Tempered Steel

Chapter 2

The meeting was fruitless. For about an hour the Joint Chiefs bickered and argued back and forth. The President realized it was politics as usual. They were looking for scapegoats and excuses. He was looking for answers.

“Since we don’t have communications I have no way of knowing what fleet units are unaffected, sir,” said the Chief of Naval Operations. You could tell by the look on his face he was scared to death the Navy’s losses would be attributed to him.

The President sighed. “So it’s the same for all of our armed forces.” It was a desperate statement more than a question. The six uniformed men sat across from the President looking defeated. Their silence and long faces reflected a defeated attitude. It was obvious they had no idea how to change the situation. The Chairman spoke up.

“If we had communications, things would be different. But right now I can’t even call across town. If your Secret Service guys hadn’t come to pick me up, I would probably still be home asleep,” he said, tightly gripping the pen in his hand.

“Okay,” the President said. “No matter what, it appears we are at war with someone. Now the question is what can we do about it?”

The Chairman spoke up. “If it’s like you said, sir, we will need to start building new equipment to replace what has been lost. It probably means new ships, aircraft and tanks. As far as the Army’s concerned, all the battlefield equipment is a write off including the Abrams and Bradleys. Everything they have uses computers or some sort of high tech electronics. The rifles work, but that will be about all.” The Army chief nodded in agreement. “We have been after the Congress for more equipment and better assets for a long time. You see where it got us. Now they can’t say no.”

“We’ve been asking the same way. More planes and missiles spread out around the country so that if one place got hit we could cover it with others,” the Air Force Chief said. “As far as the Air Force goes, I’m not sure how much I could put up. Today’s engines all rely on computers to keep them running and most of the aircraft are ‘fly-by-wire’ requiring computers to keep them in the air. The electronics packages are extensive. I’d have to replace almost everything in the inventory. On the missile side, I can figure that out once we get talking again. We are able to talk to the silos and SAC. Their stuff was not really damaged by the pulse and are ready to go with a few modifications,” the general said. “At a minimum, we couldn’t respond to a real threat for a year or more. And that’s with us bringing in our assets from all over the world. Even then, if whoever it was unleashes another attack like the last one, we would lose those as well.”

The Chief of Naval Operations nodded. “That’s how we stand too. My ships won’t move because they all use computers to run just about everything, including our missiles and engines. We might as well start from scratch. We’ll need new appropriations to build again, more cruisers, destroyers, even maybe a carrier or two depending on what can be replaced. Right now there are ships in the Arabian Sea, Mid-Pac, the Med, and one carrier group operating Mid-Atlantic doing refresher training. The bad part of this is if we pull them back home, we are vulnerable elsewhere. The Reagan is the one doing the refresher training and doesn’t have an air group aboard, so all her planes are down too. I would say just with what I know now, we are down by two thirds and it will take a couple of years of dedicated building just to get back to our current levels.”

The Coast Guard Commandant looked up at the president. This was his chance to get a few assets of his own. “My cutters are not as dependent on computers and electronics. I would say most of my assets are available, but we don’t have the firepower you will need to do much. I can keep our ports open and do some patrols along the coast. Some new assets would help. I have been saying for years my service needed more if there was any emergency.”

General Howard Black of the Marine Corps was obviously disgusted. So far, he had refrained from joining in with all the others looking for someone to blame. When the President looked over at him, the General seemed ready to explode. His steely gray eyes pierced into the President like daggers. “Hell,” he almost spat. “Mr. President, if you say the word I’ll have all 120,000 Marines ready to hit the road in whatever transportation we can scare up. Most of my transport is just plain old trucks. I can get them to wherever you want as long as these guys can rustle up some ships or planes to get us there.” You could tell he was really fired up. “Mr. President, us grunts need radios and maybe a couple other things to get going, but no matter what we’ll go. Hell, I got old-fashioned field telephones I can talk to my guys with if necessary. You just tell me who did this and I’ll have my guys at the dock in a few hours, even if we have to walk,” he said indignantly.

