles flew, our work was just beginning. America, indeed, the entire world, had suffered catastrophically. Many just succumbed to despair, and died even though they had no physical wounds. But many others didn’t. In small corners of our great nation, and in other nations throughout the world, men and women came together, decided they were going to survive, no matter what, and set about to the task of living. They buried the dead, and began to rebuild. True, there are many scars today, on our land and our people. But we have persevered. And we will continue to persevere. Our Navy, which was down to just a few ships and a few thousand sailors in 1984, has rebuilt. Though it is smaller than it was before the Third World War, it is even more capable. As we have all learned to do amazing things with less, but that will not continue. Less will be a thing of the past. Let this ship forever be a reminder. Let us remember those who died, but let us also remember, and celebrate, those who lived. Those who did not give up. Those who dedicated themselves to the rebirth of our nation. Without them, we would not have recovered to where we are today. In closing, I ask you all to search inside yourselves, and continue to do what you’ve done. Thank you.”
After the applause and closing remarks, the ceremony ended with a ribbon being cut to open the ship for tours. Hamilton was walking into CIC when he was greeted by a Master Chief Petty Officer with the gear insignia of an Engineman. Hamilton looked for a moment, then said “Master Chief, you sure look familiar. Have we served somewhere before?”
“Yes sir we have, on this very ship. I went to Mast right before we left San Diego that last time before the war. I’d gotten drunk and busted up a bar in town, and I begged you to kick me out of the Navy,” answered ENCM(SW) Larry Rivers. “You told me no because you saw potential in me, and busted me down to Fireman Recruit. Probably saved my life, otherwise I’d have been vaporized sitting in TPU in San Diego when it was hit.”
Hamilton smiled, and shook Rivers’ hand warmly. “Well, it looks like I was right. You sure had a lot of potential! It’s good to see you under better circumstances, Master Chief.”
“Good to see you too sir. Between you, and then having Chief Kaminsky on my ass it helped me grow up. I’m just glad I had you two to show me the way. I miss that old crazy bastard though.”
“He was a good man. You all were.” The two old shipmates then continued the tour of their old home.
1. ENCM(SW)- Master Chief Engineman (Surface Warfare)
2. TPU- Transient Personnel Unit
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