The President smiled. Not only to show his approval, but because Butler had told him exactly what each man would say, even that General Black would be the only one who would step up to the plate. “Thank you, General,” he said to Black. “I may take you up on that.” He looked at the rest of the Joint Chiefs. “Gentlemen, as of right now the United States is at war with someone. They have used weapons of mass destruction within our own boarders and in some way we will retaliate. I will decide that later when we know who did it and what we can do. In the mean time, I want all of you to get back to your command centers and try and get communications re-established in some way. We need to find out what works and what doesn’t. I need to know what we have outside the country we could pull in. Then we need to get ready to do something about this. Please be back in here with additional information and recommendations tomorrow morning at 9 a.m. Thank you gentlemen,” he said closing the meeting.

The men got up and began heading out the door. The President stopped General Black and asked him to stay behind a moment. As the room cleared he called for Captain Butler. By the time Butler arrived the two men were seated together at one end of the table. The President motioned for the Captain to join them. Black was the first to stand and offer his hand. “I figured you weren’t like these other guys,” he said with a grin. His handshake was firm, almost bone crushing.

“I just filled the General in on what you told me last night and this morning,” the President said. “Now let’s brainstorm a little. If we had to do something right now, how could we do it?” he asked.

The General sat back and looked at Butler. It was obvious he wanted to hear a little too. Butler thought a minute. “Sir, we have a lot more than we think. I took a look at the places around the country that weren’t hit. In those places you have telephone companies and equipment that are still working. We need to get all these phone people working together pooling their equipment to get some rudimentary comms going. I would suggest we get the vehicles that work and send them with a driver to get the CEOs of all these companies here as soon as we can to get that happening. Once they get their act together, we can at least talk to our bases and other places internally. Then we get with our National Guard units in those areas and have them consolidate their gear to get some radio traffic going. They also have tanks and equipment to beef up a few units. We start moving people and material from the undamaged places to where we need them,” he said.

The General smiled. “Not bad Butler. Here’s what we’ll do. I got guys sitting on their dead ass all over Washington and Quantico. We grab what trucks work and get them on the road. Let’s cut a blanket order from you, Mister President, to the COs of every unit mobilizing them and getting them ready. Then my guys will hit the road. We’ll do it all by letter and word of mouth till the comms are back up. On that part, I take it nothing’s flying?” he asked.

“Shouldn’t be. I doubt much is operating at all,” the President said. “But to make sure, I’ll get the Secretary of Transportation to ground everything except for official traffic.”

“Good. Then let me offer this,” he said leaning in. “Our CH-46s are about as low tech as they come. Might even have some other assets available that are the same way. Get word to me where all these telephone and communications guys are and I’ll send my guys up there and round them up. My choppers aren’t all that fast, but it’s a damn sight faster than a truck. We could probably have them all here within 48 hours.”

“That’ll work. Get with Commerce and get the names and addresses. Get them here day after tomorrow for a meeting right here. I may need to meet with some other people too. If so, I’ll get hold of you and set it up. At the same time, your guys can stop at each town and give their mayors and governors a message from me with some select words of wisdom. I figure they need answers and probably would like to know that somebody is doing something around here,” the President said.

“There’s more we should do,” Butler injected. “We need someone to tell us about Memphis and Dallas. According to the Brits they had ground bursts. Can you send some people there and get stuff rolling?” he asked the General. “I’ll cut orders from the President giving the authority. If you got a couple of good people in mind, they can at least get things started.”

The General thought a minute and then smiled. “Yea, I got a couple of good people. One’s General Thomas and the other’s a Colonel Richardson. Mister President, Claire Richardson may be only a Colonel, but she’s got the smarts and savvy to get this done. Cut her some orders and she’ll go to town.”

“Done!” said the President, though not wishing that job on his worst political enemy.

“Two more things. I would recommend we also get word to the radio and TV stations that are operating and reassure people. I’m sure you and your press secretary can do that with the help of a few people around here,” Butler said. “That can be delivered too. At the same time, we need computers back here to do some work. Unless I’m wrong, all our computing power is fried. The information is still there, but the computers are gone. I think we should get some of those National Guard guys to do some computer shopping. Get out there and bring back anything that works. Then we swap out the hard drive discs and we’re back in business.”

The General smiled at him. “I’ll give them my personal IOUs,” he grinned. “Butler, you’d make a good Marine. Cut the orders and I’ll get things rolling.”

The President nodded. It was nice to see two smart people at work. It made his job much easier.

Black sat back a second and thought. “What about here on Capitol Hill? Those people in Congress are probably screaming already.”

“Taken care of,” said the President. “I am going to the Hill this afternoon to meet with whoever is available. Just to let you know, I’m not declaring martial law, but taking everything up a few notches. I’ve got to try and make the House and Senate understand what’s going on and that we’ve got to stop the bellyaching and do our jobs. We’re in trouble and don’t need to have infighting.”

“Good luck on that,” said the General with a huff. “I’ve watched it grow and fester since I was a kid. That one’s going to be tough,” he said. “But let me give you some advice from the Corps. A good leader can make it happen. Not a boss, or political junkie, but a leader that’s making hard decisions and getting the right people to get the job done.” He reached across the table and placed his hand on the President’s arm. “Steve, it’s me to you now. I’ve been in the Corps a long time and I know what leadership is. I’ve seen you do a bunch of it on your way to the top — not politics, but leadership. You can do this,” he emphasized. “People like Butler and I can help get the job done, but you need to take the reins and spur us on. Don’t worry about making the right decisions. Just make some. We’ll do the rest. If we fuck up, then we can change it. But we have to get off our asses and do something first. So take charge and let’s get the job done.” He sat back into his chair and stiffened. “I await your orders, sir.”

The President looked at the pride the man wore on his body like a suit of armor. He had seen the same thing in Butler. He smiled at both men. Within an hour, convoys of trucks left Quantico and disbursed to all areas of the country.

Roger Hammond woke at his usual time, wondering why his alarm clock hadn’t gone off. He glanced at the face and was surprised that no numbers were showing. Then he remembered the events of the night before. It was with no little effort that he roused himself from his bed, showered for the day, and donned casual slacks and a shirt. The coffee pot still worked and he sat back in the kitchen savoring the hot, bitter coffee taste, a little miffed that there was no usual morning paper to go with it. As expected, the TV didn’t work and neither did his stereo in the den. Thinking about what had happened the night before, he went over and plugged in an old radio set he had owned since he was a child. It was a peach colored plastic instrument with a frequency dial and a volume knob. Turning the set on, he looked in the back and watched the tubes begin to glow like they always had. To his delight, he heard static. Turning the dial he soon came on a distant station talking about the huge blackouts on the East and West Coasts. Everything in the newscast was pure speculation, but there seemed a general panic about what happened and what people should do.

Continuing to scan the dial, he found several AM stations still on the air. Most of them were saying the same thing and were just as bewildered and alone. Hammond started to think about what had happened. His mind began sifting through the pieces and solutions. The coordinated and controlled thought he had used while in the Navy came back to him and he carefully analyzed each piece. Without really knowing why, he went outside, started his lawnmower and began mowing his grass. As he pushed the mower back and forth he continued his quest for an explanation. Slowly, piece by piece, conclusions began to formulate in his mind. After awhile he realized he had completed the yard and was mowing the same grass again. He stopped and turned the mower off, wheeling it back to the old garage behind the house.

The garage was actually an old barn a former owner had built to do some light gardening. Roger rolled the mower into the door and to the side, and then walked over to his pride and joy. Sitting in the middle of the barn was a large object covered in a tarp. He pulled the tarp off to reveal a pristine 1968 Oldsmobile Delta 88 convertible. Walking over to the driver’s side, he ran his hand along the yellow finish. Then he opened the door and sat in the driver’s seat. Inserting the key into the ignition, he crossed his fingers and turned it. The starter motor kicked in. Almost immediately, the big 455 cubic inch V-8 roared to life under the hood.

“That answered a lot of questions,” he said to the world. Revving the engine a few times he let the car warm up while getting out and popping the hood. The big engine purred like it always had while he checked the fluids. Satisfied, he closed the hood again and got back into the driver’s seat. He shifted into drive and eased the big car out into the early morning light, down the drive, and parked it again beside the house.

A half hour later, Roger Hammond left his home and his job to begin what he hoped was a new future. Dropping his bags in the spacious trunk, he eased himself into the car again, flipped the switch and waited as the white top folded back and seated itself into its receptacle behind the rear seat. Hammond then drove out of his driveway and into the unknown.

It had been a long two days. Jim Butler’s uniform had lost all of its creases and seemed to hang off of him. He sat slumped like a rag doll in the back seat of what had once been a Presidential limousine. More than thirty vehicles had been in the underground parking garage under the White House lawn. To everyone’s surprise, all but one started right up. The old 1972 Lincoln once ferried Nixon through Washington and beyond, but was now relegated to hauling diplomats at official functions. It was big, heavy and armored, but it ran, so it was drafted into being a White House taxi to get people around the city. After over 48 hours of solid work, the President ordered Butler home for some rest.

Butler thought about all they had done in the first day. Many calls had been made and received from world leaders via the hotline. After the Brits, the Russians had called just as shocked and just as concerned. Like the British, they had no intelligence indicating where the attack had come from. More importantly was the unspoken desire that the United States not suspect them. It was the same with all of them.

On a good note, telephone communications had been reestablished between the White House and several key points in the city — namely the Pentagon, Capitol Hill, Treasury, Commerce, State and Homeland Security. Individual telephone lines had been laid along the streets and on poles and strung into portable Korean War era phone equipment dug up from a local reserve center warehouse. Soldiers from Fort Belvoir were still stringing lines and setting up rudimentary switchboards to handle the necessary communications. Too bad nobody was saying anything important, Butler thought. Despite a lot of meetings and a lot of talking, they were not much better off than they were when the bombs went off.

The Lincoln turned into Butler’s neighborhood and pulled up to the front of his house. “Make sure to pick me up in the morning,” Butler said as he got out of the car and waved to the driver.

The young sailor smiled back at him and said, “I’ll be here, sir.”

As the car pulled away, Butler noticed a yellow convertible sitting beside the house. He trudged to the front door and walked inside. Entering the den he heard a conversation in the kitchen just as the door opened and Jessica Butler came through. She broke into a wide smile and hugged her tired sailor.

“I was afraid you weren’t ever coming home,” she said after he kissed her warmly.

“I was afraid I wasn’t going to get home myself for a while,” Butler replied with a tired grin. “But I have orders from the top to get some rest. By the way, whose car is that in our driveway?”

“Who do you think?” came a reply from the kitchen door. Hammond was standing there holding a meat fork.

Butler’s face broke into a wide grin. He had met Roger Hammond seven years before while serving on a destroyer out of Pearl Harbor. Butler had been the commanding officer, or CO, and Hammond the executive officer, or XO. They had struck a quick friendship that grew as each earned the professional respect of the other. By the end of two years, they had come to know each other’s thoughts and led the crew through every shipboard evolution, bringing praise for the ship and a camaraderie that few ships or crews experienced. Since that time their friendship had been maintained and they treasured the times when they could work together. Even after Hammond had a command of his own, the two men talked and collaborated. Now when times were bad, his friend Hammond appeared, and he knew things were going to work out. He warmly shook Hammond’s hand and slapped him on the shoulder. “It’s about time you showed up,” he said with a grin.

“Somebody had to clean up this mess,” Hammond said in return. “Good thing Jessica and I got supper ready. Then again you were always lousy on the grill.”

“We’re having steak tonight,” Jessica said. “We figured if you did get home you would need a good meal.”

“And you were right,” Butler said.

“Then let’s get it on the table,” she said as she led both men into the dining room.

The dinner was restful and friendly with no talk about the Navy or the nation that had not been about some amusing situation they shared or a sea story. That alone rested Butler more than sleep would. After clearing the table, Jessica urged the men to relax in the den while she finished up. Both men dropped into familiar furniture from the years they had known each other — Butler in his recliner and Hammond on the leather sofa. After only a moment, Hammond’s face turned serious. “How bad is it?” he asked.

Butler chuckled briefly. “Pretty bad. We absorbed about 74 high-altitude, low yield explosions and two that actually hit the ground.”

“EMP?”

Butler nodded. “Between 75 and 100 miles. Not high enough for widespread coverage, or low enough to have blast damage, but just enough to give us a really strong pulse to take out anything. We lost it all — radio, TV, telephone, transportation, anything electronic. Gone. We came to a standstill the other night. Worse yet, the Brits let us know later on the same thing happened in Japan, Korea and a few other places along the Pacific rim. All came from missile launches somewhere at sea. The radiation is tearing up the ionosphere and within a month there won’t be a satellite left operating anywhere. That EMP is a real killer.”

“I kinda figured that. I was sitting in a diner eating stale meatloaf when the one I saw went off. Took out my new car,” Hammond said with a slight smile. “I took a dive under the table and everybody in the place looked at me like I was some kind of idiot.” Both men laughed at the mental image. “We heard the rumble after the lights went out. That got their attention, but nobody knew what it was or what to do. When we got outside, none of the cars worked. So I walked home.”

Butler grinned. “Well, we are at all stop. Nothing works and we have no idea who did it. We have the hotline and a few hardwired phone lines, but that’s about it. There’s no contact with any overseas units, most countries, or even the police department. We don’t even have the capability to communicate next door. Till we get some communications and transportation back, we will be in a bad way.”

Hammond nodded. “Then we better get started,” he said standing up and digging his keys out of his pocket.

Butler gave him a disbelieving look. “You know something we don’t?”

Hammond looked back at his friend. “Been thinking about it since yesterday morning. We have the short term answers right under our noses,” he said standing. “Come on and I’ll show you,” he said.

Hammond led Butler out of the house and into his car. He inserted the key and it started immediately. Butler still didn’t get it as Hammond grinned at him. “The key to this is using what we have that’s older,” Hammond said. “Things built a while back didn’t use integrated circuits. So we are going to take a short trip to USS Barry,” he said as he began backing down the drive. Only after they had driven halfway down his street did Butler suddenly sit up and smile.

The drive up I-395 was totally different from the usual. No cars were on the road except those which ceased to function two nights before. The Oldsmobile easily swerved around each obstacle and sped down the highway. The big Rocket 455 purred under the hood and on occasion Roger pressed down the accelerator to feel the big engine give what she had. It was something he rarely had the opportunity to do and the big V-8 did not disappoint him. All the while the two men hammered out a plan for getting America back in the world of the living.

Hammond eased the Olds down Capitol Boulevard toward the Navy Yard and around to the main gate. Two sentries were there in full combat gear and rifles. They were surprised to see the yellow car pull up to them and stop. Of the two men inside, one wore the uniform of a Captain and was saluted promptly after asking to see their IDs. The other was a retired Commander and was also saluted.

“Sailor, I am the Naval Attaché to the President,” he said holding up his White House badge. “Under his authority I need you to get someone to open up the Barry and get me a passel of ETs over there with all their gear that works. Can you do that?”

The sailor beside the car looked a little flustered. “Sir, we are under orders not to leave this post. With the phones and radios out, I don’t know how I could do that.”

Butler nodded. “Ok, how are you going to alert people if there is a problem?”

“Blow this whistle sir. If I do that the Marines will send a squad.”

Butler smiled. “Then blow away son.”

The young man nodded and put the whistle to his lips. Within three minutes there was a group of heavily armed Marines running down the street. Weapons were drawn and ready. For a short time Hammond thought they would be shot. But the sentry waved them over and after a few words the Marines seemed to relax although their rifles never turned away. A few minutes after that the Command Duty Officer, LCDR Macke came into view. “Ok, what’s going on,” he asked.

“My fault Commander,” said Butler showing his ID again. The White House badge had its desired effect. The officer straightened and became more formal. “I need something and need it in a hurry. This seemed the quickest way to get things going,” Butler said.

“What can we get you, Captain?”

“It’s going to seem a little strange, but I need every ET you have with all the working gear to get over to the Barry. I also need the Barry opened up and access to all the spaces. I will probably also need some electricians to make sure we have power and a couple of runners to get things we may not have. And Commander, I need these things right now.”

Macke looked around him and thought for a second. This man had the authority, but he needed to let people know what was going on. There was also the problem of getting the people together. It only took a moment. “Ok people, listen up.” He started pointing at the men standing there. “You, rouse the duty electrician and tell him to get over to the Barry with his gear. If he needs help, wake anyone he needs. You, get over to the communications shop and tell them to rouse all the ETs we have and get over to the Barry with their gear. I especially want Master Chief Garza in on this.” He pointed to another, “You find Lieutenant Collins and get him down there ASAP. Then you take my compliments to the Commandant, tell him that the White House Attaché has asked to do something aboard the Barry. Tell him I have accompanied Captain Butler to the ship with the rest of the Marines and will let him know what happens through runners. Now go,” he said, and the last man took off at a run. He turned to the rest of the squad. “Ok guys, you follow us to the ship.” Then he turned to Butler. “You walkin’ or ridin’ sir?”

“We’ll all ride,” said Hammond popping the trunk. “Climb on guys, it’s quicker this way.” The men climbed into the back seat and the trunk, and then Hammond started the car and pulled out toward the Barry.

USS Barry was a destroyer built in the late 1950s and after many years of service she was decommissioned and brought to the Washington Navy Yard as a museum piece. Only a couple of lights shown on her as the men drove up. Hammond stopped the car and the men piled out. Macke pulled out his keys and opened the gate. “OK, where are we going?” he asked.

“Radio,” Hammond said as he and Butler went past him.

A questioning look came over Macke’s face. “Ok, but I don’t know what you plan on doing there. It’s not operational.”

The men entered the ship through the forward athwartships passageway, turning on lights as they went, and then up one deck to the radio compartment. There was Plexiglas over a portion of the door. Inside the old radio equipment sat in its racks exactly as it had when the ship was in commission. Only a few open areas in the racks showed where the more classified gear had been removed. The door was locked.

“You have a key?” Butler asked.

“Sorry, just access to the ship. When Lieutenant Collins gets here he has all the keys.”

“Then I guess we wait,” Butler said leaning against the bulkhead.

“You mind telling me what you plan on doing in there? Macke asked.

Hammond answered. “You know how we got plastered, right?”

Macke nodded.

“Well, the EMP knocked out all our high tech gizmos.” He pointed into the room. “You see anything high tech in there?”

“In there? It’s probably all vacuum tubes, and …” suddenly his eyes grew wider. “Shit,” he said as the realization hit him. He turned to one of the Marines. “Go wake up the rest of the radio crew including Senior Chief Hayes. I need people who know this gear and people who can send Morse. Then have somebody get some IC-men over here. From here on in, this is our base of operations. Make it fast, Marine.”

“Yes, sir,” the young woman said as she turned and sped down the passageway.

“I don’t know where the IC shop is on this thing,” he said. “But I do know it used dial telephones. I can make something of this.”

Butler smiled at Hammond. “I think we have a true believer,” he chuckled. Hammond nodded.

Footsteps sounded from up the passageway and Master Chief Garza rounded the corner. The Master Chief recognized LCDR Macke and smiled. “What the hell, Commander,” he said. “I was just getting ready to hit the sack when a Marine shakes me loose.”

“Master Chief, we need your expertise,” Butler said extending his hand. “What do you know about the equipment in this room?” he asked.

You could tell the Master Chief thought it was a joke. “That stuff?” he shook his head. “I haven’t worked on that kind of gear for at least 20 years.”

“But you do know how to get it online.”

The Master Chief rubbed the stubble on his chin and gave a sigh. “Yes sir, I guess so. I remember slaving over this stuff up through second class, and it was in all the training courses I had to take. I can run down to the old ET shop and see if the schematics are available for all this stuff. If not, I guess I can wing it a little. What do you want to try and bring online first?”

“Let’s bring up the HF transmitter and receiver first. Even if we only have the key, it’s better than nothing,” Hammond chimed in.

“Do you think this will make a difference, sir?” the Master Chief asked.

“Chief, if this works, it will probably be the only way we can communicate with the rest of the world for a while. If we can get most of this gear working, we might be able to talk to the fleet,” Hammond said.

“Then let’s get it working sir,” the Master Chief grinned.

Lieutenant Collins and an array of sailors and technicians came in a minute later. The doors were opened and the people poured into the rooms, uncovering equipment and searching for manuals. The two high frequency transmitters were located on the back bulkhead. They were nondescript lumps of steel cabinet with a couple of gauges on the front. The Master Chief opened the front and stared at the inner workings. The old tubes were dusty, but still solidly in place. He pulled out a rag and cleaned each one. Then he took his pocket meter and checked for power. The circuit was dead. “The first thing we need to do is get power up here, Lieutenant.”

Collins turned to one of the sailors who took off toward the engine rooms and the main switchboard. Three minutes later, the meter jumped to read 220 volts. By then, one of his team had returned from the old ET shop with some old technical manuals and test equipment. The Master Chief set up the equipment and continued checking circuits in the old transmitter.

That was when Rear Admiral Rich Thacke walked into the room. He was in civilian clothes and obviously just out of bed. His normally perfectly groomed hair was a mess and his clothes wrinkled, but his demeanor told everyone an admiral had just arrived. He scanned the people with his eyes and settled on Butler. Then a small grin appeared on his face. He and Butler had worked together on several occasions involving the White House and even during some fleet operations. Thacke was an operator — meaning he knew ships and men and how to get the jobs done. His respect went to other operators. He and Butler had hit it off very well. “Jim, what the hell have you got all my people doing around here? Last I heard this was not part of your territory.” Thacke was a hard nosed officer that liked things by the book. He knew right away that Butler wouldn’t be here unless it was important. If it had been anyone else, he would have chewed them up and spit them out. Of course he also knew who the Captain represented.

Butler introduced Hammond and then laid out their ideas. After a few minutes the Admiral nodded. “That’s a good idea. If we can get some phone lines set up like I was told by Macke, this ship could act as a comm center for the whole area. How long do you think it should take, Master Chief?”

“Not too long sir,” he said from inside the cabinet.

The admiral nodded. “Okay then, if I’m up, let’s get cracking.” He called over a sergeant and told him to get up the cooks. One of the things Thacke was famous for was making sure the workers were taken care of. Within 30 minutes there was hot coffee and some pastries for people to snack on.

It took nearly an hour, and the temperature in the space became sweltering, but the old Master Chief and two of his crew finally stood up and grinned. “I think we’re ready here,” he said. Then he turned to another man working on some other equipment. “Is that thing set up yet?” he barked.

A First Class Petty Officer closed the front of a small box and flipped the switch. A red light came on the front panel. He had already attached a microphone to the set. “Hang on a sec,” he said as he walked over to a small switchboard and reset some knobs. “This should do it, Master Chief. You all set?”

The Master Chief nodded. “You sure those guys got the antenna hooked up?

“Yea, Master Chief. I watched them bolt the lead on myself, and the line was tested before they set it up. You should be ready to go.”

The Master Chief looked back at the old transmitter and smiled. It was sitting in stand-by. The old tubes had warmed up and glowed like new. When he checked the test points, they were pretty close to their calibration settings. He ran his hand over the now warm cabinet and turned to the admiral, who was munching on a cookie. He held up the microphone.

The admiral shook his head. “Give it to Captain Butler.”

The Master Chief handed Butler the mike. “You want to do the honors?”

Butler took the microphone and the room got silent as every eye turned toward him. He keyed the mike. “Any station this net, any station this net, this is USS Barry, USS Barry, over.” He waited a moment for a reply. He then repeated his call. “Any station this net, any station this net, this is USS Barry, USS Barry, over.”

Suddenly a voice crackled over the speaker with a pronounced British accent. “USS Barry, this is His Majesty’s Naval Base Portsmouth, I read you loud and clear, over.”

A cheer rang out through the old radio room as the reply came in. The men slapped each other on the back with congratulations. In the midst of the congratulations Butler keyed the mike again. “Portsmouth, this is USS Barry at the Washington Navy Yard, Captain Butler speaking. We are establishing communications and request you maintain a watch on this frequency. Also, can you notify Whitehall that we have established this circuit so we can maintain communications for the near future? As we get more equipment online we will use this circuit for coordination, over.”

Another voice came on the line. “USS Barry this is Captain Longwood. I am fully aware of your situation and will set things up from this end. Do you have the capability of encryption, over?”

“This is Captain Butler. Not at present; however, if you understand about our situation, you will know the difficulties we face. We may have to use one time ciphers initially or the Allied Signals Book, ATP-1. We need to get organized on this end, over.”

“Roger, Captain. We are standing by for any changes. If there is any way to give us the nomenclature of the eventual equipment or code, my people will be ready to match it. I have the ATP-1 available when usable, over.”

“Thank you, Captain. We will relay equipment requirements via the Prime Minister’s office, over.”

“Very good, Captain. We will be standing by here if you need us, over.”

“Thank you, Captain, we will be back shortly, out,” he said. He hung the mike in its holder. “Well, we are in business,” he said to the admiral.

The admiral clapped him on the shoulder. Then he turned to Collins. “I want a 24-hour watch in here in case we get a call. I have a feeling that this is going to be a busy place for a while.” Then he addressed the Master Chief. “How long before you get the rest of this gear up?”

“It will take a couple of days, Admiral,” he said. “We need to weed through the sets and see what will work. Voice and key will be okay, but there aren’t any encryption units here. They were all taken off. I may even have some sideband stuff up later on, sir. I will get people on it right now.”

“Good enough, Master Chief. Nice job tonight. It’s vitally important to get as much of this equipment online as we can,” he said. “I appreciate your hard work,” he added smiling at the man.

The old Master Chief smiled back. “Our pleasure, Admiral.”

Then the admiral turned back toward Lt. Collins. “Lieutenant, let’s see about reactivating some air conditioning over here. As a matter of fact, let’s see about opening up a berthing space or two and the galley. The old girl may never get underway again, but if we are using her as a command center, then we might as well go all the way. I think we have a couple of those big portable a/c units over in a warehouse. If we hook them into the blower system we might get by. See to it.”

The Lieutenant said “yes sir” and left to get more people out of bed.

Now the admiral turned back to Butler and Hammond. Both looked like they had been dragged through a grinder. He figured Butler hadn’t slept in a few days. “Jim, you and Roger get the hell out of here, I got a base to run. You’re going by the White House to tell the President?”

They nodded.

“Good. You tell the man I’ll have a fully operational center here in two days. If he can get one of those Army jokers to run us a phone line, I will hook it up to this system. I’ll even scrounge around some of these old warehouses and see if I can scare up some more gear. No matter what, we will be ready,” he said with a determined look. Then he softened. “Damn good job, Jim. You and Roger got it nailed. Now go on and leave things to me,” he said patting Butler’s arm.

The two men bid the admiral farewell and climbed back into the Olds. It was a short trip back to the White House. An hour later both men were sound asleep in their beds.